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           Title: Spurgeon's Sermons Volume 10: 1864
      Creator(s): Spurgeon, Charles Haddon (1834-1892)
   CCEL Subjects: All; Sermons;
      LC Call no: BV42
   LC Subjects:

   Practical theology

   Worship (Public and Private) Including the church year, Christian
   symbols, liturgy, prayer, hymnology

   Times and Seasons. The church year
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                        A Desperate Case--How to Meet It

   A Sermon

   (No. 549)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, January 10th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, and said, Why could not we
   cast him out? And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for
   verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye
   shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it
   shall remove: and nothing shall be impossible unto you. Howbeit this
   kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting."--Matthew 17:19-21.

   THE NARRATIVE, of which our text forms a part, describes a scene which
   took place immediately after the transfiguration of our Lord. Not to
   divorce it therefore from its connection, let us glance at the
   antecedents of the case, that nothing may be lost by negligence, or
   that peradventure we may gain something by meditation.

   How great the difference between Moses and Christ! When Moses had been
   forty days upon the mountain-top, he underwent a kind of
   transfiguration, so that his face shone with exceeding brightness when
   he came down among the people, and he was obliged to put a veil over
   his face; for they could not bear to look upon his glory. Not so our
   Saviour! He had been really transfigured with a greater glory than
   Moses could ever know, and yet, as he came down from the mount,
   whatever radiance shone upon his face, it is not written that the
   people could not look upon him, but rather they were amazed, and
   running to him, they saluted him. The glory of the law repelled; for
   the majesty of holiness and justice, drive the awed spirits away from
   God. But the greater glory of Jesus attracts; though he is holy, and
   just, and righteous too, yet blended with these there is so much of
   truth and grace that sinners run to Jesus, amazed at his goodness,
   attracted by the charming fascination of his love, and they salute him,
   become his disciples, and take him to be their Lord and Master. Some of
   you may be just now blinded by the dazzling brightness of the law of
   God. You feel its claims on your conscience, but you cannot keep it in
   your life. It is too high; you cannot attain to it. Not that you find
   fault with the law; on the contrary, it commands your profoundest
   esteem. Still you are in no wise drawn by it to God; you are rather
   hardened in your heart, and you may be verging towards the inference of
   desperation: "As it is impossible for me to earn salvation by the works
   of the law, I will continue in my sins." Ah, poor heart! Turn thine eye
   away from Moses, with all his repelling splendour, and look to Jesus,
   yonder, crucified for sinful men. Behold his flowing wounds, and thorn
   crowned head! He is the Son of God, and therein he is greater than
   Moses. He bear the wrath of God, and therein he shows more of God's
   justice than Moses' broken tablets could ever do. Look thou to him, and
   as thou feelest the attraction of his love, fly to his arms and thou
   shalt be saved.

   How different the spirit of Moses and Jesus! When Moses comes down from
   the mountain, it is to purge the camp. He seems to grasp the fiery
   sword; he breaks the golden calf; he smites the idolaters; but when
   Jesus comes down from the mountain, he finds a strife in the camp, as
   Moses did; he finds his own apostles worsted and beaten, just as Aaron
   had been defeated by the clamours of the people; but he has not a word
   of cursing; there is a gentle rebuke--"O faithless and perverse
   generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you?"
   His actions are actions of mercy--no breaking in pieces, but healing;
   no cursing, but blessing: love sits smiling on his brow, as he touches
   the poor wretch who is almost dead with diabolical possession, and
   restores him to life and health. Go you then, to Jesus; leave the law
   and your own self-righteousness, for these can do nothing but curse
   you. Fly to Jesus, for be you whomsoever you may, there are pardons on
   his lips; there are blessings in his hands; there is love in his heart;
   and he will not disdain to receive even you.

   How much of condescension there is in the manner of Christ! Our Lord,
   we have told you, had been very glorious on the mountain's top, with
   Moses and Elias, yet, when he comes down into the midst of the crowd,
   he doth not disdain the cry of the poor man, not refuse to touch him
   who was possessed with a devil. Observe my Masters condescension, for
   he deigns attention, and yet his manner softens into pity and presently
   it melts into a gracious sympathy, as if this was the only channel
   through which his peerless power could flow. Then remember, he is the
   same to-day as he was then.

   "Now though he reigns exalted high,

   His love is still as great:"--

   He is willing now to receive sinners as when it was said of him, "This
   man receiveth sinners and eateth with them:" just as ready to receive
   you, poor sinners, as when he was called "The friend of publicans and
   sinners." Come to him. Bow at his feet. His love invites you still.
   Believe that the transfigured and glorified Jesus is still a loving
   Saviour, willing to pardon and forgive.

   Once again what choice instruction there is in history! After Jesus had
   been absent for some time, he came back. You may ask for what purpose
   he had retired? Evidently he went up into the mountain to pray. It was
   while he was praying (and I make no doubt, fasting likewise) that the
   fashion of his countenance changed. By his own personal devotion, and
   by the Father's special revelation, he had thus come back, as it were,
   with great refreshment to carry on his ministry. Hence we become
   witnesses of a marvelous power which he immediately showed forth, and
   of no less remarkable counsel which he spoke to his disciples, when
   they felt their own weakness. Thus we have before us, on our text, a
   peculiar case--a patient, who utterly baffled the skill of all his
   disciples, healed at once by the great Master; and we have a reason
   given why the apostles themselves were not able to deliver him.

   Let us look for a little time at this very sad case; not so singular
   either, methinks, but that we may find the round about us. Then let us
   notice the scene around the case--the father, the disciples, the
   scribes. Afterwards we shall joyfully observe the Saviour's coming into
   the midst and deciding all the difficulty; and, lastly, we shall attend
   to the reason he gives in private to his disciples, why they, before
   his coming, were utterly powerless to achieve the work.

   I. First we have before us a VERY PECULIAR CASE.

   It appears that the disciples had cast out devils of all sorts.
   Wherever they had gone, heretofore, this was their uniform testimony,
   "Lord, even the devils are subject unto us;" but now they are baffled.
   They seem to have encountered a devil of the worst kind. There are
   grades in devilry as there are in human sin. All men are evil, but all
   men are not alike evil. All devils are full of sin, but they are not
   all sinful to the same degree. Do we not read in Scripture, "Then goeth
   he and taketh unto him seven other spirits more wicked than himself?"
   It may be there is a gradation in the wickedness of devils, and
   perhaps, also, in their power to fulfil their wicked impulses. We can
   scarcely think that all devils are Satans. There seems to be one chief
   arch-spirit, one great Diabolus, who is an accuser of the brethren--one
   mighty Lucifer, who fell down from heaven and has become the prince of
   the powers of darkness. In all his hosts it is probable that there is
   not his like. He stands first and chief of those fallen morning stars;
   the rest of the spirits may stand in different grades of wickedness, a
   hierarchy of hell. This poor wretch seems to have been possessed of one
   of the worst, most potent, and violent, and virulent of these evil
   spirits. I believe, brethren, that here we have a picture of a certain
   class of individuals who are not only desperately sinful, but subject
   to extraordinary impulses which carry them to infernal lengths and
   depths of infamy; they are incapable of restraint, a terror to their
   kinfolk, and a misery to themselves. All men are sinful, as I have said
   before; but the power of depravity in some men is much stronger than in
   others; at least, if it be not intrinsically stronger, yet it certainly
   has manifestations in some which we have never perceived in common
   among men. Let us try and pick out the case according to the narrative.
   How frequently, dear friends, too frequently, alas! have we seen young
   people who have answered to the description here given. They have had a
   precocity of wickedness. When Jesus asked the father, "How long has he
   been in this way?" the answer was, "Of a child." I remember having once
   known such a child, over whom, paroxysms of passion came, in which his
   face would turn black. When he was able to run about, and was sent to a
   public school, a flint-stone, a club, a brick-bat, anything which might
   come next to hand, he would throw, without a moment's thought, at any
   one who vexed him. His knife would be drawn from his pocket and opened
   in an instant. The young assassin has often been prevented from
   stabbing others by a careful hand and watchful eye which guarded him.
   We have noticed this, I say, in the very young. They begin to lie early
   and to thieve soon, and the young lip even assays to swear, while the
   anxious mother cannot understand where the child could have learnt it.
   You have protected such a child from contamination, and seemed to shut
   him in and girdle him about with holy influences; and yet, in these
   desperate instances, as soon as ever the child could know the right
   from the wrong, he has deliberately chosen the wrong with a violence of
   self-will and recklessness of consequences altogether unusual. Some
   such cases we have seen. O, may God grant it never be your lot or mine,
   to be the parents of such children. Yet such there have been, and such
   men there are who have grown up now, and the youthful passions of their
   childhood have become developed; and you may find them with the low
   forehead and dark scowling eye, if you will, in our prison-houses. Or
   if you see them in the streets, you may hopefully wish that they may be
   in prison ere long, for they are unsafe abroad. Of a child they seem to
   have been possessed with the chief of devils, and to have been carried
   captive by him at his will.

   This lad seems also to have been afflicted with what is here called
   lunacy, which was, indeed, only a form of epilepsy. He was constantly
   subjected, it seems, to epileptic fits; for I think we can hardly
   understand lunacy to mean anything short of occasional madness. Attacks
   of such outrageous violence would come upon him, that there would be no
   enduring him. He would then dash himself into the fire, or if water
   were near, he would attempt self destruction by plunging in to it. We
   have met with persons of this kind, perfectly outrageous and beyond all
   command, when fits of evil came upon them. I will instance cases which
   I have observed.

   I know a man now, he may be here this morning; if he is , he will
   recognize his own portrait. At times he is as reasonable as anyone I
   could wish to associate with. He enjoys listening to the Word of God.
   He is, in some respects, an amiable, excellent, and respectable man.
   But occasionally fits of drunkenness come upon him, in which he is
   perfectly powerless under the influence of the demon; and while it
   lasts, it matters not, even when he knows he is wrong, a thousand
   angels could not drag him from it. He is thrown into the water of
   self-destruction, and he will continue in it. You may urge him and
   reason with him, and you may think--oh, how often some have thought who
   love him!--he will never do that again; he is too sensible a man; he
   has been too well-taught; the Word of God has had such an effect upon
   him, that he will never do it again; yet he does; he repeats the old
   paroxysms, and has done for twenty or thirty years; and, if he lives,
   unless sovereign grace prevent it, he will die a drunkard, as sure as
   he is a living man, and go from his drink to damnation.

   Another case, from which I likewise draw from life. The man is kind,
   tender, and generous--generous to a fault. He has a home--he had one, I
   ought to say--he had a home, and he was the light of it. No one ever
   suspected him--that is, in his better times--of any grievous faults;
   but sometimes--and this has been concealed by many an indulgent
   friend--an attack of lasciviousness comes upon him, and at such seasons
   it matters not what the temptation may be, nor how foul the vice may
   be, the man runs into it. If you should meet him in the street, and
   talk with him, and argue with him, it would be all time and labour
   thrown away; nay, I have known him break up his home, and cross the sea
   to go to another land, that he might indulge his vile passions without
   rebuke, or the restraint of associating with former friends. He will
   come back again, broken-hearted, wondering that he ever could be such a
   fool; but he will go again. It is in him. The devil is in him, and,
   unless God casts it out, he will do the same again, deliberately
   choosing his own damnation. Though he knows it, yet so possessed of the
   love of sin is he, that when the fit comes upon him, this diabolical
   epilepsy, he falls into sin with his whole might and power.

   I might go on describing cases of the kind, but you will not need that
   I should picture any more; it could only be to vary the different forms
   of sin. However, let me try once more. A lad had as good a father as a
   child could have. He was bound apprentice. It became whispered in a few
   weeks that little moneys were missing. The father was very grieved, so
   indeed was the master, and the matter was quietly hushed up. A little
   while after the same thing occurred. The indentures were cancelled, and
   nothing more was said of it; but the father was sorely perplexed. He
   looked out for some other situation for the boy where he might,
   perhaps, recover his character. After a time it was precisely the same
   again. Bad companions had got hold of him, or rather, he had become a
   ringleader among other bad companions. Well, something else must be
   tried. It was tried. He has had twenty situations, and they have all
   been thrown up from the very same cause. And now, what think you is his
   treatment of his parents? Instead of being grateful for the repeated
   kindness and longsuffering shown to him, he will break out sometimes
   into such dreadful passions, that even the lives of his parents are
   scarcely safe; and when he has been in his old haunts a little more
   than usual, he is really so terrible a being, that his mother who loves
   him and who weeps over him, would almost as soon see a fiend from hell
   as see him; for when he comes home, everything goes wrong; confusion,
   is in the house, and terror in every heart; he acts precisely as if he
   were a madman. They have said, "Send him to Australia, or send him to
   America"--where they do send many of that sort--but if he goes there he
   will turn up, sooner or later, at the foot of the gallows; he is
   desperately set on evil, and nothing turns him aside. He tears and
   foams at the mouth with passion; his whole heart goes forth
   outrageously after anything like vice, and there appears to be not one
   redeeming trait in his character; or, if there be, it only seems to be
   subjected tot he power his lusts. He devises means to be more mighty to
   do mischief in the world.

   What dreadful cases these are! Wherefore am I talking of them? Dear
   friends , I have taken them because it has been laying upon my heart to
   encourage and comfort you who are constrained to carry a daily cross in
   having such relations and such children as these. It is one of the
   heaviest afflictions which can come upon you.

   In the case before us, the child was both deaf and dumb--not, I
   suppose, through any organic effect, but through the epilepsy, and the
   Satanic possession. So often we have seen children--shall I look them
   in the face this morning, as I stand here?--they are no children
   now--who are positively deaf to all spiritual sounds. They have been
   pleaded with, but it is vain. They know the truth, they know the whole
   truth, but they do not know the power of it. They are never absent from
   family prayer, nor in any prayer are they ever forgotten by their
   parents. They come to this place; they attend our classes; they go to
   revival services. Now and then there is something like a little
   emotion, but it does not come to much; they are precisely similar to
   the deaf adder which cannot be charmed, charm we never so wisely.
   Others of the family have been converted. Nearly all the household has
   now been brought to Christ. Lydia has had her heart opened; God has
   been much pleased to call young Timothy; but this one remains, and
   after much anxiety, much effort, much labour, no good has been
   achieved. The adamant seems as soft as their heart, and the ear of the
   deaf as much alive to rebuke as their conscience. This again is a very
   sad case.

   I meet sometimes, too, with cases of another kind--persons who are
   beset with very high doctrine, who have got the devil in them, puffing
   up their fleshly minds with a vain conceit of sound understanding, and
   degrading their carnal profession with a loathsome impurity of heart
   and life. You will talk with them; they will tell you they wish to be
   saved--would give their right arm to be saved; but it is not in their
   power. You bid them believe in Jesus. They have no sense, they tell
   you, of the need of a Saviour; they are not in a fit state to believe.
   When God's time comes, the thing will occur. They love high doctrine;
   they will hear nothing else but it; but then their Sunday, if there is
   a temptation which comes across their path, will be spent anywhere but
   in the worship of God; and during the week they give way to all sorts
   of sins. Whatever temptation comes, they go after it. The comfort they
   get from their religion, which they wrap about them like a cloak, is
   this--that no minister speaks the truth except one or two; that the
   truth is fatalism; that all they have to do is to be carried along like
   dead, inanimate logs down the stream, and that they are not at all
   responsible; or if they are responsible, it is merely to maintain with
   unflinching hardihood their own crude sentiments. I have seen some of
   these people--good people in their own way too--of whom I have thought
   that the conversation of drunkards was more hopeful than theirs; for
   that damnable fatalism, which by some is put instead of the
   predestination of the Scriptures, has locked them up--put them in an
   iron cage: and so they are beyond the reach of help, going on in their
   sin, rejecting the gospel of Christ, while assaying to be connoisseurs
   of its choicest mysteries.

   Now, brothers and sisters, why are such cases as these permitted? Why
   doth the Lord allow the devil thus to fill the soul with sin?

   I think it is, first, to show that there is a reality of sin. If we
   were all moral and outwardly respectable, we should begin to think sin
   was but a fancy. These daring sinners show the reality of it.

   It is to manifest the reality of divine grace; for when these are
   saved, then it is we wonder, and we are compelled to say, "There is
   something in this. If such a hard, iron nature yet melts before the
   power of divine love, there must be a majesty in it."

   It is to humble us too, to throw us on our back, and let us see how
   utterly powerless human agency is. When you cannot get in the thin end
   of the wedge, much less the whole wedge; when the ploughshare breaks on
   the edge of a hard rock; when the edge of the sword turns against the
   armour, then it is to draw yourself out of self to God. You see it is a
   deadly evil, where only omnipotence can help. Your soul says, "Lord,
   put out thine arm! Now do it, and the glory shall be thine." This is
   probably the chief reason; it is in order that God may get great glory
   to himself. He lets the devil have it all his own way. "There," he
   says, "pick your own ground, fight in your own territory, manoeuvre in
   your own way, and, with a word, I will crush your power." He gives
   Satan great advantage, lets him entrench himself firmly in the soul
   from youth up, so that the victory may be splendid to the greatest
   degree.

   We have thus before us now, for our sorrowful contemplation, the case
   of one whose disease mocks the physician, laughs at all human
   endeavours, and defies the watchful care of mild and gentle treatment
   to mitigate its force, or ameliorate its fearful symptoms.

   II. Turn we now with passing glance, to LOOK AT THE SCENE AROUND. The
   company is made up of five sorts of people.

   There are the scribes--cynics, methinks, to a man--"We told you so! We
   told you so!" they say. "Your Master pretended to give you power to
   cast out devils. No such thing! you cannot cast out devils. Those whom
   you healed were not truly possessed. Little enough was ever the matter
   with them, and so they got better. They were fanciful, and they
   believed you through enthusiasm. The dupes of credulity, your
   incantations bewitched them, and so they got better. But you cannot
   cast out a devil--you cannot cast that devil out." "Now then," says one
   of the scribes to Andrew, "cast it out. Come, Phillip, try what you can
   do!" And inasmuch as after all trying, the devil would not go out--"Ah!
   just so!" they say, "they are impostors. There is nothing in it" Just
   recall it, friends, to your own memories, have not you seen men of that
   kind? "Ah yes," they say, " the gospel converts one sort of people,
   such as always go to places of worship, the more intelligent and
   respectable of the community, but, you see, it is no good in these
   tough cases. These hardened ones--it cannot touch them. They are beyond
   its power." "Aha!" they say, "where is the boasted might of this great
   physician? He can heal your finger-aches; he does not know how to make
   these foul diseases fly."

   Then here is the poor father, all dejected. "I brought him to you--I
   knew you did cast out devils, and I thought you could cast my son's
   devil out, and he would be healed. I am disappointed in you all. Yet I
   do think your Master can do it, but I am not sure that even he can. If
   such excellent apostles, as you are, have tried so hard, and have
   failed, I do not think there can be any chance for me. I am full of
   unbelief. O, I wish I had never brought my child here at all, to make a
   public spectacle of him, that he might be a witness to your failures."
   That is the poor father. Perhaps that poor father is here this morning
   and he is saying, "Ah, I do believe, but still I am full of unbelief. I
   have brought my daughter; I have brought my child under the sound of
   the Word; I have prayed, and wrestled with God in prayer, and my child
   is not saved." "I have brought my husband," says one good woman, "but
   he is just as full of Satan as he ever was. I must give it up in
   despair."

   And then, there are the disciples, and they look pitiable indeed.
   "Well," they say, "we do not know how to account for it. We cannot tell
   you how it is. We have said the same in this case that we were wont to
   say in others." "Why" says one of them, "when I went abroad and just
   said In the name of Jesus Christ I command thee to come out of him,'
   the unclean spirit always did come out in every other case. I cannot
   comprehend this. I must give it up." "We all must give it up," says the
   apostles. For some unknown cause, this seems to be quite out of the
   catalogue of cases which we are commissioned to cure. And so we
   sometimes hear dejected ministers, after preaching long at such hard
   shells as these--they say, "Well, we cannot understand it. The gospel
   is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.' Oh, it
   must be that these are fore-ordained unto damnation; we must give it
   up." That is how unbelieving ministers talk--or at least the most part
   of ministers in their season of misgiving and chagrin.

   But then there is the general crowd. They are neither this way nor
   that. They say they will see fair. "Come, clear the ring out. If Jesus
   Christ be not an impostor--if he be God--certainly he can heal this
   poor man." Now here is the test and the ordeal, "If that man be not
   healed, we," says the crowd, "will not believe; but, if he be, then we
   will believe that Jesus Christ is sent of God." O dear friends, how
   often we have thought of those very hard cases in this way. There are
   hundreds of undecided people looking on and saying, "Ah, if So-and-so
   were converted, then I should say there was something in it. If truly
   we could have a new heart and a right spirit, then I, too, would turn
   to God with full purpose of heart.

   There was the fifth party there, and that was the devil himself. Oh,
   how triumphant was he! "Ah!" he seemed to say, "try your exorcism; go
   on with your words; preach at him; pray at me; weep over me; do what
   you will, you cannot get me out." There he seems to stand intrenched
   within the stronghold of the poor tortured heart. "Do your best, do
   your worst, I am not afraid of you. I have got this man, and I will
   keep him. I have so fixed myself in him that no power shall ever be
   able to heal him." So we seem to hear that vile shriek of hell over
   some men, "Yes," saith he, "I will trust him to go into Spurgeon's
   Tabernacle. I know the thousands there have felt the power of the Holy
   Ghost in making new men of them, this is a case I can trust. There is
   nothing that will ever touch him. The great hammer has knocked the
   chains off many, but it cannot touch his chains; they are harder than
   iron. I have no fear for him;" and perhaps he is gloating his thoughts
   now with the torments of the man in another world. Ah, thou foul fiend!
   if our Master should come here this morning, thou shouldst sing another
   tune. if he should say, "Come out of him thou foul spirit," thou wilt
   go back howling to thy vile den; for his voice can do what our voice
   never could have done. And may we not easily realize such a scene
   enacted in this congregation? You have the scoffers, you have the
   anxious parent, the ministry confessedly powerless in the matter; the
   crowd looking on, and the devil rejoicing that such cases are quite
   beyond human strength. What more can you want to vivify the picture
   before your imagination?

   III. But look! THE MASTER COMES.

   Ah! the master comes! Forthwith the scene changes. The lieutenants and
   the captains who began the battle did not understand the art of war;
   the were precipitant and hasty. The right wing was broken; the left
   began to reel; the centre almost fails. The trumpets of the adversary
   begin to sound a victory. Here they come--their dread artillery in
   front. What will become of the army now? Hold! Hold! What is that I
   see? A cloud of dust. Who comes galloping there? It is the
   commander-in-chief. "What are you at?" says he, "What are you at?" In a
   moment he sees this is not the way to fight. He comprehends the
   difficulties of the case in an instant. "Forward there! Forward There!
   Backward there!" The scale is turned. The mere presence of the
   commander-in-chief has changed the whole face of the field; and now, ye
   adversaries, ye may turn your backs and fly. It was so in Jesus' case
   exactly. His lieutenants and captains--the apostles--had lost the day.
   He comes into the field; comprehends the state of the case. "Bring him
   hither to me," says he, and the poor wretch, foaming and tormented, is
   brought to him, and he says, "Come out of him, thou unclean spirit."
   The thing is done; the victory achieved; the undecided receive Christ
   as a prophet; the scoffers' mouths are shut; the trembling father
   rejoices, and the poor demoniac is cured.

   And yet when Jesus Christ came to cure this poor man, he was in as bad
   a state as he well could be. Nay, the very presence of the Saviour
   seemed to make it worse. As soon as ever the devil perceived that
   Christ was come he began to rend and tear his poor victim. As quaint
   old Fuller says--like a bad tenant whose lease is out, he hates the
   landlord, and so he does all the damage he can, because he has got
   notice to quit. Often just before men are converted, they are worse
   than ever; there is an unusual display of their desperate wickedness,
   for then the devil hath great wrath, now that his time is short.

   The struggles of this child are appalling. The devil seemed as if he
   would kill him before he would be healed; and after great paroxysms of
   the most frightful kind, the poor youth laid upon the ground, pale, and
   still as a corpse, insomuch that many said, "He is dead." It is just
   the same with many conversions of these desperate sinners. Their
   convictions are so terrible; frequently the work of the devil within
   them keeping them from Christ is so furious that you would give up all
   hope. You say, "That man will be driven mad; those acute feelings, the
   intense agony of his spirit will rob him of all mental power, and then
   in abject persecution he will die in his sin." Ah! dear friends, this
   again is only a piece of Satan's infamy. He knew, and knew right well
   that Christ would set that poor young man free, and therefore he sets
   upon him with all his might, to torment him while he may. Have I any
   such desperate case among my hearers this morning--one who has been as
   a son of Belial among the children of men? Is the devil tormenting you
   to-day? Do you feel tempted to commit suicide? Are you urged to some
   freak of yet greater sin in order to drown your griefs and strangle
   your conscience? O poor soul, do no such thing, for my Master will soon
   stoop over you, and take you by the hand and lift you up, and your
   comfort shall begin, because the unclean spirit is cast out. "Ah! he
   means to destroy me," says the soul under conviction. Nay, soul, God
   does not destroy those whom he convinces of sin. Men do not plough
   fields which they have no intention to sow. If God ploughs you with
   conviction he will sow you with gospel comfort, and you shall bring
   forth a harvest of his glory. As a woman at her work first plies the
   needle with its sharp prick, and then draws the thread after it, so in
   your case the sharpness of sorrow for sin will be speedily followed by
   the silver thread of joy and peace in believing.

   And oh, mark it! The vision just now, up there on the mountain of
   glory, resolved itself into "Jesus only." His peerless radiance
   eclipsed every other. So, too, it is "Jesus only," down there in the
   valley. His matchless grace can encounter no rival. Keep this forever
   in your mind's eye--it is the Master who did it all. His appearance on
   the scene removed all difficulties. In such extreme cases, there will
   be, and there must be, a most eminent display of God's power; and that
   power may be unassociated with means. Under any circumstances, it will
   be the Lord alone doing it, to the praise and glory of his grace.

   IV. Now, we come to the last, and perhaps the most important part of
   the sermon. The riddle is perplexing. "WHY COULD NOT WE CAST HIM OUT?"
   Let the Master tell us the reasons why these cases thwart our power.

   The Saviour said it was for want of faith--want of faith. No man may
   expect to be the means of the conversion of a sinner without having
   faith which leads him to believe that the sinner will be converted.
   Such things may occur, but it is not the rule. If I can preach in faith
   that my hearers will be saved, they will be saved. If I have no faith,
   God may honour his Word, but it will be in no great degree; certainly
   he will not honour me. Abandoned sinners, if converted by means, are
   usually brought under the power of divine grace through ministers of
   great faith. Have you observed--there were persons who heard all the
   small fry of the Whitefieldian age; they had listened to this preacher
   and to that. Under whom were they converted? Under Mr. Whitefield,
   because Mr. Whitefield was a man of masterly faith. He believed that
   the lost could be reclaimed--that the worst diseases could be healed,
   the most heinous, abandoned, profligate, blasphemous sinners could be
   saved. He preached to them as if he expected the deaf would be charmed
   by the gospel melody, and the dead would be quickened at the commanding
   call of the great Redeemer's name. At Surrey Chapel, over yonder, in
   Rowland Hill's day, some of the grossest blackguards and biggest scamps
   who ever infested London, were saved. Why? Because Rowland Hill
   preached the gospel to big sinners, and believed the fact of big
   sinners being converted. The respectable people of his day said, "Oh,
   yes! it is only tag, rag, and bob-tail who go to hear Mr. Hill." "Just
   so," said Mr. Hill, " and welcome tag, and welcome rag, and welcome
   bob-tail; they are the very people that I want" "What is the good of
   such people as they are, going to hear the gospel? Why does Mr. Hill
   try to preach to harlots and thieves?" they said. "They are just the
   very people," said Mr. Hill. "I believe that these people can be
   saved." It was want of faith in the others; for if a man have faith as
   a grain of mustard seed, let it be ever so little, yet, if it is true,
   it is mighty in proportion to its power. Mr. Hill had the power of
   faith, and he was the means of the conversion of very great sinners. A
   few years ago it was utterly hopeless to try and reclaim fallen
   daughters of sin, but a few men had faith that it could be done, and it
   has been done; and I will now make bold to say that if there be a great
   sinner here, such as I tried to describe just now, some gross case of
   infernal possession, if that person be not saved, it is for the want of
   faith in our case. If we have brought that person before God, and have
   not been anxious about his salvation, and God has not heard that
   prayer, it is because we could not believe it possible such a case
   could be saved. If God gives you the power to believe that any soul
   will be saved, it will be saved; there is no doubt about that.

   Still, our Saviour added, "Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by
   prayer and fasting." What does he mean by that? I believe he meant that
   in these very special cases ordinary preaching of the Word will not
   avail, and ordinary prayer will not suffice. There must be an unusual
   faith, and to get this there must be an unusual degree of prayer; and
   to get that prayer up to the right point, there must be, in many cases,
   fasting as well. No doubt there is something special about the
   admonition to prayer, from the association in which it stands. One sort
   of Christian will use formal supplications; and the petitions they ask
   are founded upon a sense of propriety, without any glow of feeling.
   Another sort will wait for the Spirit to move them; and when certain
   impulses stimulate their minds, they rejoice in a sense of liberty. Yet
   I show you a more excellent way There be those who watch unto prayer,
   wait before the Lord, seek his face, and exercise patience till they
   get an audience. Such disciples continue in their retirement until they
   have an experience of access for which they crave.

   And what is fasting for? That seems to be the difficult point. It is
   evidently accessory to the peculiar continuance in prayer, practised
   oftentimes by our Lord, and advised by him to his disciples. Not a kind
   of religious observance, in itself meritorious, but a habit, when
   associated with the exercise of prayer, unquestionably helpful. I am
   not sure whether we have lost a very great blessing in the Christian
   Church by giving up fasting. It was said there was superstition in it;
   but, as an old divine says, we had better have a spoonful of
   superstition than a porringer full of gluttony. Martin Luther, whose
   body, like some others, was of a gross tendency, felt as some of us do,
   that in our flesh dwelleth no good thing, in another sense than the
   apostle meant it; and he used to fast frequently. He says his flesh was
   wont to grumble dreadfully at abstinence, but fast he would, for he
   found that when he was fasting, it quickened his praying. There is a
   treatise by an old Puritan, called, "The soul fattening institution of
   fasting," and he gives us his own experience that during a fast he has
   felt more intense eagerness of soul in prayer than he had ever done at
   any other time. Some of you, dear friends, may get to the boiling point
   in prayer, without fasting. I do think that others cannot, and probably
   if we sometimes set apart a whole day for prayer for a special object,
   we should at first feel ourselves dull, and lumpish, and heavy. Then
   let us resolve, "Well, I shall not go down to my dinner. I shall stop
   here. I feel anxious for a praying frame of mind, and I will keep
   alone; and if when the time for evening meal came on, we should say, "I
   feel a little craving of hunger, but I will satisfy them with some very
   slender nutriment--a piece of bread, or something of the kind--and I
   will continue in prayer," I think that very likely towards evening our
   prayers would become more forcible and vehement than at any other part
   of the day. We do not exactly recommend this for those who are weak.
   There are some men with little or no encumbrance of flesh about them;
   but others of us of a heavy make, with sluggishness for a temptation,
   have to cry out because we are rather like stones on the ground than
   birds in the air. To such, I think, we can venture to recommend it from
   the words of Christ. At any rate, I can suppose a father here setting
   apart a day of prayer, going on wrestling with God without any
   intermission; pleading with him till, as it was said of the famous
   martyr of Brussels, he would so pray that he forgot everything except
   his prayer; and when they came to call him to meat, he made no answer,
   for he had got out of all earthly things in his wrestling with the
   angel, that he could not think of anything besides. Such a man taking
   up the case of a gross sinner, I believe, would be the means of that
   sinner's conversion; and the reason why some are never brought to
   Christ, is, speaking after the manner of men, because we have not got
   the qualified to deal with them; for "this kind goeth not out save with
   prayer and fasting." When we have prayed, and have reached the point of
   true faith, then the sinner is saved by the mighty power of God, and
   Christ is glorified. Methinks I have some in this house who are ready
   to say, "Well, if such be the case, I will try it. I will take the
   Master at his word." Brother, brother, if half-a-dozen of us joined
   together, it might be better; nay, "If two agree as touching any one
   thin," it would be done. Let some of us put it to the test upon some
   big sinner, and see whether it does not come true. I think I may fairly
   ask you who are lovers of souls, who have eyes which do weep, and
   hearts which can feel, to try my Master's prescription, and see if the
   most unmanageable devil which ever took possession of a human heart, be
   not driven out, as the result of prayer and fasting, in the exercise of
   your faith. The Lord bless you in this thing, and may he bring us all
   to trust in Jesus by a saving faith. To him be glory, for ever and
   ever. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                      The Ship on Fire--A Voice of Warning

   A Sermon

   (No. 550)

   Delivered on Sunday Evening, November 8th, 1863, on the

   burning of the Ship "Amazon," by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Escape for thy life."--Genesis 19:17.

   "Thou hast magnified thy mercy, which thou hast shewed unto me in
   saving my life."--Genesis 19:19.

   HERE IS THE ALARM of mercy declaring the sinner's duty--"Escape for thy
   life." Here is the work of grace, and the gratitude of the sinner after
   he is saved. "Thou hast magnified thy mercy, which thou hast shewed
   unto me in saving my life."

   The other day, there sailed down the Thames as stout a vessel as had
   ever ploughed the deep. The good ship "Amazon," had sailed the broad
   Pacific many a time, and what is there to hinder her from once more
   reaching America in safety? Who would refuse to underwrite her? Who
   among her crew or passengers has a fear for her safety? But in the book
   of providence, there was a black line against that ship, and never more
   could she reach her desired haven. The wind was exceedingly high: the
   vessel tarried awhile at Gravesend. There was a little improvement in
   the weather: she sailed a little further; but cast anchor again, and
   remained off Broadstairs. Matters went as usual in such weather. Night
   came on; the watch was changed as usual; the captain turned in, feeling
   that all was right and safe. The passengers were snug in their
   berths--a little the worse, perhaps, for the roll of the ship, but as
   assured of security as men could be. In a moment, what a change had
   taken place! A passenger perceives a smell of fire; the warning cry is
   raised. Everyone rushes upon deck. Attempts arc made to quench the
   fire; but when the hatches are lifted up, the wind rushes in, and the
   fire is fanned to a dreadful, all-devouring conflagration. Further
   effort is of no avail. Rockets are fired, as the signals of distress.
   The boats are let down, crowded with the passengers. A lugger puts off
   to her, and a steam-tug hastens to the rescue, and, thanks be unto the
   God of providence, all the passengers--the captain and chief officers
   last--are on board the vessels and carried to Margate, where they see
   the melancholy, and yet satisfactory spectacle of their vessel burning
   to the water's edge, and then disappearing from view.

   Now, as the good brother who was captain to that vessel, constantly
   comes here when he is on shore, and as he is sitting in the midst of
   you to-night, I thought I might use the burning of this vessel as a
   picture of spiritual things, out of which I might make an illustrated
   sermon These things happen not without design, and should not escape
   without improvement.

   Two things, then, to-night: they are both in the text and in the story
   of the ship on fire. First, an alarm--"Escape for thy life;" secondly,
   grateful acknowledgment--"Thou hast magnified thy mercy, which thou
   hast shewed unto me in saving my life."

   I. First, AN ALARM.

   We come here to-night, to raise an alarm. True ministers of God. are
   great alarmists. It is their duty to be like Barnabas, who was a son of
   consolation; but it is equally their duty to be like Boanerges--sons of
   thunder. Thunder does not rock men to sleep, and plays no pleasant tune
   for fools to dance to; with its crash and roar, it wakes a slumbering
   world, and its dread volleys, echoed peal on peal, afford no dulcet
   notes for dainty ears. God's servants should learn to thunder; for when
   God speaketh through them, the voice of the Lord is powerful and full
   of majesty; and in his temple doth everyone speak of his glory.

   The alarm we have to give to-night, is that of the angel to Lot, with
   an emphasis of meaning--"Escape for thy life." It is an alarm suggested
   by tremendous danger. When the cry of "Fire! fire! fire!" ran along the
   decks, and the cabins, and the saloons of the "Amazon," everyone knew
   that there was no small danger to be encountered, for flame is a cruel
   tyrant and devours remorselessly. The very word "Fire!" has a
   razor-edge about it, cutting to the very quick. Terror has fire for her
   first-born. But the alarm we have to raise, is concerning a matter more
   terrific still--add to the word "Fire," that dreadful syllable "Hell,"
   and then what shall more alarm than "Hell fire?" In that cry, we
   comprehend such weighty matters as eternity alone can reveal. The wrath
   to come! The judgment of the Eternal! The wrath of the Most High! Fire,
   when it is at its most furious pitch, is but a plaything compared with
   hell fire; yea, when it consumes a city; when it runs down the red lips
   of a volcano, and buries thousands; when it sets the sky and earth upon
   a blaze as in Egypt's plagues, it is but child's-play compared with the
   wrath of God, and that Tophet which is prepared of old, the pile
   whereof is wood and much smoke. Here is something at which the joints
   of a man's loins may well be loosed, for there is eternity in it,
   infinity in it, deity in it; and where these three are set against a
   man,. woe unto him. It is as when the fire is set in battle array
   against the stubble. Well may it be written by the prophet, "The
   sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites.
   Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? Who among us shall
   dwell with everlasting burning?" Sinner, by the crushing terror of the
   woe which cometh, I beseech thee, "Escape for thy life."

   It is a danger not to be overcome. The fire-engine was brought out upon
   the deck of the burning ship; attempts were made to extinguish the
   fire; but the mischief was far too much in power to be driven from its
   stronghold. The like may be boldly declared of the evil which cometh
   upon the ungodly. Sinner, your danger is such that you cannot contend
   with it by any power of your own. There is a fire of sin within you
   which you cannot quench; there is a fire of hell without you which no
   drops even of your own blood shall be able to extinguish. You are in a
   danger which you are unable to cope with. There is no possibility that
   if you remain in it, your utmost exertions or most strenuous efforts
   can avert the certain ruin which your state must bring upon you. If you
   neglect the only way of salvation, how can you escape? What awaits you
   but a fearful looking for of judgment and of fiery indignation? The
   pillars of heaven tremble and are astonished at the reproof of the Lord
   of hosts--how, then, canst thou endure the tempest of his anger, and
   the fury of his hot displeasure?

   "O sinner, seek his face,

   Whose wrath thou canst not bear;

   Fly to the dying Savior's wounds,

   And find salvation there."

   It is a danger, too, a terrific danger which makes no exception to
   anyone. The captain is as much in danger as the poorest cabin-boy, if
   he cannot escape from the burning ship. The rich man, with ingots of
   gold in his cabin, will as certainly be burned alive as the poor
   traveler who could scarcely pay his passage. There is no distinction of
   persons in the judgments of God. Sinner, you may be great and mighty,
   but you shall go down to hell unless grace shall save you. Woman, thou
   mayst be amiable in thy temper and excellent in thy deportment, but
   thou shalt perish as surely as a harlot, unless Christ have pity upon
   thee. Man, thou mayst be upright, and shine before thy fellow-merchants
   as one of excellent repute, but the wrath of God abideth on thee except
   thou fleest to Jesus; for there is none other name given under heaven
   whereby ye must be' saved; and out of that name, and apart from that
   name, whoever thou mayst be, though thou wert monarch of seven empires,
   thou art still in danger. Rich and poor, high and low, learned and
   ignorant, my cry is to you all, "O earth, earth, earth, hear the Word
   of the Lord!"

   Do not forget that we are in danger of a consuming fire--a danger which
   kills without remedy. It is not a fire which merely singes and
   scorches, but a fire which burns to ashes. As yonder ship must be
   burned up, and every passenger who cannot leave its burning deck must.
   be consumed, so you, O unconverted men, are in danger of utter
   destruction from the presence of the Lord. "For, behold, the day
   cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all
   that do wickedly, shall be stubble: and the day that cometh shall burn
   them up, saith the Lord of hosts, that it shall leave them neither root
   nor branch." I would I could speak upon this dreadful subject in a
   proper manner. Whitfield had tones and emotions which were fitting for
   such a subject. He would cry out, "Oh, the wrath to come! The wrath to
   come! The wrath to come!" He would cry, I say, until all his hearers
   responded. with, "What must we do to be saved?" And good Baxter,
   trembling lest be should he guilty of men's blood, while he delivered
   the message, as a dying man to dying men--knew the terrors of the law,
   and right earnestly he persuaded men to escape for their lives. O sirs,
   if I saw you. in a burning house, there were not half so much need of
   earnestness as when I see you in the midst of a mass of sin and
   corruption which must be consumed by God's anger, and you with it.
   Sinner, why wilt. thou die? What can ail thee? What besots thee that
   thou dost not perceive anything dreadful in the wrath of him who made
   thee? He can dash whole worlds to pieces--what can he not do with thee?
   Hast thou. learned to be callous when thou hearest of eternity? Hast
   thine ear grown cold to that dreadful word, "Condemnation?" Canst thou
   read the story of those to whom he said, "Depart, ye cursed," and not
   tremble? Canst thou know that thou art this day in danger of the
   judgment, and not be afraid? When the sword is sharp, and furbished,
   and taken out of its sheath, canst thou play about its edge? Canst thou
   yet make mirth? Then is there indeed, need for me to cry to thee, and
   for all God's faithful ministers to cry with louder voice than
   mine--"Escape! escape! escape for thy life."

   The alarm of fire was needed because of the security of the persons in
   danger. Many on board the "Amazon" were sound asleep. Oh, how dreadful
   to be awakened out of sleep with the cry of "Fire! fire! fire! Some of
   them, when they awoke, seemed to have been so startled and so confused,
   that they had fairly to be dragged out of their berths that they might
   be rescued. There were none there, we have reason to believe, who would
   have been kept below through their own drunkenness or the carelessness
   of the crew. They were in a right state, with this exception, of
   course, that they were all alarmed--and men alarmed are not always
   ready to do the wisest thing, and as for the captain and his men they
   seem to have been as sensible as they were brave. My hearers, God's
   ministers have to deal with passengers much more difficult to handle.
   Are not men asleep? Till the voice of God awakens us, we are all
   asleep. How you and I walked for years, and years, and years, upon the
   brink of the grave, as utterly unconcerned as though we were to live
   for ever; and when sometimes we were a little impressed by the passing
   bell, or an open grave, or an earnest sermon, how soon we went back
   again to our old frivolity, and toyed with the flames of hell as though
   they were fancy's dream. It is not so now. God has awakened us; but we
   had never been awakened if the voice which awakes the dead had not
   cried in our ear, "Escape for thy life." Nay, worse, men are not only
   asleep, but when they do perceive their danger, they love their sins
   too well to leave them, even though hell stares them in the face. The
   best of them cry with Solomon's sluggard, "Yet a little sleep, a little
   slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." Sinner, how hard it
   is to bring thee to serious consideration of thy ways. We cannot touch
   thy wits, or make thee reason like a man of sound mind. Thou wilt
   sooner be damned by thoughtlessness thau give an hour's careful
   meditation to thy soul's affairs. We would fain drag thee out of thy
   sleeping berth, and even kick thee and strike thee, treating thee to
   rough usage, if we could by this means drag thee from the devouring
   flames; thou wouldst thank us well enough afterwards for these rough
   cuffs, if we could but wake thee. We hear complaints that the minister
   speaks too harshly and talks too much of judgment. Saved sinners never
   make that complaint. They know that nothing but these terrors will
   awaken some slumbering minds; and if they be awakened themselves, they
   are but too glad, however rough the means may have been. Are there not
   some in this house to-night who are hard, fearfully hard, to be brought
   to sober thinking, because they are drunken and besotted with sin? Some
   of you, with your Sunday trading, will rather gain your sixpences and
   your paltry pence on the Sunday, than find eternal felicity in faith in
   the Lord Jesus. Others of you, with your tap-room companions, with your
   theatres, your balls, and worse places still, where lust wears no mask,
   are cutting the throats of your poor miserable souls. You cannot give
   up your vices; you will sooner be damned than be Christians. Well, so
   it must be, sirs, if ye will have these things, and will pawn your
   souls for them, so it must be; you have chosen your own delusions, and
   you shall inherit them. But O, do listen once more, while we warn you
   in God's name, " Escape for thy life," and trifle no more with hell and
   heaven, with thine own soul and judgment, God and his dear bleeding
   Son. If every preacher in London should suddenly begin to preach
   nothing but alarms, it would all be needed, for what a secure and
   reckless city is this. If every corner in the street had a Jonah in it,
   and that Jonah's sermon were nothing but this--"Yet a few more days and
   thou shalt be destroyed!" it were not too much for a city so given to
   slumber. We have waxen rich; we have grown careless, till we have
   become like Nineveh of old, a people at ease, and dwelling carelessly
   Isaiah might well say concerning London--"Thou saidst, I shall be a
   lady for ever: so that thou didst not lay these things to thy heart,
   neither didst remember the latter end of it." Let us take heed unto
   ourselves lest in the world to come this carnal security of ours should
   be like faggots to the fire, and the remembrance of our sloth should
   pour oil upon the flames. O God, let the alarm be heard, to-night by
   those who crowd this house, for thou knowest that many of them are
   sound asleep.

   Again, it is an alarm which requires instant attention. A man on board
   a vessel, when he hears the cry of "Fire!" must not stop to arrange his
   clothes; he must not be concerned to see that his face is washed, that
   he has bound together that little bundle of papers, or packed up the
   portmanteau, or counted over the little purse of gold, or even snatched
   his little property from the cabin. At once, at once, must he climb the
   stairs and reach the deck, or he will never have stairs to climb, nor
   feet to climb with. Now or never. Quick is the word. Waste a moment,
   and it is all over with you; the fire is upon you, for it tarries not
   in its march. So is it with you to-night who fear not God. "Escape for
   thy life," is a cry for the present moment. Now is the accepted time;
   behold, now is the day of salvation." Now, now, NOW. This is the only
   period God has allotted to you, take care that you use it, lest when
   your to-days are past, and you hope to see your to-morrow, you should
   have to spend your to-morrows in the pit of hell. Procrastination is
   not only the thief of time, but the thief of souls. Now is the day of
   salvation; I have never heard of any other day. I do not know, but I
   think this is one of the most difficult things in the gospel ministry,
   a matter worthy of the Holy Ghost's power--to make men seriously think
   about their souls at this present. I know, young man, you intend to
   think of these things when you are ill; you expect to have a long time
   upon a sick-bed, and then you suppose all will be right before you die.
   Who told you you would ever lie upon a sick-bed at all? Yours may be a
   sudden death; and sudden death to such as you, are would be sudden
   damnation. As men stand upon the bank, and spring head-first into the
   water, so may you dash into hell. Death enters men's doors without
   knocking. The judgment may follow on the heels of your next sins. And
   what if you should lie upon a bed of sickness? You will have enough to
   do to bear the pain, to mourn over your weeping wife, and worry
   yourself about those little children who will be left fatherless: I
   tell you, sir, it is hard repenting upon a dying bed. Do not sew
   pillows to thine armholes, and make for thyself this fond hope, that
   thou shalt one day be saved. It is now or never, it is now or never
   with you. I speak as a prophet of God at this moment, I know I do;
   there are some of you to whom this now or never is a more applicable
   thing than you suppose. You will not see a new year. No Christmas
   festivities will be yours. You will be at home on Christmas-day, but it
   will be your long, lost home. "Set thine house in order; for thou shalt
   die, and not live." As the Lord my God liveth, before whom I stand,
   thus saith the Lord unto some of you--"There is but a step between you
   and death." Be warned, then, for as I will meet you on the other side
   the stream, at my Master's judgment-seat, I have bidden you give
   immediate, instantaneous attention to the Word of God. Consider your
   ways, O sinners, born to die. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, O
   trembler, and thou shalt be saved. Trust him, trust him. God help thee
   to trust Jesus to-night, for it is now or never with thy soul.

   Again, this alarm demands of every one of us who are unsaved, an
   undivided attention. You have fifty things to think about. You tell me
   you have a thousand cares. O sirs, a man whose life is in danger, has
   no other care than to save his life. Did those who were rescued from
   the "Amazon," have time to save their money and their gold? We are told
   that they were utterly destitute when they landed at Margate, and what
   signifies it? Would not a flush of joy be on their cheeks because their
   lives were preserved! If one said to his fellow, "Where is thy purse?"
   "Oh," saith the other, "never mind my purse, I am in the lifeboat; my
   life is saved." What shall it profit you, if you gain the whole world,
   and lose your own soul? And what is the loss after all, if you lose the
   world, if you gain your soul? Nay, those on board the ship had not time
   to save their clothes. The instincts of self-preservation made them
   run, just as they were, half-naked, to the vessel's deck, and so must
   you. I know you will tell me you are not living to make money; if you
   could just make ends meet, keep your family, and supply the wants of
   your children--that is all--are you not to think of this? It is well
   and good; far be it from me to discourage prudent carefulness in all
   matters; it is your business to see to temporal matters, but still your
   paramount business must be your soul; even necessaries must not come
   between your soul and your most serious thoughts. You must see to this
   first and foremost, and remember there is a promise about it--"Seek ye
   first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things
   shall be added unto you." Those persons who escaped from the blazing
   vessel had, some of them, even to suffer in body. We read of one who
   broke his arm in the medley of the escape, but what of that?* (*I hear
   since, from the friends of the second mate, that the man did not break
   his arm.) Better to escape with a broken arm, than fry in those
   horrible flames with every bone in its place. It would be very little
   comfort to the poor passenger to save his bones entire, and to have his
   body consumed. "It is better for thee to enter into life halt or
   maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into
   everlasting fire." You are rightly considerate of your bodies, but
   still, if that poor body, which is to become worm's meat one day, is
   worthy of so much thought, how much more ought you to give to your
   immortal spirit, which is to live for ever with God in glory, or with
   fiends in torment? Think first, I pray you, think chiefly, think now
   to-night with undivided heart, with consecrated thought upon your soul.
   Let comforts go, let pelf go, let raiment go, let life itself go--but
   do see to that which is better than life--thy soul--thine everlasting
   destiny.

   Now, the alarm which I have tried to give--"Escape for thy life!" seems
   to me to suggest a very solemn question. "How can I escape?" says cue.
   Dost thou sincerely ask that question--"What must I do to be saved?"
   Remember there is but one way of rescue--the lifeboat of faith must put
   thee into the vessel of salvation--Christ Jesus. Stop in thine own
   vessel, and thou art burned; leap into those floods of wrath, and thou
   art drowned; get into that boat of saving faith, let that boat bear
   thee into the vessel of Christ Jesus, and thou art safe. Sinner, the
   road of salvation is, out of self into Christ. There are only two steps
   to heaven--out of self, into Christ. That man who has left himself as a
   burning vessel behind, left sin and left self-righteousness as a thing
   to be destroyed--that man who has taken Christ to be his all in all,
   and takes the cross to be the only thing to which he clings, is safe.
   Escape, I pray thee, for thy life, awakened and seeking sinner, for
   Jesus is the only foundation, he only is thy rock and thy salvation;
   come to him for shelter, and you are saved.

   To conclude this matter of alarm, our meditation arouses a very solemn
   enquiry--Will all be safe? Will all in the vessel escape? What joy must
   there have been in the captain's heart when he heard that not one had
   been left to burn in the vessel! Will all escape? Will every hearer in
   this huge house of prayer to-night be a singer in heaven? Dare we, in
   the judgment of charity, hope so? Well, well, let us try to hope, if so
   your charity wishes it, but I fear me, I fear me it will be hope
   without any grounds; for there are some here who love the drunkard's
   cup, others who vomit the swearer's oaths, and some who have the proud,
   self-righteous look which God hateth. O that we could hope that these
   would be transformed by grace through Jesus Christ, that so they might
   be saved! I am, I own it, very much afraid that all of you will not be
   saved, but that some of you will perish in your iniquities. It is not,
   however, our duty to pry into futurity, let us therefore, turn to that
   which far more concerns us, our own personal salvation. The enquiry
   changes--"Shall I be saved? If there be an alarm given, Escape for thy
   life!' Shall I be saved?" And what if it should be the preacher's lot
   to be lost for ever! What, if after talking to you this morning of
   being sick of love to Christ, he should have to hear those doleful
   words, "I never knew you, depart, ye cursed!" And what if this were to
   be the lot of the church-officers who sit around me, or of any one
   amongst you? Brother, you have passed the sacramental cup to others,
   what if the cup of devils be your portion for ever and ever! My
   brethren and sisters in Church fellowship, you may well put the
   question as did the apostles of old, "Lord is it I?"

   "Shall I be banished for my life,

   And yet forbid to die?

   Shall I endure eternal death,

   Yet death for ever fly?"

   Shall it be so! My dear hearer, thou who makest no profession of
   religion, will you ask the question, Shall I, shall I perish in
   devouring flames, or shall I escape? The answer to that question, so
   far as you are concerned, at this moment, must depend upon whether
   there is now a work of grace in your heart. If thou believest that
   Jesus is the Christ, thou canst never perish. If thou dost not, and
   wilt not believe, thy destruction is most sure. O God Almighty, thou
   who alone canst impress the heart, lead everyone of us now to take such
   sure hold of Christ that we may never perish, neither may any pluck us
   out of his hand.

   II. My time is fled, woe is me, when I had meant to have spoken with my
   whole heart upon another topic. It was GRATITUDE. Well, we will just
   run over the points, although most briefly. I will hope that you and I
   are saved; I will trust that we have been put into thy grace-vessel; I
   will believe that we have laid hold on Christ; may me belief be
   warranted by facts? Then this calls for gratitude. Gratitude of what
   kind? Gratitude that I was awakened. O my God, I bless thee that I was
   not permitted to sleep the sleep of death. I thank thee for that fever
   which made me fear, that loss which made me think, that dear dead babe
   which brought the parent to a Savior's feet. I bless thee, Lord, for
   the minister's earnest voice which shook me in my slumbers, for a
   mother's tears which fell like cold drops on my sleeping brow, and made
   me wake. I thank thee, O God, that though others slumber, yet, thou
   hast awakened me, and made me look to my soul's concerns. It is no
   slight mercy to be able to hear the trumpet of warning. It is a
   foundation mercy, but it is not the least of mercies to have an
   awakened conscience.

   Secondly, I would thank God, and let every believer join with me, that
   when you and I were awakened, the ship was not out to sea. If the
   "Amazon" had been far out to sea when the cry of "Fire" was given, what
   must have been the result? How few could have escaped! But there she
   was, close to land. You and I, when we were awakened, were not in
   hell--not like the rich man, lifting up our eyes where hope could never
   come--we were still on praying ground, still on pleading terms with
   God, still off the Foreland, still where mercy could come to us, and
   grace could meet us. Sinner, if you have been awakened to-night, thank
   God for this, thank him that the trumpet which wakes you is not the
   trumpet of the archangel summoning you to judgment, but the silver
   trumpet of God's messenger of mercy, inviting you to mercy banquet.

   Let us thank God it did not blow harder, for there might have been much
   trouble in reaching the boat. When you and I were awakened to a sense
   of sin, it might have been just when death was coming, or when the
   terrors of conscience would have been too much for us, and when the
   fears of death might have kept us from a Savior. But, blessed be God,
   when we were aroused there was wind enough, we were conscience-stricken
   and smitten, but still not too much, or else the fire had been too
   vehement, and we had not escaped. Thank God, then, that he awakened us
   while there was really time to avail ourselves of the covenant
   lifeboat.

   Let us be thankful again, that we could use the signals. I told you
   that the vessel sent up its rockets--signals of distress. Ah! what a
   thousand mercies it was that we could pray. I remember well when this
   was the only comfort my bursting spirit had, I could pray. Oh, to be on
   pleading terms with God! Thank God for this, awakened sinner, bless God
   for this. If you have not got so far as being completely saved, yet do
   praise him that you are allowed to fire off the rockets of desires,
   sighs, groans, sobs, tears, longings, and pantings, and that you can
   send them up where God can see them. Your cries, and groans, and tears
   will yet bring comfort and peace from heaven through the Lamb's
   redeeming blood. Rejoice, my beloved brethren, that the Lord has not
   abolished a mercy-seat, nor forgotten to be gracious. He saith "not to
   the seed of Jacob, Seek ye me in vain." He waits to be gracious. He
   delighteth in mercy. Before you call he will answer, and while you are
   yet speaking he will hear.

   Thank God that there were good officers on board to direct the
   passengers. Without firm authority, men become a mob, and then, with
   every appliance which might save, few are rescued. Awakened sinner, be
   grateful that you have gospel ministers. Oh! what a mercy to have a
   gospel ministry! What an awful thing to sit under a half-and-half
   milk-and-water, yea-and-nay ministry, as was my lot when under
   conviction. I attended different places of worship, but what I heard
   was not the gospel. And I venture to say it, that a few years ago, in
   nine places out of ten in London, and in the suburbs, and throughout
   England, such a thing as the gospel was not preached, except by
   accident. It is preached NOW. It is not preached now as it should be,
   but it is preached now. What I mean by the gospel, is the doctrine that
   Jesus Christ came to save sinners, and that the simple trusting upon
   him is saving faith. This is a doctrine which the revival has brought
   up more clearly, and which the revival keeps before the public mind;
   but before that great movement came, it was a doctrine ignored and cast
   behind; too much of the preaching was a dry morality, or else
   philosophy which might tickle the ears of men who claimed intellect,
   but could never move the heart. Oh, thank God, poor sinner, that you do
   hear it rung in your ears--Come as you are! Come as you are! You hear
   the gospel sung to you:--

   "Just as I am, without one plea,

   But that thy blood was shed for me,

   And that thou bidd'st me come to thee,

   O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

   Just as I aim-thy love I own,

   Has broken every barrier down:

   Now, to be thine, yea, thine alone,

   O Lamb of God, I come! I come!"

   We hold up to you no ceremonies, no feelings, no works, no orthodoxies;
   we only hold up Christ, Christ crucified, a substitute for sinners, a
   substitute for you if you trust him; and we tell you again and again,
   till we half fear of tiring you, that, trusting Jesus, you are saved.
   Now we have reason, if saved, to be grateful to God for gospel
   officers.

   Then how grateful ought you and I to be that the ship is come to the
   rescue. Jesus came all the way from heaven to earth to save us--"Who
   though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his
   poverty might be made rich." How shall we be grateful enough for this
   unspeakable gift?

   "O, for this love let rocks and hills

   Their lasting silence break,

   And all harmonious human tongues

   The Savior's praises speak."

   Better still: how grateful we ought to be that we have got on board
   that ship. Oh! joy! joy! joy! that blessed step which set me upon
   Christ! that blessed act which made me one with him. My soul would
   repeat now that grace-wrought deed of faith.

   "A wounded, weak, and helpless worm,

   On Christ's kind arms I fall;

   Be thou my strength and confidence,

   My Jesus and my all."

   Be grateful for this; and, sinner, if thou canst now step into Christ
   and trust him with thyself, make earth ring with thy joy, and make
   heaven resound with thy praise.

   Our gratitude, methinks, will be greatest of all when we get safe on
   shore, and look on this old hulk, the burning world, without a fear;
   we, will see her blaze and cast her dreadful splendours over the
   infinite leagues of space, until beings in far-off worlds shall ask,
   "What is this? A world on fire, whose elements dissolve with fervent
   heat." But we, caught up together with the Lord, to dwell for ever with
   him, shall look on with complacency, having lost nothing because saved
   in him; having found in him our Savior, better than all we had before,
   and being, once for all on heaven's terra firma, never to put to sea
   again, never to fear tempest, rock, wreck, or fire; but saved! saved!
   saved eternally!

   Escape, sinner, escape for thy life. Remember, though thus I talk to
   thee, if thou shalt escape, free grace must have all the praise; and in
   the language of good Lot, thou wilt have to say--"Thou hast magnified
   thy mercy in saving my life." May God send you away with a blessing,
   for Jesus' sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                 Faith and Life

   A Sermon

   (No. 551)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, January 24th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Simon Peter, a servant and an apostle of Jesus Christ, to them that
   have obtained like precious faith with us through the righteousness of
   God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; grace and peace be multiplied unto
   you through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord, according as
   his divine power hath given unto us all things that pertain unto life
   and godliness, through the knowledge of him that hath called us to
   glory and virtue: whereby are given unto us exceeding great and
   precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine
   nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through
   lust."--2 Peter 1:1-4.

   THE two most important things in our holy religion are faith and life.
   He who shall rightly understand these two words is not far from being a
   master in experimental theology. Faith and life! these are vital points
   to a Christian. They possess so intimate a connection with each other
   that they are by no means to be severed; God hath so joined them
   together, let no man seek to put them asunder. You shall never find
   true faith unattended by true godliness; on the other hand, you shall
   never discover a truly holy life which has not for its root and
   foundation a living faith upon the righteousness of our Lord Jesus
   Christ. Woe unto those who seek after the one without the other! There
   be some who cultivate faith and forget holiness; these may be very high
   in orthodoxy, but they shall be very deep in damnation, in that day
   when God shall condemn those who hold the truth in unrighteousness, and
   make the doctrine of Christ to pander to their lusts. There are others
   who have strained after holiness of life, but have denied the faith;
   these are comparable unto the Pharisees of old, of whom the Master
   said, they were "whitewashed sepulchres;" they were fair to look upon
   externally, but inwardly, because the living faith was not there, they
   were full of dead men's bones and all manner of uncleanness. Ye must
   have faith, for this is the foundation; ye must have holiness of life,
   for this is the superstructure. Of what avail is the mere foundation of
   a building to a man in the day of tempest? Can he hide himself among
   sunken stones and concrete? He wants a house to cover him, as well as a
   foundation upon which that house might have been built; even so we need
   the superstructure of spiritual life if we would have comfort in the
   day of doubt. But seek not a holy life without faith, for that would be
   to erect a house which can afford no permanent shelter, because it has
   no foundation on a rock--a house which must come down with a tremendous
   crash in the day when the rain descends, and the floods come, and the
   winds blow, and beat upon it. Let faith and life be put together, and,
   like the two abutments of an arch, they shall make your piety strong.
   Like the horses of Pharaoh's chariot, they pull together gloriously.
   Like light and heat streaming from the same sun, they are alike full of
   blessing. Like the two pillars of the temple, they are for glory and
   for beauty. They are two streams from the fountain of grace; two lamps
   lit with holy fire; two olive-trees watered by heavenly care; two stars
   carried in Jesus' hand. The Lord grant that we may have both of these
   to perfection, that his name may be praised.

   Now, it will be clear to all, that in the four verses before us, our
   apostle has most excellently set forth the necessity of these two
   things--twice over he insists upon the faith, and twice over upon
   holiness of life. We will take the first occasion first.

   I. Observe, in the first place, what he says concerning the character
   and the origin of faith, and then concerning the character and origin
   of spiritual life.

   "Simon Peter, a servant and an apostle of Jesus Christ, to them that
   have obtained like precious faith with us through the righteousness of
   God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." So far the faith. "Grace and peace
   be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our
   Lord, according as his divine power hath given unto us all things that
   pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of him that hath
   called us to glory and virtue." These two verses, you see, concern the
   spiritual life which comes with the faith.

   Let us begin where Peter begins, with the FAITH. You have here a
   description of true saving faith.

   First, you have a description of its source. He says, "to them that
   have obtained like precious faith." See, then, my brethren, faith does
   not grow in man's heart by nature; it is a thing which is obtained. It
   is not a matter which springs up by a process of education, or by the
   example and excellent instruction of our parents; it is a thing which
   has to be obtained. Not imitation, but regeneration; not development,
   but conversion. All our good things come from without us, only evil can
   be educed from within us. Now, that which is obtained by us must be
   given to us; and well are we taught in Scripture that "faith is not of
   ourselves, it is the gift of God." Although faith is the act of man,
   yet it is the work of God. "With the heart man believeth unto
   righteousness;" but that heart must, first of all, have been renewed by
   divine grace before it ever can be capable of the act of saving faith.
   Faith, we say, is man's act, for we are commanded to "believe on the
   Lord Jesus Christ," and we shall be saved. At the same time, faith is
   God's gift, and wherever we find it, we may know that it did not come
   there from the force of nature, but from a work of divine grace. How
   this magnifies the grace of God, my brethren, and how low this casts
   human nature! Faith. Is it not one of the simplest things? Merely to
   depend upon the blood and righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ, does
   it not seem one of the easiest of virtues? To be nothing, and to let
   him be everything--to be still, and to let him work for me, does not
   this seem to be the most elementary of all the Christian graces?
   Indeed, so it is; and yet, even to this first principle and rudiment,
   poor human nature is so fallen and so utterly undone, that it cannot
   attain unto! Brethren, the Lord must not only open the gates of heaven
   to us at last, but he must open the gates of our heart to faith at the
   first. It is not enough for us to know that he must make us perfect in
   every good work to do his will, but we must be taught that he must even
   give us a desire after Christ; and when this is given, he must enable
   us to give the grip of the hand of faith whereby Jesus Christ becomes
   our Saviour and Lord. Now, the question comes (and we will try and make
   the text of today, a text of examination all the way through) have we
   obtained this faith? Are we conscious that we have been operated upon
   by the Holy Spirit? Is there a vital principle in us which was not
   there originally? Do we know today the folly of carnal confidence? Have
   we a hope that we have been enabled through divine grace to cast away
   all our own righteousness and every dependence, and are we now, whether
   we sink or swim, resting entirely upon the person, the righteousness,
   the blood, the intercession, the precious merit of our Lord Jesus
   Christ? If not, we have cause enough to tremble; but if we have, the
   while the apostle writes, "Unto them that have obtained like precious
   faith," he writes to us, and across the interval of centuries his
   benediction comes as full and fresh as ever, "Grace and peace be
   multiplied unto you."

   Peter having described the origin of this faith, proceeds to describe
   its object. The word "through" in our translation, might, quite as
   correctly, have been rendered "in"--"faith in the righteousness of our
   God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." True faith, then, is a faith in
   Jesus Christ, but it is a faith in Jesus Christ as divine. That man who
   believes in Jesus Christ as simply a prophet, as only a great teacher,
   has not the faith which will save him. Charity would make us hope for
   many Unitarians, but honesty compels us to condemn them without
   exception, so far as vital godliness is concerned. It matters not how
   intelligent may be their conversation, nor how charitable may be their
   manners, nor how patriotic may be their spirit, if they reject Jesus
   Christ as very God of very God, we believe they shall without doubt
   perish everlastingly. Our Lord uttered no dubious words when he said,
   "He that believeth not shall be damned," and we must not attempt to be
   more liberal than the Lord himself. Little allowance can I make for one
   who receives Jesus the prophet, and rejects him as God. It is an
   atrocious outrage upon common sense for a man to profess to be a
   believer in Christ at all, if he does not receive his divinity. I would
   undertake, at any time, to prove to a demonstration, that if Christ
   were not God, he was the grossest impostor who ever lived. One of two
   things, he was either divine or a villain. There is no stopping between
   the two. I cannot imagine a character more evil than that which would
   be borne by a man who should lead his followers to adore him as God,
   without ever putting in a word by way of caveat, to stop their
   idolatry; nay, who should have spoken in terms so ambiguous, that two
   thousand years after his death, there should be found millions of
   persons resting upon him as God. I say, if he were not God, the
   atrocity of his having palmed himself upon us, his disciples, as God,
   puts aside altogether from consideration any of the apparent virtues of
   his life. He was the grossest of all deceivers, if he was not "very God
   of very God." O beloved, you and I have found no difficulties here;
   when we have beheld the record of his miracles, when we have listened
   to the testimony of his divine Father, when we have heard the word of
   the inspired apostles, when we have felt the majesty of his own divine
   influence in our own hearts, we have graciously accepted him as "the
   Wonderful, the Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father;"
   and, as John bear witness of him and said, "The Word was in the
   beginning with God, and the Word was God," even so have we received
   him; so that at this day, he that was born of the virgin Mary, Jesus of
   Nazareth, the king of the Jews, is to us "God over all, blessed for
   ever."

   "Jesus is worthy to receive

   Honour and power divine:

   And blessings more than we can give,

   Be Lord for ever thine."

   Now, beloved friends, have we heartily and joyfully received Jesus
   Christ as God? My hearer, if thou hast not, I pray thee seek of God the
   faith that saves, for thou hast it not as yet, nor art thou in the way
   to it. Who but a God could bear the weight of sin? Who but a God shall
   be the "same yesterday, to-day, and for ever?" Concerning whom but a
   God could it be said, "I am the Lord, I change not; therefore ye sons
   of Jacob are not consumed." We have to do with Christ, and we should be
   consumed if he changed; inasmuch, then, as he does not change, and we
   are not consumed, he must be divine, and our soul rolls the entire
   burden of its care and guilt upon the mighty shoulders of the
   everlasting God, who--

   "Bears the earth's huge pillars up,

   And spreads the heavens abroad."

   Remark in further dwelling upon the text, that the apostle has put in
   another word beside "God", and that is, "of God and our Saviour." As if
   the glory of the Godhead might be too bright for us, he has attempered
   it by gentler words "our Saviour." Now, to trust Jesus Christ as
   divine, will save no man, unless there be added to this a resting in
   him as the great propitiatory sacrifice. Jesus Christ is our Saviour
   because he became a substitute for guilty man. He having taken upon
   himself the form of manhood by union with our nature, stood in the
   room, place, and stead of sinners. When the whole tempest of divine
   wrath was about to spend itself on man, he endured it all for his
   elect; when the great whip of the law must fall, he bared his own
   shoulders to the lash; when the cry was heard, "Awake, O sword!" it was
   against Christ the Shepherd, against the man who was the fellow to the
   eternal God. And because he thus suffered in the place and stead of
   man, he received power from on high to become the Saviour of man, and
   to bring many sons into glory, because he had been made perfect through
   suffering. Now, have we received Jesus Christ as our Saviour? Happy art
   thou, if thou hast laid thy hand upon the head of him who was slain for
   sinners. Be glad, and rejoice in the Lord without ceasing, if today
   that blessed Redeemer who has ascended upon high has become thy
   Saviour, delivered thee from sin, passing by thy transgressions, and
   making thee to be accepted in the beloved. A Saviour is he to us when
   he delivers us from the curse, punishment, guilt and power of sin, "He
   shall save his people from their sins." O thou great God, be thou my
   Saviour, mighty to save.

   But be pleased to notice the word "righteousness." It is a faith in the
   righteousness of our God and our Saviour. In these days, certain
   divines have tried to get rid of all idea of atonement; they have
   taught that faith in Jesus Christ would save men, apart from any faith
   in him as a sacrifice. Ah, brethren, it does not say, "faith in the
   teaching of God our Saviour;" I do not find here that it is written,
   "faith in the character of God our Saviour, as our exemplar." No, but
   "faith in the righteousness of God our Saviour." That righteousness,
   like a white robe, must be cast around us. I have not received Jesus
   Christ at all, but I am an adversary and an enemy to him, unless I have
   received him as Jehovah Tsidkenu, the Lord our righteousness. There is
   his perfect life; that life was a life for me; it contains all the
   virtues, in it there is no spot; it keeps the law of God, and makes it
   honourable; my faith takes that righteousness of Jesus Christ, and it
   is cast about me, and I am then so beauteously, nay, so perfectly
   arrayed, that even the eye of God can see neither spot nor blemish in
   me. Have we, then, today a faith in the righteousness of God our
   Saviour? For no faith but this can ever bring the soul into a condition
   of acceptance before the Most High. Why," saith one, "these are the
   very simplicities of the gospel." Beloved, I know they are, and,
   therefore, do we deal them out this morning, for, thanks be to God, it
   is the simplicities which lie at the foundation; and it is rather by
   simplicities than by mysteries that a Christian is to try himself and
   to see whether he be in the faith or no. Put the question, brethren,
   have we, then, this like precious faith in God and our Saviour Jesus
   Christ?

   Our apostle has not finished the description, without saying that it is
   "like precious faith." All faith is the same sort of faith. Our faith
   may not be like that of Peter, in degree, but if it be genuine, it is
   like it as to its nature, its origin, its objects, and its results.
   Here is a blessed equality. Speak of "liberty, equality, and
   fraternity," you shall only find these things carried out within the
   Church of Christ. There is indeed a blessed equality here, for the
   poorest little-faith who ever crept into heaven on its hands and knees,
   has a like precious faith with the mighty apostle Peter. I say,
   brethren, if the one be gold, so is the other; if the one can move
   mountains, so can the other; for remember, that the privileges of
   mountain-moving, and of plucking up the trees, and casting them into
   the sea, are not given to great faith, but "if ye have faith as a grain
   of mustard seed," it shall be done. Little faith has a royal descent
   and is as truly of divine birth as is the greatest and fullest
   assurance which ever made glad the heart of man, hence it ensures the
   same inheritance at the last, and the same safety by the way. It is
   "like precious faith."

   He tells us too, that faith is "precious;" and is it not precious? for
   it deals with precious things, with precious promises, with precious
   blood, with a precious redemption, with all the preciousness of the
   person of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Well may that be a
   precious faith which supplies our greatest want, delivers us from our
   greatest danger, and admits us to the greatest glory. Well may that be
   called "precious faith," which is the symbol of our election, the
   evidence of our calling, the root of all our graces, the channel of
   communion, the weapon of prevalence, the shield of safety, the
   substance of hope, the evidence of eternity, the guerdon of
   immortality, and the passport of glory. O for more of this inestimably
   precious faith. Precious faith, indeed it is.

   When the apostle, Simon Peter, writes "to them that have obtained like
   precious faith with us, through the righteousness of God, and our
   Saviour Jesus Christ," does he write to you? does he write to me? If
   not, if we are not here addressed, remember that we can never expect to
   hear the voice which says, "Come ye blessed of my Father;" but we are
   today in such a condition, that dying as we now are, "Depart ye cursed"
   must be the thunder which shall roll in our ears, and drive us down to
   hell. So much, then, concerning faith.

   Now we shall turn to notice with great brevity, the LIFE. "Grace and
   peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God and of Jesus
   our Lord, according as his divine power hath given unto us all things
   that pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of him that
   hath called us to glory and virtue." Here we have, then, brethren, the
   fountain and source of our spiritual life. Just as faith is a boon
   which is to be obtained, so you will perceive that our spiritual life
   is a principle which is given. A thing which is given to us, too, by
   divine power--"according as his divine power hath given unto us all
   things that pertain unto life and godliness." To give life at all is
   the essential attribute of God. This is an attribute which he will not
   alienate; to save and to destroy belong unto the Sovereign of heaven.
   "He can create, and he destroy," is one of the profoundest notes in the
   ascription of our praise. Suppose a corpse before us. How great a
   pretender would he be who should boast that it was in his power to
   restore it to life. Certainly, it would be even a greater pretence if
   anyone should say that he could give to himself or to another the
   divine life, the spiritual life by which a man is made a Christian. My
   brethren, you who are partakers of the divine nature, know that by
   nature you were dead in trespasses and sins, and would have continued
   so until this day if there had not been an interposition of divine
   energy on your behalf. There you lay in the grave of your sin, rotten,
   corrupt. The voice of the minister called to you, but you did not hear.
   You were often bidden to come forth, but ye did not and could not come.
   But when the Lord said, "Lazarus, come forth," then Lazarus came forth;
   and when he said to you, "Live," then you lived also, and the spiritual
   life beat within you, with joy and peace through believing. This we
   ought never to forget, because, let us never fail to remember, that if
   our religion is a thing which sprang from ourselves, it is of the
   flesh, and must die. That which is born of the flesh in its best and
   most favourable moments, is flesh, and only that which is born of the
   Spirit is spirit. "Ye must be born again." If a man's religious life be
   only a refinement of his ordinary life, if it be only a high attainment
   of the natural existence, then is it not the spiritual life, and does
   not prepare him for the eternal life before the throne of God. No, we
   must have a supernatural spark of heavenly flame kindled within us.
   Just as nothing but the soul can quicken the body and make it live, so
   the Spirit alone can quicken the soul and make the soul live. We must
   have the third master-principle infused, or else we shall be but
   natural men, made after the image of the first Adam. We must have, I
   say, the new spirit, or else we shall not be like the second Adam, who
   was made a quickening spirit. Only of the Christian can we say that he
   is spirit, soul, and body; the ungodly man has only soul and body, and
   as to spiritual existence, he is as dead as the body would be if there
   were no soul. Now the implantation of this new principle, called the
   spirit, is a work of divine power. Divine power! What stupendous issues
   are grasped in that term, divine power! It was this which digged the
   deep foundations of the earth and sea! Divine power, it is this which
   guides the marches of the stars of heaven! Divine power! it is this
   which holds up the pillars of the universe, and which one day shall
   shake them, and hurry all things back to their native nothingness. Yet
   the selfsame power which is required to create a world and to sustain
   it, is required to make man a Christian, and unless that power be put
   forth, the spiritual life is not in any one of us.

   You will perceive, dear friends, that the apostle Peter wished to see
   this divine life in a healthy and vigorous state, and therefore he
   prays that grace and peace may be multiplied. Divine power is the
   foundation of this life; grace is the food it feeds upon, and peace is
   the element in which it lives most healthily. Give a Christian much
   grace, and his spiritual life will be like the life of a man who is
   well clothed and nurtured; keep the spiritual life without abundant
   grace, and it becomes lean, faint, and ready to die; and though die it
   cannot, yet will it seem as though it gave up the ghost, unless fresh
   grace be bestowed. Peace, I say, is the element in which it flourishes
   most. Let a Christian be much disturbed in mind, let earthly cares get
   into his soul, let him have doubts and fears as to his eternal safety,
   let him lose a sense of reconciliation to God, let his adoption be but
   dimly before his eyes, and you will not see much of the divine life
   within him. But oh! if God shall smile upon the life within you, and
   you get much grace from God, and your soul dwells much in the balmy air
   of heavenly peace, then shall you be strong to exercise yourself unto
   godliness, and your whole life shall adorn the doctrine of God your
   Saviour.

   Observe, again, that in describing this life, he speaks of it as one
   which was conferred upon us by our being called. He says, "We were
   called unto glory and virtue." I find translators differ here. Many of
   them think the word should be "By"--"We are called by the glory and
   virtue of God"--that is, there is a manifestation of all the glorious
   attributes of God, and of all the efficacious virtue and energy of his
   power in the calling of every Christian. Simon Peter himself was at his
   fishing and in his boat, but Jesus said to him, "Follow me;" and at
   once he followed Christ. He says there was in that calling, the divine
   glory and virtue; and, doubtless, when you and I shall get to heaven,
   and see things as they are, we shall discover in our effectual calling
   of God to grace, a glory as great as in the creation of worlds, and a
   virtue as great as in the healing of the sick, when virtue went from
   the garments of a Saviour. Now, can we say today, that we have a life
   within us which is the result of divine power, and have we, upon
   searching ourselves, reason to believe, dear friends, that there is
   that within us which distinguishes us from other men, because we have
   been called out by mankind by the glory and energy of the divine power?
   I am afraid some of us must say "Nay." Then the Lord in his mercy yet
   bring us into the number of his people. But if we can, however,
   tremblingly say, "Yes, I trust there is something of the life in me;"
   then as Peter did so, do I wish for you that benediction, "Grace and
   peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of our Lord and
   Saviour Jesus Christ." O brethren, whatever men may say against the
   faith of God, there is nothing in the world which creates virtue like
   true faith. Wherever true faith enters, though it be into the heart of
   a harlot or of a thief, what a change it makes! See her there; she has
   polluted herself many times; she has gone far into sin. Mary has been a
   sinner; she hears the preaching of the Saviour; standing in the crowd
   she listens to him one day as he preaches concerning the prodigal, and
   how the loving father pressed him to his bosom; she comes to Jesus and
   she finds forgiveness. Is she a harlot any longer? Nay, there she is,
   washing his feet with her tears, and wiping them with the hairs of her
   head. The woman who was a sinner, hates her evil ways and loves her
   gracious Lord. We may say of her, "But she is washed, but she is
   sanctified, but she is saved." Take Saul of Tarsus. Foaming with blood,
   breathing out threatenings, he is going to Damascus to drag the saints
   of God to prison. On the road he is struck down; by divine mercy he is
   led to put his trust in Jesus. Is he a persecutor any longer? See that
   earnest apostle beaten with rods--shipwrecked--in labours more abundant
   than all the rest of them--counting not his life dear unto him, that he
   may win Christ and be found in him. Saul of Tarsus becomes a majestic
   proof of what the grace of God can do. See Zaccheus, the grasping
   publican, distributing his wealth, the Ephesians burning their magical
   books, the jailer washing the apostle's stripes. Take the case of many
   now present. Let memory refresh itself this morning, with the
   recollection of the change which has been wrought in you. We have
   nothing to boast of; God forbid that we should glory, save in the cross
   of Christ, but yet some of us are wonderful instances of renewing
   grace. We were unclean, our mouths could utter blasphemy; our temper
   was hot and terrible; our hands were unrighteous; we were altogether as
   an unclean thing, but how changed now! Again, I say, we boast of
   nothing which we now are, for by the grace of God we are what we are,
   yet the change is something to be wondered at. Has divine grace wrought
   this change in you? Be not weary with my reiteration of this question.
   Let me put it again to you till I get an answer; nay, till I force you
   to an answer: Have you this precious faith? Can you not answer the
   question? Then, have you not that divine life, that life which is given
   by divine calling? If you have the one, you have the other; and if you
   have not both, you have neither; for where there is the one, the other
   must come, and where the one has come, the other has been there.

   II. I have thus fully but feebly brought the subject before you, allow
   me to remind you that another verse remains which handles the same
   topics. In the fourth verse, he deals with the privileges of faith, and
   also with the privileges of the spiritual life.

   Notice the PRIVILEGE OF FAITH first. "Whereby are given unto us
   exceeding great and precious promises"--here is the faith, "That by
   these ye might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the
   corruption that is in the world through lust." Here is the life
   resulting from the faith. Now, the privileges of faith first. The
   privileges of faith are, that we have given to us "Exceeding great and
   precious promises." "Great and precious"--two words which do not often
   come together. Many things are great which are not precious, such as
   great rocks, which are of little value; on the other hand, many things
   are precious which are not great--such as diamonds and other jewels,
   which cannot be very great if they be very precious. But here we have
   promises which are so great, that they are not less than infinite, and
   so precious, that they are not less than divine. I shall not attempt to
   speak about their greatness or their preciousness, but just give a
   catalogue of them, and leave you to guess at both. We have some of them
   which are like birds in the hands--we have them already; other promises
   are like birds in the bush, only that they are just as valuable and as
   sure as those which are in the hand.

   Note here, then, we have received by precious faith the promise and
   pardon. Hark thee, my soul, all thy sins are forgiven thee. He who hath
   faith in Christ hath no sin to curse him, his sins are washed away,
   they have ceased to be; they have been carried on the scape-goat's head
   into the wilderness; they are drowned in the Red Sea; they are blotted
   out; they are thrown behind God's back; they are cast into the depths
   of the sea. Here is a promise of perfect pardon. Is not this great and
   precious?--as great as your sins are; and if your sins demanded a
   costly ransom, this precious promise is as great as the demand.

   Then comes the righteousness of Christ: you are not only pardoned, that
   is, washed and made clean, but you are dressed, robed in garments such
   as no man could ever weave. The vesture is divine. Jehovah himself has
   wrought out your righteousness for you; the holy life of Jesus the Son
   of God, has become your beauteous dress, and you are covered with it.
   Christian, is not this an exceeding great and precious promise? The law
   was great--this righteousness is as great as the law. The law asked a
   precious revenue from man, more than humanity could pay--the
   righteousness of Christ has paid it all. Is it not great and precious?

   Then next comes reconciliation. You were strangers, but you are brought
   nigh by the blood of Christ. Once aliens, but now fellow-citizens with
   the saints and of the household of God. Is not this great and precious?

   Then comes your adoption. "Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and 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." "And if
   children, then heirs, heirs of God, joint heirs with Jesus Christ, if
   so be we suffer with him that we may be glorified together." Oh, how
   glorious is this great and precious promise of adoption!

   Then we have the promise of providence: "all things work together for
   good to them that love God, to them that are called according to his
   purpose." "Thy place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks." "Thy
   bread shall be given thee and thy waters shall be sure." "As thy days
   thy strength shall be." "Fear not, I am with thee; be not dismayed, I
   am thy God." "When thou passest through the rivers, I will be with
   thee, the floods shall not overflow thee. When thou goest through the
   fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flames kindle upon
   thee." When I think of providence, the greatness of its daily gifts,
   and the preciousness of its hourly boons, I may well say, here is an
   exceeding great and precious promise.

   Then you have the promise too, that you shall never taste of death but
   shall only sleep in Jesus. "Write, blessed are the dead which die in
   the Lord from henceforth. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they cease from
   their labours; and their works do follow them." Nor does the promise
   cease here, you have the promise of a resurrection. "For the trumpet
   shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall
   be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this
   mortal must put on immortality." Beloved, we know that if Christ rose
   from the dead, so also them who sleep in Jesus, will the Lord bring
   with him. Nor is this all, for we shall reign with Jesus; at his
   coming, we shall be glorified with him, we shall sit upon his throne,
   even as he has overcome and sits with his Father upon his throne. The
   harps of heaven, the streets of glory, the trees of paradise, the river
   of the water of life, the eternity of immaculate bliss--all these, God
   hath promised to them who love him. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
   the things which God hath prepared for them that love him, but he hath
   revealed them unto us by his Spirit;" and by our faith we have grasped
   them, and we have today "the substance of things hoped for, and the
   evidence of things not seen." Now, beloved, see how rich faith makes
   you!--what treasure!--what a costly regalia!--what gold mines!--what
   oceans of wealth!--what mountains of sparkling treasures has God
   conferred upon you by faith!

   But we must not forget the life, and with that we close. The text says,
   he has given us this promise, "that"--"in order that." What then? What
   are all these treasures lavished for? For what these pearls? For what
   these jewels? For what, I say, these oceans of treasure? For what? Is
   the end worthy of the means? Surely God never giveth greater store than
   the thing which he would purchase will be worth. We may suppose, then,
   the end to be very great when such costly means have been given; and
   what is the end? Why, "that by these ye might be partakers of the
   divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world
   through lust." O, my brethren, if you have these mercies today by
   faith, do see to it that the result is obtained. Be not content to be
   made rich in these great and precious promises, without answering God's
   design in your being thus enriched. That design, you perceive, is
   twofold; it is first that you may be partakers of the divine nature;
   and, secondly, that you may escape the corruption which is in the
   world.

   To be a partaker of the divine nature is not, of course, to become God.
   That cannot be. The essence of Deity is not to be participated in by
   the creature. Between the creature and the Creator there must ever be a
   gulf fixed in respect of essence; but as the first man Adam was made in
   the image of God, so we, by the renewal of the Holy Spirit, are in a
   yet diviner sense made in the image of the Most High, and are partakers
   of the divine nature. We are, by grace, made like God. "God is love;"
   we become love--"He that loveth is born of God." God is truth; we
   become true, and we love that which is true, and we hate the darkness
   and the lie. God is good, it is his very name; he makes us good by his
   grace, so that we become the pure in heart who shall see God. Nay, I
   will say this, that we become partakers of the divine nature in even a
   higher sense than this--in fact, in any sense, anything short of our
   being absolutely divine. Do we not become members of the body of the
   divine person of Christ? And what sort of union is this--"members of
   his body, of his flesh, and of his bones?" The same blood which flows
   in the head flows in the hand, and the same life which quickens Christ,
   quickens his people; for, "Ye are dead, and your life is hid with
   Christ in God." Nay, as if this were not enough, we are married into
   Christ. He hath betrothed us unto himself in righteousness and in
   faithfulness; and as the spouse must, in the nature of things, be a
   partaker of the same nature as the husband, so Jesus Christ first
   became partaker of flesh and blood that they twain might be one flesh;
   and then he makes his Church partakers of the same spirit, that they
   twain may be one spirit; for he who is joined unto the Lord is one
   spirit. Oh, marvellous mystery! we look into it, but who shall
   understand it? One with Jesus, by eternal union one, married to him; so
   one with him that the branch is not more one with the vine than we are
   a part of the Lord, our Saviour, and our Redeemer. Rejoice in this,
   brethren, ye are made partakers of the divine nature, and all these
   promises are given to you in order that you may show this forth among
   the sons of men, that ye are like God, and not like ordinary men; that
   ye are different now from what flesh and blood would make you, having
   been made participators of the nature of God.

   Then the other result which follows from it, was this, "Having escaped
   the corruption that is in the world through lust." Ah, beloved, it were
   ill that a man who is alive should dwell in corruption. "Why seek ye
   the living among the dead?" said the angel to Magdalene. Should the
   living dwell among the dead? Should divine life be found amongst the
   corruptions of worldly lusts? The bride of Christ drunken! Frequenting
   the ale-house! A member of Christ's body found intoxicated in the
   streets, or lying, or blaspheming, or dishonest! God forbid. Shall I
   take the members of Christ, and make them members of a harlot? How can
   I drink the cup of the Lord, and drink the cup of Belial? How can it be
   possible that I can have life, and yet dwell in the black, dark, foul,
   filthy, pestiferous tomb of the world's lusts? Surely, brethren, from
   these open lusts and sins ye have escaped: have ye also escaped from
   slothfulness? Have ye clean escaped from carnal security? Are we
   seeking day by day to live above worldliness, and love of the things of
   the world, and the ensnaring avarice which they nourish? Remember, it
   is for this that you have been enriched with the treasures of God. Do
   not, oh, I conjure you, do not, chosen of God and beloved by him, and
   so graciously enriched, do not suffer all this lavish treasure to be
   wasted upon you.

   There is nothing which my heart desires more than to see you, the
   members of this Church, distinguished for holiness: it is the
   Christian's crown and glory. An unholy Church! it is of no use to the
   world, and of no esteem among men. Oh! it is an abomination, hell's
   laughter, heaven's abhorrence. And the larger the Church, the more
   influential, the worse nuisance does it become, when it becomes dead
   and unholy. The worst evils which have ever come upon the world, have
   been brought upon her by an unholy Church. Whence came the darkness of
   the dark ages? From the Church of Rome. And if we want to see the world
   again sitting in Egyptian darkness, bound with fetters of iron, we have
   only to give up the faith, and to renounce holiness of life, and we may
   drag the world down again to the limbo of superstition, and bind her
   fast in chains of ignorance and vice. O Christian, the vows of God are
   upon you. You are God's priest: act as such. You are God's king: reign
   over your lusts. You are God's chosen: do not associate with Belial.
   Heaven is your portion; live like a heavenly spirit, so shall you prove
   that you have the true faith; but except ye do this, your end shall be
   to lift up your eyes in hell, and find yourself mistaken when it will
   be too late to seek or find a remedy. The Lord give us the faith and
   the life, for Jesus' sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                Do You Know Him?

   A Sermon

   (No. 552)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, January 31st, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "That I may know him."--Philippians 3:10.

   THE object of the apostle's life--that for which he sacrificed
   everything: country, kindred, honor, comfort, liberty, and life itself,
   was, that he might know Christ. Observe that this is not Paul's prayer
   as an unconverted man, that he may know Christ, and so be saved; for it
   follows upon the previous supplication that he might win Christ and be
   found in him. This is the desire of one who has been saved, who enjoys
   the full conviction that his sins are pardoned, and that he is in
   Christ. It is only the regenerated and saved man who can feel the
   desire, "That I may know him." Are you astonished that a saved man
   should have such a desire as this? A moment's reflection will remove
   your astonishment. Imagine for a moment that you are living in the age
   of the Roman emperors. You have been captured by Roman soldiers and
   dragged from your native country; you have been sold for a slave,
   stripped, whipped, branded, imprisoned, and treated with shameful
   cruelty. At last yon are appointed to die in the amphitheatre, to make
   holiday for a tyrant. The populace assemble with delight. There they
   are, tens of thousands of them, gazing down from the living sides of
   the capacious Colosseum. You stand alone, and naked, armed only with a
   single dagger--a poor defense against gigantic beasts. A ponderous door
   is drawn up by machinery, and forth there rushes the monarch of the
   forest--a huge lion; you must slay him or be torn to pieces. You are
   absolutely certain that the conflict is too stern for you, and that the
   sure result must and will be that those terrible teeth will grind your
   bones and drip with your blood. You tremble; your joints are loosed;
   you are paralyzed with fear, like the timid deer when the lion has
   dashed it to the ground. But what is this? O wonder of mercy!--a
   deliverer appears. A great unknown leaps from among the gazing
   multitude, and confronts the savage monster. He quails not at the
   roaring of the devourer, but dashes upon him with terrible fury, till,
   like a whipped cur, the lion slinks towards his den, dragging himself
   along in pain and fear. The hero lifts you up, smiles into your
   bloodless face, whispers comfort in your ear, and bids you be of good
   courage, for you are free. Do you not think that there would arise at
   once in your heart a desire to know your deliverer? As the guards
   conducted you into the open street, and you breathed the cool, fresh
   air, would not the first question be, "Who was my deliverer, that I may
   fall at his feet and bless him?" You are not, however, informed, but
   instead of it you are gently led away to a noble mansion house, where
   your many wounds are washed and healed with salve of rarest power. You
   are clothed in sumptuous apparel; you are made to sit down at a feast;
   you eat and are satisfied; you rest upon the softest down. The next
   morning you are attended by servants who guard you from evil and
   minister to your good. Day after day, week after week, your wants are
   supplied. You live like a courtier. There is nothing that you can ask
   which you do not receive. I am sure that your curiosity would grow more
   and more intense till it would ripen into an insatiable craving. You
   would scarcely neglect an opportunity of asking the servants, "Tell me,
   who does all this, who is my noble benefactor, for I must know him?"
   "Well, but" they would say, "is it not enough for you that you are
   delivered from the lion?" "Nay," say you, "it is for that very reason
   that I pant to know him." "Your wants are richly supplied--why are yon
   vexed by curiosity as to the hand which reaches you the boon? If your
   garment is worn out, there is another. Long before hunger oppresses
   you, the table is well loaded. What more do you want?" But your reply
   is, "It is because I have no wants, that, therefore, my soul longs and
   yearns even to hungering and to thirsting, that I may know my generous
   loving friend." Suppose that as you wake up one morning, you find lying
   up on your pillow a precious love-token from your unknown friend, a
   ring sparkling with jewels and engraved with a tender inscription, a
   bouquet of flowers bound about with a love-motto! Your curiosity now
   knows no bounds. But you are informed that this wondrous being has not
   only done for you what you have seen, but a thousand deeds of love
   which you did not see, which were higher and greater still as proofs of
   his affection. You are told that he was wounded, and imprisoned, and
   scourged for your sake, for he had a love to yon so great, that death
   itself could not overcome it: you are informed that he is every moment
   occupied in your interests, because he has sworn by himself that where
   he is there you shall be; his honors you shall share, and of his
   happiness you shall be the crown. Why, methinks you would say, "Tell
   me, men and women, any of you who know him, tell me who he is and what
   he is;" and if they said, "But it is enough for you to know that he
   loves you, and to have daily proofs of his goodness," you would say,
   "No, these love-tokens increase my thirst. If ye see him, tell him I am
   sick of love. The flagons which he sends me, and the love-tokens which
   he gives me, they stay me for awhile with the assurance of his
   affection but they only impel me onward with the more unconquerable
   desire that I may know him. I must know him; I cannot live without
   knowing him. His goodness makes me thirst, and pant, and faint, and
   even die, that I may know him."

   Have I imagined emotions which would not be natural? I think not. The
   most cool and calculating would be warmed with desires like these.
   Methinks what I have now pictured before you will wake the echoes in
   your breasts, and you will say, "Ah, it is even so! It is because
   Christ loved me and gave himself for me that I want to know him; it is
   because he has shed his blood for me and has chosen me that I may be
   one with him for ever, that my soul desires a fuller acquaintance with
   him."

   Now may God, the Holy Ghost, very graciously lead me onward that I may
   also quicken in you the desire to know HIM.

   I. Beloved, let us PASS BY THAT CROWD OF OUTER-COURT WORSHIPPERS WHO
   ARE CONTENT TO LIVE WITHOUT KNOWING CHRIST. I do not mean the ungodly
   and profane; we will not consider them just now--they arc altogether
   strangers and foreigners to him--I mean children of God: the visible
   saints. How many there are of these whom I must call outer-court
   worshippers, for they are strangers to this panting to know him. They
   can say with Paul, "That I may win him and be found in him"--that they
   do want; but this higher wish, "That I may know him," has not stirred
   their hearts. How many brethren we know, who are content to know
   Christ's historic life! They read the evangelists and they are charmed
   with the perfect beauty of the Savior's history. "Never man spake like
   this man," say they; and they confess that never man acted with such
   love as lie did. They know all the incidents of his life, from his
   manger to his cross; but they do not know HIM. They are as men who have
   read " Caesar's Commentaries," but who have never seen Caesar. They
   know the battles which Caesar fought; they can even recognize the
   mantle which Caesar wore "that day he overcame the Nervii;" but they do
   not know Caesar himself. The person of the Lord Jesus is us much hidden
   from their eyes us the golden pot of manna when concealed in the ark.
   They know the life of Christ, hut not Christ the Life; they admire his
   way among men, hut they see not himself as the way.

   Others there are who know Christ's doctrine, and prize it too, but they
   know not Him. All which he taught is dear to them; orthodoxy--for this
   they would burn at Smithfield, or lay down their necks at Tower Hill.
   Many of them are well-instructed and divinely-illuminated in the
   doctrine of Christ, and the wonder is, that they should stop there;
   because, beloved, it does seem to me when I begin to know a man's
   teaching, that the next thing is the desire to know his person.
   Addison, in one of the " Spectators," tells us that the reason why so
   many books are printed with the portraits of the authors is just this,
   that as a man reads a book, lie feels a desire to know what sort of
   appearance the author had. This, indeed, is very natural. If you have
   ever been refreshed under a minister's printed sermons, if you have at
   any time received any benefit from his words, I know you have said, "I
   would like to see that man; I would like to hear the truth flow hot and
   fresh from his living lips; I would like to know just how he said that
   sentence, and how that passage sounded as it came from his earnest
   heart." My beloved, surely if you know the doctrine of Jesus, if you
   have so been with Christ as to sit at his feet and hear what he has to
   say, you must, I hope, have had some longings to know him--to know his
   person; and if you have, you will have had to pass by multitudes of
   followers of Jesus who rest satisfied with his words, but forget that
   he is himself "THE WORD."

   Beloved, there are others--and against them I bring no complaint; they
   go as far as they can--who are delighted with Christ's example.
   Christ's character is in their esteem the mirror of all perfection.
   They desire to walk in his footsteps; they listen to his sermon upon
   the Mount; they are enchanted with it--as well they may be; they pray
   to he obedient in all things to Christ, as their Master and their Lord.
   They do well. Mark, I am finding no fault with any of these who prize
   the history, or who value the doctrine, or who admire the precept; but
   I want more. I do want, beloved, that you and I should "know HIM." I
   love his precepts, but I love HIM better. Sweet is the water from
   Bethlehem's well; and well worth the struggle of the armed men to win
   but a bucket from it; but the well itself is better, and deserves all
   Israel's valor to defend it. As the source is ever more valuable than
   the stream, so is Christ ever better than the best words of his lips,
   or the best deeds of his hand. I want to know him. I do care for his
   actions; my soul would sit down and admire those masterly works of holy
   art--his miracles of humiliation, of suffering, of patience, and of
   holy charity; but better far I love the hands which wrought these
   master-works, the lips which spoke these goodly words, and the heart
   which heaved with that matchless love which was the cause of all. Yes,
   beloved, we must get farther than Immanuel's achievements, however
   glorious; we must come to "know him."

   Most believers rest perfectly at ease with knowing Christ's sacrifice.
   They see Jesus as the great High Priest, laying a great sacrifice upon
   the altar for their sins, and with their whole heart they accept his
   atonement. By faith they know that all their sin is taken away by
   precious blood. This is a most blessed and hallowed attainment, I will
   grant you; but it is not every Christian who perceives that Christ was
   not only the offerer of a sacrifice, but was himself the sacrifice,
   and, therefore, loves him as such. Priest, altar, victim, everything
   Christ was. He gathers up all in himself, and when I see that he loved
   me, and gave himself for me, it is not enough to know this fact: I want
   to know him, the glorious person who does and is all this. I want to
   know the man who thus gave himself for me. I want to behold the Lamb
   once slain for me. I want to rest upon the bosom which covers the heart
   which was pierced with the spear; I pray him to kiss me with the kisses
   of that mouth which cried, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" I love
   Calvary, the scene of woe, but I love Christ better, the great object
   of that agony; and even his cross and all his sufferings, dear though
   these must ever be to the Christian mind, only occupying a second
   place; the first seat is for himself, his person, his deity, and
   humanity.

   Thus, you see, we have to leave a great many believers behind; nor have
   we enumerated all, for I believe that even some of those saints who
   have received grace to look for the coming of Christ, yet in their
   vision of his coming too much forget him. Is it not possible for nine
   to pant for the second advent as to lose sight of him who is to make
   that advent? So to long for a millennium, that I may forget him who is
   to reign King of kings? So to pant after that glory of Israel that I
   may forget him who is Israel's glory? Anywhere short of knowing him, I
   would not have you stop, beloved; and even when you know him, I would
   urge you still to be impelled with the same desire, and to press
   forward, crying with the apostle, "That I may know him."

   Beloved, how many there are who have heard of Christ and read about
   Christ, and that is enough for them! But it is not enough for me, and
   it should not be enough for you. The apostle Paul did not say "I have
   heard of him, on whom I have believed," but " I know whom I have
   believed." To hear about Christ may damn you, it may be a savor of
   death unto death to you. You have heard of him with the ear; hut it is
   essential that you know him in order that you may be partakers of
   eternal life. My dear hearers, be not content unless you have this as
   your soul's present portion.

   Others there be who have been persuaded by the judgment and
   encouragement of others, that they know something about the great
   Redeemer. They do not know him, but still they are persuaded by others
   that they have an interest in him. Let me warn you of second-hand
   spirituality, it is a rotten, soul-deceiving deception. Beware of all
   esteeming yourself according to the thoughts of others, or you will be
   ruined. Another man's opinion of me may have great influence over me, I
   have heard of a man in perfectly good health killed by the opinion of
   others. Several of his friends had foolishly agreed to play him a
   practical trick; whereupon one of them met him and said, "How ill you
   look this morning." He did not feel so; he was very much surprised at
   the remark. When he met the next, who said to him, "Oh! dear, how bad
   you look," lie began to think there might be something in it; and us he
   turned smart round the corner, a third person said to him, "What a
   sight you are! How altered from what you used to be!" He went home ill,
   he took to his bed and died. So goes the story, and I should not marvel
   if it really did occur. Now, if such might be the effect of persuasion
   and supposed belief in the sickness of a man, how much more readily may
   men be persuaded into the idea of spiritual health! A believer meets
   you, and by his treatment seems to say, " I welcome you as a dear
   brother"--and means it too. You are baptized, and you are received into
   Church-fellowship, and so everybody thinks that von must be a follower
   of Christ; and yet you may not know him. Oh, I do pray you, do not be
   satisfied with being persuaded into something like an assurance that
   you are in him, but do know him--know him for yourself.

   There are many who I hope will be saved ere long; but I am in great
   doubt of them, because they can only say they half think they know
   Christ; they do not quite believe in him, but they do not disbelieve in
   him; they halt between two opinions. Ah, dear hearer, that is a very
   dangerous place to stand in. The border-land is the devil's hunting
   ground. Undecided souls are fair game for the great fowler. God give
   you once for all the true decision by which through grace you shall
   know him. Do not be satisfied with thinking you know him; hoping you
   know him, but know him. Oh, it is nothing to have heard about him, to
   have talked about him, to have eaten and have drank with him, to have
   preached him, or even to have wrought miracles in his name, to have
   been charmed by his eloquence, to have been stirred with the story of
   his love, to have been moved to imitate him--this shall nothing avail
   you, unless you win him and are found in him. Seek with the apostle, to
   give up everything of your own righteousness, and all other objects and
   aims in life, and say, "This I seek after, that I may know him." Thus
   much, then, on the first point. Leaving those behind who do not know
   him, let us make an advance.

   II. Secondly, let us DRAW CURTAIN AFTER CURTAIN WHICH SHALL ADMIT US TO
   KNOW MORE OF CHRIST.

   Did you ever visit the manufactory of splendid porcelain at Sevres? I
   have done so. If anybody should say to me, "Do you know the manufactory
   at Sevres?" I should say, " Yes, I do, and no, I do not. I know it, for
   I have seen the building; I have seen the rooms in which the articles
   are exhibited for sale, and I have seen the museum and model room; but
   I do not know the factory as I would like to know it, for I have not
   seen the process of manufacture, and have not been admitted into the
   workshops, as some are. "Suppose I had seen, however, the process of
   the moulding of the clay, and the laying on of the rich designs, if
   anybody should still say to me, "Do you know how they manufacture those
   wonderful articles?" I should very likely still be compelled to say,
   "No, I do not, because there are certain secrets, certain private rooms
   into which neither friend nor foe can be admitted, lest the process
   should be open to the world." So, you see, I might say I knew, and yet
   might not half know; and when I half knew, still there would be so much
   left, that I might be compelled to say, "I do not know." How many
   different ways there are of knowing a person--and even so there are all
   these different ways of knowing Christ; so that you may keep on all
   your lifetime, still wishing to get into another room, and another
   room, nearer and nearer to the great secret, still panting to "know
   him." Good Rutherford says, "I urge upon you a nearer communion with
   Christ, and a growing communion. There are curtains to be drawn by, in
   Christ, that we never shut, and new foldings in love with him. I
   despair that ever I shall shall win to the far end of that love; there
   are so many plies in it. Therefore, dig deep, and set by as much time
   in the day for him as you can, he will be won by labor."

   To begin with. We know a person when we recognize him. You know the
   Queen. Well, I do. I recollect seeing her, and if I were to see any
   quantity of ladies, I think I should know which was the Queen and which
   was not. You may say honestly that you know her to that extent.
   Beloved, every Christian must in this sense know Christ. You must know
   him by a divine illumination so as to know who he is and what line is.
   When Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Whom sayest thou that I am," he said,
   "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God;" and the Lord replied,
   "Blessed art thou, Simon Barjonas, for flesh and blood hath not
   revealed this unto thee." It is an early step in this knowledge of
   Christ, to know and to believe that Jesus Christ is Lord; to know that
   Christ is God, divine to me; that Christ is man, brother to me--bone of
   my bone and flesh of my flesh--that as such line is a sin-subduing
   Savior; that line is for inc an intercessor, pleading before the
   throne; my prophet, priest, and king--in this sense I trust that most
   of you know him. If you do not, breathe the silent prayer now, "Lord,
   help me that I may know him." But this knowledge of recognition is
   comparatively a low attainment, one of the lowest rounds of the ladder
   of light.

   In the second place, a believer knows Christ, to a higher degree when
   he knows him by practical experiment at acquaintance with what he does.
   For instance, I know Christ as a cleanser. They tell me he is a
   refiner, that he cleanses from spots; he has washed me in his precious
   blood, and to that extent I know him. They tell me that he clothes the
   naked; he hath covered me with a garment of righteousness, and to that
   extent I know him. They tell me that he is a breaker, and that he
   breaks fetters, he has set my soul at liberty, and therefore I know
   him. They tell me that he is a king and that he reigns over sin; he
   hath subdued my enemies beneath his feet, and I know him in that
   character. They tell me he is a shepherd: I know him for I am his
   sheep. They say he is a door: I have entered in through him, and I know
   him as a door. They say he is food: my spirit feeds on him as on the
   bread of heaven, and, therefore, I know him as such. You know if anyone
   says, "Do you know doctor So-and-so?" It is a very satisfactory answer,
   if you can reply, "Oh, yes, I know him, for he attended me the last
   time that I was ill." There is more knowledge in that, than if on could
   only say, " Oh, yes, I know him: he wears such-and-such a hat or "line
   is a man of such-and-such an appearance." So, Christian, thing is a
   second and higher step to know Christ, because you have experienced in
   your own soul that he is just what God has revealed him to be.

   But we know a man in a better sense than this when we are on speaking
   terms with him. "Do you know So-and-so?" " Yes," you say, I not only
   know him by name, so as to recognize him; I not only know him as a
   tradesman having dealt with him, but I know him because when we pass
   each other in the morning, we exchange a word or two; and if I had
   anything to say upon matters--any request to make--I should feel no
   difficulty about asking him." Well, now. the Christian knows his Lord
   in this sense, line has every day official communication with Christ,
   line is on speaking terms with him. There may be persons here, perhaps,
   who know the Queen in a sense in which I do not know her--perhaps they
   speak to him. They have so done; I have never done that; they go beyond
   me there. But you see, dear friends, this is not a very great thing
   because you may be on speaking terms with a man, but you may not know
   much of him for all that. So you may be in the habit of daily prayer,
   and you may talk with Christ every morning and every evening, and you
   may know exceedingly little of him. You are on speaking terms with him;
   but there ins something beyond this, very far beyond this. As I might
   say that I know a man merely because I meet him every day, and ask him
   for what I want, and understand that he is kind and generous; but how
   shallow is such an acquaintance, for I do not know his private
   character nor his inward heart. Even so a believer may have constant
   dealings with Christ in his prayers and in his praises, and yet for all
   that, he may have only gone a certain distance, and may have need still
   to pray, "That I may know him."

   But you are said to know a person better still when he invites you to
   his house. At Christmas time there is a family party and a romp, and he
   asks you there, and you are one of the children, and enter into all
   their sports around the fire-side, and you indulge as they do in the
   genialities of social life. You are asked again; you go there pretty
   often; in fact, if there is a happy evening in that house they
   generally expect to see friend So-and-so there. Well, now, that is
   better. We are getting now into something like knowing a man; and I do
   trust there are many of you, beloved, who have got as far as this with
   regard to your divine Lord. Christ has entertained you with some rare
   visits from his gracious presence. He brought you into the
   banquetting-house, and his banner over you was love. When he manifested
   himself, he did it unto you as he did not unto the world. He was
   pleased in the majesty of his condescension, to take you aside and show
   you his hands and his side. He called you "Friend;" he treated you as
   such, and permitted you to enjoy thine sweets of being one of the
   family.

   Ah, but you may go into a man's house as a constant visitor, and yet
   you may not know him--that is to say, not in the highest sense. You
   speak to the man's wife and say, "Your husband is a marvellously
   charming man; what a cheerful, joyful, spirited man he is; he never
   seems to have any depressions of spirit, and experiences no changes
   whatever." She shakes her head. and she says, "Ah! you do not know him,
   you do not know him as I do;" because shine sees him at all times and
   at all hours; she can read the very heart of the man. That Christian
   has grown much in grace who has advanced not only to be the friend of
   Christ, having occasional fellowship with him, but who comes to
   recognize his marriage-union with the person of his Lord, and of whom
   it can be said, "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and
   he will show them his covenant," Now we have the intimacy of love, with
   its perfect frankness, nearness, sweetness, joyousness, delight. The
   rending away of every separating veil makes the communion to be as near
   as it well can be this side the black river; but a Christian may get
   farther than this.

   Even the spouse may not know her husband. The most loving wife who ever
   entered into the cares of her husband, must have discovered that there
   is a something which separates his experience from her powers of
   comprehension. Luther's wife. Catherine, was of all women the wife for
   Luther; but there were times in Luther's gigantic tribulations, when he
   must leave Kate behind. There were extraordinary times within him;
   times both of ecstatic joy, when like a great angel, he stretched his
   mighty wings, and flew right up to heaven, and of awful misery, when he
   seemed to sink down to the very depths of hell; and in either case, no
   other heart could keep pace with him. Then it was himself alone who had
   communion with himself. And a Christian may so grow in grace as to
   become identified with Christ, a member of his body; not so much
   married to him as a part of him, a member of the great body of Christ,
   so that he suffers with Christ, sympathizes with Jesus, his heart
   beating to the same dolorous tune, his veins swollen with the sumac
   floods of grief, or else his eyes sparkling with that same gleam of
   joy, according to the Master's Word, "That my joy might remain in you,
   and that your joy might be full."

   Well, have not you waded out of your depth some of you? I have
   certainly got out of my own. I feel as if the Master might come on to
   this platform, look round on many of us, and say, "Have I been so long
   time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" for truly even
   in the minor sense, though I trust we arc saved, though we have
   believed in Jesus, yet we have not reached the height of this great
   text--"That I may know him."

   III. Having taken you so far, let us SIT DOWN A FEW MINUTES AND
   CONSIDER WHAT SORT OF KNOWLEDGE THIS KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST IS--"That I
   may know him."

   Then it is clear, if I know him I shall have a very vivid sense of his
   personality. "That I may know him." He will not be to me a myth, a
   vision, a spirit, bat a person, a real solid person, as much real as I
   am myself, or as my dearest friend can be to me. My soul, never be
   satisfied within a shadowy Christ. My heart, be thou never content
   until he hath embraced thy soul, and proved to thee that he is the
   lover of his people. This knowledge, then, must be a knowledge of him
   in his personality. Then, beloved, it must be a personal knowledge on
   our part. I cannot know Christ through another person's brains. I
   cannot love him with another man's heart, and I cannot see him with
   another man's eyes. Heaven's delight is, "Mine eyes shall see him and
   not another." These eyes shall behold the King in his beauty. Well,
   beloved, if this be heaven, we certainly cannot do without a personal
   sight of Christ here. I am so afraid of living in a second-hand
   religion. God forbid that I should get a biographical experience. Lord
   save us from having borrowed communion. No, I must know him myself. O
   God, let me not be deceived in this. I must know him without fancy or
   proxy; I must know him on mine own account.

   Then these few thoughts upon what sort of knowledge we must have. It
   must be an intelligent knowledge--I must know him. I must know his
   natures, divine and human. I must know his offices--I must know his
   attributes--I must know his works--I must know his shame--I must know
   his glory; for I do not know him if it be merely a subject of passion
   and not of intellect. I must let my head consciously meditate upon him
   until I own something like an idea of him, that I may "Comprehend with
   all saints what is the breadth, and length and depth, and height; and
   to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge."

   Then I must have an affectionate knowledge of him; and, indeed, if I do
   know him at all, I must love him. As it is said of some men, that there
   is such a charm about them, that if you once get into their company you
   cannot criticise any longer, but must admire; so you feel with Christ.
   It is said of Garibaldi, that if you are in his society he charms all,
   so that even malice and slander must be silent in his presence.
   Infinitely, supremely so is it with Christ. Being near him, his love
   warms our hearts, till we glow with intense love to him.

   Then I shall find, if I know Christ, that this is a satisfying
   knowledge. When I know Christ my mind will he fill to the brim--I shall
   feel that I have found that which my spirit panted after. "This is that
   bread whereof if a man eat he shall never hunger."

   At the same time it is an exciting knowledge; the more I know of
   Christ, the more I shall want to know. The deeper I plunge the greater
   the deeps which will be revealed. The higher I climb the loftier will
   be the summits which invite my eager footsteps. I shall want the more
   as I get the more. My spiritual thirst will increase, though in another
   sense it will be entirely quenched.

   And this knowledge of Christ will be a most happy one, in fact, so
   happy, that sometimes it will completely bear me up above all trials,
   and doubts, and sorrows; and it will, while I enjoy it, make me
   something more than "Man that is born of a woman who is of few days,
   and full of trouble;" for it will fling about me the immortality of the
   ever-living Savior, and gird me with the golden girdle of his eternal
   happiness. To be near to Christ, is to be near to the pearly gates of
   the golden-streeted city. Say not, "Jerusalem, my happy home, my labors
   have an end in thee;" but say, "Jesus, thou art my rest, and when I
   have thee, my spirit is at peace." I might thus keep on speaking in
   praise of this knowledge, but I will not.

   Only permit me to say, what a refreshing, what a sanctifying knowledge
   is this, to know him. When the Laodicean Church was neither hot nor
   cold, but lukewarm, how did Christ seek her revival? Did he send her
   precious doctrines? Did he send her excellent precepts? Mark you, he
   came himself, for thus it is said, "Behold, I stand at the door, and
   knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come into
   him, and will sup with him, and he with me." That is a cure for it all,
   you see. No matter how lukewarm, though God may say, "I will spue thee
   out of my mouth," yet, if Christ comes, that is the cure. The presence
   of Christ with his Church puts away all her sicknesses. When the
   disciples of Christ were at sea in a storm, do you recollect how he
   comforted them? Did he send them an angel? No. "It is I, line not
   afraid;" and when they knew him, then they had no more fears. They were
   assembled one night, "the doors being shut for fear of the Jews:" how
   did he comfort them? Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and
   said, "Peace be unto you." There was Thomas, full of doubts and fears.
   How did Jesus Christ take away his doubts? "Reach hither thy finger,
   and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my
   side." Oh! it is Christ, it is Christ who cures all. The company of
   Christ is the only thing which a Christian wants. I will undertake that
   if his heart be like an iceberg, as soon as Jesus comes, it shall flame
   like Vesuvius. His spirit shall be dead and like a rotten corpse; but
   if Jesus comes he shall leap like a hart, and become strong as a young
   unicorn. Thy presence makes me like the chariots of Amminadib. Now, do
   not think I am talking what I do not know. Do not imagine that I am
   talking mere fanatical slip-slop which I cannot prove. I do assert (and
   God who searcheth all hearts, knows how true this is), I do assert
   that, from the depths of doubt, of dullness, of worldliness, I have
   leaped in one moment into love, and life, and holy enthusiasm, when
   Jesus Christ has manifested himself to nine. I cannot describe the
   difference between my spirit, water-logged, worm-eaten, ready to sink
   to the bottom without Christ, and that same spirit, like a strong
   stanch ship, with sails full, with favorable wind, speeding into
   harbor, with a golden freight. Like you poor little bird which some
   cruel boy has torn from the nest and almost killed--it is not fledged
   yet, and cannot fly, and it lies down to die, trampled in the mire in
   the streets--that is my heart without Christ. But see that other bird!
   The cage-door is opened, its wings vibrate, it sings within all its
   might. and flies up to talk with the sun--that is my heart when I have
   the conscious presence of my Lord Jesus Christ! I only bring in my own
   consciousness because I do not know yours; but I think I will now
   venture to say that every believer here will admit it is the same with
   him--

   "Midst darkest shades if he appear

   My dawning is begun;

   He is my soul's bright morning star,

   And he my rising sun.

   IV. I shall close by urging you, dearly beloved, who know the Lord, to
   take this desire of the apostle, and by exhorting you, make it your
   own, "That I may know him." I wish I had time this morning--time will
   fly--I wish I had time to urge and press you, believers, onward to seek
   to know him. Paul, you see, gave up everything for this--you will be
   seeking what is worth having. There can be no mistake about this. If
   Paul will renounce all, there must be a reward which is worthy of the
   sacrifice. If you have any fears, if you seek Christ and find him, they
   will be removed. You complain that you do not feel the guilt of sin;
   that you cannot humble yourself enough. The sight of Christ is the very
   best means of setting sin in its true colors. There is no repenting
   like that which comics from a look of Christ's eye: the Lord turned and
   hooked upon Peter, and he went out and wept bitterly. So it is not a
   sight of the law, it is the sight of Christ looking upon us which will
   break our hearts.

   There is nothing like this to fill you with courage. When Dr. Andrew
   Reed found some difficulties in the founding of one of his orphan
   asylums, he sat down and drew upon a little piece of paper the cross,
   and then he said to himself, "What, despair in the face of the cross?"
   and then he drew a ring round the cross, and wrote in it nil
   desperandum! and took it for his coat of arms. Oh, there cannot be any
   despair in the presence of the cross. Thou dying Lamb, didst thou
   endure the cross, despising the shame, and shall I talk of difficulties
   when thy glory is in the way? God forbid! O holy face, bedewed with
   bloody sweat, I pledge myself in thy solemn and awful presence, that
   though this face of mine should be bedewed with sweat of the like sort,
   to accomplish any labor upon which thou shalt put me; by thy will and
   in thy strength, I will not shrink from the task. A sight of Christ,
   brethren, will keep you from despondency, and doubts, and despair. A
   sight of Christ! How shall I stir you to it? It will fire you to duty;
   it will deliver you from temptation; it will, in fact, make you like
   him. A man is known by his company; and if you have become acquainted
   with Christ, and know him, you will be sure to reflect his light. It is
   because the moon hath converse within the sun, that she hath any light
   for this dark world's night; and if you talk with Christ, the Sun, he
   will shine on you so gloriously, that you. like the moon, shall reflect
   his light, and the dark night of this world shall be enlightened by
   your radiance. The Lord help us to know him.

   But I do seem, this morning, to have been talking to you about him, and
   not to have brought him forward. O that I knew how to introduce you to
   him! You who do not love him, O that I could make you seek after him!
   But you who do love him and have trusted in him, O that I could make
   you hunger and thirst until you were filled with him! There he is,
   nailed to his cross, suffering--oh! how much!--for you; there he is,
   risen, ascended, pleading before the throne of God for you. Here he is:
   "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Here he is,
   waiting to be comforted with your company, desiring communion with you,
   panting that his sister, his spouse, would be no longer a stranger to
   him. Here he is, waiting to be gracious, saying, "Come unto me all ye
   that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Come,
   Christian, come, let this be thy desire, "That I may know him."

   And you who do not know him, and have not loved him, I pray you,
   breathe this prayer with me, " Lord, be merciful to me a sinner." O
   sinner, he is a gentle Christ; line is a loving Savior, and they that
   seek him early shall find him. May you seek and find him, for his
   name's sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                  Election no Discouragement to Seeking Souls

   A Sermon

   (No. 553)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 7th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "I will be gracious upon whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy
   upon whom I will show mercy."--Exodus 33:19.

   BECAUSE GOD IS THE MAKER, and creator, and sustainer of all things, he
   has a right to do as he wills with all his works. "Shall the thing
   formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not
   the potter power over the clay of the same lump to make one vessel unto
   honor, and another unto dishonor?" God's absolute supremacy and
   unlimited sovereignty naturally flow from his omnipotence, and if it
   were not so, the superlative excellence of the divine character would
   entitle him to absolute dominion. He should be chief who is best. He
   who cannot err, being perfect in wisdom; he who will not err, being as
   perfect in holiness; he who can do no wrong, being supremely just; he
   who must act in accordance with the principles of kindness, seeing he
   is essentially love, is the most fitting person to rule. Tell me not of
   the creatures ruling themselves: what a chaos were this! Talk not of a
   supposed republic of all created existences, controlling and guiding
   themselves. All the creatures put together, with their combined wisdom
   and goodness--if, indeed, it were not combined folly and
   wickedness--all these, I say, with all the excellencies of knowledge,
   judgment, and love, which the most fervid imagination can suppose them
   to possess, could not make the equal of that great God whose name is
   holiness, whose essence is love, to whom all power belongeth, and to
   whom alone wisdom is to be ascribed. Let him reign supreme, for he is
   infinitely superior to all other existences. Even if he did not
   actually reign, the suffrages of all wise men would choose the Lord
   Jehovah to be absolute monarch of the universe; and if he were not
   already King of kings and Lord of lords, doing as he wills among the
   armies of heaven and the inhabitants of this lower world, it were the
   path of wisdom to lift him up to that throne. Since men have sinned,
   there becomes a yet further reason, or, rather a wider scope for the
   display of sovereignty. The creature, as a creature, may be supposed to
   have some claim upon the Creator; at least, it may expect that he shall
   not make it intentionally and despotically to put it to pain; that he
   shall not arbitrarily and without cause or necessity, cause its
   existence to be one of misery. I will not venture to judge the Lord,
   but I do think it is altogether incompatible with his goodness that he
   should have made a creature, and, as a creature, have condemned it to
   misery. Justice seems to demand that there shall be no punishment where
   there is no sin. But man has lost all his rights as a creature. If he
   ever had any, he has sinned them away. Our first parents have sinned,
   and we, their children, have attainted ourselves, by high treason
   against our liege lord and sovereign. All that a just God owes to any
   one of us on the footing of our own claim, is wrath and displeasure. If
   he should give to us our due, we should not longer remain on praying
   ground, breathing the air of mercy. The creature, before its Creator,
   must now be silent as to any demands upon him; it cannot require
   anything of him as a matter of right. If the Lord willeth to show
   mercy, it shall be so; but, if he withholds it, who can call him to
   account? "Can I not do as I will with mine own?" is a fit reply to all
   such arrogant enquiries; for man has sinned himself out of court, and
   there remains no right of appeal from the sentence of the Most High.
   Man is now in the position of a condemned criminal, whose only right is
   to be taken to the place of execution, and justly to suffer the due
   reward of his sins. Whatever difference of opinion, then, there might
   have been about the sovereignty of God as exercised upon creatures in
   the pure mass, there should be none, and there will be none, except in
   rebellious spirits, concerning the sovereignty of God over rebels who
   have sinned themselves into eternal ruin, and have lost all claim even
   to the mercy, much more the love of their offended Creator.

   However, whether we all of us agree to the doctrine that God is
   sovereign or not, is a very little matter to him, for he is so. De
   jure, by right, he should be so; de facto, as matter of fact, he is so.
   It is a fact, concerning which you have only to open your eyes and see
   that God acts as a sovereign in the dispensation of his grace. Our
   Saviour, when he wished to quote instances of this, spake on this wise:
   many widows there were in Israel in the time of Elias the prophet, but
   unto none of these was Elias sent, save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon,
   unto a woman who was a widow. Here was election! Elias is not sent to
   nourish and to be nourished by an Israelitish widow, but to a poor
   idolatress across the border, the blessing of the prophet's company is
   graciously granted. Again our Saviour says, "Many lepers were in Israel
   in the time of Eliseus the prophet; and none of them were cleansed,
   save only Naaman the Syrian"--not an Israelite at all, but one who
   bowed in the house of Rimmon. See how distinguishing grace finds out
   strange objects! Although our Saviour only gave these two instances,
   and no more, because they sufficed for his purpose, there are thousands
   of such cases on record. Look at man and the fallen angels. How is it
   that fallen angels are condemned to endless fire, and reserved in
   chains of darkness unto the great day? There is no Saviour for angels;
   no precious blood was ever shed for Satan. Lucifer falls, and falls for
   ever, never to hope again. There is no dispensation of mercy to those
   nobler spirits; but man who was made lower than the angels, is selected
   to be the object of divine redemption. What a great deep is here! This
   is a most illustrious and indisputable instance of the exercise of the
   prerogatives of divine sovereignty. Look again at the nations of the
   earth. Why is the gospel preached today, to us Englishmen? We have
   committed as many offenses--I will even venture to say we have
   perpetrated as many political crimes as other nations. Our eye is
   always prejudiced toward everything which is English; but if we read
   our history fairly, we can discover in the past, and detect in the
   present, grave and serious faults which disgrace our national banner.
   To pass by as minor offenses the late barbarities in Japan, and our
   frequent wars of extermination in New Zealand, and at the Cape, let it
   crimson the cheek of every inhabitant of the British Isles when we do
   but hint at the opium traffic with China. Yet to us the gospel is
   graciously sent, so that few nations enjoy it so fully as we do. It is
   true that Prussia and Holland hear the Word, and that Sweden and
   Denmark are comforted by the truth, but their candle burns but dimly;
   it is a poor flickering lamp which cheers their darkness, while in our
   own dear land, partly from the fact of our religious liberty, and yet
   more graciously through the late revival, the sun of the gospel shines
   brightly, and men rejoice in the light of day. Why this? Why no grace
   for the Japanese? Why no gospel preached to the inhabitants of Central
   Africa? Why was not the truth of God displayed in the Cathedral of
   Santiago, instead of the mummeries and follies which disgraced both
   dupes and deceivers, and were the incidental cause of the horrible
   burnings of that modern Tophet? Why today is not Rome, instead of being
   the seat of the beast, become the throne of Jesus Christ? I cannot tell
   you. But assuredly, divine sovereignty passing by many races of men,
   has been pleased to pitch upon the Anglo-Saxon family, that they may be
   as the Jews were aforetime, the custodians of divine truth, and the
   favorites of mighty grace.

   We need not further speak upon national elections, for the principle is
   plainly carried out in individuals. See ye anything, my brethren, in
   that rich publican whose coffers are gorged with the results of his
   extortion, when he climbs the sycamore-tree, that his short stature may
   not prevent his seeing the Saviour--see ye anything in him why the Lord
   of glory should halt beneath that sycamore-tree and say, "Zaccheus,
   make haste, and come down; for today I must abide at thy house?" Can
   you find me a reason why yonder adulterous woman, who has had five
   husbands, and who is now living with a man who is not her husband,
   should constrain the Saviour to journey through Samaria that he might
   tell her of the water of life? If you can see anything, I cannot. Look
   at that bloodthirsty Pharisee, hurrying to Damascus with authority to
   hail men and women to prison, and shed their blood. The heat of midday
   cannot stop him, for his heart is hotter with religious rage than the
   sun with noontide rays. But see, he is arrested in his career, a
   brightness shines round about him; Jesus speaks from heaven the words
   of tender rebuke; and Saul of Tarsus becomes Paul, the apostle of God.
   Why? Wherefore? What answer can we give but this? "Even so, Father, for
   so it seemed good in thy sight." Read the "Life of John Newton;" had he
   not ripened into the grossest of all villains? Turn to the history of
   John Bunyan, by his own confession the lowest of all blackguards, and
   tell me, can you find in either of these offenders any sort of reason
   why the Lord should have chosen them to be among the most distinguished
   heralds of the cross? No man in his senses will venture to assert that
   there was anything in Newton or Bunyan why they should engross the
   regard of the Most High. It was sovereignty, and nothing but
   sovereignty. Take your own case, dear friends, and that shall be the
   most convincing of all to you. If you know anything of your own heart,
   if you have formed a right estimate of your own character, if you have
   seriously considered your own position before the Most High, the
   reflection that God loveth you with an everlasting love, and that,
   therefore, with the bands of his kindness he has drawn you, will draw
   forth from you at once the exclamation, "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto
   us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy and for truth's sake."
   Brethren! the whole world is full of instances of divine sovereignty,
   for in every conversion some beam of the absolute dominion of God
   shines forth upon mankind.

   When a sinner is anxiously disturbed about his soul's affairs, his
   chief and main thought should not be upon this subject; when a man
   would escape from wrath and attain to heaven, his first, his last, his
   middle thought should be the cross of Christ. As an awakened sinner, I
   have vastly less to do with the secret purposes of God, than with his
   revealed commands. For a man to say, "Thou commandest all men to
   repent, yet will I not repent, because I do not know that I am chosen
   to eternal life," is not only unreasonable, but exceedingly wicked.
   That it is unreasonable you will clearly see on a moment's reflection.
   I know that bread does not of itself nourish my body, "For man shall
   not live by bread alone, but by every word which proceedeth out of the
   mouth of God." It depends, therefore, upon God's decree whether that
   bread shall nourish my body or not; for if he has not purposed that it
   shall, it may even choke me, and so become rather the cause of my death
   than the staff of my life. Do I therefore, when I am hungry, thrust my
   hands into my pockets and stand still, and refuse to help myself from
   the well-loaded table, because I do not know whether God has decreed
   that the bread shall nourish me or not? If I did, I should be an idiot
   or madman; or if in my senses, I should starve myself on such a
   pretence, I should richly deserve the burial of a suicide. I am not
   absolutely sure that there will be a harvest upon my field next year:
   unless God has ordained that the corn shall spring up and shall ripen,
   all my husbandry will be labor lost. There are worms in the earth,
   frosts in the air, birds in the sky, mildews in the winds--all of which
   may destroy my corn, and I may lose every single grain of the handsful
   which I throw into my furrows. Shall I, therefore, leave my farm to be
   one perpetual fallow, because I do not know whether God has decreed
   that there shall be a harvest or not next year? If I become a
   bankrupt--if I am unable to pay my rent--if the thorn and the thistle
   grow taller and higher, and if at last, my landlord thrusts me from my
   tenancy, all that men will say, will be, "It serves him
   right!"--because I was such a fool as to make the secret purposes of
   God a matter of paramount consideration, instead of performing my known
   duty. I am ill and sick: a physician comes to me with medicine. I am
   not clear that his medicine will heal me; it has healed a great many
   others, but if God has decreed that I shall die, I shall die, let me
   take any quantity of physic, or take none at all. My arm mortifies, but
   I will not have it cut off, because I do not know whether God has
   decreed that I shall die of mortification or not. Who but a crazed
   idiot, or raving maniac, would talk thus? When I put the case in that
   light, you all reply, "Nobody ever talks in that way; it is too
   absurd." Of course, nobody does. And the fact is, even in the things of
   God, nobody really does argue in that way. A man may say, "I will not
   believe in Christ, because I am afraid I am not elected;" but the thing
   is so stupid, so absurd, that I do not believe that any man, not
   absolutely demented, can be so grossly foolish as to believe in his own
   reasoning. I am far rather inclined to think that is a wicked and
   perverse method of endeavoring to stultify conscience, on the theory
   that a bad excuse is better than none, and that even a foolish argument
   is better than having one's mouth shut in speechless confusion.

   But since men will everlastingly be getting to his point, and there are
   so many who are always giving this as a reason why they do not believe
   in the Lord Jesus Christ, because, "It is not of him that willeth, nor
   of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy," I shall try, this
   morning, to talk with these people on their own ground; and I shall
   endeavor, by the help of the Holy Spirit, to show that the doctrine of
   the sovereignty of God, so far from discouraging anybody, has not in
   it, if regarded aright, any sort of discouragement whatever, for any
   souls believing in Jesus Christ.

   For one moment let me detain you from my object, while I reply to a
   very common method of misrepresenting the doctrine. It may be as well
   to start with a clear idea of what the doctrine really is. Our
   opponents put the case thus: suppose a father should condemn some of
   his children to extreme misery, and make others supremely happy, out of
   his own arbitrary will, would it be right and just? Would it not be
   brutal and detestable? My answer is, of course, it would; it would be
   execrable in the highest degree, and far, very far be it from us to
   impute such a course of action to the Judge of all the earth. But the
   case stated is not at all the one under consideration, but one as
   opposite from it as light from darkness. Sinful man is not now in the
   position of a well-deserving or innocent child, neither does God occupy
   the place of a complacent parent. We will suppose another case far
   nearer the mark, indeed, it is no supposition, but an exact description
   of the whole matter. A number of criminals, guilty of the most
   aggravated and detestable crimes, are righteously condemned to die, and
   die they must, unless the king shall exercise the prerogative vested in
   him, and give them a free pardon. If for good and sufficient reasons,
   known only to himself, the king chooses to forgive a certain number,
   and to leave the rest for execution, is there anything cruel or
   unrighteous here? If, by some wise means, the ends of justice can be
   even better answered by the sparing of the pardoned ones, than by their
   condemnation, while at the same time, the punishment of some tends to
   honor the justice of the lawgiver, who shall dare to find fault? None,
   I venture to say, but those who are the enemies of the state and of the
   king. And so may we well ask, "Is there unrighteousness with God? God
   forbid." "What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power
   known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to
   destruction: and that he might make known the riches of his glory on
   the vessels of mercy, which he had afore prepared unto glory, even us,
   whom he hath called, not of the Jews only, but also of the Gentiles?"
   Who is he that shall impugn the mingled mercy and severity of heaven,
   or make the eternal God an offender, because "he hath mercy on whom he
   will have mercy?" Let us now proceed to our proper subject, and
   endeavor to clear this truth from the terrors supposed to cluster
   around it.

   I. Let us begin with this assertion, which we are absolutely sure is
   correct: THIS DOCTRINE DOES NOT OPPOSE ANY COMFORT DERIVED FROM OTHER
   SCRIPTURAL TRUTHS.

   This doctrine, stern as it may seem to be, does not oppose the
   consolation which may be rightly derived from any other truth of
   revelation. Those who hold the free-will theory, say that our doctrine,
   that salvation is of the Lord alone, and that he will have mercy on
   whom he will have mercy, takes away from man the comfort derivable from
   God's goodness. God is good, infinitely good in his nature. God is
   love; he willeth not the death of any, but had rather that all should
   come to repentance. "As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in
   the death of him that dieth, but had rather that he should turn unto me
   and live." Our friends very properly insist upon it that God is good to
   all, and his tender mercies are over all his works; that the Lord is
   merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy; let me
   assure them that we shall never quarrel on these points, for we also
   rejoice in the same facts. Some of you have listened to my voice for
   these ten years: I ask you whether you have heard me utter a single
   sentence which at all contradicts the doctrine of God's great goodness?
   You may have so construed it by mistake, but no such teaching has
   passed my lip. Do I not, again and again, assert the universal
   benevolence of God--the infinite and overflowing goodness of the heart
   of the Most High? If any man can preach upon the great text, "God is
   love," though I may not be able to preach with the same eloquence, I
   will venture to view with him in the decision, heartiness, delight,
   earnestness, and plainness, with which he may expound his theme, be he
   who he may, or what he may. There is not the slightest shadow of a
   conflict between God's sovereignty and God's goodness. He may be a
   sovereign, and yet it may be absolutely certain that he will always act
   in the way of goodness and love. It is true that he will do as he
   wills; and yet it is quite certain that he always wills to do that
   which, in the widest view of it, is good and gracious. If the sons of
   sorrow fetch any comfort from the goodness of God, the doctrine of
   election will never stand in their way. Only mark, it does with a
   two-edged sword cut to pieces that false confidence in God's goodness
   which sends so many souls to hell. We have heard dying men singing
   themselves into the bottomless pit with this lullaby, "Yes, sir, I am a
   sinner, but God is merciful; God is good." Ah! dear friends, let such
   remember that God is just as well as good, and that he will by no means
   spare the guilty, except through the great atonement of his Son Jesus
   Christ. The doctrine of election, in a most blessedly honest manner
   does come in, and breaks the neck, once for all, of all this false and
   groundless confidence in the uncovenanted mercy of God. Sinner, you
   have no right to trust to the goodness of God out of Christ. There is
   no word in the whole Book of Inspiration, which gives the shadow of a
   hope to the man who will not believe in Jesus Christ. It says of him,
   "He that believeth not shall be damned." It declares of you, who are
   resting upon such a poor confidence as the unpromised favor of heaven,
   "Other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, Jesus Christ
   the righteous." If this be an evil to rob you of a false refuge, the
   doctrine of election certainly does this; but from the comfort properly
   derivable from the largest view of God's bounteous goodness and
   unlimited love, election does not detract a single grain.

   Much comfort, too, flows to a troubled conscience from the promise that
   God will hear prayer. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye
   shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you, for every one that
   asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh
   it shall be opened." If you ask anything of God in the name of Jesus
   Christ, you shall receive it. Now, there are some who imagine that they
   must not pray because they do not know whether they are God's chosen
   people. If you refuse to pray on the ground of such bad reasoning as
   this, you must do so at your own expense; but do mark our solemn
   assurance, for which we have God's warrant, that there is nothing in
   the sovereignty of God which at all militates against the great truth,
   that every sincerely seeking soul, craving divine grace by humble
   prayer through Jesus Christ, shall be a finder. There may be an
   Arminian brother here who would like to get into this pulpit and preach
   the cheering truth, that God hath not said to the seed of Jacob, seek
   ye my face in vain. We not only accord him full liberty to preach this
   doctrine, but we will go as far as he can, and perhaps a little
   further, in the enunciation of that truth. We cannot perceive any
   discrepancy between personal election and the prevalence of prayer. Let
   those who can, vex their brains with the task of reconciling them; to
   us the wonder is how a man can believe the one without the other.
   Firmly must I believe that the Lord God will show mercy to whom he will
   show mercy, and have compassion on whom he will have compassion; but I
   know as assuredly that wherever there is a genuine prayer, God gave it;
   that wherever there is a seeker, God made him seek; consequently if God
   has made the man seek and made the man pray, there is evidence at once
   of divine election; and the fact stands true that none seek who shall
   not find.

   Very much comfort also is supposed to be derived, and naturally so,
   from the free invitations of the gospel. "Ah," cries one, "what a sweet
   thing it is that the Saviour cried, Come unto me all ye that labor and
   are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' How delightful to read such
   a word as this, 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 without price,' Sir, my heart is encouraged
   when I find it written, Whosoever will, let him take the water of life
   freely.' But, sir, I dare not come because of the doctrine of
   election." My dear hearer, I would not say anything harshly to you, but
   I must express my conviction that this is nothing but an idle excuse
   for not doing what you have no mind to do; because invitations of the
   most general character, nay, invitations which shall be universal in
   their scope, are perfectly consistent with the election of God. I have
   preached here, you know it, invitations as free as those which
   proceeded from the lips of Master John Wesley. Van Armin himself, the
   founder of the Arminian school, could not more honestly have pleaded
   with the very vilest of the vile to come to Jesus than I have done.
   Have I therefore felt in my mind that there was a contradiction here?
   No, nothing of the kind; because I know it to be my duty to sow beside
   all waters, and like the sower in the parable, to scatter the seed upon
   the stony ground, as well as upon the good land, knowing that election
   does not narrow the gospel call which is universal, but only affects
   the effectual call, which is and must be from the Spirit of God. My
   business is to give the general call, the Holy Spirit will see to its
   application to the chosen. O my dear hearers, God's invitations are
   honest invitations to every one of you. He invites you; in the words of
   the parable he addresses, "All things are ready; come ye to the supper,
   my oxen and my fatlings are killed." Nay, he saith to his ministers,
   "Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in."
   Though he foreknows who will come in, and has before all worlds
   ordained who shall taste of that supper, yet the invitation in its
   widest possible range, is a true and honest one; and if you accept it
   you shall find it so.

   Furthermore, if we understand the gospel at all, the gospel lies in a
   nutshell. It is this:--"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou
   shalt be saved." Or, to use Christ's words, "He that believeth and is
   baptized shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned."
   This promise is the gospel. Now, the gospel is true, whatever else may
   be false. Whatever doctrine may or may not be of God, the gospel
   certainly is. The doctrine of sovereign grace is not contrary to the
   gospel, but perfectly consonant therewith. God has a people whom no man
   shall number, whom he hath ordained unto eternal life. This is, by no
   means, in conflict with the great declaration, "He that believeth on
   him is not condemned." If any man who ever lived, or ever shall live,
   believes in Jesus Christ, he hath eternal life. Election or no
   election, if you are resting upon the rock of ages you are saved. If
   you, as a guilty sinner, take the righteousness of Christ--if all
   black, and foul, and filthy, you come to wash in the fountain filled
   with blood, sovereignty or no sovereignty, rest assured of this, that
   you are redeemed from the wrath to come. O my dear friends, when you
   say, "I will not believe in Christ because of election," I can only say
   as Job did to his wife, "Thou speakest as one of the foolish women
   speaketh." How dare you, because God reveals to you two things, which
   two things you cannot make square with one another--how dare you charge
   either the one or the other with being false? If I believe God, I am
   not only to believe what I can understand, but what I cannot
   understand; and if there were a revelation which I could comprehend and
   sum up as I may count five upon my fingers, I should be sure it did not
   come from God. But if it has some depths vastly too deep for me--some
   knots which I cannot untie--some mysteries which I cannot solve--I
   receive it with the greater confidence, because it now gives me
   swimming-room for my faith, and my soul bathes herself in the great sea
   of God's wisdom, praying, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."

   Let it be said over and over again, that there shall be no doubt about
   this matter, that if there be any comfort derivable from the gospel; if
   there be any sweet consolation flowing from the free invitations and
   the universal commands of divine truth, all those may be received and
   enjoyed by you, while you hold this doctrine of divine sovereignty as
   much as if you did not hold it, and received some wider scheme.
   Methinks I hear one voice say, "Sir, the only comfort I can ever have
   lies in the infinite value of the precious blood of Christ; O sir, it
   seems to me such a sweet thing that there is no sinner so black that
   Christ cannot wash away his sins, and no sinner so old that the
   meritorious virtue of that atonement cannot meet his case--not one in
   any rank or in any condition whom that blood cannot cleanse from all
   sin. Now, sir, if that be true, how can the doctrine of election be
   true?" My dear friend, you know in your own heart that the two things
   are not opposed to each other at all. For what does the doctrine of
   election say? It says that God has chosen and has saved some of the
   greatest sinners who ever lived, has cleansed some of the foulest sins
   ever committed, and that he is doing and will do the same to the
   world's end. So that the two things exactly tally. And I will venture
   to say that if in the fulness of a man's heart he shall say, "There is
   no sin except the one excepted sin, which cannot be forgiven," if he
   boldly announce that "All manner of sin shall be forgiven unto men,"
   and if he shall plead with power and earnestness that souls would now
   come to Christ and lay hold upon eternal life, he may go back to his
   Bible, and he may read every text teaching the sovereignty of God, and
   every passage upholding divine election; nd he may feel that all these
   texts look him in the face, and say, "Well done, our spirit and your
   spirit are precisely the same; we have no conflict together; we are two
   great truths which came from the same God; we are alike the revelation
   of the Holy Ghost." But we leave that point. If there be any comfort,
   sinner, which you can truthfully and rightly get from any passage of
   Scripture, from any promise of God, from any invitation, from any open
   door of mercy, you may have it, for the doctrine of election does not
   rob you of one atom of the consolation which the truth of God can
   afford you.

   II. But now will take another point for a moment. Our second head is,
   that THIS DOCTRINE HAS A MOST SALUTARY EFFECT UPON SINNERS. These may
   be divided into two classes: those who are awakened, and those who are
   hardened and incorrigible.

   To the awakened sinner, next to the doctrine of the cross, the doctrine
   of distinguishing grace is perhaps the most fraught with blessings and
   comfort. In the first place, the doctrine of election, applied by the
   Holy Ghost, strikes dead for ever all the efforts of the flesh. It is
   the end of Arminian preaching to make men active, to excite them to do
   what they can; but the very end and object of gospel preaching is to
   make men feel that they have no power of their own, and to lay them as
   dead, at the foot of God's throne. We seek, under God, to make them
   feel that all their strength must lie in the Strong One who is mighty
   to save. If I can convince a man that, let him do what he may, he
   cannot save himself; if I can show him that his own prayers and tears
   can never save him apart from the Spirit of God; if I can convince him
   that he must be born again from above; if I lead him to see that all
   which is born of the flesh is flesh, and only that which is born of the
   spirit is spirit, brethren! three parts of the great battle are already
   won. "I kill and I make alive," saith God: "when a man is killed the
   work is half done." "I wound and I heal: when a man is wounded his
   salvation is commenced." What! am I to set a sinner industriously to
   labor after eternal life by his own works? Then, indeed, am I an
   ambassador of hell. Am I to teach him that there is a goodness in him
   which he is to evolve, to polish, and educate and perfect, and so to
   save himself? Then I am a teacher of the beggarly elements of the law
   and not the gospel of Christ. Are we to set forth man's prayers,
   repentings, and humblings as the way of salvation; if so, let us
   renounce the righteousness of Christ at once, for the two will never
   stand together! I am a mischief-maker if I excite the activities of the
   flesh instead of pointing to the arms of the Redeemer! But if the
   potent hammer of electing sovereignty dashes out the brains of all a
   man's works, merits, doings, and willings, while it pronounces over the
   dead carcass this sentence: "It is not of him that willeth, nor of him
   that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy;" then, the best thing is
   done for a sinner that can be done as a stepping-stone to the act of
   faith. When a man is weaned from self, and totally delivered from
   looking to the flesh for help, there is hope for him: and this the
   doctrine of divine sovereignty does through the Holy Spirit's power.

   Again, this doctrine gives the greatest hope to the really awakened
   sinner. You know how the case stands. We are all prisoners condemned to
   die. God, as sovereign, has a right to pardon whom he pleases. Now,
   imagine a number of us shut up in a condemned cell, all guilty. One of
   the murderers says within himself: "I know that I have no reason to
   expect to be delivered. I am not rich: if I had some rich relations,
   like George Townley, I might be found insane, and delivered. But I am
   very poor; I am not educated. If I had the education of some men I
   might expect some consideration. I am not a man of rank and position; I
   am a man without merit or influence, therefore I cannot expect that I
   should be selected as one to be saved." No, I believe that if the
   present authorities of our land were the persons to be taken into
   consideration, a man who was poor might have a very poor chance of
   expecting any gratuitous deliverance. But when God is the great
   sovereign the case is different. For then, we argue thus: "Here am I;
   my salvation depends entirely upon the will of God: is there a chance
   for me? We take down a list of those whom he has saved, and we find
   that he saves the poor, the illiterate, the wicked, the godless, and
   the worst of the worst, the base things, and things that are despised.
   Well, what do we say? Then, why may he not choose me? Why not save me?
   If I am to look for some reason in myself why I should be saved, I
   shall never find any, and consequently never shall have a hope. But if
   I am to be saved for no reason at all but that God wills to save me,
   ah! then there is hope for me. I will to the gracious King approach, I
   will do as he bids me, I will trust in his dear Son, and I shall be
   saved." So that this doctrine opens the door of hope to the worst of
   the worst, and the only persons it discourages are the Pharisees, who
   say: "Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other men are"--those proud,
   haughty spirits who say: "No! if I am not to be saved for something
   good in myself, then I will be damned!" as damned they will be with a
   vengeance, too.

   Moreover, do not you see, dear friends, how the doctrine of election
   comforts the sinner in the matter of power. His complaint is, "I find I
   have no power to believe; I have no spiritual power of any kind."
   Election stoops down and whispers in his ear--"But if God wills to save
   you, he gives the power, gives the life, and gives the grace; and
   therefore since he has given that power and might to others as weak as
   you, why not to you? Have courage, look to the cross of Christ and
   live." And oh! what emotions of gratitude, what throbbings of love does
   this doctrine cause in human hearts. "Why," saith the man, "I am saved
   simply because God would save me, not because I deserved it, but
   because his loving heart would save me; then, I will love him, I will
   live to him, I will spend and be spent for him." Such a man cannot be
   proud, I mean not consistently with the doctrine. He lies humbly at
   God's feet. Other men may boast of what they are, and how they have own
   eternal life by their own goodness, but I cannot. If God had left me, I
   had been in hell with others; and if I go to heaven, I must cast my
   crown at the feet of the grace which brought me there. Such a man will
   become kind to others. He will hold his opinions, but he will not hold
   them savagely, nor teach them bitterly, because he will say, "If I have
   light, and others have not, my light was given me from God, therefore,
   I have no cause to plume myself upon it. I will try to spread that
   light, but not by anger and abuse. For why should I blame those who
   cannot see, for could I have seen if God had not opened my blind eyes?"
   Every virtue this doctrine fosters, and every vice it kills, when the
   Holy Spirit so uses it. Pride it treads under foot, and humble,
   trustful confidence in the mercy of God in Christ, it cherishes as a
   darling child.

   My time is gone; but I wanted to have said a word as to the effect of
   this gospel upon incorrigible sinners. I will just say this: I know
   what the effect of it ought to be. What do you say who have made up
   your minds not to repent, you who care not for God? Why, you believe
   that any day you like you can turn to God, since God is merciful, and
   will save you; and therefore, you walk about the world as comfortably
   as possible, thinking it all depends upon you, and that you will get
   into heaven just at the eleventh hour. Ah! man, that is not your case.
   See where you are. Do you see that moth fluttering in my hand! Imagine
   it to be there. With this finger of mine I can crush it--in a moment.
   Whether it shall live or not depends absolutely upon whether I choose
   to crush it or let it go. That is precisely your position at the
   present moment. God can damn you now. Nay, let us say to you, "Yours is
   a worse position than that." There are some seven persons now doomed
   for murder and piracy on the high seas. You can clearly say that their
   lives depend upon Her Majesty's pleasure. If Her Majesty chooses to
   pardon them she can. If not, when the fatal morning comes, the bolt
   will be drawn and they will be launched into eternity. That is your
   case, sinner. You are condemned already. This world is but one huge
   condemned cell in which you are kept, until the execution morning
   comes. If you are ever to be pardoned, God must do it. You cannot
   escape from him by flight; you cannot bribe him by actions of your own.
   You are absolutely in the hand of God, and if he leaves you where you
   are and as you are, your eternal ruin is as certain as your existence.
   Now, does not this make some sort of trembling come upon you? Perhaps
   not; it makes you angry. Well, if it does, that will not frighten me,
   because there are some of you who will never be good for anything until
   you are angry. I believe it is no ill sign when some persons are angry
   with the truth. It shows that the truth has pierced them. If an arrow
   penetrates my flesh, I do not like the arrow, and if you kick and
   struggle against this truth, it will not alarm me; I shall have some
   hope that a wound is made. If this truth should provoke you to think,
   it will have done for some of you one of the greatest things in the
   world. It is not your perverse thinking which frightens me; it is the
   utterly thoughtless way in which you go on. If you had sense enough to
   consider these things and fight against them, I should then have some
   faint hope of you. But alas! many of you have not sense enough, you
   say, "Yes, yes, it is all true," you accept it, but then it has no
   effect upon you. The gospel rolls over you, like oil adown a slab of
   marble, and produces no effect.

   If you are at all right in heart, you will begin to see what your state
   is, and the next thing that will startle your mind will be the
   reflection: "Is it so? am I absolutely in God's hands? can he save me
   or damn me as he will? Then, I will cry to him, O God, save me from the
   wrath to come--from eternal torment--from banishment from thy presence.
   Save me, O God! What wouldst thou have me to do? Oh! what wouldst thou
   have me to do, that I may find thy favor and live?'" Then comes the
   answer to you:--"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be
   saved;" for "whosoever believeth in him shall never perish, but shall
   have eternal life."

   O that God might bless this divine doctrine to you. I have never
   preached this doctrine without conversions, and I believe I never
   shall. At this moment God will cause his truth to attract your hearts
   to Jesus, or to affright you to him. May you be drawn as the bird is
   drawn by the lure, or may you be driven as a dove is hunted by the hawk
   into the clefts of the rock. Only may you be sweetly compelled to come.
   May my Lord fulfill this desire of my heart. O that God may grant me
   your souls for my hire; and to him shall be the glory, world without
   end. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                              Enduring to the End

   A Sermon

   (No. 554)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 14th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "He that endureth to the end shall be saved."--Matthew 10:22.

   THIS PARTICULAR TEXT was originally addressed to the apostles when they
   were sent to teach and preach in the name of the Lord Jesus. Perhaps
   bright visions floated before their minds, of honor and esteem among
   men. It was no mean dignity to be among the twelve first heralds of
   salvation to the sons of Adam. Was a check needed to their high hopes?
   Perhaps so. Lest they should enter upon their work without having
   counted its cost, Christ gives them a very full description of the
   treatment which they might expect to receive, and reminds them that it
   was not the commencement of their ministry which would win them their
   reward, but "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved." It
   would be well if every youthful aspirant to the gospel ministry would
   remember this, if merely to put our hand to the plough proved us to be
   called of God, how many would he found so; but alas, too many look back
   and prove unworthy of the kingdom. The charge of Paul to Timothy, is a
   very necessary exhortation to every young minister: "Be thou faithful
   unto death." It is not to be faithful for a time, but to be "faithful
   unto death," which will enable a man to say, "I have fought a good
   fight." How many dangers surround the Christian minister! As the
   officers in an army are the chosen targets of the sharpshooters, so are
   the ministers of Christ. The king of Syria said to his servants, "Fight
   neither with small nor great, save only with the king of Israel;" even
   so the arch-fiend makes his main attack upon the ministers of God. From
   the first moment of his call to the work, the preacher of the Word will
   be familiar with temptation. While he is yet in his youth, there are
   multitudes of the softer temptations to turn the head and trip the feet
   of the youthful herald of the cross; and when the blandishments of
   early popularity have passed away, as soon they must, the harsh croak
   of slander, and the adder's tongue of ingratitude assail him, he finds
   himself stale and fiat where once he was flattered and admired; nay,
   the venom of malice succeeds to the honeyed morsels of adulation. Now,
   let him gird his loins and fight the good fight of faith. In his after
   days, to provide fresh matter Sabbath after Sabbath, to rule as in the
   sight of God, to watch over the souls of men, to weep with them who
   weep, to rejoice with those who do rejoice, to be a nursing father unto
   young converts, sternly to rebuke hypocrites, to deal faithfully with
   backsliders, to speak with solemn authority and paternal pathos to
   those who are in the first stages of spiritual decline, to carry about
   with him the care of the souls of hundreds, is enough to make him grow
   old while yet he is young, and to mar his visage with the lines of
   grief, till, like the Savior, at the age of thirty years, men shall
   count him nearly fifty. "Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast
   thou seen Abraham?" said the adversaries of Christ to him when he was
   but thirty-two. If the minister should fall, my brethren; if, set upon
   a pinnacle, he should be cast down; if, standing in slippery places, he
   should falter; if the standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may,
   what mischief is done to the Church, what shouts are heard among the
   adversaries, what dancings are seen among the daughters of Philistia!
   How hath God's banner been stained in the dust, and the name of Jesus
   cast into the mire! When the minister of Christ turns traitor, it is as
   if the pillars of the house did tremble; every stone in the structure
   feels the shock. If Satan can succeed in overturning the preachers of
   the Word, it is as if yon broad-spreading tree should suddenly fall
   beneath the axe; prone in the dust it lies to wither and to rot; but
   where are the birds of the air which made their nests among its boughs,
   and whither fly those beasts of the field which found a happy shadow
   beneath its branches? Dismay hath seized them, and they flee in
   affright. All who were comforted by the preacher's word, strengthened
   by his example, and edified by his teaching, are filled with
   humiliation and grief, crying, "Alas! my brother." By these our
   manifold dangers and weighty responsibilities, we may very justly
   appeal to you who feed under our ministry, and beseech you, "Brethren,
   pray for us." Well, we know that though our ministry be received of the
   Lord Jesus, if hitherto we have been kept faithful by the power of the
   Holy Ghost, yet it is only he who endureth to the end who shall be
   saved.

   But, my brethren, how glorious is the sight of the man who does endure
   to the end as a minister of Christ. I have photographed upon my heart
   just now, the portrait of one very, very dear to me, and I think I may
   venture to produce a rough sketch of him, as no mean example of how
   honorable it is to endure to the end. This man began while yet a youth
   to preach the Word. Sprung of ancestors who had loved the Lord and
   served his Church, he felt the glow of holy enthusiasm. Having proved
   his capabilities, he entered college, and after the close of its
   course, settled in a spot where for more than fifty years he continued
   his labors. In his early days, his sober earnestness and sound doctrine
   were owned of God in many conversions both at home and abroad. Assailed
   by slander and abuse, it was his privilege to live it all down. He
   outlived his enemies, and though he had buried a generation of his
   friends, yet he found many warm hearts clustering round him to the
   last. Visiting his flock, preaching in his own pulpit, and making very
   many journeys to other Churches, years followed one another so rapidly,
   that he found himself the head of a large tribe of children and
   grandchildren, most of them walking in the truth. At the age of
   fourscore years, he preached on still, until laden with infirmities,
   but yet as joyful and as cheerful as in the heyday of his youth, his
   time had come to die. He was able to say truthfully, when last he spake
   to me, "I do not know that my testimony for God has ever altered, as to
   the fundamental doctrines; I have grown in experience, but from the
   first day until now, I have had no new doctrines to teach my hearers. I
   have had to make no confessions of error on vital points, but have been
   held fast to the doctrines of grace, and can now say that I love them
   better than ever." Such an one was he, as Paul, the aged, longing to
   preach so long as his tottering knees could bear him to the pulpit. I
   am thankful that I had such a grandsire. He fell asleep in Christ but a
   few hours ago, and on his dying bed talked as cheerfully as men can do
   in the full vigor of their health. Most sweetly he talked of the
   preciousness of Christ, and chiefly of the security of the believer;
   the truthfulness of the promise; the immutability of the covenant; the
   faithfulness of God, and the infallibility of the divine decree. Among
   other things which he said at the last was this, which is, we think,
   worth your treasuring in your memories. "Dr Watts sings--

   'Firm as the earth thy gospel stands,

   My Lord, my hope, my trust.'

   What, Doctor, is it not firmer than that? Could you not find a better
   comparison? Why, the earth will give way beneath our feet one day or
   another, if we rest on it. The comparison will not do. The Doctor was
   much nearer the mark, when he said--

   "Firm as his throne his promise stands,

   And he can well secure

   What I've committed to his hands.

   'Till the decisive hour.'"

   "Firm as his throne," said he, "he must cease to be king before he can
   break his promise, or lose his people. Divine sovereignty makes us all
   secure." He fell asleep right quietly, for his day was over, and the
   night was come, what could he do better than go to rest in Jesus? Would
   God it may be our lot to preach the Word, so long as we breathe,
   standing fast unto the end in the truth of God; and if we see not our
   sons and grandsons testifying to those doctrines which are so dear to
   us, yet may we see our children walking in the truth. I know of
   nothing, dear friends, which I would choose to have, as the subject of
   my ambition for life, than to be kept faithful to my God to death,
   still to be a soul-winner, still to be a true herald of the cross, and
   testify the name of Jesus to the last hour. It is only such who in the
   ministry shall be saved.

   Our text, however, occurs again in the twenty-fourth chapter of
   Matthew, at the fourteenth verse, upon which occasion it was not
   addressed to the apostles, but to the disciples. The disciples, looking
   upon the huge stones which were used in the construction of the Temple,
   admired the edifice greatly, and expected their Lord to utter a few
   words of passing encomium; instead of which, he, who came not to be an
   admirer of architecture, but to hew living stones out of the quarry of
   nature, to build them up into a spiritual temple turned their remarks
   to practical account, by warning them of a time of affliction, in which
   there should be such trouble as had never been before, and he added,
   "No, nor ever shall be." He described false prophets as abounding, and
   the love of many as waxing cold, and warned them that "He that endureth
   to the end, the same shall be saved." So that this solemn truth applies
   to every one of you.

   The Christian man, though not called to the post of danger in
   witnessing publicly of the grace of God, is destined in his measure to
   testify concerning Jesus, and in his proper sphere and place, to be a
   burning and a shining light. He may not have the cares of a Church, but
   he hath far more, the cares of business: he is mixed up with the world;
   he is compelled to associate with the ungodly. To a great degree, he
   must, at least six days in the week, walk in an atmosphere uncongenial
   with his nature: he is compelled to hear words which will never provoke
   him to love and good works, and to behold actions whose example is
   obnoxious. He is exposed to temptations of every sort and size, for
   this is the lot of the followers of the Lamb. Satan knows how useful is
   a consistent follower of the Savior, and how much damage to Christ's
   cause an inconsistent professor may bring, and therefore he emptieth
   out all his arrows from his quiver that he may wound, even unto death,
   the soldier of the cross. My brethren, many of you have had a far
   longer experience than myself; you know how stern is the battle of the
   religious life, how you must contend, even unto blood, striving against
   sin. Your life is one continued scene of warfare, both without and
   within; perhaps even now you are crying with the apostle, "0 wretched
   man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" A
   Christian's career is always fighting, never ceasing; always ploughing
   the stormy sea, and never resting till he reaches the port of glory. If
   my God shall preserve you, as preserve you he must, or else you are not
   his; if he shall keep you, as keep you he will if you have committed
   your souls to his faithful guardianship, what an honor awaits you! I
   have in my mind's eye, just now, one who has been for about sixty years
   associated with this Church, and who this week, full of years, and ripe
   for heaven, was carried by angels into the Savior's bosom. Called by
   divine grace, while yet young, he was united with the Christian Church
   early in life. By divine grace, he was enabled to maintain a consistent
   and honorable character for many years; as an officer of this Church,
   he was acceptable among his brethren, and useful both by his godly
   example and sound judgment; while in various parts of the Church of
   Christ, he earned unto himself a good degree. He went last Sabbath day,
   twice to the house of God where he was accustomed of late years to
   worship, enjoying the Word, and feasting at the Communion-table with
   much delight. He went to his bed without having any very serious
   illness upon him, having spent his last evening upon earth in cheerful
   conversation with his daughters. Ere the morning light, with his head
   leaning upon his hand, he had fallen asleep in Christ, having been
   admitted to the rest which remaineth for the people of God. As I think
   of my brother, though of late years I have seen but little of him, I
   can but rejoice in the grace which illuminated his pathway. When I saw
   him, the week before his departure, although full of years, there was
   little or no failure in mind. He was just the picture of an aged saint
   waiting for his Master, and willing to work in his cause while life
   remained. I refer, as most of you know, to Mr. Samuel Gale. Let us
   thank God and take courage--thank God that he has preserved in this
   case, a Christian so many, many years, and take courage to hope that
   there will be found in this Church, many, at all periods, whose grey
   heads shall be crowns of glory. "He that endureth to the end," and only
   he "shall be saved."

   But, dear friends, perseverance is not the lot of the few; it is not
   left to laborious preachers of the Word, or to consistent
   Church-officers, it is the common lot of every believer in the Church.
   It must be so, for only thus can they prove that they are believers. It
   must be so, for only by their perseverance can the promise be
   fulfilled, "He that believeth and is baptized, shall be saved." Without
   perseverance, they cannot be saved; and, as saved they must be,
   persevere they shall through divine grace.

   I shall now, with brevity and earnestness, as God enables me, speak
   upon our text thus: perseverance is the badge of saints--the target of
   our foes--the glory of Christ--and the care of all believers.

   I. First, then, PERSEVERANCE IS THE BADGE OF TRUE SAINTS. It is their
   Scriptural mark. How am I to know a Christian? By his words? Well, to
   some degree, words betray the man; but a man's speech is not always the
   copy of his heart, for with smooth language many are able to deceive.
   What doth our Lord say? "Ye shall know them by their fruits." But how
   am I to know a man's fruits? By watching him one day? I may, perhaps,
   form a guess of his character by being with him for a single hour, but
   I could not confidently pronounce upon a man's true state even by being
   with him for a week. George Whitfield was asked what he thought of a
   certain person's character. "I have never lived with him," was his very
   proper answer. If we take the run of a man's life, say for ten, twenty,
   or thirty years, and, if by carefully watching, we see that he brings
   forth the fruits of grace through the Holy Spirit, our conclusion may
   be drawn very safely. As the truly magnetized needle in the compass,
   with many deflections, yet does really and naturally point to the pole;
   so, if I can see that despite infirmities, my friend sincerely and
   constantly aims at holiness, then I may conclude with something like
   certainty, that he is a child of God. Although works do not justify a
   man before God, they do justify a luau's profession before his fellows.
   I cannot tell whether you are justified in calling yourself a Christian
   except by your works; by your works, therefore, as James saith, shall
   ye be justified. You cannot by your words convince me that you are a
   Christian, much less by your experience, which I cannot see but must
   take on trust from you; but your actions will, unless you be an
   unmitigated hypocrite, speak the truth, and speak the truth loudly too.
   If your course is as the shining light which shineth more unto the
   perfect day, I know that yours is the path of the just. All other
   conclusions are only the judgment of charity such as we are bound to
   exercise; but this is as far as man can get it, the judgment of
   certainty when a man's life has been consistent through out.

   Moreover, analogy shows us that it is perseverance which must mark the
   Christian. How do I know the winner at the foot-race? There are the
   spectators, and there are the runners. What strong men! what
   magnificent muscles! what thews and sinews! Yonder is the goal, and
   there it is that I must judge who is the winner, not here, at the
   starting-point, for "They which run in a race run all, but one
   receiveth the prize." I may select this one, or that other person, as
   likely to win, but I cannot be absolutely sure until the race is over.
   There they fly! see how they press forward with straining muscles; but
   one has tripped, another faints, a third is out of breath, and others
   are far behind. One only wins--and who is he? Why, he who continueth to
   the end, So I may gather from the analogy, which Paul constantly allows
   us, from the ancient games, that only he who continueth till he reaches
   the goal may be accounted a Christian at all. A ship starts on a voyage
   to Australia--if it stops at Madeira, or returns after reaching the
   Cape, would you consider that it ought to be called an emigrant ship
   for New South Wales? It must go the whole voyage, or it does not
   deserve the name. A man has begun to build a house, and has erected one
   side of it--do you consider him a builder if he stops there, and fails
   to cover it in or to finish the other walls? Do we give men praise for
   being warriors because they know how to make one desperate charge, but
   lose the campaign? Have we not, of late, smiled at the boasting
   despatches of commanders, in fights where both combatants fought with
   valor, and yet neither of them had the common sense to push on to reap
   the victory? What was the very strength of Wellington, but that when a
   triumph had been achieved, he knew how to reap the harvest which had
   been sown in blood? And he only is a true conqueror, and shall be
   crowned at the last, who continueth till war's trumpet is blown no
   more. It is with a Christian as it was with the great Napoleon: he
   said, "Conquest has made me what I am, and conquest must maintain me."
   So, under God, conquest has made you what you are, and conquest must
   sustain you. Your motto must be, "Excelsior;" or, if it be not, you
   know not the noble spirit of God's princes. But why do I multiply
   illustrations, when all the world rings with the praise of
   perseverance?

   Moreover, the common-sense judgment of mankind tells us, that those who
   merely begin and do not hold out, will not be saved. Why, if every man
   would be saved who began to follow Christ, who would be damned? In such
   a country as this, the most of men have at least one religious spasm in
   their lives. I suppose that there is not a person before me, who at
   some time or other did not determine to be a pilgrim. You, Mr. Pliable,
   were induced by a Christian friend, who had some influence with you, to
   go with him some short way, till you came to the Slough of Despond, and
   you thought yourself very wise when you scrambled out on that side
   which was nearest to your own home. And even you, Mr. Obstinate, are
   not always dogged; you have fits of thoughtfulness and intervals of
   tenderness. My hearer, how impressed you were at the prayer meeting!
   how excited you were at that revival service! When you heard a zealous
   brother preach at the theater what an impression was produced! Ah! yes;
   the shop was shut up for a Sunday or two; you did not swear or get
   drunk for nearly a month, but you could not hold on any longer. Now, if
   those who were to begin were saved, why you would be secure, though you
   are at the present time as far from anything like religion, as the
   darkness at midnight is from the blazing light of midday. Besides,
   common sense shows us, I say, that a man must hold on, or else he
   cannot be saved, because the very worst of men are those who begin and
   then give up. If you would turn over all the black pages of villany, to
   find the name of the son of perdition, where would you find it? Why,
   among the apostles. The man who had wrought miracles and preached the
   gospel, sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver--Judas Iscariot,
   betrays the Son of Man with a kiss. Where is a worse name than that of
   Simon Magus? Simon "believed also," says the Scripture, and yet he
   offered the apostles money if they would sell to him the Holy Ghost.
   What an infamous notoriety Demas has obtained, who loved the present
   evil world! How much damage did Alexander the coppersmith do to Paul?
   "He did me much evil," said he, "the Lord reward him according to his
   works." And yet that Alexander was once foremost in danger, and even
   exposed his own person in the theater at Ephesus, that he might rescue
   the apostle. There are none so bad as those who once seemed to be good.
   "If the salt has lost its savor, wherewith shall it be seasoned?" That
   which is best when ripe, is worst when rotten; liquor which is sweetest
   in one stage, becomes sourest in another. Let not him that putteth on
   his armor boast as though he putteth it off; for even common sense
   teaches you, that it is not to begin, but to continue to the end which
   marks the time of the child of God.

   But we need not look to analogy and to mere common sense. Scripture is
   plain enough. What says John? "They went out from us." Why? Were they
   ever saints? Oh! no--"They went out from us, because they were not of
   us, for if they had been of us, doubtless they would have continued
   with us, but they went out from us, that it might be manifest that they
   were not of us." They were no Christians, or else they had not thus
   apostatized. Peter saith, "It hath happened unto them according to the
   proverb, the dog hath returned to its vomit, and the sow that was
   washed to her wallowing in the mire," indicating at once most clearly
   that the dog, though it did vomit, always was a dog. When men disgorge
   their sins unwillingly, not giving them up because they dislike them,
   but because they cannot retain them; if a favorable time comes, they
   will return to swallow once more what they seemed to abandon. The sow
   that was washed--ay, bring it into the parlour, introduce it among
   society; it was washed, and well-washed too; whoever saw so respectable
   a member of the honorable confraternity of swine before? Bring it in!
   Yes, but will you keep it there? Wait and see. Because you have not
   transformed it into a man, on the first occasion it will be found
   wallowing in the mire. Why? Because it was not a man, but a sow. And so
   we think we may learn from multitudes of other passages, if we had time
   to quote them, that those who go back into perdition are not saints at
   all, for perseverance is the badge of the righteous. "The righteous
   shalt hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall wax stronger
   and stronger." We not only get life by faith, but faith sustains it;
   "the just shall live by faith;" "but if any man draw back, my soul
   shall have no pleasure in him."

   What we have learned from Scripture, dear friends, has been abundantly
   confirmed by observation. Every day would I bless God that in so
   numerous a Church we have comparatively so few who have proved false;
   but I have seen enough, and the Lord knoweth, more than enough, to make
   me very jealous over you with a godly jealousy. I could tell of many an
   instance of men and women who did ran well. "What did hinder them that
   they should not obey the truth?" I remember a young man of whom I
   thought as favourably as of any of you, and I believe he did at that
   time deserve our favorable judgment. He walked among us, one of the
   most hopeful of our sons, and we hoped that God would make him
   serviceable to his cause. He fell into bad company. There was enough
   conscience left, after a long course of secret sin, to make him feel
   uncomfortable in his wickedness, though he did not give it up; and when
   at last his sin stared him in the face, and others knew it, so ashamed
   was he, that, though he bore the Christian name, he took poison that he
   might escape the shame which he had brought upon himself. He was
   rescued--rescued by skill and the good providence of God; but where he
   is, and what he is, God only knoweth, for he had taken another poison
   more deadly still which made him the slave of his own lusts.

   Do not think it is the young alone, however. It is a very lamentable
   fact that there are, in proportion, more backslidings among the old
   than the young; and, if you want to find a great sinner in that
   respect, you will find him, surely, nine times out of ten, with grey
   hairs on his head. Have I not frequently mentioned that you do not find
   in Scripture, many cases of young people going astray. You do find
   believers sinning, but they were all getting old men. There is Noah--no
   youth. There is Lot, when drunken--no child. There is David with
   Bathsheba,--no young man in the heat of passion. There is Peter denying
   his Lord--no boy at the time. These were men of experience and
   knowledge and wisdom. "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed
   lest he fall."

   With sorrow do we remember one whom, years ago, we heard pray among us,
   and sweetly too; esteemed and trusted by us all. I remember a dear
   brother saying very kindly, but not too wisely, "If he is not a child
   of God, I am not." But what did be, my brethren, to our shame and
   sorrow, but go aside to the very worst and foulest of sins, and where
   is he now? Perhaps the ale-house may tell or worse places still. So
   have we seen, that earth's sun may be eclipsed, earth's stars may go
   out, and all human glory melt into shame. No true child of God
   perishes--hold that fast; but this is the badge of a true child of God:
   that a man endures to the end; and if a man does not hold on, but
   slinks back to his old master, and once again fits on the old collar,
   and wears again the Satanic yoke, there is sure proof that he has never
   come out of the spiritual Egypt through Jesus Christ, his leader, and
   hath never obtained that eternal life which cannot die, because it is
   born of God. I have thus then, dear friends, said enough to prove, I
   think, beyond dispute, that the true badge of the Christian is
   perseverance, and that without it, no man has proved himself to be a
   child of God.

   II. Secondly, PERSEVERANCE IS THEREFORE, THE TARGET OF ALL OUR
   SPIRITUAL ENEMIES.

   We have many adversaries. Look at the world! The world does not object
   to our being Christians for a time; it will cheerfully overlook all
   misdemeanors in that way, if we will now shake hands and be as we used
   to be. Your old companions who used to call you such good fellows, when
   you were bad fellows, would they not very readily forgive you for
   having been Christians, if you would just go back and be as in days
   gone by? Oh! certainly, they would look upon your religion as a freak
   of folly, but they would very easily overlook it, if you would give it
   up for the future. "O!" saith the world, "come back; come back to my
   arms once more; be enamored of me, and though thou hast spoken some
   hard words against me, and done some cruel deeds against me, I will
   cheerfully forgive thee." The world is always stabbing at the
   believer's perseverance. Sometimes she will bully him back; she will
   persecute him with her tongue--cruel mockings shall be used; and at
   another time, she will cozen him, "Come thou back to me; O come thou
   back! Wherefore should we disagree? Thou art made for me, and I am made
   for thee!" And she beckons so gently and so sweetly, even as Solomon's
   harlot of old. This is the one thing with her, that thou shouldst cease
   to be a pilgrim, and settle down to buy and sell with her in Vanity
   Fair.

   Your second enemy, the flesh. What is its aim? "Oh! " cries the flesh,
   "we have had enough of this; it is weary work being a pilgrim, come,
   give it up." Sloth says, "Sit still where thou art. Enough is as good
   as a feast, at least, of this tedious thing." Then, lust crieth, "Am I
   always to be mortified? Am I never to be indulged? Give me at least, a
   furlough from this constant warfare?" The flesh cares not how soft the
   chain, so that it does but hold us fast, and prevent our pressing on to
   glory.

   Then comes in the devil, and sometimes he beats the big drum, and cries
   with a thundering voice "There is no heaven; there is no God; you are a
   fool to persevere." Or, changing his tactics, he cries, "Come back! I
   will give thee a better treatment than thou hadst before. Thou
   thoughtest me a hard master, but that was misrepresentation; come and
   try me; I am a different devil from what I was ten years ago; I am
   respectable to what I was then. I do not want you to go back to the low
   theater or the casino; come with me, and be a respectable lover of
   pleasure. I tell thee, I can dress in broad cloth as well as in
   corderoy, and I can walk in the courts of kings, as well as in the
   courts and alleys of the beggar. O come back!" he saith, and make
   thyself one of mine." So that this hellish trinity, the world, tine
   flesh, and the devil, all stab at the Christian's perseverance.

   His perseverance in service they will frequently attack: "What profit
   is there is in serving God? The devil will say to me sometimes, as he
   did to Jonah, "Flee thou unto Tarshish, and do not stop in this
   Nineveh; they will not believe thy word, though thou speak in God's
   name?" To you he will say, "Why, you are so busy all the six days of
   the week, what is the good of spending your Sunday with a parcel of
   noisy brats in a Sunday School? Why go about with those tracts in the
   streets? Much good you will get from it. Would not you be better with
   having a little rest?" Ah! that word rest--some of us are very fond of
   it; but we ought to recollect that we spoil it if we try to get it
   here, for rest is only beyond the grave. We shall have rest enough when
   once we come into the presence of our Lord. Perseverance in service,
   then, the devil would murder outright.

   If he cannot stay us in service, he will try to prevent our perse
   verance in suffering. "Why be patient any longer?" says he; "why sit on
   that dunghill, scraping your sores with a potsherd?--curse God, and
   die. You have been always poor since you have been a Christian; your
   business does not prosper; you see, you cannot make money unless you do
   as others do. You must go with the times, or else you will not get on.
   Give it all up. Why be always suffering like this?" Thus the foul
   spirit tempts us. Or you may have espoused some good cause, and the
   moment you open your mouth, many laugh and try to put you down. "Well,"
   says the devil, "be put down--what is the use of it? Why make yourself
   singularly eccentric, and expose yourself to perpetual martyrdom? It is
   all very nice," saith he, "if you will be a martyr, to be burnt at
   once, and have done with it; but to hang, like Lord Cobham, to be
   roasted over a slow fire for days, is not comfortable. Why," saith the
   tempter, "why be always suffering--give it up." You see, then, it is
   also perseverance in suffering which the devil shooteth at.

   Or, perhaps, it is perseverance in steadfastness. The love of many has
   waxed cold, but you remain zealous. "Well," saith he, "what is the good
   of your being so zealous? Other people are good enough people, you
   could not censure them: why do you want to be more righteous than they
   are? Why should you be pushing the Church before you, and dragging the
   world behind you? What need is there for you to go two marches in one
   day? Is not one enough? Do as the rest do; loiter as they do. Sleep as
   do others, and let your lamp go out as other virgins do." Thus is our
   perseverance in steadfastness frequently assailed.

   Or else, it will be our doctrinal sentiments. "Why," says Satan, "do
   you hold to these denominational creeds? Sensible men are getting more
   liberal, they are giving away what does not belong to them--God's
   truth; they are removing the old landmarks. Acts of uniformity are to
   be repealed, articles and creeds are to be laid aside as useless
   lumber, not necessary for this very enlightened age; fall in with this,
   and be an Anythingarian. Believe that black is white; hold that truth
   and a lie are very much akin to one another, and that it not does
   matter which we do believe, for we are all of us right, though we
   flatly contradict each other; that the Bible is a nose of wax to fit
   any face; that it does not teach anything material, but you may make it
   say anything you like. Do that," saith he, "and be no longer firm in
   your opinion."

   I think I have proved--and need not waste more words about it--that
   perseverance is the target for all enemies. Wear your shield,
   Christian, therefore, close upon your armor, and cry mightily unto God,
   that by his Spirit you may endure to the end.

   III. Thirdly, brethren, PERSEVERANCE IS THE GLORY OF CHRIST.

   That he makes all his people persevere to the end, is greatly to his
   honor. If they should fall away and perish, every office, and work, and
   attribute of Christ would be stained in the mire. If any one child of
   God should perish, where were Christ's covenant engagements? What is he
   worth as a mediator of the covenant and the surety of it, if he hath
   not made the promises sure to all the seed? My brethren, Christ is made
   a leader and commander of the people, to bring many souls into glory;
   but if he doth not bring them into glory, where is the captain's honor?
   Where is the efficacy of the precious blood, if it does not effectually
   redeem? If it only redeemeth for a time and then suffereth us to
   perish, where is its value? If it only blots out sin for a few weeks,
   and then perniits that sin to return and to remain upon us, where, I
   say, is the glory of Calvary, and where is the lustre of the wounds of
   Jesus? He lives, he lives to intercede, but how can I honor his
   intercession, if it be fruitless? Does he not pray, "Father, I will
   that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am;" and if
   they be not finally brought to be with him where he is, where is the
   honor of his intercession? Hath not the Pleader failed, and the great
   Mediator been dismissed without success? Is he not at this day in union
   with his people? But what is the value of union to Christ, if that
   union does not insure salvation? Is he not to-day at the right hand of
   God, preparing a place for his saints; and will he prepare a place for
   them, and then lose them on the road? Oh! can it be that he procures
   the harp and the crown, and will not save souls to use them? My
   brethren, the perishing of one true child of God, would be such
   dishonor to Jesus, that I cannot think of it without considering it as
   blasphemy. One true believer in hell! Oh! what laughter in the
   pit--what defiance, what unholy mirth! "Ah! Prince of life and glory,"
   saith the prince of the pit, "I have defeated thee; I have snatched the
   prey from the mighty, and the lawful captive I have delivered; I have
   torn a jewel from thy crown. See, here it is! Thou didst redeem this
   soul with blood, and yet it is in hell." Hear what Satan cries--"Christ
   suffered for this soul, and yet God makes it suffer for itself. Where
   is the justice of God?" Christ came from heaven to earth to save this
   soul, and failed in the attempt, and I have him here;" and as he
   plunges that soul into deeper waves of woe, the shout of triumph goes
   up more and more blasphemously--"We have conquered heaven! We have rent
   the eternal covenant; we have foiled the purposes of God; we have
   defeated his decree; we have triumphed over the power of the Mediator,
   and cast his blood to the ground!" Shall it ever be? Atrocious
   question! It can never be. They who are in Christ are saved. They whom
   Jesus Christ hath really taken into union with himself, shall be with
   him where he is. But how are you to know whether you are in union with
   Christ? My brethren, you can only know it by obeying the apostle's
   words, "Give all diligence to make your calling and election sure."

   IV. I close, therefore, with but a hint on the last point, PERSEVERANCE
   SHOULD BE THE GREAT CARE OF EVERY CHRISTIAN--his daily and his nightly
   care. O beloved! I conjure you by the love of God, and by the love of
   your own souls, be faithful unto death. Have you difficulties? You must
   conquer them. Hannibal crossed the Alps, for his heart was full of fury
   against Rome; and you must cross the Alps of difficulty, for I trust
   your heart is full of hatred of sin. When Mr. Smeaton had built the
   lighthouse upon the Eddystone, he looked out anxiously after a storm to
   see if the edifice was still there, and it was his great joy when he
   could see it still standing, for a former builder had constructed an
   edifice which he thought to be indestructible, and expressed a wish
   that he might be in it in the worst storm which ever blew, and he was
   so, and neither himself nor his lighthouse were ever seen afterwards.
   Now you have to be exposed to multitudes of storms; you must be in your
   lighthouse in the worst storm which ever blew; build firmly then on the
   Rock of Ages, and make sure work for eternity, for if you do these
   things, ye shall never fall. For this Church's sake, I pray you do it;
   for nothing can dishonor and weaken a Church so much as the falls of
   professors. A thousand rivers flow to the sea, and make rich the
   meadows, but no man heareth the sound thereof; but if there be one
   cataract, its roaring will be heard for miles, and every traveler will
   mark the fall. A thousand Christians can scarcely do such honor to
   their Master as one hypocrite can do dishonor to him. If you have ever
   tasted that the Lord is gracious, pray that your foot slip not. It
   would be infinitely better to bury you in the earth than see you buried
   in sin. If I must be lost, God grant it may not be as an apostate. If I
   must, after all, perish, were it not better never to have known the way
   of righteousness than after having known the theory of it, and
   something of the enjoyment of it, turn again to the beggarly elements
   of the world? Let your prayer be not against death, but against sin.
   For your own sake, for the Church's sake, for the name of Christ's
   sake, I pray you do this. But ye cannot persevere except by much
   watchfulness in the closet, much carefulness over every action, much
   dependance upon the strong hand of the Holy Spirit who alone can make
   you stand. Walk and live as in the sight of God, knowing where your
   great strength lieth, and depend upon it you shall yet sing that sweet
   doxology in Jude, "Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling,
   and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with
   exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty,
   dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen." A simple faith brings the
   soul to Christ, Christ keeps the faith alive; that faith enables the
   believer to persevere, and so he enters heaven. May that be your lot
   and mine for Christ's sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                               Nothing But Leaves

   A Sermon

   (No. 555)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 21st, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "He found nothing but leaves."--Mark 11:13.

   MOST of the miracles of Moses were grand displays of divine justice.
   What were the first ten wonders but ten plagues? The same may be said
   of the prophets, especially of Elijah and Elisha. Was it not
   significant both of the character and mission of Elias when he called
   fire from heaven upon the captains of fifties; nor was he upon whom his
   mantle descended less terrible when the she-bears avenged him upon the
   mockers. It remained for our incarnate Lord to reveal the heart of God.
   The only begotten was full of grace and truth, and in his miracles
   pre-eminently God is set forth to us as LOVE. With the exception of the
   miracle before us, and perhaps, a part of another, all the miracles of
   Jesus were entirely benevolent in their character; indeed this one is
   no exception in reality, but only in appearance. The raising of the
   dead, the feeding of the multitude, the stilling of the tempest, the
   healing of diseases--what were all these but displays of the
   lovingkindness of God? What was this to teach us but that Jesus Christ
   came forth from his Father on an errand of pure grace?

   "Thine hands, dear Jesus, were not arm'd

   With an avenging rod,

   No hard commission to perform

   The vengeance of a God.

   But all was mercy, all was mild,

   And wrath forsook the throne,

   When Christ on his kind errand came

   And brought salvation down."

   Let us rejoice that God commendeth his love towards us, because in "due
   time Christ died for the ungodly."

   Yet, as if to show that Jesus the Savior is also Jesus the Judge, one
   gleam of justice must dart forth. Where shall mercy direct its fall?
   See, my brethren, it glances not upon a man, but lights upon an
   unconscious, unsuffering thing--a tree. The curse, if we may call it a
   curse at all, did not fall. on man or beast, or even the smallest
   insect; its bolt falls harmlessly upon a fig tree by the wayside. It
   bore upon itself the signs of barrenness, and perhaps was no one's
   property; little, therefore, was the loss which any man sustained by
   the withering of that verdant, mockery, while instruction more precious
   than a thousand acres of fig trees has been left for the benefit of all
   ages. The only other instance at which I hinted just now was the
   permission given to the devils to enter into the swine, and the whole
   herd ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and perished in the
   waters. In that case, again, what a mercy it was that the Savior did
   not permit a band of men to become the victims of the evil one. It was
   infinitely better that the whole herd of swine should perish than that
   one poor man should be rendered a maniac through their influence. The
   creatures choked in the abyss were nothing but swine--swine which their
   Jewish owners had no right to keep; and even then they did not perish
   through Jesus Christ's agency, but through the malice of the devils,
   for needs must even swine run when the devil drives.

   Observe, then, with attention, this solitary instance of stern judgment
   wrought by the Savior's hand. Consider seriously that if only once in
   his whole life Christ works a miracle of pure judgment, the lesson so
   unique must be very full of meaning. If there be hut one curse, where
   does it fall? What is its symbolic teaching? I do not know that I ever
   felt more solemnly the need of true fruitfulness before God than when I
   was looking over this miracle--parable--for such it may justly be
   called. The curse, you at once perceive, falls in its metaphorical and
   spiritual meaning upon those high professors who are destitute of true
   holiness; upon those who manifest great show of leaves, but who bring
   forth no fruit unto God. Only one thunderbolt, and that for boasting
   pretenders; only one curse, and that for hypocrites. O blessed Spirit,
   write this heart-searching truth upon our hearts!

   I. We will commence our exposition with the remark that THERE WERE MANY
   TREES WITH LEAVES ONLY UPON THEM, AND YET NONE OF THESE WERE CURSED BY
   THE SAVIOR, SAVE ONLY THIS FIG TREE. It is the nature of many trees to
   yield to man nothing but their shade. The hungering Savior did not
   resort to the oak or to the elm to look for food, nor could the fir
   tree, nor the pine, nor the box, offer him any hope of refreshment; nor
   did he breathe one hard word concerning them, for he knew what was in
   them, and that they neither were, nor pretended to be fruit-bearing
   trees. So, dear friends, there are many men whose lives bear leaves,
   but no fruit--and yet, thanks be unto God, almighty patience bears with
   them. They are allowed to live out their time, and then it is true they
   are cut down and cast into the fire; but while they are permitted to
   stand, no curse withers them: the longsuffering of God waiteth to be
   gracious to them. Here are some of the characters who have leaves but
   no fruit.

   There are thousands who ignorantly follow the sign and know nothing of
   the substance. In England, we think ourselves far in advance of Popish
   countries; but how much of the essence of Popery peeps out in the
   worship of very many! They go to Church or chapel, and they think that
   the mere going into the place and sitting a certain time and coming out
   again is an acceptable act to God: mere formality, you see, is mistaken
   for spiritual worship! They are careful to have their infants
   sprinkled, but what the ceremony means they know not; and without
   looking into the Bible to see whether the Lord commands any such an
   ordinance, they offer him their ignorant will--worship either in
   obedience to custom, or in the superstition of ignorance. What the
   thing is, or why it is, they do not enquire, but go through a
   performance as certain parrots say their prayers. They know nothing
   about the inward and spiritual grace, which the Catechism talks about,
   if indeed, inward spiritual grace could ever be connected with an
   unscriptural outward and visible sign. When these poor souls come to
   the Lord's Supper, their thoughts go no farther than the bread and
   wine, or the hands which break the one and pour out the other; they
   know nothing whatever of communion with Jesus, of eating his flesh and
   drinking his blood; their souls have proceeded as far as the shell, but
   they have never broken into the kernel to taste the sweetness thereof.
   They have a name to lives and are dead; their religion is a mere show;
   a signboard without an inn a well-set table without meat; a pretty
   pageant where nothing is gold, but everything gilt nothing real, but
   all pasteboard, paint, plaster, and pretense. Nonconformists, your
   chapels swarm with such, and the houses of the Establishment are full
   of the same! Multitudes live and die satisfied with the outward
   trappings of religion, and are utter strangers to internal vital
   godliness. Yet such persons are not cursed in this life! No, they are
   to be pitied, to be prayed for, to be sought after, with words of love
   and honest truth; they are to be hoped for yet, for who knoweth but
   that God may call them to repentance, and they may yet receive the life
   of God into their souls?

   Another very numerous class have opinion but not faith, creed but not
   credence. We meet them everywhere. How zealous they are for
   Protestantism! They would not only die for orthodoxy, but kill others
   as well. Perhaps it is the Calvinistic doctrine which they have
   received, and then the five points are as dear to them as their five
   senses. These men will contend, not to say earnestly, but savagely for
   the faith. They very vehemently denounce all those who differ from them
   in the smallest degree; and deal damnation round the land with amazing
   liberality to all who are not full weight according to the balance of
   their little Zoar, Rehoboth, or Jireh: while all the while the spirit
   of Christ, the love of the Spirit, bowels of compassion, and holiness
   of character are no more to be expected from them than grapes from
   thorns, or figs from thistles. Doctrine, my brethren, is to be prized
   above all price! Woe to the Church of God when error shall be thought a
   trifle, for truth be lightly esteemed; and when truth is gone, what is
   left? But, at the same time, we grossly mistake if we think that
   orthodoxy of creed will save us. I am sick of those cries of "the
   truth," "the truth," "the truth," from men of rotten lives and unholy
   tempers. There is an orthodox as well as a heterodox road to hell, and
   the devil knows how to handle Calvinists quite as well as Arminians. No
   pale of any Church can insure salvation, no form of doctrine can
   guarantee to us eternal life. "Ye must be born again." Ye must bring
   forth fruits meet for repentance. "Every tree which bringeth not forth
   fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire." Stopping short of vital
   union to the Lord Jesus by real faith, we miss the great qualification
   for entering heaven. Yet the time is not come when these mere
   head-knowers are cursed. These trees have leaves only, but no fatal
   curse has withered them hopelessly. No; they are to be sought after;
   they may yet know the Lord in their hearts, and the Holy Spirit may yet
   make them humble followers of the Lamb. O that it may be so!

   A third class have talk without feeling. Mr. Talkative, in "Pilgrim's
   Progress," is the representative of a very numerous host. They speak
   very glibly concerning divine things. Whether the topic be doctrinal,
   experimental, or practical, they talk fluently upon everything. But
   evidently, the whole thing comes from the throat and the lip; there is
   no welling up from the heart. If the thing came from the heart it would
   be boiling, but now it hangs like an icicle from their lips. You know
   them--you may learn something from them, but all time while you are
   yourself aware that if they bless others by their words, they
   themselves remain unblessed. Ah! let us be very anxious lest this
   should be our own case. Let the preacher feel the anxiety of the
   apostle Paul, lest, after having preached to others, he himself should
   be a castavay; and let my hearers feel the same concern, lest, after
   talking about the timings of God, they should prove to be mere
   lip-servers, and not accepted children of the Most High.

   Another tribe springs up just now before my eye--those who have regrets
   without repentance. Many of you under a heart-searching sermon feel
   grieved on account of your sins, and yet never have the strength of
   mind to give them up. You say you are sorry, but yet go on in the same
   course. You do really feel, when death and judgment press upon you, a
   certain sort of regret that you could have been so foolish, but the
   next day the strength of temptation is such, that you fall a prey to
   the very same infatuation. It is easy to bring a man to the river of
   regret, but you cannot make him drink the water of repentance. If Agag
   would be killed with words, no Amalekite would live. If men's transient
   sorrows for sin were real repentance on account of it, there is not a
   man living who would not, sometime or other, have been a true penitent.
   Here, however, are leaves only, and no fruit.

   We have yet again, another class of persons who have resolves without
   action. They will! Ah! that they will! but it is always in the future
   tense. They are hearers, and they are even feelers, but they are not
   doers of the Word: it never comes to that. They would be free, but they
   have not patience to file their fetters, nor grace to submit their
   manacles to the hammer. They see the right, but they permit the wrong
   to rule them. They are charmed with the beauties of holiness, and yet
   deluded with the wantonness of sin. They would ran in the ways of God's
   commandments, but the road is too rough, and running is weary work.
   They would fight for God, but victory is hardly won, and so they turn
   back almost as soon as they have set out; they put their hand to the
   plough, and then prove utterly unworthy of the kingdom.

   The great majority of persons who have any sort of religion at all,
   bear heaves, but they produce no fruit. I know there are some such
   here, and I solemnly warn you, though no curse falls upon you, though
   we do not think that the miracle now under consideration has any
   relation to you whatever, yet remember, there is nothing to be done
   with trees which bring forth only leaves, but in due time to use the
   axe upon them, and to cast them into the fire: and this must be your
   doom. As sure as you live under the sound of the gospel, and yet are
   not converted by it, so surely will you be cast into outer darkness. As
   certainly as Jesus Christ invites you, and ye will not come, so
   certainly will he send his angels to gather the dead branches together,
   and you among them, to cast them into the fire. Beware! beware! thou
   fruitless tree! thou shalt not stand for ever! Mercy waters thee with
   her tears now; God's lovingkindness digs about thee still; still the
   husbandman comes, seeking fruit upon thee year after year. Beware! the
   edge of the axe is sharp, and the arm which wields it is nothing less
   than almighty. Beware! lest thou fall into the fire!

   II. Secondly, THERE WERE OTHER TREES WITH NEITHER LEAVES NOR FRUIT, AND
   NONE OF THESE WERE CURSED!

   The time of figs was not yet come. Now, as the fig tree either brings
   forth the fig before the leaf, or else produces figs and leaves at the
   same time, the major part of the trees, perhaps all of them, without
   exception of this one, were entirely without figs and without leaves,
   and yet Jesus did not curse any one of them, for the time of figs was
   not yet come.

   What multitudes are destitute of anything like religion; they make no
   profession of it; they not only have no fruits of godliness, but they
   have no leaves even of outward respect to it; they do not frequent the
   court of the Lord's house; they use no form of prayer; they never
   attend upon ordinances. The great outlying mass of this huge city--how
   does religion affect it? It is a very sad thing to think that there are
   people living in total darkness next door to the light; that you may
   find in the very street where the gospel is preached, persons who have
   never heard a sermon. Are there not, throughout this city, tens and
   hundreds of thousands who know not their right hand from their left, in
   matters of godliness? Their children go to Sabbath schools, but they
   themselves spend the whole Sabbath day in anything except the worship
   of God! In our country parishes, very often neither the religion of the
   Establishment nor of Dissent, at all affects the population. Take, for
   instance, that village which will be disgracefully remembem'ed as long
   as Essex endures, the village of Hedingham. Theme are in that place not
   only parish Churches, but Dissenting meetinghouses, and yet the persons
   who foully murdered the poor wretch supposed to be a wizard, must have
   been as ignorant and indifferent to common sense, let alone religion,
   as even Hottentots or Kaffirs, to whom the light of religion has never
   come. Why was this? Is it not because there is not enough of missionary
   spirit among Christian people to seek out those who are in the lowest
   strata of society, so that multitudes escape without ever coming into
   contact with godliness at all? In London, the City Missionaries will
   bear witness that while they can sometimes get at the wives, yet there
   are thousands of husbands who are necessarily away at the time of the
   missionary's visit, who have not a word of rebuke, or exhortation, or
   invitation, or encouragement, ever sounding in their ears at all, from
   the day of their birth to the day of their death; and they might, for
   all practical purposes, as well have been born in the center of Africa
   as in the city of London, for they are without God, without hope,
   aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, far oft; not by wicked works
   only, but by dense ignorance of God.

   These persons we may divide into two classes, upon neither of whom does
   the withering curse fall in this life. The first we look upon with
   hope. Although we see neither leaves nor fruit, we know that "the time
   of figs is not yet." They are God's elect, but they are not called.
   Their names are in the Lamb's Book of Life, and were there from before
   the foundations of the world; though they be dead in trespasses, they
   are the objects of divine love, and they must, in due time, be called
   by irresistible grace, and turned from darkness to light. "The Lord
   hath much people in this city," and this should be the encouragement of
   every one of you, to try to do good, that God has among the vilest of
   the vile, the most reprobate, the most debauched and drunken, an elect
   people who must be saved. When you take the Word to them, you do so
   because God has ordained you to be the messenger of life to their
   souls, and they must receive it, for so the decree of predestination
   runs; they must he called in the fullness of time to be the brethren of
   Christ and children of the Most High. They are redeemed, beloved
   friends, but not regenerated--as much redeemed with precious blood as
   the saints before the eternal throne. They are Christ's property, and
   yet perhaps, they are waiting around the ale-house at this very moment
   until the door shall open--bought with Jesus' precious blood, and yet
   spending their nights in a brothel, and their days in sin; but if Jesus
   Christ purchased them he will have them. If he counted down the
   precious drops, God is not unfaithful to forget the price which his Son
   has paid. He will not suffer his substitution to be in any case an
   ineffectual, dead thing. Tens of thousands of redeemed ones are not
   regenerated yet, but regenerated they must be; and this is your comfort
   and mine, when we go out with the quickening Word of God. Nay, more,
   these ungodly ones are prayed for by Christ before the throne. "Neither
   pray I for these alone," saith the great Intercessor, "but for them
   also which shall believe on me through their word." They do not pray
   for themselves; poor, ignorant souls, they do not know anything about
   prayer; but Jesus prays for them. Their names are on his breast, and
   ere long they must bow their stubborn knee, breathing the penitential
   sigh before the throne of grace. "The time of figs is not yet." The
   predestinated moment has not struck; but, when it comes, they shall,
   for God will have his own; they must, for the Spirit is not to be
   withstood when he cometh forth with power--they must become the willing
   servants of the living God. "My people shall be willing in the day of
   my power." "He shall justify many." "He shall see of the travail of his
   soul." "He shall divide a portion with the great, and he shall divide
   the spoil with the strong."

   No curse falls upon these; they deserve it, but eternal love prevents
   it. Their sins write it, but the finished sacrifice blots it out. They
   may well perish because they seek not mercy, but Christ intercedes for
   them, and live they shall.

   Alas! however, among those who have neither leaves nor fruit, there is
   another class which never bring forth either the one or the other; they
   live in sin and die in ignorance, perishing without hope. As these
   leave the world, can they upbraid us for neglecting them? Are we clear
   of their blood? May not the blood of many of them cry from the ground
   against us? As they arc condemned on account of sins, may they not
   accuse us because we did not take the gospel to them, but left them
   where they were? Dread thought! but let it not be shaken off, there are
   tens of thousands every day who pass into the world of spirits unsaved,
   and inherit the righteous wrath of God. Yet in this life, you see, no
   special curse falls upon them, and this miracle has no special bearing
   upon them; it bears upon a totally different class of people, of whom
   we will now speak.

   III. WE HAVE BEFORE US A SPECAL CASE.

   I have already said, that in a fig tree, the fruit takes the precedence
   of the leaves, or the leaves and the fruit come at the same time; so
   that it is laid down as a general rule, that if there be leaves upon a
   fig tree, you may rightly expect to find fruit upon it.

   To begin then with the explanation of this special case, in a fig tree
   fruit comes before leaves. So in a true Christian, fruit always takes
   the precedence of profession. Find a man anywhere who is a true servant
   of God, and before he united himself with the Church, or attempted to
   engage in public prayer, or to identify himself with the people of God,
   he searched to see whether he had real repentance on account of sin--he
   desired to know whether he had a sincere and genuine faith in the Lord
   Jesus Christ, and he perhaps tarried some little time to try himself to
   see whether there were the fruits of holiness in his daily life.
   Indeed, I may say that there are some who wait too long; they are so
   afraid lest they should make a profession before they have grace in
   possession, that they will wait year after year--too long--become
   unwise, and make what was a virtue become a vice. Still this is the
   rule with Christians: they first give themselves to the Lord and
   afterwards to the Lord's people according to his will. You who are the
   servants of God--do you not scorn to vaunt yourselves beyond your line
   and measure? Would you not think it disgraceful on your part to profess
   anything which you have not felt? Do you not feel a holy jealousy when
   you are teaching others, lest you should teach more than God has taught
   you? and are you not afraid even in your prayers lest you should use
   expressions which are beyond your own depth of meaning? I am sure the
   true Christian is always afraid of anything like having the leaves
   before he has the fruit.

   Another remark follows from this--where we see the leaves we have a
   right to expect the fruit. When I see a man a Church-member, when I
   hear him engage in prayer, I expect to see in him, holiness, the
   character and the image of Christ. I have a right to expect it, because
   the man has solemnly avowed that he is the partaker of divine grace.
   You cannot join a Church without taking upon yourselves very solemn
   responsibilities. What do you desire when you come to see us, and ask
   to be admitted into fellowship? You tell us that you have passed from
   death unto life, that you have been born again, that there has been a
   change in you, the hike of which you never knew before, one which only
   God could have wrought. You tell us you are in the habit of private
   prayer; that you have a desire for the conversion of others. If you did
   not so profess, we dare not receive you. Well now, having made these
   professions, it would be insincere on our part if we did not expect to
   see your characters holy, and your conversation correct; we have a
   right to expect it from your own professions. We have a right to expect
   it from the work of the Spirit which you claim to have received. Shall
   the Holy Spirit work in man's heart to produce a trifle? Do you think
   that the Spirit of God would have written us this Book, and that Jesus
   Christ would have shed his precious blood to produce a hypocrite? Is an
   inconsistent Christian the highest work of God? I suppose God's plan of
   salvation to be that which has more exercised his thoughts and wisdom
   than the making of all worlds and the sustenance of all providence; and
   shall this best, this highest, this darling work of God, produce no
   more than that poor, mean, talking, unacting, fruitless deceiver? Ye
   have no love for souls, no care for the spread of the Redeemer's
   kingdom, and yet think that the Spirit, has made you what you are! No
   zeal, no melting bowels of compassion, no cries of earnest entreaty, no
   wrestling with God, no holiness, no self-denial, and yet say that you
   are a vessel made by the Master and fitted for his use! How can this
   be? No; if you profess to be a Christian, from the necessity of the
   Spirit's work, we have a right to expect fruit from you. Besides, in
   genuine professors we do get the fruit, we see a faithful attachment to
   the Redeemer's cause, an endurance to the end, in poverty, in sickness,
   in shame, in persecution. We see other professors holding fast to the
   truth, they are not led aside by temptation, neither do they disgrace
   the cause they have espoused; and, if you profess to be one of the same
   order, we have a right to look for the same blessed fruits of the
   Spirit in you, and if we see them not you have belied us.

   Observe further that our Lord hungers for fruit. A hungry person seeks
   for something which may satisfy him, for fruit, not leaves! Jesus
   hungers for your holiness. A strong expression, you will say, but I
   doubt not of its accuracy. For what were we elected? We were
   predestinated to be conformed unto the image of God's Son; we were
   chosen to good works, "which God hath before ordained that we should
   walk in them." What is the end of our redemption? Why did Jesus Christ
   die? " He gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all
   iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good
   works." Why have we been called but that we should be called to be
   saints? To what end are any of the great operations of the covenant of
   grace? Do they not all point at our holiness? If you will think of any
   privilege which the Lord confers upon his people through Christ, you
   will perceive that they all aim at the sanctification of the chosen
   people--the making of them to bring forth fruit that God the Father may
   be glorified in them. O Christian, for this the tears of the Savior!
   for this the agony and bloody sweat! for this the five death-wounds!
   for this the burial and the resurrection, that he makes you holy, even
   perfectly holy like unto himself! And can it be, that when he hungers
   after fruit, you think nothing of fruit-bearing? O professor, how base
   art thou, to call thyself a blood-bought child of God, amid yet to live
   unto thyself! How darest thou, O barren tree, professing to be watered
   by the bloody sweat, and digged by the griefs and woes of the wounded
   Savior--how darest thou bring forth leaves and no fruit? Oh!
   sacrilegious mockery of a hungry Savior! oh! blasphemous tantalizing of
   a hungry Lord! that thou shouldst profess to have cost him all this,
   and yet yield him nothing! When I think that Jesus hungers after fruit
   in me, it stirs me tip to do more for him. Does it not have the same
   effect on you? He hungers for your good works; he hungers to see you
   useful. Jesus the King of kings, hungers after your prayers--hungers
   after your anxieties for the souls of others; and nothing ever will
   satisfy him for the travail of his soul but seeing you wholly devoted
   to his cause.

   This brings us into the very midst and meaning of the miracle. There
   are some, then, who make unusual profession, and yet disappoint the
   Savior in his just expectations. The Jews did this. When Jesus Christ
   came it was not the time of figs. The time for great holiness was after
   the coming of Christ and the pouring out of the Spirit. All the other
   nations were without leaves. Greece, Rome, all these showed no signs of
   progress; but there was the Jewish nation covered with leaves. They
   professed already to have obtained the blessings which he came to
   bring. There stood the Pharisee with his long prayers; there were the
   lawyers and the Scribes with their deep knowledge of the things of the
   kingdom. They said they had the light. The time of figs was not come,
   but yet they had the leaves, though not a single fruit; and you know
   what a curse fell on Israel; how in the day of Jerusalem's destruction
   the tree was withered altogether from its root, because it had its
   leaves, but had no fruit.

   The same will be true of any Church. There are times when all the
   Churches seem sunken alike in lethargy--such a time we had, say ten
   years ago--but one Church, perhaps, seems to be all alive. The
   congregations are large. Much, apparently, is proposed for the growth
   of the Savior's kingdom. A deal of noise is made about it; there is
   much talk, and the people are all expectation; and, if there be no
   fruit, no real consecration to Christ, if there be no genuine
   liberality, no earnest vital godliness, no hallowed consistency, other
   Churches may live on; but such a Church as this, making so high a
   profession, and being so precocious in the produce of leaves, shall
   have a curse from God. No man shall eat fruit of it for ever, and it
   shall wither away.

   In the case of individuals the moral of our miracle runs thus. Some are
   looked upon as young believers, who early join the Church. "The time of
   figs is not yet;" it is not a very ordinary case to see children
   converted, but we do see some, and we are very grateful. We are jealous
   however lest we should see leaves but not fruit. These juveniles are
   extraordinary cases; and on that account we look for higher results.
   When we are disappointed what shall come upon such but a curse upon
   their precocity, which led them to the deception. Some of us were
   converted, or profess to have been, when young, and if we have lived
   hitherto, and all we have produced has been merely words, resolves,
   professions, but not fruit unto God, we must expect the curse.

   Again, professsors eminent in station. There are necessarily but few
   ministers, but few Church officers; but when men so distinguish
   themselves by zeal, or by louder professions than others, as to gain
   the ear of the Christian public and are placed in responsible
   positions--if they bring forth no fruit, they are the persons upon whom
   the curse will light. It may be with other Christians that "the time of
   figs is not yet;" they have not made the advances which these profess
   to have made; but having been, upon their own profession, elected to an
   office which essentially requires fruit, since they yield it not, let
   them beware.

   To those who make professions of much love to Christ, the same caution
   may be given. With the most of Christians, I am afraid, I must say that
   "the time of figs is not yet," for we are too much like the Laodicean
   Church. But you meet with some men--how much they are in love with
   Christ! How sweetly they can talk about him, but what do they do for
   him? Nothing! nothing! Their love lies just in the wind which comes out
   of their own mouths, and that is all. Now, when the Lord has a curse,
   he will deal it out on such They went beyond all others in an untimely
   declaration of a very fervent love, and now they yield him no fruit.
   "Yes," said one, "I love God so much, that I do not reckon that
   anything I have is my own. It is all the Lord's--all the Lord's, and I
   am his steward." Well, this dear good man, of course, joined the
   Church, and after a time, some mission work wanted a little help. What
   was his reply? "When I pay my seat rent, I have done all I intend to
   do." A man of wealth and means! After a little time, this same man
   found it inconvenient even to pay for his seat, and goes now to a place
   not quite so full, where he can get a seat and do nothing to support
   the ministry! If there is a special thunderbolt anywhere, it is these
   unctions hypocrites who whine about love to Christ, and bow down at the
   shrine of mammon.

   Or, take another case. You meet with others whose profession is not of
   so much love, but it is of much experience. Oh! what experience they
   have had! What deep experience! Ah! they know the humblings of heart
   and the plague of human nature! They know the depths of corruption, and
   the heights of divine fellowship, and so on. Yes, and if you go into
   the shop you find the corruption is carried on behind the counter, and
   the deceit in the day-book; if they do not know the plague of their own
   hearts, at least they are a plague to their own household. Such people
   are abhorrent to all men, and much more to God.

   Others you meet with who have a censorious tongue. What good people
   they must be; they can see the faults of other people so plainly! This
   Church is not right, and the other is not right, and yonder
   preacher--well some people think him a very good man, but they do not.
   They can see the deficiencies in the various denominations, and they
   observe that very few really carry out Scripture as it should be
   carried out. They complain of want of love, and are the very people who
   create that want. Now if you will watch these very censorious people,
   the very faults they indicate in others, they are indulging in
   themselves; and while they are seeking to find out the mote in their
   brother's eye, they have a beam in their own. These are the people who
   are indicated by this fig tree, for they ought, according to their own
   showing, taking t hem on their own ground, to be better than other
   people. If what they say be true, they are bright particular stars, and
   they ought to give special light to the world. They are such that even
   Jesus Christ himself might expect to receive fruit from them, but they
   are nothing but deceivers, with these high soarings and proud
   boastings; they are nothing after all but pretenders. Like Jezebel with
   her paint, which made her all the uglier, they would seem to be what
   they are not. As old Adam says, "They are candles with big wicks and no
   tallow, and when they go out they make a foul and nauseous smell."
   "They have summer sweating on their brow, and winter freezing in their
   hearts." You would think them the land of Goshen, but prove them the
   wilderness of sin. Let us search ourselves, lest such be the case with
   us.

   IV. And now to close, SUCH A TREE MIGHT WELL BE WITHERED. Deception is
   abhorred of God. There was the Jewish temple, there were the priests
   standing in solemn pomp, there were the abundant sacrifices of God's
   altar. But was God pleased with his temple? No, because in the temple
   you had all the leaves, you had all the externals of worship, but there
   was no true prayer, no belief in the great Lamb of God's passover, no
   truth, no righteousness, no love of men, no care for the glory of God;
   and so the temple, which had been a house of prayer, had become a den
   of thieves. You do not marvel that the temple was destroyed. You and I
   may become just like that temple. We may go on with all the externals
   of religions, nobody may miss us out of our seat at Tabernacle, nay, we
   may never miss our Christian engagements; we may be in all external
   matters more precise than we used to be, and yet for all that, we may
   have become in our hearts a den of thieves; the heart may be given to
   the world while external ceremonies are still kept up and maintained.
   Let us beware of this, for such a place cannot be long without a curse.
   It is abhorrent to God.

   Again, it is deceptive to man. Look at that temple! What do men go
   there for? To see holiness and virtue. Why tread they its hallowed
   courts? To get nearer to God. And what do they find there? Instead of
   holiness, covetousness; instead of getting nearer to God, they get into
   the midst of a mart where men are haggling about the price of doves,
   and bickering with one another about the changing of shekels. So men
   may watch to hear some seasonable word from our lips, and instead of
   that, may get evil; and as that temple was cursed for deluding men, so
   may we be, because we deceive and disappoint the wants of mankind.

   More than this, this barren fig tree committed sacrilege upon Christ,
   did it not? Might it not have exposed him to ridicule? Some might have
   said, "How goest thou to a tree, thou prophet, whereon there is no
   fruit?" A false professor exposes Christ to ridicule. As the temple of
   old dishonored God, so does a Christian when his heart is not right; he
   does dishonor to God, and makes the holy cause to be trodden under foot
   of the adversary. Such men indeed have reason to beware.

   Once more, this tree might well be cursed, because its bringing forth
   nothing but leaves was a plain evidence of its sterility. It had force
   and vitality, but it turned it to ill account, and would continue to do
   so. The curse of Christ was but a confirmation of what it already was.
   He did as good as say, "He that is unfruitful, let him be unfruitful
   still." And now, what if Christ should come into this Tabernacle this
   morning, and should look on you and on me, and see in any of us great
   profession and great pomp of leaves, and yet no fruit, what if he
   should pronounce the curse on us, what would be the effect? We should
   wither away as others have done. What mean we by this? Why, they have
   on a sudden turned to the world. We could not understand why such fair
   saints should, on a sudden, become such black devils; the fact was,
   Christ had pronounced the word, and they began to wither away. If he
   should pronounce the unmasking word on any mere professor here, and
   say, "Let no man eat fruit of thee for ever," you will go into gross
   outward sin and wither to your shame. This will take place probably on
   a sudden; and taking place, your case will be irretrievable; you never
   afterwards will be restored. The blast which shall fall upon you will
   be eternal; you will live as a lasting monument of the terrible justice
   of Christ, as the great head of the Church; you will be spared to let
   it be seen that a man outside the Church may escape with impunity in
   this life, but a man inside the Church shall have a present curse, and
   be made to stand as a tree blasted by the lightning of God for ever.
   Now, this is a heart-searching matter. It went through me yesterday
   when I thought, "Well, here am I, I have professed to be called of God
   to the ministry; I have forced myself into a leading place in God's
   Church; I have voluntarily put myself into a place where sevenfold
   damnation is my inevitable inheritance if I be not true and sincere." I
   could almost wish myself back out of the Church, or at least in the
   obscurest place in her ranks, to escape the perils and responsibilities
   of my position; and so may you, if you have not the witness of the
   Spirit in you that you are born of God--you may wish that you never
   thought of Christ, and never dreamed of taking his name upon you. If
   you have by diligence worked yourself into a high position among God's
   people; if you have mere leaves without the fruit, the more sure is the
   curse, because the greater the disappointment of the Savior. The more
   you profess, the more is expected of you; and if you do not yield it,
   the more just the condemnation when you shall be left to stand for ever
   withered by the curse of Christ. O men and brethren, let us tremble
   before the heart-searching eye of God; but let us still remember that
   grace can make us fruitful yet. The way of mercy is open still. Let us
   apply to the wounds of Christ this morning. If we have never begun, let
   us begin now. Now let us throw our arms about the Savior, and take him
   to be ours; and, having done this, let us seek divine grace, that for
   the rest of our lives we may work for God. Oh! I do hope to do more for
   God, and I hope you will. O Holy Spirit, work in us mightily, for in
   thee is our fruit found! Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                              The Sinner's Friend

   A Sermon

   (No. 556)

   By the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "A friend of publicans and sinners."--Matthew 11:19.

   MANY A TRUE WORD is spoken in jest, and many a tribute to virtue has
   been unwittingly paid by the sinister lips of malice. The enemies of
   our Lord Jesus Christ thought to brand him with infamy, hold him up to
   derision, and hand his name down to everlasting scorn, as "a friend of
   publicans and sinners." Short-sighted mortals! Their scandal published
   his reputation. To this day the Savior is adored by the title which was
   minted as a slur. It was designed to be a stigma, that every good man
   would shudder at and shrink from; it has proved to be a fascination
   which wins the heart, and enchants the soul of all the godly. Saints in
   heaven, and saints on earth delight to sing of him thus--

   "Savior of sinners they proclaim,

   Sinners of whom the chief I am."

   What the invidious Jews said in bitter spleen, has been turned by the
   Holy Spirit to the most gracious account. Where they poured out vials
   of hate, odours of sacred incense arise. Troubled consciences have
   found a sweet balm in the very sound. Jesus, "the friend of publicans
   and sinners," has proved himself friendly to them, and they have become
   friends with him; so completely has he justified the very name which
   his enemies gave him in ribald affront.

   We shall take this title of Jesus to-night as an order of distinction
   which sets forth his excellency, and as God helps us, we shall try to
   exalt his name and proclaim his fame, while we attempt to explain how
   he was the friend of sinners; and how he shows that he is still the
   same.

   I. OUR LORD PROVED HIMSELF IN HIS OWN TIME TO BE THE FRIEND OF SINNERS.

   What better proof could he give of it than coming from the majesty of
   his Father's house to the meanness of Bethlehem's manger? What better
   proof could he give than leaving the society of cherubim and seraphim,
   to lie in the manger where the horned oxen fed, and to become the
   associate of fallen men? The incarnation of the Savior in the very form
   of sinners, taking upon himself the flesh of sinners, being born of a
   sinner, having a sinner for his reputed father--his very being a man,
   which is tantamount to being in the same form with sinners--surely this
   were enough to prove that he is the sinner's friend.

   When you take up the roll of his earthly lineage and begin to read it
   through, you will be struck with the fact that there are but few women
   mentioned in it; and yet three out of those mentioned were harlots, so
   that even in his lineage there was the taint of sin, and a sinner' s
   blood would have run in his veins if he had been the true son of
   Joseph; but inasmuch as he was begotten by the Holy Ghost, who
   overshadowed the Virgin, in him was no sin; yet his reputed pedigree
   ran through the veins of sinners. Tamar, and Rahab, and Bath-sheba are
   three names which bring to remembrance deeds of shame, and yet these
   stand in the records as the ancestors of the Son of Mary, the sinner's
   friend!

   As soon as Jesus Christ, being born in the likeness of sinful flesh,
   has come to years of maturity, and has commenced his real life-work, he
   at once discloses his friendship for sinners by associating with them.
   You do not find him standing at a distance, issuing his mandates and
   his orders to sinners to make themselves better, but you find him
   coming among them like a good workman who stands over his work; he
   takes his place where the sin and the iniquity are, and he personally
   comes to deal with it. He does not write out a prescription and send by
   another hand his medicines with which to heal the sickness of sin, but
   he comes right into the lazar-house, touches the wounded, looks at the
   sick; and there is healing in the touch; there is life in the look. The
   great Physician took upon himself our sicknesses and bare our
   infirmities, and so proved himself to be really the sinner's friend.
   Some people appear to like to have a philanthropic love towards the
   fallen, but yet they would not touch them with a pair of tongs. They
   would lift them up if they could, but it must be by some
   machinery--some sort of contrivance by which they would not degrade
   themselves or contaminate their own hands. Not so the Savior. Up to the
   very elbow he seems to thrust that gracious arm of his into the mire,
   to pull up the lost one out of the horrible pit and out of the miry
   clay. He takes himself the mattock and the spade, and goes to work in
   the great quarry that he may get out the rough stones which afterwards
   he will himself polish with his own bitter tears and bloody sweat, that
   he may make them fit to shine for ever in the glorious temple of the
   Lord his God. He comes himself into direct, personal contact with sin,
   without being contaminated with it. He comes as close to it as a man
   can come. He eats and drinks with sinners. He sits at the Pharisee's
   table one day, and does not rise because there is a crowd of people no
   better than they should be coming near him. Another day he goes to the
   publican's house, and the publican had, no doubt, been a great
   extortioner in his time; but Jesus sits there, and that day does
   salvation come to that publican's house. Beloved, this is a sweet trait
   about Christ, and proves how real and how true was his love, that he
   made his associations with sinners, and did not shun even the chief of
   them.

   Nay, he not only came among them, but he was always seeking their good
   by his ministry. If there was anywhere a sinner, a lost sheep of the
   house of Israel, Christ was after that sinner. Never such an
   indefatigable shepherd; he sought that which was lost till he found it.
   One of his earliest works of mercy we will tell you of in brief. He was
   once on a journey, and Samaria was a little out of his way; but there
   lived in a city of that country a woman--ah! the less said of her the
   better. She had had five husbands, and he whom she then had was not her
   husband, nor were any of the others either. She was a disgrace to that
   city of Samaria. But Jesus, who has a keen eye for sinners, and a heart
   which beats high for them, means to save that woman, and he must and he
   will have her. Being weary, he sits down on a well to rest. A special
   providence brings the woman to the well. The conventionalities of
   society forbid him to talk with her. But he breaks through the narrow
   bigotry of caste. A Samaritan by birth, he cares not for that; but will
   that most holy being condescend to have familiar conversation with
   her--a dishonor to her sex? He will. His disciples may marvel when they
   come back and find him talking with her, but he will do it. He begins
   to open up the Word of life to her understanding, and that woman
   becomes the first Christian missionary we ever hear of, for she ran
   back to the city, leaving her water-pot, and crying, "Come, see a man
   which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?" And
   they came and believed; and there was great joy in that city of
   Samaria. You know, too, that there was another sinner. He was a bad
   fellow--I fear him. He had been constantly grinding the faces of the
   poor, and getting more out of them by way of taxation than he should
   have done; but the little man had the bump of curiosity, and he must
   needs see the preacher, and the preacher must needs love him; for I say
   there was a wonderful attraction in Jesus to a sinner. That sinner's
   heart was like a piece of iron: Christ's heart was like a loadstone;
   and wherever there was a sinner the loadstone began to feel it, and
   soon the sinner began to feel the loadstone too. "Azccheus," said
   Christ, "make haste, and come down; for to-day I must abide at thy
   house;" and down comes the sinner, and salvation has come to his house
   at that hour, Oh! Christ never seemed to preach so sweetly as when he
   was preaching a sinner's sermon. I would have loved to have seen that
   dear face of his when he cried, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are
   heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" or, better still, to have seen
   his eyes running with whole showers of tears when he said, "O
   Jerusalem, Jerusalem . . . how often would I have gathered thy children
   together, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would
   not even!" or to have heard him preach those three great sermons upon
   sinners when he described the woman as sweeping the house and taking
   away the dust, that she might find the lost piece of her money; and the
   shepherd going from hill to hill after the wandering sheep; and the
   father running to welcome that rag-clad prodigal; kissing him with the
   kisses of love, clothing him with the best robe, and inviting him into
   the feast, while they did dance and make merry because the lost was
   found, and he who was dead was alive again. Why, he was the mightiest
   of preachers for sinners, beyond a doubt, Oh! how he loved them! Never
   mind the Pharisees: he has thunderbolts for them. "Woe unto you,
   Scribes and Pharisees!" But when publicans and harlots come, he always
   has the gate of mercy ajar for them. For them he always has some tender
   word, some loving saying, such as this--"Him that cometh unto me, I
   will in no wise cast out." "All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be
   forgiven unto men;" or such like words of tender wooing. The very chief
   of sinners was thus drawn into the circle of his disciples.

   And you know, dear friends, he did not prove his love merely by
   preaching to them, and living with them, and by his patience in
   enduring their contradiction against himself, and all their evil words
   and deeds, but he proved it by his prayers too. He used his mighty
   influence with the Father in their behalf. He took their polluted names
   on his holy lips; he was not ashamed to call them brethren. Their cause
   became his own, and in their interest his pulse throbbed. How many
   times on the cold mountains he kept his heart warm with love to them!
   How often the sweat rolled down his face when he was in an agony of
   spirit for them I cannot tell you. This much I do know, that on that
   self-same night when he sweat as it were great drops of blood falling
   down to the ground, he prayed this prayer--after having prayed for his
   saints, he went on to say--"Neither pray I for these alone, but for
   them also which shall believe on me through their word." Here, truly,
   the heart of the Savior was bubbling up and welling over towards
   sinners. And you never can forget that almost his last words were,
   "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." Though wilfully
   and wickedly they pierced his hands and his feet, yet were there no
   angry words, but only that short, loving, hearty prayer--"Father,
   forgive them; for they know not what they do." Ah! friends, if there
   ever was a man who was a friend to others, Jesus was a friend to
   sinners his whole life through.

   This, however, is but little. As for the river of the Savior's love to
   sinners, I have only brought you to its banks. You have but stood on
   the bank and dipped your feet in the flood; but now prepare to swim. So
   fond was he of sinners that he made his grave with the wicked. He was
   numbered with the transgressors. God's fiery sword was drawn to smite a
   world of sinners down to hell. It must fall on those sinners. But
   Christ loves them. His prayers stay the arm of God a little while, but
   still the sword must fall in due time. What is to be done? By what
   means can they be rescued? Swifter than the lightning's flash I see
   that sword descending. But what is that in vision I behold? It
   falls--but where? Not on the neck of sinners; it is not their neck
   which is broken by its cruel edge; it is not their heart which bleeds
   beneath its awful force. No; the "friend of sinners" has put himself
   into the sinner's place! and then, as if he had been the sinner, though
   in him was no sin, he suffers, bleeds, and dies--no common
   suffering--no ordinary bleeding--no death such as mortals know. It was
   a death in which the second death was comprehended; a bleeding in which
   the very veins of God were emptied. The God-man divinely suffered. I
   know not how else to express the suffering. It was a more than mortal
   agony, for the divine strengthened the human, and the man was made vast
   and mighty to endure through his being a God. Being God and man he
   endured more than ten thousand millions of men all put together could
   have suffered. He endured, indeed, the hells of all for whom he died,
   the torments, or the equivalent for the torments, which all of them
   ought to have suffered--the eternal wrath of God condensed and put into
   a cup, too bitter for mortal tongue to know, and then drained to its
   utmost dregs by the loving lips of Jesus. Beloved, this was love.
   "Herein is love, that while we were yet sinners, in due time Christ
   died for the ungodly." "Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay
   down his life for his friends." This Christ has done, and he is,
   therefore demonstrated to be the friend of sinners.

   But the trial is over; the struggle is passed; the Savior is dead and
   buried; he rises again, and after he has spent forty days on earth--in
   that forty days proving still his love for sinners--he rose again for
   their justification; I see him ascending up on high. Angels attend him
   as the clouds receive him.

   "They bring his chariot from on high,

   To bear him to his throne;

   Clap their triumphant wings and cry,

   'The glorious work is done.'"

   What pomp! What a procession! What splendor! He will forget his poor
   friends the sinners now, will he not? Not he! I think I hear the song,
   "Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting
   doors, that the King of Glory may come in." The bars of massy light are
   all unloosed; the pearly gates are all wide open flung; and as he
   passes through, mark you, the highest joy which swells his soul is that
   he has opened those gates, not for himself, for they were never shut on
   him, but that he has opened them for sinners. It was for this, indeed,
   he died; and it is for this that he ascends on high, that he may "open
   the kingdom of heaven for all believers." See him as he rides through
   heaven's streets! "Thou hast ascended up on high; thou hast led
   captivity captive; thou hast received gifts of men." Ah! but hear the
   refrain, for this is the sweetest note of all the hymn, "Yea, for the
   rebellious also--yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God might
   dwell among them." The scattered gifts of his coronation, the lavish
   bounties of his ascension, are still for sinners. He is exalted on
   high--for what? To give repentance and remission of sins. He still
   wears upon his breastplate the names of sinners; upon his hands and
   upon his heart does he still bear the remembrance of those sinners; and
   every day for the sinner's sake he doth not hold his peace, and for the
   sinner's sake he doth not rest, but cries unto God until every sinner
   shall be brought safely home. Every sinner who believeth, every sinner
   who was given to him, every sinner whom he bought with blood--he will
   not rest, I say, till all such are gathered to be the jewels of his
   crown, world without end.

   Methinks we cannot say more; and 1 think you will say we could not have
   said less concerning the way in which the Savior proved himself to be
   the sinner's friend. If there are any of you who dare to doubt him
   after this, I know not what further to advance. If there can be one who
   has proved himself your friend, surely Jesus did it, and he is willing
   to receive you now. What he has done he still continues to do. O that
   you might have grace to perceive that Jesus is the lover of your soul,
   that you might find the blessedness which all these tokens of
   friendship, of which we have been speaking, have brought for believing
   sinners.

   II. While we change the subject a little, we shall still keep to the
   text, and notice WHAT CHRIST IS DOING NOW FOR SINNERS.

   There is a deep principle involved here--a principle the Pharisee of
   old could not understand, and the cold heart of humanity is slow to
   embrace it to-day. I have two explanations to offer of the way in which
   Jesus personally discovers himself to be the friend of sinners, and I
   will just mention these before I come to the application of the subject
   I intend. Once upon a time a woman was brought to Jesus by the Scribes
   and Pharisees: she was an adulteress, she had been taken in the very
   act. They tell "the sinners friend" what sentence Moses would pronounce
   in such a case, and they ask him, how sayest thou? This they said
   tempting him. They were not much concerned about the unhappy creature;
   the accusation they were intent to lay was against the Man of Nazareth.
   You know how he disposed of the case, and put her accusers out of
   countenance. He did not bring the sinner up before the magistrate; nay,
   he would not act the judge's part, and pronounce sentence, rather would
   he act the neighbor's part; he acquitted himself as a friend. There is
   a proverb among a certain class of hard-dealing tradesmen, "We know no
   friendship in business;" and full well they carry it out, while they
   grind the faces of the poor without pity, and strive to over-reach one
   another without fairness. And there was in like manner no friendship,
   no mercy whatever, among those gentlemen of the long robe.
   Righteousness, to their idea, stood in exacting justice with rigid
   severity; and as for wickedness, it was only shameful when it was found
   out. She who was taken in the act must be stoned. They who had done it
   secretly must prosecute. The real friendship of Jesus appears in his
   singling out the object of pity; and where they accused him of winking
   at crime and harbouring the criminal, he was truly laying the axe at
   the root of the tree, and sheltering the victims while he upbraided the
   arrogant rulers, whose secret vices were the genuine cause of the
   wretchedness which had fallen upon the dregs of the nation. I commend
   this thought to your consideration. When it is said of him, he is a
   "friend of pubhicans and sinners," it was implied that he was not a
   friend of Scribes and Pharisees. Yet again, I want you to notice that
   the office which Christ came to fulfill towards sinners was that of
   pure, unmingled friendship. Let us give you an illustration. There is
   an awful story abroad: a murder has been committed; and the poor wretch
   who committed it has cut his own throat. The policeman and the surgeon
   are quickly on the spot. The one comes there in the interest of law,
   the other attends in the interest of humanity. Says the officer of
   police, "Man, you are my prisoner;" says the doctor, "My dear fellow,
   you are my patient." And now he lays a delicate hand upon the wound, he
   stanches the blood, applies soft liniments, binds it up with plasters,
   and, bending down his ear, listens to the man's breathing: taking hold
   of his hand, he feels his pulse: gently raising his head, he
   administers to him some wine or stimulant, takes him to the hospital,
   gives the nurse instructions to watch him, and orders that he shall be
   given nutritious diet as he is able to bear it. Day after day he still
   visits him, and uses all his skill and all his diligence to heal the
   man's Wounds. Is that the way to deal with criminals? Certainly it is
   not the manner in which the police deal. Their business is to find out
   all the traces and evidences of his guilt. But the medical attendant is
   not concerned with the man as an evil doer, but as a sufferer. So is it
   with the sinner. Moses is the officer of justice who comes to arrest
   him. Christ is the good Physician who comes to heal him; he says, "O
   Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself but in me is thy help." He deals
   with the disease, with the wounds, with the sufferings of sinners. He
   is therefore their friend. Of course the parallel will only go a little
   way. In the instance of the murderer, the surgeon would hand his
   patient over to the officers as soon as his wound was recovered; but in
   the conduct of our Savior he redeems the soul from under the law, and
   delivers it from the penalty of sin, as well as restores it from the
   self-inflicted injuries. But oh! if I could but show thee that Christ
   treats the sinner with pity, rather than with indignation; that the Son
   of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them; that his
   visit to our world was mediatoral, not to condemn the world, but to
   give his life a ransom for many; surely, then, thou wouldst see reason
   enough why the sinner should look to him as a friend indeed.

   Ah! then; I would go further. I would entreat thee to make the case
   thine own. Thou art a sinner; can I not convince thee that he is thy
   friend?

   You were sick the other day. The physician looked very grave, and
   whispered something to your wife. She did not tell you what it was, but
   your own life trembled in the scale, and it is a wonder you are here
   to-night. Shall I tell you why you are here? Do you see that tree
   yonder? It has been standing in its place for many years, but it has
   never yielded any fruit, and several times the master of the garden has
   said, "Cut it down." The other day the woodman came with his axe; he
   felt its edge, it was sharp and keen enough, and he began to cut, and
   the chips were flying, and he made a deep gash. But the gardener came
   by, one who had watched over the tree, and had hope of it even yet, and
   he said, "Spare it--spare it yet a little longer; the wound thou hast
   made may heal; and I will dig about it, and dung it, and if it bring
   forth fruit well; spare it another year, and if not then cut it down."
   That tree is yourself. The woodman is Death. That chipping at the trunk
   of the tree was your sickness. Jesus is he who spared you. You had not
   been here to-night--you had been there in hell among damned spirits,
   howling in unutterable woe, if it had not been that the friend of
   sinners had spared your life.

   And where are you to-night? Perhaps, my hearers, you are in an unusual
   place for you. Your Sunday evenings are not often spent in the house of
   God. There are other places which know you, but your seat there is
   empty to-night. There has been much persuasion to bring you here, and
   it may be that you have come against your will; but some friend has
   asked you to conduct him to the spot, and here you are. Do you know why
   you are here? It is a friendly providence, managed by the sinner's
   friend which has brought you here, that you may hear the sound of
   mercy, and have a loving invitation tendered to you. Be grateful to the
   Savior that he has brought you to the gospel-pool. May you--O, may you
   this night be made to step in and be washed from sin! But it is kind of
   him, and proves how true a friend he is of sinners, that he has brought
   you here. I will leave you now where you are, and I will tell you how
   he has dealt with other sinners, for mayhap this may lead you to ask
   him to deal the same with you.

   I know a sinner--while I live I must know him. Full well do I remember
   him when he was hard of heart and an enemy to God by a multitude of
   wicked works. But this friend of sinners loved him; and passing by one
   day, he looked right into his soul with such a look, that his hard
   heart began to break. There were deep throes as though a birth of a
   divine sort were coming on. There was an agony, and there was a grief
   unutterable; and that poor soul did not think it kind of Jesus; but,
   indeed, it was kindness too intense ever fully to estimate, for there
   is no saving a soul except by making it feel its need of being saved.
   There must be in the work of grace an emptying and a pulling down
   before there can be a filling and a building up. That soul knew no
   peace for many a year, and the sole of its foot had no rest; but one
   day

   "I heard the voice of Jesus say,

   Come unto me and rest;

   Lay down, thou weary one, lay down,

   Thy head upon my breast.

   I came to Jesus as I was,

   Weary, and worn, and sad,

   I found in him a resting-place,

   And he has made me glad!

   I heard the voice of Jesus say,

   Behold, I freely give

   The living water, thirsty one,

   Stoop down, and drink, and live.

   I came to Jesus and I drank

   Of that life-giving stream;

   My thirst was quench'd, my soul revived,

   And now I live in him.

   I heard the voice of Jesus say,

   I am this dark world's light,

   Look unto me, thy morn shall rise,

   And all thy days be bright.

   I look'd to Jesus and I found

   In him my star, my sun

   And in that light of light I'll walk,

   Till travelling days are done."

   Ay, said I, Christ is the friend of sinners! So say I, and so will I
   say while this poor lisping stammering tongue can articulate a sound.
   And methinks God had a design of abundant mercy when he saved my soul.
   I had not then believed it, though a mother's loving accents might have
   whispered it in my ears. But he seems to remind me of it over and over
   again, till love and terror mingle in my breast, saying, "Woe is me if
   I preach not the gospel." O my blessed Master, thou dost trust my lips
   when thou dost bear witness to my heart. Thou givest charge to my
   tongue when thou constrained my soul. "Am I a chosen vessel?" It is to
   bear his name to sinners. As a full bottle seeks vent, so must my
   testimony pant for utterance. O sinner, if thou trustest him, he will
   be such a friend to thee; and if thou hast now a broken heart and a
   contrite spirit, these are his work; and it is a proof of his great
   love to thee if he has made thee to hunger and thirst after him.

   Let me impress upon you that Jesus is the friend of the friendless. She
   who had spent all her money on physicians without getting relief,
   obtained a cure gratis when she came to him. He who bath "nothing to
   pay" gets all his debts cancelled by this friend. And he who was ready
   to perish with hunger, finds not only a passing meal, but a constant
   supply at his hands.

   We know of a place in England still existing, where there is a dole of
   bread served to every passer-by who chooses to ask for it. Whoever he
   may be he has but to knock at the door of St. Cross Hospital, and there
   is the dole of bread for him. Jesus Christ so loveth sinners that he
   has built a St. Cross Hospital, so that, whenever a sinner is hungry,
   he has but to knock and have his wants supplied. Nay, he has done
   better; he has attached to this hospital of the cross a bath; and
   whenever a soul is black and filthy it has but to go there and be
   washed. The fountain is always full, always efficacious. There is no
   sinner who ever went into it and found it, could not wash away his
   stains. Sins which were scarlet and crimson have all disappeared, and
   the sinner has been whiter than snow. As if this were not enough, there
   is attached to this hospital of the cross a wardrobe, and a sinner,
   making application simply as a sinner, with nothing in his hand, but
   being just empty and naked, he may come and be clothed from head to
   foot. And if he wishes to be a soldier, he may not merely have an under
   garment, but he may have armor which shall cover him from the sole of
   his foot to the crown of his head. Nay, if he wants a sword he shall
   have that given to him, and a shield too. There is nothing that his
   heart can desire that is good for him which he shall not receive. He
   shall have spending-money so long as he lives, and he shall have an
   eternal heritage of glorious treasure when he enters into the joy of
   his Lord.

   Beloved, I cannot tell you all that Christ has done for sinners, but
   this I know, that if he meets with you to-night, and becomes your
   friend, he will stand by you to the last. He will go home with you
   to-night. No matter how many pairs of stairs you have to go up, Jesus
   will go with you. No matter if there be no chair to sit down on, he
   will not disdain you. You shall be hard at work to-morrow, but as you
   wipe the sweat from your brow he shall stand by you. You will, perhaps,
   be despised for his sake, but he will not forsake you. You will,
   perhaps, have days of sickness, but he will come and make your bed in
   your sickness for you. You will, perhaps, be poor, but your bread shal
   be given you, and your water shall be sure, for he will provide for
   you. You will vex him much and grieve his Spirit. You will often doubt
   him--you will go after other lovers. You will provoke him to jealousy,
   but he will never cease to love you. You will, perhaps, grow cold to
   him, and even forget his dear name for a time, but he will never forget
   you. You may, perhaps, dishononr his cross, and damage his fair fame
   among the sons of men, but he will never cease to love you; nay, he
   will never love you less--he cannot love you more. This night he doth
   espouse himself unto you. Faith shall be the wedding-ring which he will
   put upon your finger. He plights his troth to you,

   "Though you should him ofttimes forget

   His lovingkindness fast is set."

   His heart shall be so true to you that he will never leave you nor
   forsake you. You will come to die soon, but the friend of sinners, who
   loved you as a sinner and would not cast you off when your sinnership
   kept breaking up, will still he with you when you come to the sinner's
   doom, which is to die. I see you going down the shelving banks of
   Jordan, but the sinner's friend goes with you. Ah! dear heart, he will
   put his arm beneath you, and bid you fear not; and when in the thick
   shades of that grim night you expect to see a fearful visage--the grim
   face of Death--you shall see instead thereof, you shall see his sweet
   and smiling face, bright as an evening star, by your soul, and you
   shall hear him say, "Fear not, I am with thee; be not dismayed; I am
   thy God." You will land in the world of spirits by-and-by; but will the
   sinner's friend forsake you then? No; he will be pleased to own you; he
   will meet you on the other side the Jordan, and he will say, "Come, my
   beloved, I have loved thee with an everlasting love, and have bought
   thee, though thou wast a sinner vile, and now I am not ashamed to
   confess thee before my holy angels; nay, come with me, and I will take
   thee to my Father's face, and will confess thee there." And when the
   day shall come in which the world shall be judged, he will be thy
   friend then. Thou shalt sit on the bench with him. At the right hand of
   the Judge shalt thou stand, accepted in him who was thine Advocate, and
   who is now thy Judge, to acquit thee. And when the splendours of the
   millennium shall come, thou shalt partake of them; and when the end
   shall be, and the world shall be rolled up like a worn-out vesture, and
   these arching skies shall have passed away like a forgotten dream; when
   eternity, with its deep-sounding waves shall break upon the mocks of
   time and sweep them away for ever--then, on that sea of glass mingled
   with fire, thou shalt stand with Christ, thy friend still, owning thee
   notwithstanding all thy misbehaviour in the world which has gone, and
   loving thee now, loving thee on as long as eternity shall last. Oh!
   what a friend is Christ to sinners, to sinners!

   Now do recollect, that we have been talking about sinners; there is a
   notion abroad that Jesus Christ came into the world to save respectable
   people, and that he will save decent sort of folks; that those of you
   who go regularly to a place of worship, and are good sort of people,
   will be saved. Now Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners;
   and who does that mean? Well, it includes some of us who have not been
   permitted to go into outward sin; but it also includes within its deep,
   broad compass those who have gone to the utmost extent of iniquity.

   Talk of sinners! Walk the streets by moonlight, if you dare, and you
   will see sinners then. Watch when the night is dark, and the wind is
   howling, and the picklock is grating in the door, and you will see
   sinners then. Go to you jail, and walk through the wards, and see the
   men with heavy, over-hanging brows, men whom you would not like to meet
   out at night, and there are sinners there. Go to the Reformatories, and
   see those who have betrayed an early and a juvenile depravity, and you
   will see sinners there. Go across the seas to the place where a man
   will gnaw a bone upon which is reeking human flesh, and there is a
   sinner there. Go you where you will, and ransack earth to find sinners,
   for they are common enough; you may find them in every lane and street,
   of every city and town, and village and hamlet. It is for such that
   Jesus died. If you will select me the grossest specimen of humanity, if
   he be but born of woman, I will have hope of him yet, because the
   gospel of Christ is come to sinners, and Jesus Christ is come to seek
   and to save sinners. Electing love has selected some of the worst to be
   made the best. Redeeming love has bought, specially bought, many of the
   worst to be the reward of the Savior's passion. Effectual grace calls
   out and compels to come in many of the vilest of the vile; and it is
   therefore that I have tried to-night to preach my Master's love to
   sinners.

   Oh! by that love, looking out of those eyes in tears; oh! by that love,
   streaming from those wounds flowing with blood; by that faithful love,
   that strong love, that pure, disinterested, and abiding love; oh! by
   the heart and by the bowels of the Savior's compassion, I do conjure
   you turn not away as though it were nothing to you; but believe on him
   and you shall be saved. Trust your souls with him and he will bring you
   to his Father's right hand in glory everlasting.

   May God give us a blessing for Jesus' sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                              Where to Find Fruit

   A Sermon

   (No. 557)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 28th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "From me is thy fruit found."--Hosea 14:8.

   THE text has a double significance. It may indicate the fruit upon
   which we feed, or the fruit which we are enabled to produce. If it
   shall mean the first, there is mach of comfort in it. The Lord has
   compared himself, in his condescending mercy, to a green fir tree in
   the sentence which precedes the text. The fir tree in the East yields a
   most goodly shade. Neither the burning heat of the sun, nor the drops
   of pouring rain can.pass through the dense foliage, and therefore it
   affords a welcome shelter to the traveler. But shade is not enough for
   a man; he requires food, and the fir tree fails in that respect, for it
   yields no repast for the hungry. To complete the picture, therefore,
   when the Lord deigns to compare himself to a green fir tree, he adds,
   "From me is thy fruit found." Our gracious God is like a fir tree for
   shade, but like the apple tree among the trees of the wood for fruit.
   We sit under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit is sweet unto
   our taste. Living souls must have food to feed upon, or however well
   housed, they would be comparable to the king of Israel in the besieged
   city of Samaria. He sat in his palace of ivory, he wore his mantle of
   purple, and placed the crown of gold upon his head; but what availed
   his splendor, when neither barn-floor nor winepress could relieve his
   hunger? In vain all other blessings if the soul received no nourishment
   from on high; Jesus must not only be our life, but the bread of heaven
   by which that life is sustained. Glory be to his name! he is all in all
   to his people: we may gather fruit from him which shall satisfy the
   cravings of the soul.

   According to Master Trapp, some read this passage, "In me is thy fruit
   ready." Certain it is that at all times, whenever we approach to God,
   we shall find in him a ready supply for every lack. The best of trees
   have fruit on them only at appointed seasons. Who is so unreasonable as
   to look for fruit upon the peach or the plum at this season of the
   year? No drooping boughs beckon us to partake of their ripening crops,
   for Winter's cold still nips the buds. But our God hath fruit at all
   times: the tree of life yieldeth its fruit every month; nay, every day
   and every hour, for he is "a very present help in time of trouble."

   Another translator reads the passage, "In me thy fruit is enough."
   Whatever may be the accuracy of the translation, the sentiment itself
   is most correct. In God there is enough for all his people; and well
   there may be, since in him there is infinity. "I have enough, my
   brother," said Esau when he met Jacob: "I have all things," said Jacob
   in reply. None but the believer can say, "I have all things;" and
   therefore only he can be sure of having enough. Ishmael had his bottle
   of water, and went away into the wilderness; but it is written, that
   Isaac abode by the well: how happy is the soul which bath learned how
   to live by the well of his faithful God! for the water will be spent in
   the bottle, but the water will never be spent in the well. Christian,
   remember the all sufficiency of thy God! Let that ancient name, "El
   Shaddai"--God all-sufficient, sound like music in thine ear--as some
   translate it, "The many-breasted God," yielding from himself the
   sustenance of all his creatures.

   As we find the text translated, we have it, "From me is thy fruit
   found;" but the particle from does not mean apart from, but out of me;
   and to prevent misunderstanding, I shall not err if I read it in, for
   this is the force of the word in this place. The text speaks of fruit
   being found, implying perhaps, that we must look for it--not because
   there is little, or here and there a cluster, like the grape-gleanings
   of Abi-ezer; but because the Lord will be enquired of by the house of
   Israel, and would exercise our faith by making us search for the needed
   benefit. It is of essential service to us to make us seek, and hence we
   have the promise of finding to excite our diligence. Christian, look up
   longingly! Is thy spirit hungering? Look up to thy God now with intense
   desire; come before him with earnest, vehement pleadings, and thou
   shalt find in thy God whatsoever thy heart desireth.

   Mark that little word "thy." As if the Lord had said, "It is thine
   already; I have freely given it; it is thy fruit. I bear it, but I bear
   it for thee; every golden apple, every luscious cluster, I will bestow
   on thee. Thou canst not ask me for anything which I have not given
   thee. For behold, 1 have given thee my Son, and in him dwelleth all the
   fullness of the Godhead bodily.'" Believer, hast thou not learned the
   sweet logic of the beloved disciple, "He that spared not his own Son,
   but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely
   give us all things?" In the eternal covenant, God has made over--not
   only all created things--but himself unto his people. "I will be their
   God, and they shall be my people." "God, even our God," saith the
   Psalmist. Is not that a delightful expression, "Even our own God?" And
   so, as God is your own, his fruit is your own. Every outgoing of power,
   every outflow of love is yours already. "In him is thy fruit found."
   Surely this word "thy" is as a little golden cup filled with a rare
   cordial; he who drinketh of it shall forget his misery, and remember
   his poverty no more. Let us not fail then, dearly beloved, to receive
   boldly that which is our own by covenant engagement and faithful
   promise. What dost thou want this morning? Surely out of the "twelve
   manner of fruits," there shall be something which will suit thy
   necessities; stand not back through shame or fear, but come boldly to
   the throne of the heavenly grace.

   Thus much for the first sense of the text; but we do not intend to use
   the words in that signification this morning. We think that,
   understanding the text the other way--"From me is that fruit found
   which grace produces in thee," it will be a very fitting sequel to the
   sermon of last Sabbath morning. You will recollect we spoke upon the
   withering of the fig tree which mocked the Savior with its leaves, but
   yielded him no fruit. There may be some who were alarmed under that
   sermon, and even believers who were shaken by it; such anxieties will
   do none of us any hurt, especially if they lead us to pant after
   fruitfulness. Our text, following upon the other, will direct earnest
   seekers where to find fruit. There are three sorts of preachers, all
   useful in their way, the doctrinal, the experimental, and the
   practical; we will try to blend the three this morning, and so handle
   the words doctrinally, experimentally, and practically.

   I. First. THE DOCTRINE OF THE TEXT. The doctrine of the text is
   twofold. First, that the believer's fruit is his own--it is called "thy
   fruit;" secondly, that though it is the believer's own, yet it proceeds
   entirely from his God.

   1. The first doctrine is that true fruit is a believer's own. You will
   think this a very trite remark, but it is one which needs to be made in
   these days, for there are certain persons who talk of man as if he were
   not a thinking, intelligent, free agent. They forget his will,
   judgment, reason, and affections: they leave out of their consideration
   everything in fact which constitutes the man, and then speak of the
   operations of grace as though they were manual works upon wood or
   stone. For aught I can see, according to their way of talking, the
   grace of God might just as well have produced holiness in monkeys as in
   men, for men are generally represented as merely passive existences to
   be moved by them to gratitude, or repentance, or faith, as horses are
   groomed in a stable or led out to be exercised. Be it never forgotten
   that our God deals with men as intelligent beings, having will and
   reason and all the other powers which make man a responsible creature;
   he does not ignore our manhood when he converts us by his grace. He
   uses means fitted for our constitution as men, "I drew them with the
   cords of love, with the bands of a man."

   Good works are a believer's own. It were an ill thing for him if they
   were not; to what could we compare him but to those dead sticks with
   fruits tied on them, which women sell to little children? a sorry
   picture for a branch of Christ's vine. The believer produces fruit from
   his own inner self when grace has renewed him; and if his holiness were
   not really the outgrowth of his new heart and his renewed nature, it
   would be no sign of spiritual life. It is not fruit tied on us, but
   fruit growing out of us which proveth us to be engrafted into Christ.

   True fruit is the believer's own because he wills through divine grace
   to do good works. If I performed what looked like a good work against
   my will, I do not see how it could be truly a good work as far as the
   doer is concerned. If a man could be compelled to virtue while his
   heart staggered away to sin, would he not be really transgressing?
   There is a gracious willingness towards the right thing bestowed upon
   us by the Holy Spirit. Nay, there is not only a will to holiness, but a
   desire after it. The true Christian longs after holiness and
   usefulness; he hungers and thirsts to do the will of his Father who is
   in heaven. Like his Lord in some measure, it is to him his meat and his
   drink to do the will of him who sent him. He can say, "The zeal of
   thine house hath eaten me up." He is constrained, but mark, it is not a
   physical constraint, for "the love of Christ constraineth us." So you
   see, beloved, good works are a believer's own because he is willing to
   do them and desires to perform them.

   They are his own, again, because he actually does them. The Holy Ghost
   does not repent, nor feed the hungry, nor clothe the naked, nor preach
   the gospel. He gives us grace to do all these, but we ourselves do
   them. If the poor be fed, it must be by these hands; if souls are
   edified, it must be by these lips; we do not fold our arms, and shut
   our mouths, and then bring forth fruit unto God. We do not find
   ourselves taken up by the hair of our head as the prophet Habakkuk was
   said to have been, according to the Apocrypha, and so carried away
   whether we will or no, to perform a deed of charity. All glory be to
   the Holy Spirit, but he is not glorified by making him appear to be a
   physical force instead of the great spiritual Worker. We do, my
   brethren, bring forth fruit which is properly our own when we consider
   ways of usefulness, meditate methods of working, plan designs of good,
   act out deeds of mercy, persevere in labor, and continue in service
   before God.

   I will tell you why I am absolutely sure a believer's works are his
   own, namely, because he grieves over them. The best works he ever
   performs he feels are his own, because they are imperfect. If there is
   anything good in them, he ascribes it wholly to the fact that they
   proceeded from God; but, inasmuch as there is something imperfect in
   them, he is obliged to say, "Ah! yes, this is my fruit. If it had been
   God's fruit independent of me, it would have been perfect, but inasmuch
   as it is imperfect, I am compelled to see that I had a hand in it. The
   stream was clear enough as it came from the fountain, but flowing
   through the wooden spout of my nature, it is become in some measure
   defiled, and so far at least is mine."

   Dear friends, the whole analogy of fruitbearing must show to you that
   the Christian does bring forth fruit unto God, real fruit from his
   inner self; and if any of you think that you are going to attain to
   holiness by simply being passive, you are wonderfully mistaken. If you
   imagine you will be a pilgrim by sitting down at the wicket-gate, or be
   carried in a sedan-chair to glory, you will find yourselves left
   behind. No, we must fight if we would win; we must travel if we would
   reach the Celestial City; we must wrestle, and fight, and pray. The
   Word of God does say "It is God that worketh in us to will and to do of
   his own good pleasure," but it does not stop there, it bids us for this
   very reason "Work out our own salvation with fear and trembling." The
   passive first, but then the active. We must lie as dead at Jehovah's
   feet to be quickened, but being quickened, what then? Why then we walk
   in holiness and in the fear of God. We are first of all made trees of
   the Lord's right-hand planting, and we receive grace from him, and then
   through his grace, we ourselves do really bring forth fruit. The truth
   is clear enough, prove by your energetic strivings that you under stand
   it.

   2. The pith of the doctrine lieth here, that all a believer's fruit
   proceeds from his God, and that in several senses from the divine
   purpose. If you are holy, it is because he has called you to holiness.
   If you have good works they come to you, according to the word of the
   apostle concerning good works, "which God hath before ordained that we
   should walk in them." When you see a costly vase which is the
   admiration of all eyes, you know that whatever of beauty there is in
   that vessel was originally in the artist's plan. If you have examined
   his sketches, you have seen every elegant line, and every graceful
   figure. Even so, beloved, if you have been sanctified it is according
   to the eternal design, which was settled in grace and wisdom, before
   the skies were formed.

   All our fruit springs from our God as to calling. You were dead in
   trespasses and sins. There were no good works in you by nature, and
   there never would have been, but he who commanded the light to shine
   out of darkness hath shined in your heart, to give you the knowledge of
   God, and then to turn you from dead works to serve the living and true
   God. You owe everything to your calling. The tree which is loaded with
   fruit, owes its fruit first of all, to its having been chosen to be in
   the garden, and next to its having been really planted there; for in
   our case, had we been left to grow in the wide wilderness, we should
   have brought forth no fruit unto God; but he took us up out of the
   place of barrenness, and put us in the rich soil which Jesus had
   watered with his own bloody sweat, and therefore we bring forth fruit.

   Our fruit is found from God as to union. The fruit of the branch is
   really traceable to the root. Cut the connection and the branch dies,
   and no fruit is hereafter produced. By virtue of our union with Christ
   we bring forth fruit. Every branch of grapes has been first in the
   root, it has passed through the stem, and flowed through the sap
   vessels, and fashioned itself externally into fruit, but it was first
   internal in the stem; so also every good work was first in Christ, and
   then was brought forth in us. O Christian, prize this precious doctrine
   of union to Christ; hold it firmly, because it is the source of every
   atom of fruitfulness which thou canst ever hope to know. If thou wert
   not joined to Jesus Christ, no fruit could ever be in thee.

   Our fruit comes from God, and from God alone, as to providence. When
   the dew-drops fall from heaven, each one may whisper to the tree and
   say, "From me is thy fruit found." When the cloud looks down from on
   high, and is about to distil its liquid treasure, it may thunder to the
   earth beneath, "From me is thy fruit found." And the bright sun above
   all others, as he paints the cheek of the apple, or swells the berries
   of the cluster, may well say to all the trees of the garden, "From me
   is your fruit found." The fruit owes much to the root--that is
   essential to fruitfulness--but it owes very much also to external care.
   Beloved, how much we owe to God's grace-providence! We are greatly
   debtors to his common providences, in that he maketh all things work
   together for good. But his grace-providence, in which he provides us
   constantly with quickening, teaching, correction, consolation,
   strength, or whatever else we want--to this we owe our all of
   usefulness or virtue.

   Our fruit is found in God as to the matter of husbandry. The knife
   which the gardener taketh from his pocket, might talk to the tree and
   say, "Much of thy fruit is found in me. Thou wouldst not yield such an
   abundance if it were not for my sharp edge. I make thee bleed a little,
   as I take away thy superfluous shoots, but thou hadst not such goodly
   clusters if it were not of me." So is it, Christian, with that pruning
   which the Lord gives to thee. "My Father is the husbandman. Every
   branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch
   that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit."

   Thus the text may be read in very many ways. They will all come to
   one--that we have nothing, except as we receive it from above. "What
   hast thou which thou hast not received?" I may say, to conclude this
   head, that all our fruit is found in God, because he will, having been
   the author of it, get all the glory of it. Of all our spiritual life he
   shall have the praise, for it is all due to him, and if he giveth us a
   crown at the last, we will cast it at his feet.

   Brethren, you know this doctrine well enough without my enlarging upon
   it; you know how constantly Scripture teacheth us that we can do
   nothing without Christ. We can sin; we can ruin our own souls; we can
   bring forth the apples of Sodom and the grapes of Gomorrah, but
   anything which is lovely, and honest, and of good repute, must come
   from him who is glorious in working. You have no question or quibble
   about this. "You hath he quickened;" you trace your life to him You
   doth he quicken day by day; you owe the continuance of your life to
   him. You know as a matter of doctrine that "in him we live and move and
   have our being," and that "every good gift and every perfect gift is
   from above." I need not confirm this doctrine: no argument is required.
   You have never erred from the truth in this respect; you could not be
   Christians if you did, for I hold this to be fundamental truth, in all
   godliness, that salvation from first to last is of the Lord. Salvation
   is not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. Let us heartily praise him
   whose workmanship we are.

   II. We come now to THE EXPERIENCE. Experimentally we have proof that
   all our fruit is in God. Let me remind you of your experience when you
   were the servants of the flesh. What fruit had ye then in those days?
   What repentance did your natural mind bring forth? What faith in Christ
   did your unrenewed soul ever beget or foster? What love to God ever
   stirred your carnal heart? What affection for the brotherhood possessed
   your alienated spirit? You must say that at that time you were without
   God and without hope, and certainly without fruit. "What fruit had ye
   then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed?" A painful remembrance
   of your former estate compels you to feel the truth of the Lord's Word,
   "In me is thy fruit found."

   Again, when the law began to work in your heart, and you were in a
   state of bondage, having enough of light to see your darkness, and
   enough of life to mourn your death--what fruit had ye then when ye were
   under the law? The law told you what you should do; did it enable you
   to do anything? The ten commandments set before you a perfect rule: but
   was it not "weak through the flesh?" You had a very clear perception of
   the justice and righteousness of God: did the perception reconcile you
   to justice or to holiness? Let me ask you, did the law of God ever make
   you love him? Did the awakenings of your conscience, which proceeded
   from it ever lead you to trust in Jesus Christ? They may have been
   overruled to this purpose, but the law worketh wrath, and as long as
   you were under it, it rather produced sin in you than righteousness.
   Such was Paul's experience, "When the commandment came, sin revived,
   and I died," "for I had not known lust, except the law had said, Thou
   shalt not covet." As a child might never care to run into the street,
   but being told not to do it, he straightway doth it by reason of the
   perversity of his nature, just so it is with us by nature; the
   forbidden thing our flesh lusteth after. All the enmity of carnal
   nature is provoked to yet greater sin by the law. That which should
   have been a bit, becomes a spur. Cold water quencheth fire, and yet
   when poured on lime, produceth a vehement heat. So the law acts
   contrary to its own nature, by reason of the depravity of the human
   heart. Thus were you, my brethren, led by a very sorrowful experience,
   to feel that from Christ must come your fruit; for none could be
   produced by the efforts of the flesh, backed up by the most earnest
   resolution and most devout prayer, and driven onward by the whip of the
   law.

   A sweeter experience has proved this to you. When did you begin to bear
   fruit? It was when you came to Christ and cast yourselves on the great
   atonement, and rested on the finished righteousness. Ab! what fruit you
   had then! Do you remember those early days? Did not your faith, and
   love, and zeal, form a garden of nuts, an orchard of pomegranates, with
   pleasant fruits? Then indeed the vine flourished, the tender grape
   appeared, the pomegranates budded forth, and the beds of spices gave
   forth their smell. Have you declined since then? Even if you have, I
   charge you to remember that time of love. Jesus remembers it, for he
   says, "I remember thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine
   espousals, when thou wentest after me into the wilderness." He
   recollects that time of the singing of birds, when the voice of the
   turtle was heard in your land. Would God this were with you ever! He
   has not forgotten it, do you not forget it, but seek to enjoy it still.
   Your fruit began, you know it did, when you camne to Jesus Christ.

   My brethren, when have you been the most fruitless? This is another
   part of experience. Has not it been when you have lived farthest from
   the Lord Jesus Christ, when you have slackened in prayer, when you have
   departed somewhat from the simplicity of your faith, when your graces
   engrossed your attention instead of your Lord, when you said, "My
   mountain standeth firm, I shall never be moved;" and forgot where your
   strength lieth--has not it been then that your fruit has ceased? Some
   of us know that we have nothing out of Christ by terrible
   soul-emptyings and humblings of heart before the Lord. Brethren, it is
   no pleasant thing to be clean emptied out; but such times have happened
   to some of us, when we have felt that if one prayer would save us, if
   the Holy Spirit did not aid us, we were damned; if one good thought
   would take us to heaven, we could not reach it; the vileness of our
   heart has been so clear before our eyes, that had not it been that
   there was a mighty God to trust to we should have given up in despair.

   "How seldom do I rise to God,

   Or taste the joys above!

   Corruption presses down my faith,

   And chills my flaming love.

   When smiling mercy courts my soul

   With all its heavenly charms,

   This stubborn, this relentless thing,

   Would thrust it from my arms."

   In such seasons we do well to cry, "Quicken thou me, O Lord, according
   to thy word." Then you feel that to will is present with you, but how
   to perform that which is good, you find not. It is a very easy thing
   for me to exhort you, but sometimes I do not find it very easy to do
   myself what I exhort you to do. And there are times with us, dear
   friends, when, though we know our interest in Christ, we are wretched
   under a deep sense of the creature's fickleness, sinfulness, and death.
   Our moan is, "0 wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the
   body of this death?" When you have seen the utter emptiness of all
   creature confidence, then you have been able to say, "From him all my
   fruit must be found, for no fruit can ever come from me." We shall find
   from Scripture, I am sure--let our past experience confirm it--that the
   more we depend upon the grace of God in Christ Jesus, and wait upon the
   Holy Spirit, pleading that his influences may operate in our hearts,
   the more we shall bring forth fruit unto God. If I could bear fruit
   without my God, I would loathe the accursed thing, for it would be the
   fruit of pride--the fruit of an arrogant setting up of one's self in
   independence of the Creator No; the Lord deliver us from all faith, all
   hope, all love which do not spring from himself! May we have none of
   our own-manufactured graces about us. May we have nothing but that
   which is minted in heaven, and is therefore made of the pure metal. May
   we have no grace, pray no prayer, do no works, serve God in nothing
   except as we depend upon his strength and receive his Spirit. Any
   experience which comes short of a knowledge that we must get all from
   God, is a deceiving experience. But if you have been brought to find
   everything in him, beloved, this is a mark of a child of God. Cultivate
   a spirit of deep humiliation before the Most High; seek to know more
   your nothingness, and to prove more the omnipotence of the eternal God.
   There are two books I have tried to read, but I have not got through
   the first page yet. The first is the book of my own ignorance, and
   emptiness, and nothingness--what a great book is that! It will take us
   all our lives to read it, and I question whether Methuselah ever got to
   the last page. There is another book I must read, or else the first
   volume will drive me mad--it is the book of God's all-sufficiency. I
   have not got through the first word of that, much less the first page,
   but reading the two together, I would spend all my days. This is
   heaven's own literature, the wisdom which cometh from above. Less than
   nothing I can boast, and yet "I can do all things through Christ which
   strengtheneth me." Having nothing yet possessing all things." Black as
   the tents of Kedar, yet fair as the curtains of Solomon: dark as hell's
   profoundest night, and yet "Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and
   terrible as an army with banners."

   III. We now arrive at the PRACTICAL POINT.

   1. First then, dear friends, let us look to Jesus Christ for fruit in
   the same way in which we first looked to him for shade. That sounds
   like something you have heard a great many times before. Very well, but
   have you really understood it? To give an illustration--you want to
   overcome an angry temper! You are given to ebullitions of passion--you
   try to overcome that. How do you go to work? It is very possible there
   are even believers here who have never tried the right way. How did I
   get salvation? I came to Jesus just as I was, and I trusted him to save
   me. Can I kill my angry temper in the same way? It is the only way in
   which I can ever kill it. I must go to Christ with it, and say to him,
   "Lord, I trust thee to deliver me from it." This is the only death-blow
   it will ever receive. Are you covetous? Do you feel the world entangle
   you? You may struggle against this evil as long as you like, but if it
   be your besetting sin, you will never be delivered from it in any way
   but the cross. Take it to Christ. Tell him, "Lord, I have trusted thee,
   and thy name is Jesus--Thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall
   save his people from their sins'--Lord, this is one of my sins; save me
   from it!" Do not take Jesus Christ with the blood only, and without the
   water--that is to have only half-a-Christ. Pray to be forgiven, but ask
   also to be sanctified. Sing with Toplady--

   "Let the water and the blood,

   From thy river side which flowed,

   Be of sin the double cure,

   Cleanse me from its guilt and power."

   I know what some of you do. You go to Christ for forgiveness, and then
   you go to the law for power to fight your sins. "0 foolish Galatians,
   who hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth?" Tell me,
   did ye receive faith by the law, or by the operation of grace? "Are ye
   so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the
   flesh?" The only weapon to fight sin with is the spear which pierced
   Christ's side. Nothing can kill the viprous brood of hell but drops of
   Jesus' precious blood. Take your sins to Christ's cross, sir, for the
   old man can only be crucified there: we are crucified with him; we are
   buried with him. If I be dead to the world, I must be dead with him,
   and if I rise again to newness of life, I must rise in him. Ordinances
   are nothing without Christ as means of mortification. Baptism is
   nothing, except as we are buried with him in baptism unto death. The
   Lord's Supper is nothing, except as we eat his flesh and drink his
   blood, and have communion with him. And your prayers and your
   repentances, and your tears--the whole of them put together--are not
   worth a farthing apart from him. Every flower which grows in your
   garden will wither, and the sooner it is blasted and withered the
   better for you; only the rose of Sharon will bloom in heaven. "None but
   Jesus can do helpless sinners good;" or helpless saints either. You
   must overcome by the blood of the Lamb.

   2. Another practical observation is this--let us cultivate those graces
   most which bring us most to Christ, for these will be the most
   fruitful. Let me look well to my faith; let me see that I keep it
   purely stayed on him, having no supplementary confidence, but resting
   wholly and absolutely upon the finished work of my Lord. Let me see to
   my love. Let my Lord be to me altogether lovely. Lord, help me to sing,
   "My beloved is mine, and I am his." Sometimes graciously enable me to
   sing, "He brought me to the banqueting-house, and his banner over me
   was love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth
   embrace me." Faith and love are the great fruitbearers. A gardener
   says, "There is such and such a twig, I must not cut that off, because
   it is to the young wood that I am looking for my summer fruits." So he
   taketh care of it. There is that, believer, a growing faith and growing
   love to which you must look as the fruitbearing shoots, because they
   pre-eminently link your soul to Christ, and most evidently have
   intercourse with him. Cultivate those things which lead you most to
   him.

   3. A third practical piece of advice. Be most in those engagements
   which you have experimentally proved to draw you nearest to Christ,
   because it is from him that all your fruits proceed. Any holy exercise
   which will bring you to him will help you to bear fruit Do you find
   prayer the channel of Jesus' manifestations? Do you find yourself
   profited in the public means of grace? Is it the breaking of bread
   which we love to celebrate every Sabbath day, which is most precious to
   you? If so, wherever Jesus Christ layeth bare his heart to you, there
   be you found; and if there be any one means of grace which has been
   more rich to you than another, use it with the greatest perseverance.
   Use them all, dear friends, do not neglect any, hut especially use
   those most which bring you nearest to your Lord.

   4. Lastly, let none of us--whether we be the Lord's people or not--let
   none of us ever insult Christ by thinking that we are to bring fruit to
   him as a recommendation to his love. "From me is thy fruit found." Now
   there may be some saint here who has lost his evidences, and he dare
   not approach the throne of grace as he used to do, because he says "I
   have sinned--I must produce fresh fruit before I dare come." My dear
   friend! My dear friend! Bring fruit to Christ! How can you talk in so
   legal a fashion? All the fruit you ever will have you must first get
   from him! Come to him as you are and get your fruit out of him. Never
   suppose that you must bring Christ a present or else you must not come
   to him. He does not want your money. If he takes it he will give it
   back to you in your sack's mouth. He will receive your fruit as an
   offering, but never as a reconciliation. There are those here this
   morning who are not converted as yet. They are saying, "I dare not seek
   the Lord, I dare not trust Christ. I know the gospel is, trust Christ
   and you are saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned; but I
   must not trust him, I am a drunkard, I have been a swearer, I am a
   Sabbath-breaker, I will wait until I am better and then I will come to
   Christ." Why how can you talk thus? "From him is thy fruit found." If
   there be any fruit you must come to Jesus Christ for it. Am I, if I am
   poor and ragged, am I to buy a new coat before I may beg a garment?
   What a strange proposal that I should do for myself what Christ came to
   do. How can that be reasonable? If I saw a man standing outside the
   baths and wash-houses, and he should say, "Well really, I've just come
   home from my work and am as black as a sweep, but I dare not go into
   those baths until I have washed my face first." I should say, "How
   foolish! it is in the bath that your washing is to be found." There is
   no fitness wanted for Christ but that which is in Christ: nothing
   wanted in you, everything is in him. To use the old proverb," Why carry
   coals to Newcastle?" Who would think it a profitable business for our
   London merchants, in the cold winter time, when the price of coals is
   very high, to charter all the ships they can, and send them laden with
   coals to Newcastle? If they did so, you would think them mad. And yet
   there are many sinners penniless, comfortless, with no good thing of
   their own, who want to bring good works to Jesus! This is carrying
   coals to Newcastle with a vengeance. Oh! folly! folly! folly! Go with
   your ship all black and empty, sail up the harbour, and the pit's mouth
   will soon yield to you an abundance of precious store. Go to Jesus as
   you are. Do you want faith to-day--repentance--grace? Go to Christ for
   it. Go to him, resting on him, dependent on him, believing that he is
   ready to save you, to begin, to carry on, and finish your salvation. He
   will be as good as you ever believe him to be, and infinitely better.
   If thou canst believe him princely enough to put all thy sins away, and
   to cover thee with his righteousness, he will do it, for never man
   thought too well of Christ. If thou canst get a big thought of Christ,
   thou big sinner--if thou canst believe on the eternal Son of the
   eternal Father, who once poured out his blood in streams on Calvary
   thou art secure. God help thee. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                               A Bundle of Myrrh

   A Sermon

   (No. 558)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 28th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night
   betwixt my breasts."--Song of Solomon 1:13.

   CERTAIN DIVINES have doubted the inspiration of Solomon's Song; others
   have conceived it to be nothing more than a specimen of ancient
   love-songs, and some have been afraid to preach from it because of its
   highly poetical character. The true reason for all this avoidance of
   one of the most heavenly portions of God's Word lies in the fact that
   the spirit of this Song is not easily attained. Its music belongs to
   the higher spiritual life, and has no charm in it for unspiritual ears.
   The Song occupies a sacred enclosure into which none may enter
   unprepared. "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon
   thou standest is holy ground," is the warning voice from its secret
   tabernacles. The historical books I may compare to the outer courts of
   the Temple; the Gospels, the Epistles, and the Psalms, bring us into
   the holy place or the Court of the priests; but the Song of Solomon is
   the most holy place: the holy of holies, before which the veil still
   hangs to many an untaught believer. It is not all the saints who can
   enter here, for they have not yet attained unto the holy confidence of
   faith, and that exceeding familiarity of love which will permit them to
   commune in conjugal love with the great Bridegroom. We are told that
   the Jews d id not permit the young student to read the Canticles--that
   years of full maturity were thought necessary before the man could
   rightly profit by this mysterious Song of loves; possibly they were
   wise, at any rate the prohibition foreshadowed a great truth. The Song
   is, in truth, a book for full-grown Christians. Babes in grace may find
   their carnal and sensuous affections stirred up by it towards Jesus,
   whom they know, rather "after the flesh" than in the spirit; but it
   needs a man of fuller growth, who has leaned his head upon the bosom of
   his Master, and been baptized with his baptism, to ascend the lofty
   mountains of love on which the spouse standeth with her beloved. The
   Sung, from the first verse to the last, will be clear to those who have
   received an unction from the holy One, and know all things. (1 John
   2:20.) You are aware, dear friends, that there are very few
   commentaries upon the Epistles of John. Where we find fifty
   commentaries upon any book of St. Paul, you will hardly find one upon
   John. Why is that? Is the book too difficult? The words are very
   simple; there is hardly a word of four syllables anywhere in John's
   Epistles. Ah! but they are so saturated through and through with the
   spirit of love, which also perfumes this Book of Solomon, that those
   who are not taught in the school of communion, cry out, "We cannot read
   it, for it is sealed." The Song is a golden casket, of which love is
   the key rather than learning. Those who have not attained unto heights
   of affection, those who have not been educated by familiar intercourse
   with Jesus, cannot come near to this mine of treasure, "seeing it is
   hid from the eyes of all living, and kept close from the fowls of
   heaven." O for the soaring eagle wing of John, and the far-seeing
   dove's eyes of Solomon; but the most of us are blind and cannot see
   afar off. May God be pleased to make us grow in grace, and give us so
   much of the Holy Spirit, that with feet like hind's feet we may stand
   upon the high places of Scripture, and this morning have some near and
   dear intercourse with Christ Jesus.

   Concerning our text, let us talk very simply, remarking first, that
   Christ is very precious to believers; secondly, that there is good
   reason why he should be; thirdly, that mingled with this sense of
   preciousness, there is a joyous consciousness of possession of him; and
   that therefore, fourthly, there is an earnest desire for perpetual
   fellowship with him. If you look at the text again, you will see all
   these matters in it.

   I. First, then, CHRIST JESUS IS UNUTTERABLY PRECIOUS TO BELIEVERS. The
   words manifestly imply this: "A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto
   me." She calls him her "well-beloved," and so expresses her love most
   emphatically; it is not merely beloved, but well-beloved. Then she
   looks abroad about her, to find a substance which shall be at once
   valuable in itself and useful in its properties; and lighting upon
   myrrh, she saith, "A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me."
   Without looking into the figure just now, we keep to the statement that
   Christ is precious to the believer.

   Observe first, that nothing gives the believer so much joy as
   fellowship with Christ. Ask yourselves, you who have eaten at his table
   and have been made to drink of his cup, where can such sweetness be
   found as you have tasted in communion with Jesus? The Christian has joy
   as other men have in the common mercies of life. For him there are
   charms in music, excellence in painting, and beauty in sculpture; for
   him the hills have sermons of majesty, the rocks hymns of sublimity,
   and the valleys lessons of love. He can look upon all things with an
   eye as clear and joyous as another man's; he can be glad both in God's
   gifts and God's works. He is not dead to the happiness of the
   household: around his hearth he finds happy associations, without which
   life were drear indeed. His children fill his home with glee, his wife
   is his solace and delight, his friends are his comfort and refreshment.
   He accepts the comforts which soul and body can yield him according as
   God seeth it wise to afford them unto him; but he will tell you that in
   all these separately, yea, and in all of them added together, he doth
   not find such substantial delight as he doth in the person of his Lord
   Jesus. Brethren, there is a wine which no vineyard on earth ever
   yielded; there is a bread which even the corn-fields of Egypt could
   never bring forth. You and I have said, when we have beheld others
   finding their god in earthly comforts, "You may boast in gold, and
   silver, and raiment, but I will rejoice in the God of my salvation." In
   our esteem, the joys of earth are little better than husks for swine
   compared with Jesus the heavenly manna. I would rather have one
   mouthful of Christ's love, and a sip of his fellowship, than a whole
   world full of carnal delights. What is the chaff to the wheat? What is
   the sparkling paste to the true diamond? What is a dream to the
   glorious reality? What is time's mirth in its best trim compared to our
   Lord Jesus in his most despised estate? If you know anything of the
   inner life, you will all of you confess that our highest, purest, and
   most enduring joys must be the fruit of the tree of life which is in
   the midst of the Paradise of God. No spring yields such sweet water as
   that well of God which was digged with the soldier's spear. As for the
   house of feasting, the joy of harvest, the mirth of marriage, the
   sports of youth, the recreations of maturer age, they are all as the
   small dust of the balance compared with the joy of Immanuel our best
   beloved. As the Preacher said, so say we, "I said of laughter, It is
   mad: and of mirth, What doeth it?" "Vanity of vanities; all is vanity."
   All earthly bliss is of the earth earthy, but the comforts of Christ's
   presence are like himself heavenly. We can review our communion with
   Jesus, and find no regrets of emptiness therein; there are no dregs in
   this wine; no dead flies in this ointment. The joy of the Lord is solid
   and enduring. Vanity hath not looked upon it, but discretion and
   prudence testify that it abideth the test of years, and is in time and
   in eternity worthy to be called "the only true delight."

   "What is the world with all its store?

   "Tis but a bitter sweet;

   When I attempt to pluck the rose,

   A pricking thorn I meet.

   Here perfect bliss can ne'er be found,

   The honey's mix'd with gall;

   'Midst changing scenes and dying friends,

   Be thou my All in All."

   We may plainly see that Christ is very precious to the believer,
   because to him there is nothing good without Christ. Believer, have you
   not found in the midst of plenty a dire and sore famine if your Lord
   has been absent? The sun was shining, but Christ had hidden himself and
   all the world was black to you; or it was a night of tempest, and there
   were many stars, but since the bright and morning star was gone on that
   dreary main, where you were tossed with doubts and fears, no other star
   could shed so much as a ray of light. O, what a howling wilderness is
   this world without my Lord! If once he groweth angry, and doth, though
   it be for a moment, hide himself from me, withered are the flowers of
   my garden; my pleasant fruits decay; the birds suspend their songs, and
   black night lowers over all my hopes. Nothing can compensate for the
   company of the Savior: all earth's candles cannot make daylight if the
   Sun of Righteousness be gone.

   On the other hand, when all earthly comforts have failed you, have you
   not found quite enough in your Lord? Your very-worst times have been
   your best times? You must almost cry to go back to your bed of
   sickness, for Jesus made it as a royal throne, whereon you reigned with
   him. Those dark nights--ah! they were not dark, your bright days since
   then have been darker far. Do you remember when you were poor? Oh! how
   near Christ was to you, and how rich he made you! You were despised and
   rejected of men, and no man gave you a good word! Ah! sweet was his
   fellowship then, and how delightful to hear him say, "Fear thou not;
   for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God!" As afflictions
   abound, even so do consolations abound by Christ Jesus. The devil, like
   Nebuchadnezzar, heated the furnace seven times hotter, but who would
   have it less furiously blazing? No wise believer; for the more terrible
   the heat the greater the glory in the fact that we were made to tread
   those glowing coals, and not a hair of our head was singed, nor so much
   as the smell of fire passed upon us, because the Son of God walked
   those glowing coals in our company. Yes, we can look with resignation
   upon penury, disease, and even death; for if all comforts be taken from
   us, we should still be blest, so long as we enjoy the presence of the
   Lord our Savior.

   Nor should I be straining the truth if I say that the Christian would
   sooner give up anything than forsake his Master. I have known some who
   have been afraid to look that text in the face which saith, "He that
   loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me," or
   that--"Except a man hate (or love less) his father and mother, and wife
   and children, he cannot be my disciple." Yet I have found that those
   have frequently proved to be the most sincere lovers of Jesus who have
   been most afraid that he had not the best place in their hearts.
   Perhaps the best way is not to sit down calmly to weigh our love, for
   it is not a thing to be measured with cool judgment, but put your love
   to some practical test. Now, if it came to this, that you must deny
   Christ, or give up the dearest thing you have, would you deliberate?
   The Lord knoweth I speak what I feel in my own soul--when it comes to
   that, I could not hesitate a second. If there were a stake and burning
   faggots, I might flinch from the fire, but so mighty is divine love
   that it would doubtless drive me to the flames sooner than let me leave
   Jesus. But if it comes to this, "Wilt thou lose thine eyes or give up
   Christ?" I would cheerfully be blind. Or if it were asked, "Wilt thou
   have thy right arm withered from its socket or give up Christ?" Ay; let
   both arms go; let them both drop from the shoulder blades. Or if it
   should be, "Wilt thou be from this day dumb and never speak before the
   multitude?" Oh! better to be dumb than lose him. Indeed, when I talk of
   this it seems to be an insult to my Master, to put hands, and eyes, and
   tongue, in comparison with him.

   "Nor to my eyes is light so dear

   Nor friendship half so sweet."

   If you compare life itself with Jesus, it is not to be named in the
   same day. If it should be said, "Will you live without Christ or die
   with Christ?" you could not deliberate, for to die with Christ is to
   live with Christ for ever; but to live without Christ is to die the
   second death, the terrible death of the soul's eternal perdition. No,
   there is no choice there. I think we could go further, dear friends,
   and say, not only could we give up everything, but I think, when love
   is fervent, and the flesh is kept under, we could suffer anything with
   Christ. I met, in one of Samuel Rutherford's letters, an extraordinary
   expression, where he speaks of the coals of divine wrath all falling
   upon the head of Christ, so that not one might fall upon his people.
   "And yet," saith he, "if one of those coals should drop from his head
   upon mine and did utterly consume me, yet if I felt it was a part of
   the coals that fell on him, and I was bearing it for his sake, and in
   communion with him, I would choose it for my heaven." That is a strong
   thing to say, that to suffer with Christ would be his heaven, if he
   assuredly knew that it was for and with Christ, that he was suffering.
   Oh! there is indeed a heavenliness about suffering for Jesus. His cross
   hath such a majesty and mystery of delight in it, that the more heavy
   it becometh, the more lightly doth it sit upon the believer's
   shoulders.

   One thing I know proveth, beloved, that you esteem Christ to be very
   precious, namely, that you want others to know him too. Do you not feel
   a pining in your souls till others hearts be filled with the love of
   Christ? My eyes could weep themselves out of their sockets for some of
   you who are ignorant of my Master's love. Poor souls! ye are sitting
   outside the feast when the door is wide open, and the king himself is
   within. Ye choose to be out in the highways and under the hedges sooner
   than come to this wedding-feast, where the oxen and fatlings are
   killed, and all things are ready--oh! did you know him, did you know
   him, you would never be able to live without him. If your eyes had ever
   seen him once, or if your heart had ever known the charm of his
   presence, you would think it to be a hell to be for a moment without
   Christ. O poor blind eyes which cannot see him, and deaf ears which
   cannot hear him, and hard stony hearts which cannot melt before him,
   and hell-besotted souls which cannot appreciate the majesty of his
   love, God help you! God help you! and bring you yet to know and rejoice
   in him. The more your love grows, beloved, the more insatiable will be
   your desire that others should love him, till it will come to this that
   you will be, like Paul, "in labors more abundant," spending and being
   spent that you may bring the rest of Christ's elect body into union
   with their glorious head.

   II. But, secondly, THE SOUL CLINGETH TO CHRIST, AND SHE HATH GOOD
   REASON FOR SO DOING, for her own words are "A bundle of myrrh is my
   well-beloved unto me." We will take the myrrh first, and then consider
   the bundle next.

   1. Jesus Christ is like myrrh. Myrrh may be well the type of Christ for
   its preciousness. It was an exceedingly expensive drug. We know that
   Jacob sent some of it down into Egypt as being one of the choice
   products of the land. It is always spoken of in Scripture as being a
   rich, rare, and costly substance. But no myrrh could ever compare with
   him, for Jesus Christ is so precious, that if heaven and earth were put
   together they could not buy another Savior. When God gave to the world
   his Son, he gave the best that heaven had. Take Christ out of heaven,
   and there is nothing for God to give. Christ was God's all, for is it
   not written, "In him dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily?"
   Oh! precious gift of the whole of deity in the person of Christ! How
   inestimably precious is that body of his which he took of the substance
   of the virgin! Well might angels herald the coming of this immaculate
   Savior, well might they watch over his holy life, for he is precious in
   his birth, and precious in all his actions. How precious is he, dear
   friends, as myrrh in the offering of his great atonement! What a costly
   sacrifice was that! At what a price were ye redeemed! Not with silver
   and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ. How precious is he
   too, in his resurrection! He justifies all his people at one
   stroke--rising from the dead--that glorious sun scatters all the nights
   of all his people by one rising. How precious is he in his ascension,
   as he leads captivity captive, and scattereth gifts among men! And how
   precious to-day in those incessant pleadings of his through which the
   mercies of God come down like the angels upon Jacob's ladder to our
   needy souls! Yes, he is to the believer in every aspect like myrrh for
   rarity and excellence.

   Myrrh, again, was pleasant. It was a pleasant thing to be in chamber
   perfumed with myrrh. Through the nostrils myrrh conveys delight to the
   human mind; but Christ gives delight to his people, not through one
   channel, but through every avenue. It is true that all his garments
   smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, but he hath not spiritual smell
   alone, the taste shall be gratified too, for we eat his flesh and drink
   his blood. Nay, our feeling is ravished, when his left hand is under us
   and his right hand doth embrace us. As for his voice it is most sweet,
   and our soul's ear is charmed with its melody. Let God give him to our
   sight, and what can our eyes want more? Yea, he is altogether lovely.
   Thus every gate of the soul hath commerce with Christ Jesus in the
   richest and rarest commodities. There is no way by which a human spirit
   can have communion with Jesus which doth not yield unto that spirit
   fresh and varied delights. O beloved, we cannot compare him merely to
   myrrh. He is everything which is good to look upon, or to taste, or to
   handle, or to smell--all put together in one, the quintessence of all
   delights. As all the rivers run into the sea, so all delights center
   into Christ. The sea is not full, but Jesus is fall to the very brim.

   Moreover, myrrh is perfuming. It is used to give a sweet smell to other
   things. It was mingled with the sacrifice, so that it was not only the
   smoke of the fat of kidneys of rams, and the flesh of fat beasts, but
   there was a sweet fragrance of myrrh, which went up with the sacrifice
   to heaven. And surely, beloved, Jesus Christ is very perfuming to his
   people. Does not he perfume their prayers, so that the Lord smelleth a
   sweet savor? Doth he not perfume their songs, so that they become like
   vials full of odour sweet? Doth he not perfume our ministry, for is it
   not written, "He causeth us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest
   the savor of his knowledge by us in every place. For we are unto God a
   sweet savor of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that
   perish." Our persons are perfumed with Christ. Whence get we our
   spikenard but from him? Whither shall we go to gather camphire which
   shall make our persons and presence acceptable before God but to him?
   "For we are accepted in the beloved." "Ye are complete in
   him"--"perfect in Christ Jesus"--"for he hath made us kings and priests
   unto our God, and we shall reign for ever and ever."

   Myrrh has preserving qualities. The Egyptians used it in embalming the
   dead: and we find Nicodemus and the holy women bringing myrrh and aloes
   in which to wrap the dead body of the Savior. It was used to prevent
   corruption. What is there which can preserve the soul but Christ Jesus?
   What is the myrrh which keeps our works, which in themselves are dead,
   and corrupt, and rotten--what, I say, keeps them from becoming a foul
   stench in the nostrils of God, but that Christ is in them? What we have
   done out of love to Christ, what we have offered through his mediation,
   what has been perfumed by faith in his person, becomes acceptable. God
   looketh upon anything we say, or anything we do, and if he seeth Christ
   in it, he accepteth it; but if there be no Christ, he putteth it away
   as a foul thing. See to it then, beloved, that you never pray a prayer
   which is not sweetened with Christ. I would never preach a sermon--the
   Lord forgive me if I do--which is not full to overflowing with my
   Master. I know one who said I was always on the old string, and he
   would come and hear me no more; but if I preached a sermon without
   Christ in it, he would come. Ah! he will never come while this tongue
   moves, for a sermon without Christ in it--a Christless sermon! A brook
   without water; a cloud without rain; a well which mocks the traveler; a
   tree twice dead, plucked up by the root; a sky without a sun; a night
   without a star. It were a realm of death--a place of mourning for
   angels and laughter for devils. O Christian, we must have Christ! Do
   see to it that every day when you wake you give a fresh savor of Christ
   upon you by contemplating his person. Live all the day, trying as much
   as lieth in you, to season your hearts with him, and then at night, lie
   down with him upon your tongue. It is said of Samuel Rutherford, that
   he often did fall asleep talking about Christ, and was often heard in
   his dreams, saying sweet things about his Savior. There is nothing
   which can preserve us and keep us from sin, and make our works holy and
   pure, like this "bundle of myrrh."

   Myrrh again, was used as a disinfectant. When the fever is abroad, we
   know people who wear little bags of camphor about their necks. They may
   be very good; I do not know. But the Orientals believed that in times
   of pest and plague, a little bag of myrrh worn between the breasts
   would be of essential service to whoever might carry it. And there
   doubtless is some power in myrrh to preserve from infectious disease.
   Well, brethren, certain I am it is so with Christ. You have to go into
   the world which is like a great lazar-house; but if you carry Christ
   with you, you will never catch the world's disease. A man may be worth
   never so much money, he will never get worldly if he keepeth Christ on
   his heart. A man may have to tug and toil for his livelihood, and be
   very poor, he will never be discontented and murmuring if he lives
   close to Christ. O you who have to handle the world, see to it that you
   handle the Master more than the world. Some of you have to work with
   drunken and swearing men; others are cast into the midst of
   frivolities--O take my Master with you! and sin's plagues can have no
   influence upon your moral nature.

   But myrrh was believed by the ancient physicians to do more than
   this--it was a cure--it did not merely prevent, but it healed. I do not
   know how many diseases are said to be healed by the use of myrrh, nor
   do I altogether suppose that these Oriental physicians spoke from
   facts, for they were too much given to ascribe qualities to drugs,
   which those drugs did not possess; however even modern physicians
   believe myrrh to have many valuable medical properties. Certain is it
   that your Christ is the best medicine for the soul. His name is Jehovah
   Rophi--"I am the Lord that healeth them." When we see Luke called "the
   beloved physician," we almost grudge him the name. I will take it from
   him and give it to my Master, for he deserves it far more than Luke.
   The beloved physician! he touched the leper, and he was made whole. He
   did but look upon those who were lame. and they leaped as a hart. His
   voice startled the silence of Hades, and brought back the soul to the
   body. What cannot Christ do? He can heal anything. You who are sick
   this morning, sick with doubts and fears, you who are sick with
   temptation, you who struggle with an angry temper, or with the
   death-like sleep of sloth, get Christ, and you are healed. Here all
   things meet, and in all these things we may say, "A bundle of myrrh is
   my well-beloved unto me."

   I have not done yet, for myrrh was used in the East as a beautifier. We
   read of Esther, that before she was introduced to Ahasuerus, she and
   the virgins were bidden to prepare themselves, and among other things,
   they used myrrh. The belief of Oriental women was, that it removed
   wrinkles and stains from the face, and they used it constantly for the
   perfecting of their charms. I do not know how that may be, but I know
   that nothing makes the believer so beautiful as being with Christ. He
   is beautiful in the eyes of God, of holy angels, and of his fellow-men.
   I know some Christians whom it is a great mercy to speak to: if they
   come into your cottage, they leave behind them tokens of remembrance,
   in the choice words they utter. To get them into the Church is a
   thousand mercies, and if they join the Sunday-school, of what value
   they are! Let me tell you that the best gauge of a Christian's
   usefulness will be found in the degree in which he has been with Jesus
   and learned of him. Do not tell me it is the scholar, do not say to me
   it is the man of eloquence, do not say it is the man of substance--well
   we would have all these consecrate what they have to Christ--but it is
   the man of God who is the strong man; it is the man who has been with
   Jesus who is the pillar of the Church; and a light to the world. O
   brethren, may the beauty of the Lord be upon us through being much with
   Christ.

   And I must not close this point without saying that myrrh might well be
   used as an emblem of our Lord from its connection with sacrifice. It
   was one of the precious drugs used in making the holy oil with which
   the priests were anointed and the frankincense which burned perpetually
   before God. It is this, the sacrificial character of Christ, which is
   at the root and bottom of all that Christ is most precious to his
   people. O Lamb of God our sacrifice, we must remember thee.

   2. Now there has been enough, surely, said about the myrrh. Have
   patience while we just notice that he is called a bundle of myrrh, or
   as some translate it, a bag of myrrh, or a box of myrrh.

   There were three sorts of myrrh; there was the myrrh in sprigs, which
   being burnt made a sweet smell; then there was myrrh, a dried spice;
   and then thirdly, there was myrrh a flowing oil. We do not know to
   which there is reference here. But why is it said "a bundle of myrrh?"
   First, for the plenty of it. He is not a drop of it, he is a casket
   full. He is not a sprig or flower of it, but a whole bundle full. There
   is enough in Christ for my necessities. There is more in Christ than I
   shall ever know--perhaps more than I shall understand even in heaven.

   A bundle again, for variety; for there is in Christ not only the one
   thing needful, but "ye are complete in him;" there is everything
   needful. Take Christ in his different characters, and you will see a
   marvellous variety--prophet, priest, king, husband, friend, shepherd.
   Take him in his life, death, resurrection, ascension, second advent,
   take him in his virtue, gentleness, courage, self-denial, love,
   faithfulness, truth, righteousness--everywhere it is a bundle. Some of
   God's judgments are manifold, but all God's mercies are manifold, and
   Christ being the sum of God's mercies, hath in fold upon fold of
   goodness. He is "a bundle of myrrh" for variety.

   He is a bundle of myrrh again, for preservation--not loose myrrh to be
   dropped on the floor or trodden on, but myrrh tied up, as though God
   bound up all virtues and excellencies in his Son: not myrrh spilt on
   the ground, but myrrh in a box--myrrh kept in a casket. Such is Christ.
   The virtue and excellence which goeth out of Christ is quite as strong
   today as in the day when the woman touched the hem of his garment and
   was healed. "Able to save unto the uttermost them that come unto God
   through him," is he still unto this hour.

   A bundle of myrrh again, to shew how diligently we should take care of
   it. We must bind him up, we must keep our thoughts of him and knowledge
   of him as under lock and key, lest the devil should steal anything from
   us. We must treasure up his words, prize his ordinances, obey his
   precepts, tie him up and keep him ever with us as a precious bundle of
   myrrh.

   And yet again, a bundle of myrrh for speciality, as if he were not
   common myrrh for everybody. No, no, no; there is distinguishing,
   discriminating grace--a bundle tied up for his people and labelled with
   their names from before the foundation of the world. No doubt there is
   an allusion here to the scent bottle used in every land. Jesus Christ
   is a bottle of myrrh, and he doth not give forth his smell to everybody
   but to those who know how to draw forth the stopper, who understand how
   to get into communion with him, to have close dealings with him. He is
   not myrrh for all who are in the house but for those who know how to
   put the bottle to their nostrils and receive the sweet perfume. Oh!
   blessed people whom the Lord hath admitted into his secrets! Oh! choice
   and happy people who are thus made to say "A bottle of myrrh is my
   well-beloved unto me."

   But I am afraid I tire you, especially those of you who do not know
   anything about my subject. There are some such here who know no more
   about what I am talking of than if they were Mahometans. They are
   listening to a new kind of religion now. The religion of Christ is as
   high above them as is the path of the eagle above that of the fish, and
   as much hidden from them as the way of the serpent on the rock from the
   eye of man. This is a path which the eagle's eye hath not seen, nor
   hath the lion's whelp trodden it; but I trust there are some here who
   know it.

   III. Our third remark was to be--that with a sense of Christ's
   preciousness is combined A CONSCIOUSNESS OF POSSESSION. It is "my
   well-beloved." My dear hearer, is Christ your well-beloved? A
   Savior--that is well; but my Savior--that is the best of the best. What
   is the use of bread if it is not mine? I may die of hunger. Of what
   value is gold, if it be not mine? I may yet die in a workhouse. I want
   this preciousness to be mine. "My well-beloved." Have you ever laid
   hold on Christ by the hand of faith?

   Will you take him again this morning, brethren, in Jesus? I know you
   will. Would that those who never did take him, would take him now and
   say, "My saviour." There stands his atonement, freely offered to you,
   may you have the grace to take it, and say, "My Savior, my Savior,"
   this morning. Has your heart taken him? It is well for us to use both
   hands, not only the hand of faith, but the hand of love, for this is
   the true embrace when both arms meet around our beloved. Do you love
   him? O souls, do you LOVE Christ, with an emphasis upon the word. Do
   not talk to me about a religion which dwells in the head and never gets
   into the heart. Get rid of it as quickly as you can; it will never
   bring you to heaven. It is not "I believe this and that" merely, but "I
   love." Ah! some who have been great fools in doctrine have been very
   wise in love. We tell our children to learn things "by heart." I think
   you can, you love Jesus, and if you cannot you must confess as I do,

   "A very wretch, Lord, I should prove,

   Had I no love to thee;

   Sooner than not my Savior love,

   O may I cease to be."

   But that is not the only word. "A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved
   unto me." That is not a redundant expression, "unto me." He is not so
   to many. Ah! my Lord is a root out of a dry ground to multitudes. A
   three-volume novel suits them better than his Book. They would sooner
   go to a play or a dance than they would have any fellowship with him.
   They can see the beauties upon the cheeks of this Jezebel world, but
   they cannot see the perfections of my Lord and Master. Well! well!
   well! Let them say what they will, and let them think as they please,
   every creature hath its own joy, but "a bundle of myrrh is my
   well-beloved unto me"--unto me--unto me, and if there is not another
   who finds him so, yet "a bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me." I
   would it were not with others as it is--I would that others did think
   so also of him; but let them say what they will, they shall not drive
   me out of my knowledge of this--"a bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved
   unto me." The infidel saith, "There is no God." The atheist would
   altogether laugh me to scorn. They shall say what they will, but "a
   bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me." Even bishops have been
   found who will take away a part of his Book, and so rend his garments,
   and rob him; and there be some who say his religion is out of date, and
   grace has lost his power; and they go after philosophy and vain
   conceit, and I know not what, but "a bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved
   unto me." They may have no nostril for him, they may have no desire
   after him; so let it be, but "a bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto
   me." I know there are some who say they have tried him and not found
   him sweet, and who have turned away from him and gone back to the
   beggarly elements of the world because they see nothing in Christ that
   they should desire him; but "a bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto
   me." Ah! Christian, this is what you want, a personal experience, a
   positive experience; you want to know for yourself; for there is no
   religion which is worth a button which is not burnt into you by
   personal experience; and there is no religion worth a straw which does
   not spring from your soul, which does lay not hold upon the very vitals
   of your spirit. Yes, you must say--I hope you can say as you go down
   those steps this morning, and enter again to-morrow into that busy,
   giddy world--you must say, "Let the whole world go astray, a bundle of
   myrrh is my well-beloved unto me.'"

   IV. Now the practical point closes it. A SENSE OF POSSESSION AND A
   SENSE OF ENJOYMENT WILL ALWAYS LEAD THE CHRISTIAN TO DESIRE CONSTANT
   FELLOWSHIP. "He" or rather "it shall lie all night betwixt my breasts."
   The Church does not say, "I will put this bundle of myrrh on my
   shoulders"--Christ is no burden to a Christian. She does not say, "I
   will put this bundle of myrrh on my back"--the Church does not want to
   have Christ concealed from her face. She desires to have him where she
   can see him, and near to her heart. The bundle of myrrh shall lie all
   night upon my heart. The words "All night" are not in the original; I
   do not know how they got into the translation. He is to be always
   there, not only all night but all day. It would be always night if he
   were not there, and it cannot be night when he is there, for

   "Midst darkest shade, if he appear,

   My dawning has begun."

   He shall always be upon our heart. I think that expression just means
   these three things. It is an expression of desire--her desire that she
   may have the consciousness of Christ's love continually. Do not you
   feel the same desire. O Christian, if thou hast ever been made like the
   chariots of Amminadib, it will be ill for thee if thou canst be content
   to be otherwise. If thou hast but once tasted Christ, thou wilt wait to
   feed upon him all day and all night, and as long as thou livest. My
   desire is that Jesus may abide with me from morn till even, in the
   world and in the Church, when I awake, when I sleep, when I go abroad,
   and when I come home into the bosom of my family. Is not that your
   desire that he may be always with you?

   But then, it is not only her desire, but it is also her confidence. She
   seems to say, "He will be with me thus." You may have a suspension of
   visible fellowship with Christ, but Christ never will go away from
   people really. He will be all night betwixt your breasts; he will at
   all times abide faithful to you. He may close his eyes and hide his
   face from you, but his heart never can depart from you. He has set you
   as a seal upon his heart, and increasingly will make you sensible of
   it. Recollect there is no suspension of Christ's union with his people,
   and no suspension of those saving influences which always make his
   people to stand complete in him.

   To conclude, this is also a resolve. She desires, she believes, and she
   resolves it. Lord, thou shalt be with me, thou shalt be with me always.
   I appeal to you, brethren, will you not make this resolve in God's
   strength this morning to cling close to Christ. Do not go talking, as
   you go home, about all sorts of nonsense; do not spend this afternoon
   in communion with folly and vanity, but throughout this day let your
   soul keep to Christ, to nothing but Christ. This evening we shall come
   to his table, to eat bread and drink wine, in remembrance of him, let
   us try if we can, that nothing shall make us give up Christ all this
   day. Have you got him, hold him and do not let him go till you bring
   him to your mother's house, to the chamber of her who bare you. Then
   there will be the family prayer at night. O, seek to keep him till you
   put your head upon the pillow. And then, on Monday morning, some of you
   have to go to work, and as soon as you get into the workshop or the
   factory, you say, "Now I must lose my Master." No, do not lose him.
   Hold him fast when your hand plies the hammer, and when your fingers
   hold the needle, still cling to him, in the market or in the exchange,
   on board ship, or in the field, do not let him go. You may have him
   with you all day. The Mahometan usually wears a piece of the Koran
   round his neck, and one, when converted to Christianity, put his New
   Testament in a little silken bag, and always wore it there. We need not
   such outward signs, but let us always have the Savior there; let us
   hang him about our neck as a charm against all evil; seek his blessed
   company, place him as a star upon your breast to be your honor and joy.

   Well, I have done, but I must have a word with the unconverted. There
   are some who can say, "I will have Christ always on my tongue." Away
   with tongue religion. You must have him on your heart. Ah! there are
   some who say, "I hope I shall have Christ on my heart in all eternity."
   You cannot have Christ in eternity if you do not have him in time. If
   you despise him to-day--in this life, he will reject you to-morrow in
   the world to come; and if he call and you refuse, one day you will call
   and he refuse. Do not put up with desires merely, dear friends--some of
   you have desires, and nothing more. Do not only desire Christ, but get
   him. Do not stop short with saying, "I should like to have him in my
   heart;" give no sleep to your eyes nor slumber to your eyelids, till by
   humble faith you have taken Christ to be your all in all. May the Lord
   bless these poor words, for Jesus' sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                             The Cripple at Lystra

   A Sermon

   (No. 559)

   by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "The same heard Paul speak: who stedfastly beholding him, and
   perceiving that he had faith to be healed, said with a loud voice,
   Stand upright on thy feet. And he leaped and walked."--Acts 14:9-10.

   I  HAVE READ in your hearing the story of the preaching of Paul and
   Barnabas in the town of Lystra. The name of Christ was there totally
   unknown. They were a sort of country people, partly pastoral and partly
   agricultural, who seem to have been deeply sunken in superstition. At
   the gates of their city there stood a great temple dedicated to
   Jupiter, and they appear to have been his zealous votaries. Coming down
   from the mountain-side Paul and Barnabas enter the town, and when a
   fitting time has come, they stand up in the marketplace, or the street,
   and begin to talk concerning Jesus, the Son of God, who had come down
   from heaven, had suffered and died, and had again ascended up on high.
   The people gather round them. Among the rest a cripple listens with
   very marked attention. They preach again. The crowds are still greater,
   and on one occasion, while Paul is in the middle of a sermon, using his
   eyes to watch the audience as all preachers should do, and not looking
   up at the ceiling, or at the gallery-front as some preachers are wont
   to do, he marks this cripple, fixes his eyes upon him, and looks
   earnestly in his face. Either by the exercise of his judgment, or by
   the promptings of revelation, the apostle gathers that this man has
   faith--faith to be healed. In order to attract the attention of the
   people, to glorify the name of Christ, to publish more widely his
   glorious fame, and to make the miracle well known, Paul stops the
   sermon, and with a loud voice cries, "Stand upright on thy feet." The
   cripple leaps and praises God. The population are all amazed, and
   knowing that there was a tradition that Jupiter and Mercury had once
   appeared in that very town, a tradition preserved in the Metamorphoses
   of Ovid to the present day, they at once conclude that surely Jupiter
   and Mercury must be come again. They fix upon Barnabas, who was
   probably the elder and the nobler looking man, for Jupiter; and as
   Jupiter was always attended by Mercurins, as a messenger, and Mercury
   was the god of eloquence, they conclude that Paul must be Mercury. They
   rush to the temple, they tell the priests that the gods have come down.
   The priests, only too ready to foster popular credulity, and pander to
   it, bring forth the sacred bullocks and the garlands, and are about to
   offer sacrifice before Paul and Barnabas. Such homage these men of God
   indignantly refuse; they rend their clothes; they beseech them to do no
   such thing, for they are nothing but men; yet hardly with earnest words
   can they stay the people. But the next day certain Jews came thither
   and produced a counter irritation in the simple minds of the people. No
   very difficult task where a rude fanaticism rouses the wild passions of
   the mob. Such an assembly must rage, whether it he with redundant
   applause or with derisive jeers. Accordingly, Paul finds himself
   exposed to peril; he is stoned through the streets, dragged forth as
   dead, and left by the very men who worshipped him but yesterday as a
   god, left to die as a villain outside the city gates. But Paul's
   preaching had not been in vain. There were some few disciples who
   remained faithful. His ministry was rewarded and owned of God.

   There are two or three points in this narrative to which I shall call
   your attention to-night, making, however, the lame man the center of
   the picture. We shall notice, first of all, what preceded this lame
   man's faith; secondly, wherein lay his faith to be healed; and thirdly,
   what is the teaching of the miracle itself, and the blessing which the
   lame man obtained through faith.

   I. WHAT WAS IT WHICH PRECEDED HIS FAITH?

   That "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God," is a
   great and universal rule; but the hearing of what? Doubtless the
   hearing of the gospel is intended. On turning to your Bibles you will
   find it is written--"And there they preached the gospel." What, Paul,
   dost thou not change thy voice? Thou hast preached the gospel in the
   cities of Iconium and Antioch, where there were enlightened and
   intelligent hearers; if the gospel suited them, surely it will not do
   for these wolfish boors! Why go and preach to these poor, ignorant,
   superstitious fanatics the very same truths which you spoke to your
   enlightened Jewish brethren? But he does do so, my friends. The very
   gospel which he preached at Damascus in the synagogue he preaches here
   at Lystra in the market-place. He makes no difference between the
   education of his hearers in different places; he has the same gospel to
   preach to them both. You recollect that Paul went to Ephesus, and
   Ephesus, as a city, was besotted with a belief in sorcery. The people
   had given themselves up to practice magical arts. What is the right way
   to begin to preach at Ephesus? Deliver a course of lectures upon the
   impossibility and absurdity of such superstition? No, sir, nothing of
   the kind. Preach Christ, preach the gospel; and as Jesus Christ is
   lifted up they bring their magical books and make a bonfire of them in
   the open forum. But here is a polished governor, Sergius Paulus,
   sitting upon the judgment-seat. What shall be preached to him? Would it
   not be well to begin with a dissertation on politics, and to show that
   the Christian religion does not interfere with proper government, that
   it does not stir up the people to anarchy? No, sir, nothing of the
   kind. There is nothing for Sergius Paulus any more than there is for
   Elymas the sorcerer, but the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
   Paul goes to Athens. Now the Athenians are the most learned and
   philosophical of the whole race of men. What will Paul preach there?
   The gospel, the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel. He may change
   his tones, but never his matter. It is the same remedy for the same
   disease, he the men what they may. He comes to Corinth, and here you
   have not only polished manners, but the very refinement of vice. It is
   a city, an emporium of trade, and a sort of central depot of sin. What
   then? Will he now, to please the trader, assume a different dialect?
   Not he! The Christ for Athens is the Christ for Corinth too. And now
   see him. He has come to Lycaonia, and is preaching at Lystra. Here is
   an ignorant set of people who worship an image. Why does he not begin
   by preaching of the deity? Why does he not talk to them of the Trinity
   in unity? Why does he not try and confute their notions about their
   gods? No, my dear sir, he will do nothing of the kind; that may be done
   incidentally, but the first and the last thing that Paul will do at
   Lystra is, there he will preach the gospel. O glorious gospel of the
   blessed God! Wherever we take thee thou art suited to the wants of men.
   Take thee to Persia with all its gems and jewels, and thou dost suit
   the monarch on his throne; or take thee to the naked savage with all
   his poverty and squalid filth, and thou dost suit him too. Thou mayst
   he preached, thrice glorious wisdom of God, to the wisest of men; but
   thou are not too great a mystery to be understood and believed even by
   the fools and the babes; the things which are not can receive thee as
   well as the things which are. Never, I pray you brethren, lose heart in
   the power of the gospel. Do not believe that there exists any man, much
   less any race of men, for whom the gospel is not fitted. Wherever you
   go, do not cut, and trim, and shape, and alter; hut just bring out the
   whole truth as God has taught it to you, and rest assured that you will
   be unto God a sweet savor of Christ in every place, both in them who
   are saved and in them who perish.

   What then, was this gospel which the apostle Paul did preach
   everywhere? Well, it was a gospel which had in it three things, certain
   facts, certain doctrines, and certain commands.

   It was a gospel of facts. Every time Paul stood up to preach he told
   the following unvarnished tale: God, looking upon the race of men,
   beheld them lost and ruined. Out of love to them he sent his only
   begotten Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who was born of the virgin Mary,
   lived some thirty-two or thirty-three years a life of spotless
   innocence and perfect obedience to God. He was God: he was man. In due
   time he was delivered up by the traitor Judas. He was crucified, and
   actually put to death. Though he was the Lord of life and glory, who
   only hath immortality, yet he bowed his head and gave up the ghost.
   After three days he rose again, and showed himself to many of his
   disciples, so that they were well assured he was the same person who
   had been put into the grave; and when the forty days were finished he
   ascended up to heaven in the sight of them all, where he sitteth at the
   right hand of God, and shall also come ere long a second time to judge
   both the quick and the dead. These were the facts which Paul would
   state. God was made flesh and dwelt amongst us, and we beheld his
   glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the father, full of grace
   and truth. "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." Briefly, these were the facts which Paul would preach, and if
   any one of these facts he preached doubtfully, or he left out of any
   ministry, then the gospel is not preached; for the foundations upon
   which the gospel rests have been removed, and then what can the
   righteous do?

   Following upon these facts, Paul preached certain doctrines, the
   doctrines flowing out of the facts. To wit, he preached that Jesus
   Christ had offered a full atonement to divine wrath for the sin of his
   people, so that whosoever would believe on him, and trust him, should
   be saved. The doctrine of the atonement would form the most prominent
   feature in the gospel of the apostle Paul, Christ also hath suffered
   for us, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God. "God commendeth
   his love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died
   for the ungodly." Then would come the doctrine of pardon. Paul with
   glowing tongue would tell how God could be just, and yet the justifier
   of him who believeth; how all manner of sin and iniquity shall be
   forgiven unto men, the simple condition being that the man believes in
   Christ, and this not so much the man's own work, as a gift of the Holy
   Ghost. Everywhere Paul would he unmistakable in this--"Ye chief of
   sinners, look to the wounds of Jesus, and your sins shall he forgiven
   you." Equally clear would he be upon the doctrine of justification.
   "Christ," he would say, "will wash you; nay, more, he will clothe you;
   the perfect holiness of his character shall he imputed unto you, and
   being justified, you shall have peace with God, and there shall be no
   condemnation, because you are in Christ Jesus." I think I see the
   flashing eye of the apostle; methinks I listen to his earnest voice,
   while he pleads with men to lay hold upon eternal life, to look to
   Jesus Christ, to forsake the deeds of the law, to put their trust in
   nothing which cometh from man, but to look to Jesus, and to Jesus only.
   These great truths, atonement, pardon, and justification, with all the
   other truths connected with them, of which we cannot now speak
   particularly, were just the gospel which the apostle Paul preached.

   And out of these we said their sprung certain commands. The commands
   were these--"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved."
   Nor do I suppose that the apostle for a moment stammered to preach that
   other command--"Arise, and he baptized." He would not preach half the
   gospel, but the whole of it--"He that believeth and is baptized shall
   he saved; but he that believeth not shall he damned;" and often after
   his hearers had cried, "What must we do to he saved," and they had
   believed in Christ, they would say to him--"See, here is water, what
   doth hinder me to he baptized?"

   The apostle then preached a gospel which was made up of certain
   authenticated facts, out of which there flowed certain most gracious
   evangelical doctrines, which were enforced and driven home with divine
   authority, by Christ's own commands. "Well," says one, "do you think
   the world will be turned upside down by this?" Sirs, it has been, and
   it will he again. In vain do those who seek after human learning, and
   who aim at dreamy sentiment or spurious science in preference to the
   standard teaching which is from above, attempt to find a nobler
   instrument. This is the great battering-ram which shall yet shake the
   bastions of error. This is the sword, the true Escalabar, which, if any
   man knoweth how to wield it, shall cut through joints and marrow, and
   make him more than a conqueror. He who getteth a hold of the gospel of
   Christ, and knoweth how to use it, hath that before which the devils
   tremble, and in the presence of which angels adore, which cherubs long
   to look into, and which God himself smiles upon as his noblest work.
   The truth we proclaim is not that which is discovered by us, but that
   which has been delivered to us. Do ye ask, then, where this man's faith
   came from? It came from Paul's preaching of the gospel.

   II. Now WHEREIN LAY THIS MAN'S FAITH?

   Paul looked at the man, we are told, and perceived "that he had faith
   to be healed." What meaneth this "faith to be healed?" In this man's
   case I think it was something like this. Poor fellow! As he listened to
   Paul's preaching, he thought perhaps--"Well, that looks like true; that
   seems to be the truth; it is the truth; I am sure it is true; and, if
   it is true that Jesus Christ is so great a Savior, perhaps I may be
   healed; these lame legs of mine, which never would carry me anywhere,
   may yet come straight; I--I--I think they may; I hope they may; I
   believe they may; I know it can be done if Christ wills it; I believe
   that, and from what Paul says of Christ's character, I think he must be
   willing to do it; I will ask the apostle; the first convenient season
   that I have I will lift up my cry, for I believe it can be done, and I
   think there is a perfect willingness, both in the mind of the apostle
   and of the Master that it should be done; I believe it will be done,
   and that I shall yet stand upright." Then Paul said to him, "Stand
   upright on thy feet," and he did so in a moment, for "he had faith to
   he healed."

   Do you think I am overstraining the probabilities of the case? You will
   perhaps say, "It does not appear that Paul had any communication with
   the poor cripple before the miracle was performed." Now I venture to
   draw quite an opposite inference. I know from my own experience that it
   is no uncommon thing for some one individual to arrest the preacher's
   attention. The group of countenances which lay before him in a large
   assembly like the present, might to the first glance of a stranger look
   confused and inexplicable, as a Chinese grammar does to those who know
   not the language. But you need not doubt that a practiced eye can learn
   to read the one as well as the other. The languor and indifference of
   some; the curious enquiring look of others; the cold, critical
   attention of a considerable number, and the countenances of those who
   are rather absorbed in a train of thought just awakened in their own
   minds--these have all a peculiar impressiveness, and form a picture
   which often reacts upon us, and kindles a vehement desire in our
   breasts to reach the souls of those who, for a brief hour, hang upon
   our lips. But there will sometimes be one who has faith dazzling in his
   very eyes, as they are fixed with an intentness, of which it were vain
   for me to attempt a description, seeming to drink in every word and
   every syllable of a word, till the preacher becomes as absorbed in that
   man as the man had been in the preacher. And while he pursues the
   discourse, gaining liberty at every step, till he forgets the formality
   of the pulpit in the freedom of conversation with the people, he
   perceives that at last this man has heard the very truth which meets
   his case. There is no concealing it. His features have suddenly
   relaxed. He listens still, but it is no longer with painful anxiety; a
   calm satisfaction is palpable on his face now. That soul of communion
   which is in the eye has unravelled the secret. Preacher and hearer,
   unknown to all the rest of the audience, have secretly saluted ench
   other, and met on the common ground of a vital faith. The anxious one
   feels that it can be done. And I can readily conclude that the apostle
   perceived that feeling with greater certainty than he would have done
   had the man whispered it in his ears. So have I sometimes known that
   the exhortation to believe has become from these lips a positive
   command to the struggling conscience of some one, who has been brought
   to a point where the remedy is instantly applied, and the cure
   instantly effected.

   Most unquestionably there is such a thing as faith to be saved. I do
   not know how many here may possess it; but, thank God, there are
   hundreds of you here who have faith that you are saved. That is better;
   that is the ripest faith, the faith which knows you are saved and
   rejoices in hope of the glory of God. Alas! there are others who have
   no faith at all. But it is with those who have faith, and that only
   faith to be saved, not faith that you are saved, I am more particularly
   concerned at this moment.

   Shall I describe this "faith to he saved?" for I believe that there may
   be some here who may just now stand upright on their feet; some who may
   at this time leap for joy of heart because they are saved and did not
   know it. You have "faith," but you have not fully exercised it. Now,
   you believe that Jesus Christ is God's Son? "Yes." That he has made a
   full atonement for his people? "Yes." You believe that they are his
   people who trust him? "Yes." You believe he is worthy to be trusted?
   "Yes." You have nothing else to trust to? "No, sir." You depend on
   nothing which you have ever felt, or thought, or done? "No, sir, I
   depend on nothing but Christ." And you do, after a sort of fashion,
   trust Christ. You hope that one of these days he will save you, and you
   think, and sometimes you almost know, he will. You are ready to trust
   him. You do believe he is able, you do not think he is unwilling; you
   have got faith in his ability, and you have almost got faith in his
   willingness; sometimes you half think to yourself, "I am a child of
   God." But then, there is some ugly "but" comes in. Those lame legs
   again; those lame legs again. You are still afraid. You have "faith to
   he saved," but you have not the full assurance of faith which can utter
   forth this joyous psalm, "Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust,
   and not he afraid: for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he
   also is become my salvation."

   Well now, I do not know whether I have picked you out, whether I have
   given a right description of you or not. I recollect the time when I
   was in that state. I can honestly say I did not doubt Christ. I then
   partly believed that he would save me. I knew he was worthy of my
   trust, and I did trust him as far as this, that I resolved, if I did
   perish, I would perish crying to him, and that if I was east away, it
   should be clinging to the cross. I believe I had "faith to be saved,"
   and was for months in bondage, when there was no necessity that I
   should have been in bondage at all, for, when there is "faith to he
   saved," then the man only needs that gracious command--"Stand upright
   on thy feet," and forthwith he leaps out of his infirmity, and walks
   freely in the integrity of his heart.

   III. I shall not enlarge further upon this, because I want to go to THE
   SPIRITUAL TEACHING OF THE MIRACLE, AND OF THE BLESSING CONFERRED.

   Are there not many, who though they have "faith to be saved," are still
   entirely lame or painfully limping? The reasons may be different in
   different cases. Some have been so stunned by the grief which they have
   suffered on account of sin, and the frightful convictions through which
   they have passed, that while they do believe that Christ is able and
   willing to save, they cannot get a hold of the fact that they are
   saved; such is the faintness of spirit and the languishing of soul
   brought on by long despair. "Stand upright on thy feet," thou trembling
   sinner. If thou believest in Jesus, whatever thy fears may be, there is
   no cause for them. As for thy sins, they were laid on him, every one of
   them, and though thou hast been sore broken in the land of dragons,
   thus saith the Lord unto thee, "I have put away thy sin; thou shalt not
   die; I have blotted out like a cloud thy transgressions, and like a
   thick cloud thy sins." Rejoice, then, and he glad. If you do trust
   Christ, you are saved; though as yet it only looketh like faith which
   heralds the tidings of a salvation which has not yet arrived. Still, it
   is the grace of God which bringeth salvation which has enabled thee to
   believe; and he who believeth on the Son bath everlasting life. O
   receive the welcome message; spring up at the sound of the words; stand
   upright on thy feet and rejoice.

   Some are still lame, though they have faith, through ignorance. They do
   not know what being saved is. They entertain wrong expectations. They
   are trusting in Christ, but they do not feel any surprising emotions;
   they have not had any remarkable dreams, or visions, or striking
   ebullitions of excited joy, and therefore, though they have "faith to
   be saved," they have not the faith of a present salvation. They are
   waiting for something, they hardly know what, to embellish their faith,
   or to fortify it with signs and wonders. Now, poor soul, wherefore do
   you wait? These things are not necessary to salvation. In fact, the
   fewer you have of them, methinks, the better, especially of things
   which are visionary. I rather tremble for those who talk much about
   sensible evidences; they are too often the frivolities of unstable
   hearts. Beloved, though you may have never had any ecstatic joys, or
   suffered any deep depression of your spirits, if you are resting on
   Christ, it does not matter one whit what your feelings have been or
   have not been. Do you expect to have an electric shock, or to go
   through some mysterious operation? The operation is mysterious, too
   mysterious for you to discern it; but all that you have to do with is
   this--"Do I believe in Jesus? Am I simply depending upon him for
   everything?" If you do you are saved, and I pray you to believe this.
   Stand upright on your feet, and leap for joy; for whether you believe
   it or not, if you are now depending upon Christ, your sins are forgiven
   you; you are a child of God; you are an heir of heaven.

   How many, too, are kept lame because of a fear of self-deception. "I do
   trust Christ, but I am afraid lest I should deceive myself; suppose I
   were to get confidence, and it should he presumption! suppose I should
   think myself saved, and I am not!" Now, sir, if thou wert dealing with
   thyself there would be reason to be afraid of presumption, but thy
   faith hath to deal with God, who cannot deceive thee, and with Christ
   who will never tempt thee to be a deceiver. Doth not the Lord Jesus
   Christ himself tell thee that if thou believest in him thou art saved?
   Thou believest that, dost thou not? Then, soul, if thou believest on
   him, it is not presumption to say, "I am saved." Away with all that
   affectation of modesty, which some good people think to he so
   pretty--saying, "I hope;" "I trust;" but "I feel such doubts, such
   fears, and such gloomy misgivings." My dear sir, that is not humility:
   that is a vain unseemly questioning of God. The God and Father of our
   Lord Jesus Christ tells you, and he gives his own unequivocal word for
   it, that if you rest upon Christ you rest upon a rock; that if you
   believe in him you are not condemned. Is it an evidence of the
   lowliness of your heart that you suspect the veracity of God, or the
   faithfulness of his promise? Surely this were no fruit of the meekness
   of wisdom. No, beloved; it may seem too good to he true, but it is not
   too good for my God to give, though it is too good for you to receive.
   You have his word for it, that if you trust his Son to save you, and
   simply trust him, and him alone, even if the pillars of the heavens
   should shake, yet you would be saved. If the foundations of the earth
   should reel, and the whole earth should like a vision pass away, yet
   this eternal promise and oath of God must stand fast.

   Others again, cannot stand upright on their feet, because they are
   afraid that if they did begin they would go back again, and so bring
   dishonor to Christ. This would be a very proper fear if you had
   anything to do with keeping yourselves. If you had to carry yourselves
   to heaven, it would he reasonable enough for you to despair of doing
   it. Of your own impotence it is impossible you can be too deeply
   convinced. You cannot do anything whatever, but Christ gives you his
   promise to preserve you even to the end. If you believe on him you
   shall be saved. He does not say you shall he saved for a year, or for
   twenty years, and then, perhaps, he lost at last. No; but "he that
   believeth and is baptized, shall he saved." If one man who believes in
   Christ is cast away, that promise of Christ is not true. Brethren, it
   is true, and it must he true, and let its glorious truth be sweetly
   familiar with you now--if you give your soul to Christ, putting simple
   faith in his person as the Son of God, and in his work as the Mediator
   between God and man, you shall as surely see his face within the pearly
   gates of heaven as your eyes see me to-night. There may he a question
   about your seeing me, but there can be no question about Christ
   fulfilling his promise and keeping his word. Now sit down in the dust
   no longer, thou doubting, mourning, trembling sinner. With a loud voice
   I say unto thee, as Paul did, "Stand upright on thy feet." Wherefore
   dost thou mourn? There is nothing to mourn about. Thy sin is forgiven;
   thine eternal salvation is secure; a crown in heaven is provided for
   thee, and a harp of gold awaits thee. If thou believest in Jesus none
   can lay anything to thy charge. Not even the principalities of darkness
   shall be able to prevail against thee. Eternal love secures thee
   against the malice of hell. Stand upright, then, on thy feet, for if
   thou believest thou art saved, completely saved, saved in time, and for
   eternal days, saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation.

   Then possibly there is one here who cannot stand upright because of his
   many sins. Ah! while I have been talking about Christ it may be
   something has been saying in your heart, "Ah! ah! what is it? Christ
   taking men's sins, suffering in their stead? That suits me. Is God
   doing this? Ah! then he must be able to save, and I am told that
   whosoever trusteth in him shall never perish; is it so? Why, here I am;
   I who have not been in a place of worship for months, for years, I have
   strayed in here to-night, and if what this man says be true, well then
   I will even venture my soul upon it; I have got nothing, I know, but he
   says there is nothing wanted; I am not prepared to trust Christ, but he
   says there is no preparation required, and if I trust Jesus Christ just
   as I am, Christ will save me; why, I will do it; by the grace of God I
   will do it; can he save me?" Then comes in the bitter reflection--"Look
   what a sinner I have been! why, I should be ashamed to say how foully I
   have sinned; he must shut me out; I have been too great a villain, too
   gross an offender; I have cursed and sworn at such a rate; he cannot
   mean that if I trust Christ I shall be saved; 1 believe he can save me;
   I see the fitness of the plan, and the excellency of it; I believe it,
   but see what a sinner I am!" Sinner, stand upright on thy feet, for
   "all manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men." Return,
   thou wanderer, return to thy Father's house! He comes to meet thee. On
   thy neck he will fall, and thou shalt be his child for ever. Only
   believe thou in his Son Jesus Christ, and though this he the first time
   thou hast ever heard his Word, I would settle mine eyes upon thee
   earnestly, and say, "Stand upright on thy feet."

   Oh! how often I do wish that somebody had come to me when I was under
   depression of mind, and had told me about the simple gospel of Jesus
   Christ. I think I should have stood upright on my feet long before I
   did, but, alas! I kept hearing about what people felt before they
   believed in Christ--very proper preaching--and I was afraid I did not
   feel it, though now I know I did. I heard a great deal about what
   Christians ought to be, and a great deal more about God's elect, what
   they are in his esteem, but I did not know whether I was one of God's
   elect, and I knew I was not what I ought to be. O for the trumpet of
   the archangel, to sound the words, "Believe and live," as loud as the
   voice which shall wake the dead in their graves! and O for the
   quickening Spirit to go with voice, as it shall go with the ringing of
   the archangel's trump, when the graves shall open, and the dead shall
   arise! Go, you who know it, and tell it everywhere, for there are
   multitudes, I doubt not, who are really seeking Christ, and who have
   his Spirit in them, but it is like as the prophet hath it, "The
   children have come to the birth and there is no strength to bring
   forth." They have come to the very edge of light, and they only want
   one helping hand to bring them into noonday. They are slipping about in
   the Slough of Despond, and they are almost out of it, but they want
   just a helping hand to pull them out. This hand of help is stretched
   out by thus telling them, telling them plainly, it is in Jesus their
   help is found, and that trusting him, relying upon him, they shall
   never perish. neither shall any pluck them out of his hand.

   I would to God that some of you, who have been long hearing me, might
   be found in this class. I have been bowed down in spirit at some sad
   things which have been brought to my hearing of late. I know that there
   are some here, and there always have been some few attending my
   ministry, who have a personal affection for me, and who listen to the
   Word with very great attention, and who, moreover, are very greatly
   moved by it, but who have some besetting sin which they either cannot
   or will not give up. They do renounce it for a time, but either bad
   associates, or else the strength of their passions, take them away
   again. O sirs! I would ye would take warning. There was one of whom we
   had some sort of hope, who listened to our ministry. There came a
   turning point with him; it was this, either that he must give up sin,
   or else give up coming to the Tabernacle; and what--oh! what became of
   him? I could indicate the place where he sat. He died of delirium
   tremens! And I do not wonder. When you have heard the gospel preached
   Sabbath after Sabbath, when your response to the solemn appeals you
   have earnestly listened to has only been that you reject Christ and
   refuse eternal life--is it any marvel that in making the choice of your
   own damnation reason should resign its seat as director of your
   actions, and cease to curb your headstrong will, leaving the maddened
   passions to dash on with reckless fury, and precipitate your
   destruction. Am I clear of their blood? I have asked myself the
   question. I may not be in some things, but I know I am as far as my
   ministry is concerned. I have not shunned to declare unto any of you
   the whole counsel of God. When I have known any vice, or any
   folly--which of you have I been afraid of, or before whom of you all
   have I trembled? God is my witness; him have I served in the spirit;
   and if these turn aside unto their crooked ways, they have not done it
   without well knowing the consequences; nay, they have not done it
   without being warned and entreated, and persuaded to look unto Jesus
   Christ. And I do conjure some of you--you know to whom I refer--I do
   conjure those of you who have a conscience which is not seared, but
   who, nevertheless, persevere in your sins--I conjure you by the love of
   God, do me this one favor at the last: if you choose your own ruin,
   bear witness for me that I have not hesitated to warn you of it. I had
   infinitely rather, however, that you would do yourselves this great
   favor, to love your own souls. If you have anything to throw into the
   fire, throw it in, but let it not be your soul. If you have anything to
   lose, go and lose it, but do not lose your soul. Sirs, if you must play
   the fool, indulge your sport at a cheaper rate than this. If sin be
   worth having, then I pray you pay a cheaper price than your own souls
   for it, for it does seem to me so pitiful, so sorrowful a thing, that
   you who have been so short a time among us and are passing away before
   my very eyes, should still prefer the fleeting joy of the moment to the
   eternal joy, and risk everlasting torment for temporary mirth. By the
   tears of Jesus when he wept over Jerusalem, by the blood of Jesus which
   he shed for guilty men, by the heart of the eternal Father who willeth
   not the death of a sinner but had rather that he should turn unto him
   and live, I pray you he wise and consider your ways. Choose ye this day
   whom ye will serve, and may the Lord guide your choice. May you fall
   into the arms of divine mercy and say, "If thou wilt help me, Jesus,
   here I am; I give myself to thee." May my Master teach me how to
   address you if I do not know how to gasp the words of simplicity,
   tenderness, of terrible apprehension, but of persuasive power. If there
   were any words in any language that would melt you, this tongue is at
   your service to utter them. If there is any form of speech, though it
   should make me to be called vulgar, and subject me to the shame and
   hissing which once I endured, if the furnace could be heated seven
   times hotter than that, I would but laugh at it if I might but win your
   souls. Tell me, sirs, how shall I put the case? Would you have
   argument? I wish that I could reason with you. Would you have tears?
   There, let them flow! Ye dry eyes, why do ye not weep more for these
   perishing souls? Would you have God's Word without my word? Sirs, I
   would read it, and let my tongue he dumb if that would teach you. Would
   my death save you? That God who seeth in secret knoweth that to-night
   it were a joy to me to enter into my rest, and so it were little for me
   to talk of being willing to give a life for you, and it were, indeed,
   but a trifle to me. Oh! why will ye perish? Why should I plead with
   you, and you not care for yourselves? What is it that besets you? Poor
   moths! Are ye dazzled with the flames? Are ye not content to have
   singed your wings? Must they also consume body and soul? How can ye
   make your bed in hell? How can ye abide with eternal burnings? In the
   name of Jesus of Nazareth, I command you--for I can do no less--I
   command you to turn unto him and live. Believe on him and you shall he
   saved. But remember, at your hazard you reject the message to-night. It
   may he the last message that shall ever come to your soul with power,
   if ye cast this away--

   "What chains of vengeance must they feel,

   Who slight the bonds of love?"

   I would have you saved just now. I cannot talk about to-morrow. I would
   have you decide it at once. Oh! you have come as far as this twenty
   times, and have you gone back again? You have been aroused, you have
   made vows and you have broken them, resolutions and you have belied
   them. O sirs, for God's sake do not lie to the Almighty again. Now be
   true this time. May the Spirit of God make you speak the truth, even
   though you should he compelled to say, through your wickedness, "I will
   not submit myself unto the Son of God." Do speak the truth.
   Procrastinate not. As Elijah said, "How long halt ye between two
   opinions?" so say I. If God he God serve him, but if Baal he God serve
   him. But do not keep on coming here and then going to the pot-house. Do
   not come and take your seat here and then go to the brothel. Sirs, do
   not this foul scandal for God's sake, and for your own sake. If you
   will serve the devil serve him, and he a true servant to him. If you
   mean to go to hell, go there; but if you seek eternal life and joys to
   come, give up these things. Renounce them. Why drink poison and drink
   medicine too? Have done with one or the other and be honest. Be honest
   to your own souls. May the Lord grant that tonight some may have given
   to them, not only "faith to be saved," but the faith which saves, for
   his name's sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                   Christ is Glorious--Let Us Make Him Known

   A Sermon

   (No. 560)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 20th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "And he shall stand and feed in the strength of the Lord, in the
   majesty of the name of the Lord his God; and they shall abide: for now
   shall he be great unto the ends of the earth."--Micah 5:4.

   YOU HAVE A VERY VIVID IDEA of the sufferings of Christ. Your faith has
   seen him sweating great drops of blood in the garden of Gethsemane. You
   have looked on with amazement while he gave his back to the smiters,
   and his cheeks to them who plucked off the hair, and hid not his face
   from shame and spitting. With sorrowful sympathy you have followed him
   through the streets of Jerusalem, weeping and bewailing him with the
   women. You have sat down to watch him when he was fastened to the tree;
   yon have wept at his hitter complaint--"My God, my God, why hast thou
   forsaken me?" and you have rejoiced in his shout of victory--"It is
   finished!" With Magdalene and Nicodemus, you have followed his dead
   body to the tomb, and seen it wrapped about with spices, and left to
   its lonely sleep. Are your perceptions quite as keen concerning the
   glory which did follow and is following? Can you see him quite as
   distinctly when on the third morn the Conqueror rises, bursting the
   bonds of death with which he could not be holden? Can yon as clearly
   view him ascending up on high, leading captivity captive? Can you hear
   the ring of angelic clarions, as with dyed garments from Bozrah the
   Yictor returns from the battle, dragging death and hell at his chariot
   wheels? Do you plainly perceive him as he takes his seat at the right
   hand of the Father, henceforth expecting until his enemies be made his
   footstool? And can you be as clear this morning about the reigning
   Christ as you have been about the suffering Christ? Lo! my brethren,
   "the Lion of the tribe of Juda, the Root of David, hath prevailed to
   open the book, and to loose the seven seals thereof!" At this hour he
   goeth forth, riding upon his white horse, conquering and to conquer.
   Lo! at his girdle swing the keys of heaven, and death, and hell, for
   "the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be
   called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, T he everlasting Father,
   The Prince of Peace." "God also hath highly exalted him, and given him
   a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee
   should bow." Behold him, my brethren, in his present plenitude of
   glory, and endeavor to get as clear a perception of it as you have had
   of his shame. Not only weep at his burial, but rejoice at his
   resurrection; not only sorrow at his cross, but worship at his throne.
   Do not merely think of the nails and of the spear, but behold the
   imperial purple which hangs so nobly upon his royal shoulders, and of
   the divine crown which he wears upon his majestic brow.

   I want to conduct you in such a frame of mind through the glories of my
   text. First, bidding you observe the perpetual reign of Christ: "He
   shall stand and feed in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the
   name of the Lord his God;" then I shall beg you to observe that flowing
   from this is the perpetual continuance of his church: "and they shall
   abide;" and then proceeding both from his continued reign and from the
   Church's consequent perpetual existence comes the greatness of our
   King: "for now shall he be great unto the ends of the earth."

   I. At the outset, observe carefully THE PERPETUAL REIGN OF CHRIST. He
   lives, he reigns, he is king over his people.

   Notice first, that his reign is shepherd-like in its nature. The kings
   of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, but our Master washed his
   disciples' feet. Earthly monarchs are often tyrants; their yoke is
   heavy, and their language domineering; but it is not so with our King;
   his yoke is easy, and his burden is light, for he is meek and lowly of
   heart. He is a shepherd-king. He has supremacy, but it is the
   superiority of a wise and tender shepherd over his needy and loving
   flock; he commands and receives obedience, but it is the willing
   obedience of the well-cared-for sheep, rendered joyfully to their
   beloved Shepherd, whose voice they know so well. He rules by the force
   of love and the energy of goodness. His power lies not in imperious
   threatenings, but in imperial lovingkindness. Let the children of Zion
   he joyful in their King, for "men shall be blessed in him: all nations
   shall call him blessed." Never people had such a king before. His
   service is perfect freedom; to be his subject is to be a king; to serve
   him is to reign. Blessed are the people who are the sheep of his
   pasture; if they follow in his footsteps their road is safe; if they
   sleep at his feet no lion can disturb their peace; if they are fed from
   his hand they shall lie down in green pastures, and know no lack; if
   they abide close to his person they shall drink of rivers of delight.
   Righteousness and peace are the stability of his throne, joy and
   gladness are the ornaments of his reign. Oh! how happy are we who
   belong to such a prince. Thou King in Jeshurun, we pay thee homage with
   loyal hearts; we come into thy presence with thanksgiving, and into thy
   courts with praise, for thou art our God, and we are the people of thy
   pasture, and the sheep of thy hand.

   Notice that the reign of Jesus is practical in its character. It is
   said "he shall stand and feed." The great Head of the Church is
   actively engaged in providing for his people. He does not sit down upon
   the throne in empty state, or hold a scepter without wielding it in
   government. No, he stands and feeds. The expression "feed," in the
   original is like an analogous one in the Greek, which means to
   shepherdize, to do everything expected of a shepherd: to guide, to
   watch, to preserve, to tend, as well as to feed. Our Lord Jesus Christ,
   the great Head of the Church, is always actively engaged for the
   Church's good. Through him the Spirit of God constantly descends upon
   the members of the Church; by him ministers are given in due season,
   and all Church-officers in their proper place. When he ascended up on
   high he received gifts for men; "And he gave some, apostles; and some,
   prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; for
   the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the
   edifying of the body of Christ." Our Lord does not close his eyes to
   the state of his Church. Beloved, he is not a listless spectator of our
   wants. He is this day standing and feeding his people. They are
   scattered, I know, wide as the poles asunder, but our mighty Shepherd
   can see every sheep and lamb of his flock, and he gives them all their
   portion of meat in due season. He it is that like a mighty Breaker,
   goes forth at the head of his flock, and they follow where he clears
   the way, "He shall stand and feed." Oh! blessed carefulness and divine
   activity of our gracious King! always fighting against our enemies, and
   at the same the shedding his benignant influences upon his friends.

   Consider again, for it is in our text, that this active reign is
   continual in its duration. It is said, "He shall stand and feed;" not "
   he shall feed now and then, and then leave his position;" not, "he
   shall one day grant a revival, and then next day leave his Church to
   barrenness." Beloved, there is no such pastor as Christ. "I know my
   sheep," he can say, in a very high and peculiar sense. He knows them
   through and through; he feels with them; in all their afflictions he is
   afflicted; he is one with them eternally. There is no such wakeful
   watchman as the Lord Jesus. Is it not written, "I the Lord do keep it;
   I will water it every moment: lest any hurt it, I will keep it night
   and day." Those eyes never slumber, and those hands never rest; that
   heart never ceases to beat with love, and those shoulders are never
   weary of carrying his people's burdens. The Church may go through her
   dark ages, but Christ is with her in the midnight. She may pass through
   her fiery furnace, but Christ is in the midst of the flame with her.
   Her whole history through, wherever you find the Church, there shall
   you find the Church's Lord. The head is never severed from the body,
   nor is the watchful care of this gracious husband towards his spouse
   suspended for an instant.

   I beseech you labor to realize the noble picture. Here are his sheep in
   these pastures this morning, and here is our great Shepherd with the
   crown upon his head, standing and feeding us all; nay, not us all
   alone, but dispensing his tender mercies to all the multitudes of his
   elect throughout the whole world. He is at this moment King in Zion,
   ruling, and overruling, present everywhere, and everywhere showing
   himself strong in the defense of his saints. I would that our Churches
   could be more influenced by a belief in the abiding power, presence,
   and pre-eminence of their living and reigning Lord. He is no dead King
   whose memory we are bidden to embalm, but a living Leader and Commander
   whose behests we must obey, whose honor we must defend.

   Do not fail to discern that the empire of Christ in his Church is
   effectually powerful in its action; "He shall feed in the strength of
   Jehovah." Wherever Christ is, there is God; and whatever Christ does is
   the act of the Most High. Oh! it is a joyful truth to consider that he
   who redeemed us was none other than God himself, he who led oar
   captivity captive was Jehovah-Jesus; he who stands to-day representing
   the interests of his people is very God of very God, he who has sworn
   that every one of his people whom he hath redeemed by blood shall be
   brought safe to his Father's right hand, is himself essential Deity. O
   my brethren, we rest upon a sure foundation when we build upon the
   Incarnate God; and O ye saints of God, the interests of each one of
   you, and of the one great Church, must be safe, because our champion is
   God; Jehovah is our Judge, Jehovah is our Lawgiver, Jehovah is our
   King, he will save us. How can he fail or be discouraged? When he
   maketh bare his arm, who shall stand against him? Let us rehearse the
   mighty deeds of the Lord and tell of his wonders of old. Remember how
   he got him victory upon Pharaoh and the pride of Egypt! Pharaoh said,
   "Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice to let Israel go?" Ten
   plagues of terrible majesty taught the boaster that the Lord was not to
   be despised, and the humbled tyrant bade the people go their way. With
   a high hand and an outstretched arm did the Lord bring forth his people
   from the house of bondage. When the proud high stomach of Egypt's king
   again rose against the Most High, the Lord knew how to lay his
   adversary lower than the dust. Methinks I see the hosts of Mizraim,
   with their horses and their chariots, hurrying after the Lord's
   fugitives. Their mouths are foaming with rage. "The enemy said, I will
   pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil; my lust shall be
   satisfied upon them." See how they ride in all their pompous glory,
   swallowing the earth in their fury. O Israel, where shall be thy
   defense? How shalt thou escape from thy tyrannic master? Be still, O ye
   seed of Jacob; ye sons of Abraham, rest ye patiently, for these
   Egyptians whom ye see to-day, ye shall see no more for ever. With their
   horses and their chariots the fierce foemen descended into the depths
   of the sea, but the Lord looked upon them, and troubled them. "Thou
   didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: they sank as lead in
   the mighty waters." The depths have covered them; they sank into the
   bottom like a stone. "Let us sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed
   gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea."
   Surely it shall be so at the last with Jesus our King, and all his
   saints; we also shall sing "the song of Moses, the servant of God, and
   of the Lamb," in that day when the arch-enemy shall be overthrown, and
   the hosts of evil shall be consumed, and they who hate the Lord shall
   become as the fat of rams, into smoke shall they consume, yea, into
   smoke shall they consume away.

   One other word remains; our Lord's kingdom is most majestic in its
   aspect. You will observe it is written by the prophet--"He shall feed
   in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God." Jesus Christ is
   greatly to be reverenced; the familiarity with which we approach him is
   always to be tempered with the deepest and most reverent adoration. He
   is our brother, bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, but still he
   counteth it not robbery to be equal with God. I know he made himself of
   no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and he calleth
   himself to-day our husband, and maketh us to be members of his body, of
   his flesh, and of his bones; but yet we must never forget that it is
   written, "Let all the angels of God worship him," and "At the name of
   Jesus every knee shall bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth,
   and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that
   Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Yes, Christ is
   majestic in his Church. I would, brethren, we always thought of this.
   There is a glory and a majesty about all the laws of Christ, and all
   his commands, so that whether we baptize at his command, or break bread
   in remembrance of him, or lift up his cross in ministry--in whatever we
   do, in his name, which is in fact, what he does through us, there is an
   attendant majesty which should make our minds feel perpetually reverent
   before him. O that the world could see the glory of Christ in the
   Church! O that the world did but know who it is that is in the midst of
   the few, the feeble, the weak, the foolish as they call them. O
   Philistia! if thou didst but know who is our champion, thy Goliath of
   Gath would soon hide his diminished head. O Assyria, if thou didst but
   know that the ancient might of him who smote Sennacherib, still abideth
   with us, thy hosts would turn their backs and yield us an easy victory.
   There is a true and mysterious presence of Christ with his people,
   according to the promise "Lo I am with you alway, even unto the end of
   the world;" it is because the world ignores this that she despises and
   sneers at the Church of God. Therein is our comfort and our glory. We
   have a majesty about us if we be the people of God, which is not to be
   gainsayed; angels see it and wonder--a majesty of indwelling Godhead,
   for the Lord is in the midst of us for a glory and around us for a
   defense.

   II. We will now occupy one or two minutes with THE CONSEQUENT
   PERPETUITY OF THE CHURCH. Because of the unseen but most certain
   presence of Christ as King in the midst of his people, his Church
   ABIDES--so says the text. Here reflect first that a Church exists. What
   a wonder this! It is perhaps, the greatest miracle of all ages that God
   has a Church in the world. You who are conversant with human history
   will hear me out when I say that the whole history of the Church is a
   series of miracles, a long stream of wonders! A little spark kindled in
   the midst of oceans, and yet all her boisterous waves cannot quench it!
   Here is the great wonder which John saw in vision, and which history
   reveals in solemn, sober fact. A woman, "being with child, cried,
   travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered. And there appeared
   another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon . . . stood
   before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her
   child as soon as it was born." The man-child who is to rule all nations
   with a rod of iron, was brought forth and caught up to God and to his
   throne. As for the woman, the Church, she fled as on eagles' wings to
   her wilderness-shelter prepared of God, until, in great wrath, the
   dragon pursued and persecuted her. Apt enough is that metaphor, "The
   serpent cast out of his mouth water as a flood after the woman that he
   might cause her to be carried away of the flood . . . And the dragon
   was wroth with the woman, and went to make war with the remnant of her
   seed, which keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of
   Jesus Christ." Yet, my brethren, as surely as that glorious man-child,
   the Lord Jesus, lives and sits upon the throne, so surely shall the
   woman, the poor afflicted Church, live on until the dragon's time is
   over, and the King shall reign upon the earth.

   To what trials, my brethren, has not the Church of God been subjected?
   What new invention can Satan bring forth? The fire, the rack,
   imprisonment, banishment, confiscation, slander, all these have been
   tried, and in them all the Church has been more than conqueror through
   him who loved her. False doctrine without, heresy and schism with in,
   hypocrisy, formalism, fanaticism, pretences of high spirituality,
   worldliness, these have all (lone their worst. I marvel at the wondrous
   ingenuity of the great enemy of the Church, but methinks his devices
   must nearly have come to an end. Can he invent anything further? We
   have been astounded in these ages by the prodigy of an infidel bishop;
   we have been struck dumb with sorrow and amazement at a decree which
   declares that a Church professing to be a Church of Christ must permit
   men to be her ministers who deny the inspiration of Holy Scripture.
   This is a new thing under the sun. Popery and infidelity are to be both
   legalized and fostered in a Church professing to be Christian and
   Protestant. What next? and what next? Bat what of all this? The Church,
   I mean the company of the Lord's called and faithful and chosen still
   exists; the Lord has his elect people who still hold forth the Word of
   truth, and in the most reprobate Church still he may say, "I hay e a
   few names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments; and
   they shall walk with me in white; for they are worthy."

   Observe, the text says, "she abides," which means, not that she exists
   now and then by starts and spasms, but she exists always. This is
   wonderful! Always a Church! When the full force of the Pagan Emperors
   came like a thundering avalanche upon her, she shook off the stupendous
   load as a man shaketh the flakes of snow from his garment, and she
   lived on uninjured. When papal Rome vented its malice yet more
   furiously and ingeniously; when cruel murderers hunted the saints among
   the Alps, or worried them in the low country; when Albigenses and
   Waldenses poured out their blood in rivers, and dyed the snow with
   crimson, she lived still, and never was in a healthier state than when
   she was immersed in her own gore. When after a partial reformation in
   this country, the pretenders to religion determined that the truly
   spiritual should be harried out of the land, God's Church did not sleep
   or suspend her career of life or service. Let the covenant signed in
   blood witness to the vigor of the persecuted saints. Hearken to her
   psalm amidst the brown heath-clad hills of Scotland, and her prayer in
   the secret conventicles of England. Hear ye the voice of Cargil and
   Cameron thundering among the mountains against a false king and an
   apostate people; hear ye the testimony of Bunyan and his compeers who
   would sooner rot in dungeons than bow the knee to Baal. Ask me "Where
   is the Church?" and I can find her at any and every period from the day
   when first in the upper room the Holy Ghost came down even until now.
   In. one unbroken line our apostolic succession runs; not through the
   Church of Rome; not from the superstitious hands of priest-made popes,
   or king-created bishops, (what a varnished lie is the apostolic
   succession of those who boast so proudly of it!) but through the blood
   of good men and true, who never forsook the testimony of Jesus; through
   the loins of true pastors, laborious evangelists, faithful martyrs, and
   honorable men of God, we trace our pedigree up to the fishermen of
   Galilee and glory that we perpetuate by God's grace that true and
   faithful Church of the living God, in whom Christ did abide and will
   abide until the world's crash.

   Observe, dear friends, that in the use of the term "Abide," we have not
   only existence, and continued existence, but the idea of quiet, calm,
   uninjured duration. It does not say she lingers, hunted, tempted,
   worried, but she abides. Ohm! the calmness of the Church of God under
   the attacks of her most malicious foes. Thou crue1 adversary, the
   virgin daughter of Zion hath shaken her head at thee and laughed thee
   to scorn! She abides in peace when the world rages against her. It is
   most noteworthy how in most instances the Church of God still keeps her
   foothold where she has been most savagely persecuted. In modern times
   we find in Madagascar, after years of exterminating persecution, the
   Church of God rises from her ashes, like the phoenix from the flames.
   The chief wonder is that she abides perfect. Not one of Cod's elect has
   gone back; not one of the blood-bought has denied the faith. Not one
   single soul which ever was effectually called call be made to dolly
   Christ, even though his flesh should be pulled from his bones by hot
   pincers, or his tormented body flung to the jaws of wild beasts. All
   that the enemy has done has been of no avail against the Church. The
   old rock has been washed, and washed, and washed again by stormy waves,
   and submerged a thousand times in the floods of tempest, hut even her
   angles and corners abide unaltered and unalterable. We may say of the
   Lord's tabernacle, not one of he stakes thereof has been removed, nor
   one of her cords boom broken. The house of he Lord from foundation to
   pinnacle is perfect still: "The rain descended, and the floods came,
   and the winds blew, and beat upon that house and it fell not;" nay, nor
   a single stone of it "for it was founded upon a rock."

   But why all this, dear friends, why is it that we have seen the Church
   endure to this day? How is it that we are confident that even should
   worse times arrive, the Church would weather the storm and abide till
   moons shall cease to wax and wane? Why this security? Only because
   Christ is in the midst of her. You do not believe, I hope, in the
   preservation of orthodoxy by legal instruments and trust deeds. This is
   what too many Dissenters have relied upon. We certainly cannot depend
   upon creeds; they arc good enough in their way, as trust deeds are too,
   but they are as broken reeds if we rely upon them. We cannot depend
   upon parliament, nor kings, nor queens. We may draw up the most express
   and distinct form of doctrine, but we shall find that the next
   generation will depart from the truth unless God shall be pleased to
   give it renewed grace from on high. You cannot, by Presbytery, or
   Independency, or Episcopacy, secure the life of the Church--I find the
   Church of God has existed under an Episcopacy--a form of government not
   without its virtues and its faults. I find the Church of God flourish
   under a Presbytery, and decay under it too. I know it can be successful
   under an Independent form of Church government and can decline into
   Arianism quite as easily. The fact is that forms of government have
   very little to do with the vital principle of the Church. The reason
   why the Church of God exists is not her ecclesiastical regulations,
   11cr organization, her formularies, her ministers, or her creeds, but
   the presence of the Lord in the midst of her; and while Christ lives,
   and Christ reigns, and stands and feeds his Church, she is safe; but if
   he were once gone, it would be with her as it is with you and with me
   when the Spirit of God has departed from us, we are weak as other men,
   and she would be quite as powerless.

   III. But now, thirdly, flowing from both these, from the perpetual
   presence of Christ and from the continued existence of his Church, is
   THE GREATNESS OF OUR KING. "Now shall he be great unto the ends of the
   earth." Christ is great in his Church. Oh! how great in our hearts
   where he reigns supreme! My heart, it doth leap at the sound of his
   name--

   "Jesus, the very thought of thee,

   With rapture fills may breast."

   O for crowns! for golden crowns! Let us crown him King in Zion! O for a
   well-tuned harp, and for David's feet, to dance before the ark at the
   very mention of Jesus' name! Now shall he be great indeed in our
   hearts! But he is to be great to the ends of the earth. That is a
   promise, of which we will say it is accomplished in a measure even now.
   Christ is made great ill the conversion of every sinner. When he
   suppliant penitent cries, "God be merciful to me a sinner," and the
   peace-speaking blood comes dropping upon the troubled conscience, and
   the soul bows meekly to accept he finished righteousness, then is
   Christ great. And he is great in the consecration of every one of his
   bloodbought saints; when they live for him; when in their prayers they
   make mention of him; when they give him their heart's music, their
   life's light, and their hips' testimony; when they feel that
   tribulation is joyous if endured for him, and the sternest toil a dear
   delight when undertaken for his sake--then Christ is great. Think, my
   brethren, this morning, how many ships are now furrowing the blue sea
   in which there are hearts which love the name of Jesus. Hark! across
   the waves of the Atlantic and the Pacific I hear the sound of prayer
   and praise from many a vessel bearing the British flag. From many an
   islet of the sea the song is borne upon the breeze. And there across
   the waters in the land of our American brethren, now so sadly chastened
   with war, multitudes of hearts beat as high as ours at the mention of
   the Savior's name. Here across you narrow Channel, in Holland, in
   Sweden, in Germany, in Switzerland, and even in France and Italy, how
   many own his name and praise him this day! We speak of our Queen's
   dominions and say that the sun never sets upon them. We may in truth
   say this of our Lord Jesus; men of all colors trust in his blood; they
   who look upward to the southern cross and they who follow the Polar
   star, alike worship his dear name; and when England ceases her strain
   of joy, in the hush of night, Australia takes up the song, and so from
   land to land, and from shore to shore, a sacrifice of a pure offering
   is brought to his shrine. It is accomplished, in some degree, but oh!
   how small the degree when we think of the thick darkness which covers
   the multitude of the people.

   Again, it is a promise which is guaranteed as to its fulfillment in the
   fullest sense. Courage! brethren, courage! the night is not for ever,
   the morning cometh! Watchman, what sayest thou? Are there not streaks
   reddening the east? Hath not the God of day, the Lord Jesus, began to
   shoot his divine arrows of light upwards into the thick darkness? It is
   even so. As I think of the signs of the times, I would fondly hope that
   we shall live to see brighter and better days. "Now," says the text,
   "shall he be great unto the ends of the earth." Prophet, I would that
   thy "now" were true this day. Now, even mow, let him reign! why doth he
   tarry? Why are his chariots so long in coming? Will it be, my brethren,
   that Christ will come before the world is converted? If so, welcome
   Jesus. Or will the world be converted first? If so, thrice welcome the
   mercy. But whether or no, this we do know, he shall have dominion from
   sea to sea, and from the river even unto the ends of the earth. They
   who dwell in the wilderness shall bow before him, and his enemies shall
   lick the dust. The day shall come when the fifth great monarchy shall
   be co-extensive with the world's bounds, and everywhere the Great
   Shepherd shall reign.

   But remember, dear friends, that while this promise is thus guaranteed
   as to its fulfillment, it is to be prayed for as to its accomplishment.
   "I will yet for this be enquired of by the house of Israel, to do it
   for them." The mountain of the Lord shall be in the latter days, but
   mark you, though there be no sound of trowel or a hammer, there will be
   heard be sound of prayer and praise, as upward the mountain of Cod's
   house shall ascend. You know the picture. The prophet had seen the
   Lord's house standing, as it were, in a valley, and as he looked upon
   it, presently it became a little hill; the ground began to heave;
   by-and-by it had swollen from a little hill into a lofty mountain, and
   up it rose, and grew more great before his eyes, till Alps were dwarfed
   and Himalayas were stunted, and up it still went, not the house only,
   but the mountain too, till infinitely higher than the projected tower
   of Babel, which man meant to be the world's center, this house stood
   out clear and sharp above the clouds, having pinnacles high up in God's
   heaven, and yet deep foundations in man's earth, and all nations began
   to flow to it as to the great center. What a dream! What a vision! Yet
   such shall it be. The Church is as it were, in a plain just now, she
   begins to misc. Oh! stupendous movement! she begins to rise, her
   mountains swell and grow; she attracts observers; she cannot he held
   down. Who can attempt to restrain the swelling mass? Who shall prevent
   the gigantic birth? Up rises the mountain, as though swollen by some
   inward fire, anti up it swells, and swells, and swells, till earth
   touches heaven, and God communes with men. Then shah be heard the great
   hallelujah, "The tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with
   them."

   But then, and this is the conclusion, and I hope God may help me to
   press it on your hearts. All this is to be labored for as well as
   prayed after. My soul pants and pines to see Christ glorious in the
   eyes of men. Lives there a Christian here with soul so dead that he
   does not desire the extension of his Master's kingdom? Sirs, is there
   one among you who counts it little to see Jesus Christ lifted up in
   men's hearts? I know I speak to a people--and the Lord knoweth it to
   many of whom Christ is he dearest of all which is beloved, the fairest
   among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely. Now, if Christ is to be
   glorified, he must be glorified by you; if his kingdom is to come, it
   must come through you. God works, but God works by means. He worketh in
   you "to will and to do of his own good pleasure." Souls are to be
   saved, but they are not saved without instruments. The feast is to be
   furnished with guests, but you are to go into the highways and hedges,
   and compel them to come in. I know my Master is to have many crowns,
   but they are to be crowns for which you grace, and which you have
   fought, which you have won through his you place at his feet, that he
   may honor you by wearing them upon his brow. Now we, as a people, have
   been greatly blessed and helped of God, and I believe the Master has a
   very high claim upon us. We, above all the Churches in the world are
   indebted to the grace and mercy of God, and we ought to be doing
   something for the extension of the Savior's kingdom. We cannot boast of
   wealth; we cannot profess to build all over London a multitude of
   Churches as the Bishop hopes to do. Any scheme of raising three
   millions of money by us, must be looked upon as being entirely a dream;
   we cannot attempt such a. thing; if London is to be converted by money
   we must give up the task. We have no mitred bishops, no queens to
   subscribe, and no nobles and dukes, and the like to add their thousands
   and their tens of thousands of pounds. We are a feeble folk; what then
   can we do for Cod? Why, do as much as the strong! What call we do for
   God? Do as munch as the mighty! Nay, my brethren, our very weakness and
   want of power shah be our adaptation to Cod's work; and he who often
   putteth by the sword of Saul, and the armor of the son of Kish, will
   use David, and his sling and his stone, and smite Goliath's brow
   therewith.

   I have been musing all this week upon that celebrated scene in ancient
   history, which seems to me to be so much like the state of our Church
   just now; the story of Gideon, the son of Joash, threshing wheat in the
   winepress, because he was afraid to be seen; the Midianites having
   spoiled the land. Now we, as Baptists, have generally been too much
   afraid to be seen; we have threshed our corn somewhere away in the
   winepress--up a back court--down a narrow street; any dirty hole would
   do to build a chapel in; so long as people could not find it tine site
   was thought advantageous; and if nobody could ever see it that was the
   place for our fathers, and for some who still linger among us. It was
   threshing wheat in the winepress, to hide it from the enemy. Well now,
   I think the time has come that we should not be afraid of these
   Midianites any longer. Long has he Church of God been oppressed and
   kept back; she has been content to let the world devour liner increase.
   There have been few additions to the Churches; they remain very much
   what they were twenty or thirty years ago; but, my brethren, some of us
   think that we have seen our fleece wet with dew, while all around was
   dry; and we believe the Lord has said to us, "The Lord is with thee,
   thou mighty man of valor." We think we have had the Lord's commission,
   "Go in this thy strength." We do not expect all of you to go with us,
   for the people are too many. We expect that there are many of the
   trembling and faint-hearted who will step back from the battle; men who
   are look ill for their families, mind must provide for them; men who
   are saving up money, and grudge their sovereigns, and so on--these of
   course will stand back, and let them; such men encumber our march. We
   fear that you are not all men who lap; but we have a few who care ery
   little for the ease and repose of life, but who snatch a hasty draught
   as they run, and with heat, and zeal, and passionate earnestness run to
   meet the adversary. Now, these we expect to go with us to the fray. In
   the name of the Lord, I proclaim a new crusade against the sin and vice
   of this huge city. What are we to do? The hosts of Midian are to be
   counted by millions. Here in this great city we have three millions of
   people, and what if I were to say, two-and-half millions of them do not
   know their right hand from their left in matters of religion, I believe
   I should speak too charitably; for if I could believe there were half a
   million of true believers in London, I should have vastly greater hopes
   of it than I have now. But, alas! that is not the case. Millions,
   millions are gathered in he valley of indecision who are not upon the
   Lord's side. What can you and I do? We can do nothing of ourselves, but
   we can do everything by he help of our God. Where Christ is there is
   might and where God is there is strength; let us therefore in God's
   name determine to plant new Churches wherever openings occur. Like
   Gideon's men let us rally under our Church-officers, and follow where a
   warm heart leads the way. Gideon took his men, and bade them do two
   things; covering up a torch in an earthen pitcher, he bade them, at an
   appointed signal, break tine pitcher and let the light shine, and then
   sound with their trumpets, crying, "The sword of the Lord and of
   Gideon! the sword of he Lord and of Gideon!" This is just what all
   Christians must do. First, you must shine; break the pitcher which
   conceals you; throw aside the bushel which has been hiding your candle,
   and shine. Let your light shine before men; let your good works be
   such, that when they look upon you, they shall know that you have been
   with Jesus. There is much good done by the shining. Then there must be
   the sound, the blowing of the trumpet. O dear friends, the great mass
   of London will never hear r the gospel, unless you go and blow the
   trumpet in their ears. Many who are members of this Church never heard
   a gospel sermon, until they heard some of you preaching in the street.
   "Why," said one "I never went to a place of worship; but I went down a
   street, and there stood a young man at the corner; I listened to him,
   and God was pleased to send tine arrow to my conscience, and I came
   into the house of God afterwards." Take the gospel to them; carry it to
   their door; put it in their way; do not suffer them to escape it; blow
   the trumpet right against their ears. In the name of God, I pray you do
   this. Remember that the true war cry of the Church is Gideon's war-cry,
   "The sword of the Lord!" God must do it, it is God's work. But we are
   not to be idle; instrumentality is to be used--"The sword of the Lord
   and of Gideon!" Mark you, if we only cry, "The sword of the Lord!" we
   shall be guilty of an idle presumption, and shall be tempting God to
   depart from his fixed rule of procedure. This is the cry of every, lazy
   lie-n-bed. What good ever comes of saying, "The Lord will do his own
   work, let us sit still?" Nor must it be "The sword of Gideon" alone,
   for that were idolatrous reliance on an arm of flesh; we can do nothing
   of ourselves. Not "The sword of the Lord" only, that were idleness; but
   the two together, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon." O my brethren,
   God help you to learn this lesson well, and then you will go forth
   shining and sounding, living and teaching, testifying and living out
   the truth? Ye shall most assuredly make the kingdom of Christ to come,
   and his name shall be honored if you will do this. It seems to me that
   now is a glorious opportunity. There is a spirit of hearing upon the
   people. Almost anyone may get a hearing who is willing to preach
   Christ. Now or never! Sons of Jacob! Ye are to be like a lion among the
   flock of sheep, and will ye lie down and slumber? Up and every man to
   the prey! Sons of Jacob! ye are to be as dew upon the grass, and will
   ye tarry for men and wait for the sons of men? No. In God's name, go
   forward, and let something be done for God, and for his Christ, for a
   perishing age, for a dark world, for heaven's glory, and for hell's
   defeat. Up! ye who know the Lord; ye swordsmen of our Israel, up and at
   them, and God give you a great victory and deliverance!

   I want you to make some practical point of these things to-day. God has
   been pleased to put a sword into my hand, and to give me my lamp and my
   pitcher; my College of young men is now become in the Lord's hands a
   marvellous power for good. A blessing greater than I could have
   expected rests on this work. We are continually sending them out, and
   God owns them in the conversion of souls. I have never seen any agency
   more blessed to the conversion of souls, than the agency of our
   College. Without saying anything to depreciate other efforts, I do
   believe God has conferred on our Institution a crowning and special
   blessing, and will continue to do so yet more and more. I want you all,
   both hearers and readers of my sermons, to feel that this is your work,
   and to help me in it while I continue to cry, "The sword of the Lord
   and of Gideon! God works, and therefore we work; God is with us, and
   therefore we are with God, and stand on his side. Inasmuch as many of
   these men raise Churches, we want you to help to build the places where
   the new congregations can be accommodated afterwards; and to that end
   we have striven to raise a fund of five thousand pounds, to be lent out
   to these new Churches on loan to be repaid by installments without
   interest. It is but a small sum, but it is as much as I think we can
   do, and frugal care will turn it to good account. Some three thousand
   pounds have been promised by our seven shepherds and principal men; but
   there are many who have not promised anything yet, and we shall be glad
   if they will come forward, for otherwise this useful fund cannot be
   raised. When this is done with, once for all, we will go on and do
   something else for Jesus. Do break this pitcher; get this done, and let
   tine light of this thing shine. We must be doing something for God. I
   speak to you now upon the practical point, and come to it at once. If
   you are content to live without serving God, I am not; and if you are
   willing to let these hours roll by without doing something to extend
   the kingdom of Jesus, let me be gone from you; let me be gone from you
   to those of warmer spirits and of holier aspirations, for I must fight
   for God! there must be victories won for him! We must extend the range
   of the gospel; we must find places where souls can be brought to hear
   the Word. Hell shall not for ever laugh at our inactivity, and heaven
   shall not eternally weep at our sloth! Let us be up and doing, and let
   this thing be done by the mainly, the few have already done their
   parts. Promises reaching over five years are asked of you, you can all
   do something. And then, every one of you, when you have done your share
   in this, go out personally and serve with your flaming torch of holy
   example, and with your trumpet tones of earnest declaration and
   testimony serve your Lord, and God shall be with you, and Midian shall
   be put to confusion, and the Lord of hosts shall reign for ever and
   ever. "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that
   believeth not shall be damned." Hear ye that note, O dead souls, and
   live.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                   Expiation

   A Sermon

   (No. 561)

   By the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin."--Isaiah 53:10.

   BOTH Jews and Gentiles knew pretty well what an offering for sin meant.
   The Gentiles had been in the habit of offering sacrifices. The Jews,
   however, had by far the clearer idea of it. And what was meant by a
   sin-offering? Undoubtedly, it was taken for granted by the offerer,
   that without shedding blood there was no remission of sin. Conscious of
   guilt, and anxious for pardon, therefore he brought a sacrifice, the
   blood of which should be poured out at the foot of the altar--feeling
   persuaded that without sacrifice there was no satisfaction, and without
   satisfaction there was no pardon. Then the victim to be offered was, on
   all occasions, a spotless one. The most scrupulous care was taken that
   it should be altogether without blemish; for this idea was always
   connected with a sin-offering, that it must be sinless in itself; and
   being without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing, it was held to be a
   competent victim to take the offender's place. That done, the victim
   being selected, the offerer put his hand upon the sin-offering--and
   this indeed was the essence of the whole transaction--putting his hand
   on the victim, he confessed his sin, and a transferrence took place, in
   type at least, from the offender to the victim. He did, as it were, put
   the sin from off his own shoulders on to those of the lamb, or the
   bullock, or the he-goat which was now about to be slaughtered. And, to
   complete the sin-offering, the priest draws his knife and kills the
   victim which must be utterly consumed with fire. I say this was always
   the idea of a sin-offering,--that of a perfect victim; without offense
   on its own account, taking the place of the offender; the transferrence
   of the offender's sin to that victim, and that expiation in the person
   of the victim for the sin done by another.

   Now, Jesus Christ has been made by God an offering for sin; and oh that
   to-night we may be able to do in reality what the Jew did in metaphor!
   May we put our hand upon the head of Christ Jesus; as we see him
   offered up upon the cross for guilty men, may we know that our sins are
   transferred to him, and may we be able to cry, in the ecstasy of faith,
   "Great God, I am clean; through Jesus' blood I am clean."

   I. In trying now to expound the doctrine of Christ's being an offering
   for sin, we will begin by laying down one great axiom; which is, that
   SIN DESERVES AND DEMANDS PUNISHMENT.

   Certain divines have demurred to this. You are aware, I suppose, that
   there have been many theories of atonement; and every new or different
   theory of atonement involves a new or different theory of sin. There
   are some who say that there is no reason in sin itself why it should be
   punished, but that God punishes offenses for the sake of society at
   large. This is what is called the governmental theory,--that it is
   necessary for the maintenance of good order that an offender should be
   punished, but that there is nothing in sin itself which absolutely
   requires a penalty. Now, we begin by opposing all this, and asserting,
   and we believe we have God's warrant of it, that sin intrinsically and
   in itself demands and deserves the just anger of God, and that that
   anger should be displayed in the form of a punishment. To establish
   this, let me appeal to the conscience--I will not say to the conscience
   of a man who has, by years of sin, dwindled it down to the very lowest
   degree, but let me appeal to the conscience of an awakened sinner,--a
   sinner under the influence of the Holy Spirit. And are we ever in our
   right senses, brethren, till the Holy Spirit really brings us into
   them? May it not be said of each of us as it was of the prodigal, "He
   came to himself?" Are we not beside ourselves till the Holy Spirit
   begins to enlighten us? Well, ask this man, who is now really in the
   possession of his true senses, whether he believes that sin deserves
   punishment; and his answer will be quick, sharp, and decisive. "Deserve
   it," saith he, "ay, indeed; and the wonder is that I have not suffered
   it. Why, sir, it seems a marvel to me that I am out of hell, and
   Wesley's hymn is often on my lips,--

   'Tell it unto sinners, tell,

   I am, I am out of hell.'"

   "Yes, sir," says such a sinner, "I feel that if God should smite me
   now, without hope or offer of mercy, to the lowest hell, I should only
   have what I justly deserve; and I feel that if I be not punished for my
   sins, or if there be not some plan found by which my sin can be
   punished in another, I cannot understand how God can be just at all:
   how shall he be Judge of all the earth, if he suffer offenses to go
   unpunished?" There has been a dispute whether men have any innate
   ideas, but surely this idea is in us as early as anything, that virtue
   deserves reward, and sin deserves punishment. I think I might venture
   to assert that if you go to the most degraded race of men, you would
   still find, at least, some traces of this--shall I call it tradition?
   or is it not a part of the natural light which never was altogether
   eclipsed in man? Man may put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter;
   darkness for light, and light for darkness; but this follows him as a
   dog at the heels of its master,--a sense that virtue should be
   rewarded, and that sin must be punished. You may stifle this voice, if
   you will, but sometimes you will hear it; and terribly and decisively
   will it speak in your ears to say to you, "Yes, man, God must punish
   you; the Judge of all the earth cannot suffer you to go scot free." Add
   to this another matter; namely, that God has absolutely declared his
   displeasure against sin itself. There is a passage in Jeremiah, the
   forty-fourth chapter and the fourth verse, where he calls it "That
   abominable thing which I hate." And then, in Deuteronomy, the
   twenty-fifth chapter, at the sixteenth verse, he speaks of it as the
   thing which is an abomination to him. It must be the character of God,
   that he has a desire to do towards his creatures that which is
   equitable. "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" If there is
   anything in them which deserves reward, rest assured he will not rob
   them of it; and, on the other hand, he will do the right thing with
   those who have offended, and if they deserve punishment, it is
   according to the nature and character of a just and holy God that
   punishment should be inflicted. And we think there is nothing more
   clear in Scripture than the truth that sin is in itself so detestable
   to God that he must and will put forth all the vigor of his tremendous
   strength to crush it, and to make the offender feel that it is an evil
   and a bitter thing to offend against the Most High. Beware, ye who
   forget God in this matter, lest he tear you in pieces, and there be
   none to deliver you. Sin must be punished.

   The other idea, that sin is only to be punished for the sake of the
   community, involves injustice. If I am to be damned for the sake of
   other people, I demur to it. No, sir: if I am to be punished, Justice
   says; at any rate, that it shall be for my own sins, but if I am to be
   eternally a castaway from God's presence merely as a sort of trick of
   government to maintain the dignity of his law, I cannot understand the
   justice of this. If I am to be cast into hell merely that I am to teach
   to others the tremendousness of the divine holiness, I shall say there
   is no justice in this; but if my sin intrinsically and of itself
   deserves the wrath of God, and I am sent to perdition as the result of
   this fact, I close my lips, and have nothing to say. I am speechless;
   conscience binds my tongue. But if I am told that I am only sent there
   as a part of a scheme of moral government, and that I am sent into
   torment to impress others with a sense of right, I ask that some one
   else should have the place of preacher to the people, and that I may be
   one of those whose felicity it shall be to be preached to; for I see no
   reason in justice why I should be selected as the victim. Really, when
   men run away from the simplicities of the gospel in order to make
   Jehovah more kind, it is strange how unjust and unkind they make him.
   Sinner, God will never destroy you merely to maintain his government,
   or for the good of others. If you be destroyed, it shall be because you
   would not come to him that you might have life; because you would rebel
   against him; because sin from stern necessity did, as it were, compel
   the attribute of divine justice to kindle into vengeance, and to drive
   you from his presence for ever. Sin must be punished.

   The reverse of this doctrine, that sin demands punishment, may be used
   to prove it; for it is highly immoral, dangerous, and opens the
   floodgates of licentiousness to teach that sin can go unpunished. O
   sirs, it is contrary to fact. Look ye! Oh! if your eyes could see
   to-night the terrible justice of God which a being executed now,--if
   these ears could but hear it,--if ye could be appalled for a moment
   with

   " The sullen groans and hollow moans

   And shrieks of tortured ghosts,"

   you would soon perceive that God is punishing sin! And if sin deserve
   not to be punished, what is Tophet but injustice on a monstrous scale?
   What is it but an infinite outrage against everything which is honest
   and right, if these creatures are punished for anything short of their
   own deserts. Go and preach this in hell, and you will have quenched the
   fire which is forever to burn, and the worm of conscience will die.
   Tell them in hell that they are not punished for sin, and you have
   taken away the very sting of their punishment. And then come to earth,
   and go, like Jonah went, though with another message than Jonah
   carried, through the highways and the broadways, the streets and
   thoroughfares of the exceeding great city, and proclaim that sin is not
   to be punished for its own intrinsic desert and baseness. But if you
   expect your prophecy to be believed, enlarge the number of your jails,
   and seek for fresh fields for transportation in the interests of
   society; for if any doctrine can breed villains, this will. Say that
   sin is not to be punished, and you have unhinged government; you have
   plucked up the very gate of our commonweal; you have been another
   Samson to another Gaza; and we shall soon have to rue the day. But,
   sirs, I need not stop to prove it; it is written clearly upon the
   consciousness of each man, and upon the conscience of every one of us,
   that sin must be punished. Here are you and I to-night brought into
   this dilemma. We have sinned; we all like sheep have gone astray; and
   we must be punished for it. It is impossible, absolutely, that sin can
   be forgiven without a sacrifice. God must be just, if heaven falls. If
   earth should pass away and every creature should be lost, the justice
   of God must stand, it cannot by any possibility be suffered to be
   impugned. Let this, then, be fully established in our minds.

   You need not to be told, as for the first time, that God in his
   infinite mercy has devised a way by which justice can be satisfied, and
   yet mercy can be triumphant. Jesus Christ, the only begotten of the
   Father, took upon himself the form of man, and offered unto Divine
   Justice that which was accepted as an equivalent for the punishment due
   to all his people.

   II. Now, the second matter that I wish to bring under your notice is
   this,--THAT THE PROVISION AND ACCEPTANCE OF A SUBSTITUTE FOR SINNERS IS
   AN ACT OF GRACE.

   It is no act of grace for a person to accept a pecuniary debt on my
   behalf of another person. If I owe a man twenty pounds, it is no matter
   to him whatever who shall pay the twenty pounds so long as it is duly
   paid. You know that you could legally and at once demand a receipt and
   an acquittance from any one who is your creditor, so long as his debt
   is discharged, though it is discharged by another, and not by you. It
   is so in pecuniary matters, but it is not so in penal matters. If a man
   be condemned to be imprisoned, there is no law, there is no justice
   which can compel the lawgiver to accept a substitute for him. If the
   sovereign should permit another to suffer in his stead, it must be the
   sovereign's own act and deed. He must use his own discretion as to
   whether he will accept the substitute or not; and if he do so, it is an
   act of grace. In Gods case, if he had said in the infinite sovereignty
   of his absolute will, "I will have no substitute, but each man shall
   suffer for himself, he who sinneth shall die," none could have
   murmured. It was grace, and only grace which led the divine mind to
   say, "I will accept of a substitute. There shall be a vicarious
   suffering; and my vengeance shall be content, and my mercy shall be
   gratified."

   Now, dear friends, this grace of God is yet further magnified not only
   in the allowance of the principle of substitution, but in the providing
   of such a substitute as Christ--on Christ's part that he should give up
   himself, the Prince of Life to die; the King of glory to be despised
   and rejected of men; the Lord of angels to be a servant of servants;
   and the Ancient of days to become an infant of a span long. Think of
   the distance

   "From the highest throne in glory

   To the cross of deepest woe,"

   and consider the unexampled love which shines in Christ's gift of
   himself. But the Father gives the Son. "God so loved the world that he
   gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not
   perish, but have everlasting life." To give your wealth is something,
   if you make yourself poor; but to give your child is something more.
   When the patriot mother tears her son from her bosom, and cries, "Go,
   my first-born, to your country's wars; there, go and fight until your
   country's flag is safe, and the hearths and homes of your native land
   are secure," there is something in it; for she can look forward to the
   bloody spectacle of her son's mangled body, and yet love her country
   more than her own child. Here is heroism indeed; but God spared not his
   own Son, his only-begotten Son, but freely delivered him up for us all.
   "God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners,
   Christ died for us." I do implore you, do not look upon the sacrifice
   of Christ as an act of mere vengeance on the Father's part. Never
   imagine, oh! never indulge the idea, that Jesus died to make the Father
   complacent towards us. Oh, no, dear friends: Jesus' death is the effect
   of overwhelming and infinite love on the Father's part; and every blow
   which wounds, every infliction which occasions sorrow, and every pang
   which rends his heart, speaks of the Father's love as much as the joy,
   the everlasting triumph, which now surrounds his head.

   Let us add, however, to this, that, although Jesus Christ's dying as a
   substitute does give to him lawful right to all promised privileges,
   and does make him, as the covenant head of his people a claimant of the
   divine mercy, yet it does not render any of the gifts which we receive
   from God the less gifts from God. Christ has died; but still everything
   that we receive comes to us entirely as a gratuitous outflow of God's
   great heart of love. Never think you have any claim to anything because
   Christ purchased it. If you use the word claim at all, let it always be
   in so humble and modified a sense that you understand that you are
   still receiving, not of debt, but of grace. Look upon the whole
   transaction of a substitute, and of Christ becoming the second Adam, as
   being a matter of pure, rich, free, sovereign grace, and never indulge
   the atrocious thought, I pray you, that there was justice, and justice
   only here; but do magnify the love and pity of God in that he did
   devise and accomplish the great plan of salvation by an atoning
   sacrifice.

   III. But now to go a step further, and with as much brevity as
   possible. The Lord having established the principle of substitution,
   having provided a substitute, and having through him bestowed upon us
   gratuitously innumerable mercies, let us observe THAT JESUS IS THE MOST
   FITTING PERSON TO BE A SUBSTITUTE, AND THAT HIS WORK IS THE MOST
   FITTING WORK TO BE A SATISFACTION.

   Let every sinner here who desires something stable to fix his faith
   upon, listen to these simple truths, which I am trying to put as
   plainly as possible. You do understand me, I trust, that God must
   punish sin; that he must punish you for sin unless some one else will
   suffer in your stead; that Jesus Christ is the person who did suffer in
   the room and place of all those who ever have believed on him who do
   believe in him, or ever shall believe in him, --making for those who
   believe on him a complete atonement by his substitution in their place.
   Now we say that Christ was the best person to be a substitute; for just
   consider what sort of a mediator was needed. Most absolutely he must be
   one who had no debt of his own. If Christ had been at all under the law
   naturally, if it had been his duty to do what it is our duty to do, it
   is plain he could only have lived for himself; and if he had any sin of
   his own, he could only have died for himself, seeing his obligations to
   do and to suffer would have been his just due to the righteousness and
   the vengeance of God. But on Christ's part there was no natural
   necessity for obedience, much less for obedience unto death. Who shall
   venture to say that the Divine Lord, amidst the glories of heaven, owed
   to his father anything? "Who shall say it was due to the Divine Father
   that Christ should be nailed to the accursed tree, to suffer, bleed,
   and die, and then be cast into the grave? None can dare to say such a
   thing. He is himself perfectly free, and therefore can he undertake for
   others. One man who is drawn for the militia cannot be a substitute for
   another person so drawn, because he owes for himself his own personal
   service. I must, if I would escape, and would procure a substitute,
   find a man who is not drawn, and who is therefore exempt. Such is Jesus
   Christ. He is perfectly exempt from service, and therefore can
   volunteer to undertake it for our sake. He is the right person.

   There was needed, also, one of the same nature with us. Such is Jesus
   Christ. For this purpose he became man, of the substance of his mother,
   very man, such a man as any of us. Handle him, and see if he be not
   flesh and bones. Look at him, and mark if he be not man in soul as well
   as in body. He hungers; he thirsts, he fears, he weeps, he rejoices, he
   loves, he dies. Made in all points and like unto us, being a man, and
   standing exactly in a man's place, becoming a real Adam,--as true an
   Adam as was the first Adam, standing quite in the first Adam's
   place,--he is a fit person to become a substitute for us.

   But please to observe (see if you cannot throw your grappling-hooks
   upon this), the dignity of his sacred person made him the most proper
   person for a substitute. A mere man could at most only substitute for
   one other man. Crush him as you will, and make him feel in his life
   every pang which flesh is heir to, but he can only suffer what one man
   would have suffered. He could not, I will venture to say, even then
   have suffered an equivalent for that eternal misery which the ungodly
   deserve; and if he were a mere man, he must suffer precisely the same.
   A difference may be made in the penalty, when there is a difference in
   the person; but if the person be the same, the penalty must be
   precisely and exactly the same in degree and in quality. But the
   dignity of the Son of God, the dignity of his nature, changes the whole
   matter. A God bowing his head, and suffering and dying, in the person
   of manhood, puts such a singular efficacy into every groan and every
   pang that it needs not that his pangs should be eternal, or that he
   should die a second death. Remember that in pecuniary matters you must
   give a quid pro quo, but that in matters of penal justice no such thing
   is demanded. The dignity of the person adds a special force to the
   substitution; and thus one bleeding Saviour can make atonement for
   millions of sinful men, and the Captain of our salvation can bring
   multitudes unto glory.

   It needs one other condition to be fulfilled. The person so free from
   personal service, and so truly in our nature, and yet so exalted in
   person, should also be accepted and ordained of God. Our text gives
   this a full solution, in that it says, "He shall make his soul an
   offering for sin." Christ did not make himself a sin-offering without a
   warrant from the Most High: God made him so. "The Lord hath laid on him
   the iniquity of us all." It was the sovereign degree of heaven which
   constituted Christ the great substitute for his people. No man taketh
   this office upon himself. Even the Son of God stoopeth not to this
   burden uncalled. He was chosen as the covenant-head in election; he was
   ordained in the divine decree to stand for his people. God the Father
   cannot refuse the sacrifice which he has himself appointed. "My son,"
   said good old Abraham, "God shall provide himself a lamb for a
   burnt-offering." He has done so in the Saviour; and what God provides,
   God must and will accept.

   I wish to-night that I had power to deal with this doctrine as I would.
   Poor trembling sinner, look up a moment. Dost thou see him there--him
   whom God hath set forth? Dost thou see him in proper flesh and blood
   fastened to that tree? See how the cruel iron drags through his tender
   hands! Mark how the rough nails are making the blood flow profusely
   from his feet! See how fever parches his tongue, and dries his whole
   body like a potsherd! Hearest thou the cry of his spirit, which is
   suffering more than his body suffers--"My God, my God, why hast thou
   forsaken me?" This is none other than God's only-begotten Son; this is
   he who made the worlds; this is the express image of his Father's
   person, the brightness of Jehovah's glory! What thinkest thou, man? Is
   there not enough there to satisfy God? Truly it has satisfied God: is
   there not enough there to satisfy thee? Cannot thy conscience rest on
   that? If God's appointed Christ could suffer in thy stead, is it not
   enough? What can Justice ask more? Wilt thou now trust Christ with thy
   soul? Come, now, sir, wilt thou now fall flat at the foot of the cross,
   and rest thy soul's eternal destiny in the pierced hands of Jesus of
   Nazareth? If thou wilt, then God has made him to be a sin-offering for
   thee; but if thou wilt not, beware, lest he whom thou wouldst not have
   to be thy Saviour should become thy Judge, and say, "Depart, thou
   cursed one, into everlasting fire in hell!"

   IV. We come now to our fourth remark,--THAT CHRIST'S WORK, AND THE
   EFFECTS OF THAT WORK, ARE NOW COMPLETE.

   Christ becomes a substitute for us. We have seen how fit and proper a
   person he was to be such. We hinted that from the dignity of his person
   the pains he suffered were a good and sufficient equivalent for our own
   suffering on account of sin. But now the joyous truths come up that
   Christ's work is finished. Christ has made an atonement so complete
   that he never need suffer again. No more drops of blood; no more pangs
   of heart; no more bitterness and darkness, with exceeding heaviness,
   even unto death, are needed.

   "Tis done--the great transaction's done."

   The death-knell of the penalty rings in the dying words of the
   Saviour,--"It is finished." Do you ask for a proof of this? Remember
   that Jesus Christ rose again from the dead. If he had not completed his
   work of penalty-suffering, he would have been left in the tomb till
   now; our preaching would have been in vain, and your faith would have
   been in vain; ye would have been yet in your sins. But Jesus rose.
   God's sheriff's officer let him out of "durance vile" because the
   account had been discharged, and God's great Court of King's Bench sent
   down the mittimus to let the captive go free. More than that: Christ
   has ascended upon high. Think you he would have returned thither with
   unexpiated sin red upon his garments? Do you suppose he would have
   ascended to the rest and to the reward of an accomplished work? What!
   sit at his Fathers right hand to be crowned for doing nothing, and rest
   until his adversaries are made his footstool, when he has not performed
   his Father's will! Absurd! Impossible! His ascension in stately pomp,
   amidst the acclamations of angels, to the enjoyment of his Father's
   continued smile, is the sure proof that the work is complete.

   Complete it is, dear brethren, not only in itself, but, as I said, in
   its effects; that is to say, that there is now complete pardon for
   every soul which believeth in Christ. You need not do anything to make
   the atonement of Christ sufficient to pardon you. It wants no eking
   out. It is not as if Christ had put so much into the scale and it was
   quivering in the balance; but your sins, for all their gravity, utterly
   ceased their pressure through the tremendous weight of his atonement.
   He has outweighed the penalty, and given double for all your sins.
   Pardon, full and free, is now presented in the name of Jesus,
   proclaimed to every creature under heaven, for sins past, for sins
   present, and for sins to come; for blasphemies and murders; for
   drunkenness and whoredom; for all manner of sin under heaven. Jesus
   Christ hath ascended up on high, and exalted he is that he may give
   repentance and remission of sin. Ye have no need of shillings to pay
   the priests; nor is baptismal water wanted to erect the pardon: there
   is no willing, doing, being, or suffering of yours required to complete
   the task. The blood has filled the fountain full: thou hast but to wash
   and be clean, and thy sins shall be gone forever.

   Justification, too, is finished. You know the difference. Pardon takes
   away our filth, but then it leaves us naked; justification puts a royal
   robe upon us. How no rags of yours are wanted; not a stitch of yours is
   needed to perfect what Christ has done. He whom God the Father hath
   accepted as a sin offering hath perfected forever thou who are set
   apart. Ye are complete in Christ. No tears of yours, no penance, no
   personal mortifications, nay, no good works of yours, are wanted to
   make yourself complete and perfect. Take it as it is. O sirs! may you
   have grace to take it as it is freely presented to you in the gospel.
   "He that believeth on him is not condemned;" "There is therefore now no
   condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." Trust
   Christ--implicitly trust Christ; and all that he did shall cover you,
   while all that he suffered shall cleanse you.

   Remember, too, that acceptance is finished. There are the Father's
   arms, and here are you, a black sinner to-night. I do not know you, but
   it may be you have trodden the pavements, or you have gone further than
   that, and added drunkenness to shame; you have gone to the lowest vice,
   perhaps to robbery,--who knoweth what manner of person may step into
   this place?--but the great arms of the Eternal Father are ready to save
   you as you are, because the great work of Christ has effected all that
   is wanted before God for the acceptance of the vilest sinner. How is it
   that the Father can embrace the prodigal? Why! he is fresh from the
   swine-trough! Look at him: look at his rags; how foul they are! We
   would not touch them with a pair of tongs! Take him to the fire and
   burn the filth! Take him to the bath and wash him! That lip is not fit
   to kiss; those filthy lips cannot be permitted to touch that holy cheek
   of the glorious Father! Ah! but it is not so. While he was yet a great
   way off, his father saw him,--rags and poverty and sin and filth and
   all,--and he did not wait till he was clean, but ran and fell upon his
   neck and kissed him, just as he was. How could he do that? Why, the
   parable does not tell us; for it did not run on with the subject to
   introduce the atonement. But this explains it,--when God accepts a
   sinner, he is, in fact, only accepting Christ. He looks into the
   sinner's eyes, and he sees his own dear Son's image there, and he takes
   him in. As we have heard of a good woman, who, whenever a poor sailor
   came to her door, whoever he might be, would always make him welcome,
   because, she said, "I think I see my own dear son who has been these
   many years away, and I have never heard of him; but whenever I see a
   sailor, I think of him, and treat the stranger kindly for my son's
   sake." So my God, when he sees a sinner long for pardon and desirous of
   being accepted, thinks he sees his Son in him, and accepts him for his
   Son's sake. Do not imagine that we preach a gospel in this place for
   respectable, godly people. No: we preach a gospel here for sinners. I
   heard, the other day, from one who told me that he believed we were
   saved by being perfect, that when we committed sin we at once fell out
   of God's mercy. Well now, supposing that were true, it would not be
   worth making a large splutter about. It would not be worth angels
   singing "Glory to God in the highest" about it, I should think. Any
   fool might know that God would accept a perfect man. But this is the
   thing of marvel, for which heaven and earth shall ring with the praises
   of the Mediator, that Jesus Christ died for the ungodly,--that Jesus
   Christ gave himself for their sin; not for their righteousness, not for
   their good deeds. If he had looked to all eternity, he could not have
   seen anything in us worthy of so great a suffering as that which he
   endured; but he did it for charity's sake,--for love's sake.

   And now, in his name,--oh that I could do it with his voice and with
   his love and with his fervor!--I do beseech you to lay hold upon him.
   No matter who you may be, I will not exclude you from the invitation.
   Hast thou piled thy sins together till they seem to provoke heaven? Do
   thy sins touch the clouds? Yet come, and welcome; for God has provided
   a sin-offering. Has man cast thee out? Say, poor woman, does the dreary
   river seem to invite thee to the fatal plunge? God has not cast thee
   out. O thou who feelest in thine own body the effect of thy sin, till
   thou art loathing thyself, and wishing thou hadst never been
   born--perhaps thou sayest, like John Bunyan, "Oh that I had been a
   frog, or a toad, or a snake, sooner than have been a man, to have
   fallen into such sin, and to have become so foul!" Have courage,
   sinner; have courage. "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the
   unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, and he
   will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly
   pardon." Do not doubt this message: God has sent it to you. Do not
   reject it: you will reject your own life if you do. Turn you at his
   rebuke! It is a loving voice which speaks to you, and that would speak,
   perhaps, better and more forcibly if it were not choked with love. I do
   implore thee, sinner, come to Jesus! If thou art damned it is not for
   want of invitation. If thou wilt perish, it is not for want of earnest
   pleading with thee. I tell thee, man, there is nothing of thine own
   wanted. All this is found in the sin-offering; for thou needest not
   find it. There is no merit of thine needed; there is merit enough in
   Christ. Is it not the old proverb that you are not to take coals to
   Newcastle? Do not take anything to Christ. Come as you are--just as you
   are. Nay, tarry not till you go out of this house. The Lord enable you
   to believe in Jesus now, to take him now as a complete and finished
   salvation for you, though you may be the most sunken and abandoned and
   hopeless of all characters. Why did God provide a sin-offering but for
   sinners? He could not have wanted to provide it if there was no
   necessity. You have a great necessity. You have, shall I say? compelled
   him to it. Your sins have nailed Christ's hands to the cross,--your
   sins have pierced his heart; and his heart is not pierced in vain, nor
   are those hands nailed there for naught. Christ will have you, sinner,
   Christ will have you. There are some of God's elect here, and he will
   have you. You shall not stand out against him. Almighty love will have
   you. He has determined that you shall not do what you have vowed. Your
   league with hell is broken to-night, and your covenant with death is
   disannulled. The prey shall not be taken from the mighty; the lawful
   captive shall be delivered. The Lord will yet fetch you up from the
   depths of the sea. Oh! what a debtor to grace you will be! Be a debtor
   to that grace to-night. Over head and ears in debt, plunge yourself by
   a simple act of trusting in Jesus, and you are saved.

   Pray, ye who know how to pray, that this message may be made effective
   in the hand of God. And you who have never prayed before, God help you
   to pray now. May he now be found of them who sought not for him, and he
   shall have the glory, world without end. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

          "Alas For Us, If Thou Wert All, and Nought Beyond, O Earth"

   A Sermon

   (No. 562)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 27th, 1864, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most
   miserable."--1 Corinthians 15:19.

   YOU WILL UNDERSTAND that the apostle is arguing with professedly
   Christian people, who were dubious about the resurrection of the dead.
   He is not saying that all men are now miserable if there be no hope of
   the world to come, for such an assertion would be untrue. There are
   very many who never think of another life, who are quite happy in their
   way, enjoy themselves, and are very comfortable after a fashion. But he
   speaks of Christian people--"If we, who have hope in Christ, are led to
   doubt the doctrine of a future state and of a resurrection, then we are
   of all men most miserable." The argument has nothing to do with some of
   you who are not Christians; it has nothing to do with you who have
   never been brought out of a state of nature into a state of grace; it
   only respects those who are real, living followers of the Savior, and
   who are known by this, that they have hope in Christ--hope in his blood
   for pardon, in his righteousness for justification, in his power for
   support, in his resurrection for eternal glory. "If we who have hope in
   Christ, have that hope for this life only, then we are of all men most
   miserable." You understand the argument; he is appealing to their
   consciousness; they, as Christians, had real enjoyments, "but," says
   he, "you could not have these enjoyments if it were not for the hope of
   another life; for once take that away, if you could still remain
   Christians and have the same feelings which you now have, and act as
   you now do, you would become of all men most miserable," therefore to
   justify your own happiness and make it all reasonable, you must admit a
   resurrection; there is no other method of accounting for the joyous
   peace which the Christian possesses. Our riches are beyond the sea; our
   city with firm foundations lies on the other side the river: gleams of
   glory from the spirit-world cheer our hearts, and urge us onward; but
   if it were not for these, our present joys would pine and die.

   We will try and handle our text this morning in this way. First, we are
   not of all men most miserable; but secondly, without the hope of
   another life we should be--that we are prepared to confess--because
   thirdly, our chief joy lies in the hope of a life to come; and thus,
   fourthly, the future influences the present; and so, in the last place,
   we may to-day judge what our future is to be.

   I. First then, WE ARE NOT OF ALL MEN MOST MISERABLE. Who ventures to
   say we are? He who will have the hardihood to say so knoweth nothing of
   us. He who shall affirm that Christianity makes men miserable, is
   himself an utter stranger to it, and has never partaken of its joyful
   influences. It were a very strange thing indeed, if it did make us
   wretched, for see to what a position it exalts us! It makes us sons of
   God. Suppose you that God will give all the happiness to his enemies,
   and reserve all the mourning for his sons? Shall his foes have mirth
   and joy, and shall his own home-born children inherit sorrow and
   wretchedness? Are the kisses for the wicked and the frowns for us? Are
   we condemned to hang our harps upon the willows, and sing nothing but
   doleful dirges, while the children of Satan are to laugh for joy of
   heart? We are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ Jesus. Shall
   the sinner, who has no part nor lot in Christ, call himself happy, and
   shall we go mourning as if we were penniless beggars? No, we will
   rejoice in the Lord always, and glory in our inheritance, for we "have
   not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received
   the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father." The rod of
   chastisement must rest upon us in our measure, but it worketh for us
   the comfortable fruits of righteousness; and therefore by the aid of
   the divine Comforter, we will rejoice in the Lord at all times. We are,
   my brethren, married unto Christ; and shall our great Bridegroom permit
   his spouse to linger in constant grief? Our hearts are knit unto him:
   we are members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones, and though
   for awhile we may suffer as our Head once suffered, yet we are even now
   blessed with heavenly blessings in him. Shall our Head reign in heaven,
   and shall we have a hell upon earth? God forbid: the joyful triumph of
   our exalted Head is in a measure shared by us, even in this vale of
   tears. We have the earnest of our inheritance in the comforts of the
   Spirit, which are neither few nor small. Think of a Christian! He is a
   king, and shall the king be the most melancholy of men? He is a priest
   unto God, and shall he offer no sweet incense of hallowed joy and
   grateful thanksgiving? We are fit companions for angels: he hath made
   us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light; and
   shall we have no days of heaven upon earth? Is Canaan ours from Dan to
   Beersheba, and shall we eat no fruit from Eshcol's vine on this side of
   Jordan? Shall we have no taste of the figs, and of the pomegranates,
   and of the flowing milk and honey? Is there no manna in the wilderness?
   Are there no streams in the desert? Are there no streaks of light to
   herald our eternal sunrising? Heritors of joy for ever, have we no
   foretastes of our portion? I say again, it were the oddest thing in the
   world if Christians were more miserable than other men, or not more
   happy. Think again of what God has done for them! The Christian knows
   that his sins are forgiven; there is not against the believer a single
   sin recorded in God's book. "I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy
   transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins." More than that, the
   believer is accounted by God as if he had perfectly kept the law, for
   the righteousness of Christ is imputed to him, and he stands clothed in
   that fair white linen which is the righteousness of the saints, And
   shall the man whom God accepts be wretched? Shall the pardoned offender
   be less happy than the man upon whom the wrath of God abideth? Can you
   conceive such a thing? Moreover, my brethren, we are made temples of
   the Holy Ghost, and is the Holy Ghost's temple to be a dark, dolorous
   place, a place of shrieks, and moans, and cries, like the Druidic
   groves of old? Such is not like our God. Our God is a God of love, and
   it is his very nature to make his creatures happy; and we, who are his
   twice-made creatures, who are the partakers of the divine nature,
   having escaped the corruption which is in the world through lust, is it
   to be supposed that we are bound by a stern decree to go mourning all
   our days? Oh! if ye knew the Christian's privilege, if ye understood
   that the secret of the Lord is laid open to him, that the wounds of
   Christ are his shelter, that the flesh and blood of Christ are his
   food, that Christ himself is his sweet companion and his abiding
   friend, oh! if ye knew this, ye would never again foolishly dream that
   Christians are an unhappy race. "Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like
   unto thee, O people saved by the Lord?" Who can be compared with the
   man who is "satisfied with favor and full with the blessing of the
   Lord." Well might the evil prophet of Bethor exclaim, "Let me die the
   death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

   We will go a step farther. We will not only say that from the nature of
   his position and privileges, a Christian should be happy, but we
   declare that he is so, and that among all men there are none who enjoy
   such a constant peace of mind as believers in Christ. Our joy may not
   be like that of the sinner, noisy and boisterous. You know what Solomon
   says--"The laughter of fools is as the crackling of thorns under a
   pot"--a great deal of blaze and much noise, and then a handful of
   ashes, and it is all over. "Who hath woe, who hath redness of the eyes?
   They that tarry long at the wine-men of strength to mingle strong
   drink." The Christian, in truth, does not know much of the excitement
   of the bowl, the viol and the dance, nor does he desire to know; he is
   content that he possesses a calm deep-seated repose of soul. "He is not
   afraid of evil tidings, his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord." He
   is not disturbed with any sudden fear: he knows that "all things work
   together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called
   according to his purpose." He is in the habit in whatever society he
   may be, of still lifting up his heart to God; and therefore he can say
   with the Psalmist, "My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will
   sing and give praise."

   "He waits in secret on his God;

   His God in secret sees;

   Let earth be all in arms abroad,

   He dwells in heavenly peace.

   His pleasures rise from things unseen,

   Beyond this world and time,

   Where neither eyes nor ears have been,

   Nor thoughts of sinners climb.

   He wants no pomp nor royal throne

   To raise his figure here:

   Content and pleased to live unknown,

   Till Christ his life appear.

   "There is a river the streams whereof make glad the city of God."
   Believers drink of that river and thirst not for carnal delights. They
   are made "to lie down in green pastures," and are led "beside the still
   waters." Now this solid, lasting joy and peace of mind sets the
   Christian so on high above all others, that I boldly testify that there
   are no people in the world to compare with him for happiness. But do
   not suppose that our joy never rises above this settled calm; for let
   me tell you, and I speak experimentally, we have our seasons of
   rapturous delight and overflowing bliss. There are times with us when
   no music could equal the melody of our heart's sweet hymn of joy. It
   would empty earth's coffers of every farthing of her joy to buy a
   single ounce of our delight. Do not fancy Paul was the only man who
   could say, "Whether in the body or out of the body, I cannot tell; God
   knoweth," for these ecstasies are usual with believers; and on their
   sunshiny days when their unbelief is shaken off and their faith is
   strong, they have all but walked the golden streets; and they can say,
   "If we have not entered within the pearly gate, we have been only just
   this side of it; and it we have not yet come to the general assembly
   and Church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven, if we
   have not joined the great congregation of the perfect in actual body,
   yet still--

   "E'en now by faith we join our hands

   With those that went before,

   And greet the blood-besprinkled bands

   On the eternal shore."

   I would not change one five minutes of the excessive joy my soul has
   sometimes felt for a thousand years of the best mirth that the children
   of this world could give me. O friends, there is a happiness which can
   make the eye sparkle and the heart beat high, and the whole man as full
   of bounding speed of life as the chariots of Amminadib. There are
   raptures and high ecstasies, which on festival days such as the Lord
   allotteth to his people, the saints are permitted to enjoy. I must not
   fail to remind you that the Christian is the happiest of men for this
   reason, that his joy does not depend upon circumstances. We have seen
   the happiest men in the most sorrowful conditions. Mr. Renwick, who was
   the last of the Scotch martyrs, said a little before his death,
   "Enemies think themselves satisfied that we are put to wander in mosses
   and upon mountains, but even amidst the storm of these last two nights
   I cannot express what sweet times I have had when I have had no
   coverings but the dark curtains of night: yea, in the silent watch my
   mind was led out to admire the deep and inexpressible ocean of joy
   wherein the whole family of heaven do swim. Each star led me to wonder
   what He must be who is the star of Jacob, and from whom all stars
   borrow their shining." Here is a martyr of God driven from house and
   home and from all comforts, and yet having such sweet seasons beneath
   the curtains of the black night as kings do not often know beneath
   their curtains of silk. A minister of Christ going to visit a very,
   very poor man, gives this description. He says, "I found him alone, his
   wife having gone out to ask help of some neighbor. I was startled by
   the sight of the pale emaciated man, the living image of death,
   fastened upright in his chair by a rude mechanism of cords and belts
   hanging from the ceiling, totally unable to move hand or foot, having
   been for more than four years entirely deprived of the use of his
   limbs, and suffering extreme pain from swellings in all his joints. I
   approached him full of pity, and I said, "Are you left alone, my
   friend, in this deplorable situation?" He answered with a gentle
   voice--his lips were the only parts of his body which he appeared to
   have power to move--"No, sir, I am not alone, because the Father is
   with me." I began to talk with him, and I soon observed what was the
   source of his consolation, for just in front of him lay the Bible upon
   a pillow, his wife having left it open at some choice Psalm of David so
   that he might read while she was gone, as he had no power to turn over
   the leaves. I asked him what he had to live upon, and found that it was
   a miserable pittance, scarcely enough to keep body and soul together,
   "But," said he, "I never want anything, for the Lord has said, Your
   bread shall be given you, and your water shall be sure,' and I trust in
   him, and I shall never want while God is faithful to his promise." "I
   asked him," says this minister "whether he did not often repine on
   account of suffering so acutely for so many years. "Sir," said he, "I
   did repine at first, but not for the last three years, blessed be God
   for it, for I know whom I have believed, and though I feel my own
   weakness and unworthiness more and more, yet I am persuaded that he
   will never leave me nor forsake me; and so graciously does he comfort
   me that when my lips are closed with lock-jaw and I cannot speak a word
   for hours together, he enables me to sing his praises most sweetly in
   my heart." Now here was a man to whom the sun of all earthly comfort
   was set, and yet the sun of heaven shone full in his face, and he was
   more peaceful and happy in deep poverty and racking pain than all you
   or I have been in the health and strength of youth. John Howard spent
   his time in visiting the gaols and going from one haunt of fever to
   another, he was asked how he could find any ground of happiness when he
   was living in miserable Russian villages, or dwelling in discomfort in
   an hospital or a gaol. Mr. Howard's answer was very beautiful. "I
   hope," said he, "I have sources of enjoyment which depend not upon the
   particular spot I inhabit. A rightly cultivated mind, under the power
   of divine grace and the exercise of a benevolent disposition affords a
   ground of satisfaction that is not to be affected by heres and theres."
   Every Christian will bear you his witness that he has found his sad
   times to be his glad times, his losses to be his gains, his sicknesses
   means to promote his soul's health. Our summer does not depend upon the
   sun, nor our flood-tide upon the moon. We can rejoice even in death. We
   look forward to that happy hour when we shall close our eyes in the
   peaceful slumbers of death, believing that our last day will be our
   best day. Even the crossing of the river Jordan is but an easy task,
   for we shall hear him say, "Fear not; I am with thee: be not dismayed,
   I am thy God; when thou passest through the rivers I will be with thee,
   and the floods shall not overflow thee." We dare to say it, then, very
   boldly, we are not of all men most miserable: we would not change with
   unconverted men for all their riches, and their pomp, and their honor
   thrown into the scale.

   "Go you that boast in all your stores,

   And tell how bright they shine,

   Your heaps of glittering dust are yours,

   And my Redeemer's mine.

   II. This brings us to the second point--WITHOUT THE HOPE OF ANOTHER
   LIFE, WE WILL ADMIT, THAT WE SHOULD BE OF ALL MEN MOST MISERABLE.

   Especially was this true of the apostles. They were rejected by their
   countrymen; they lost all the comforts of home; their lives were spent
   in toil, and were daily exposed to violent death. They all of them
   suffered the martyr's doom, except John, who seems to have been
   preserved not from martyrdom, but in it. They were certainly the twelve
   most miserable of men apart from that hope of the world to come, which
   made them of all men the most happy. But this is true, dear friends,
   not merely of persecuted, and despised, and poverty-stricken
   Christians, but of all believers. We are prepared to grant it, that
   take away from us the hope of the world to come we should be more
   miserable than men without religion. The reason is very clear, if you
   think that the Christian has renounced those common and ordinary
   sources of joy from which other men drink. We must have some pleasure:
   it is impossible for men to live in this world without it, and I can
   say most truthfully I never urge any of you to do that which would make
   you unhappy. We must have some pleasure. Well then, there is a vessel
   filled with muddy filthy water which the camels' feet have stirred:
   shall I drink it? I see yonder a rippling stream of clear flowing
   water, pure as crystal and cooling as the snow of Lebanon, and I say,
   "No, I will not drink this foul, muddy stuff; leave that for beasts; I
   will drink of you clear stream." But if I be mistaken, if there be no
   stream yonder, if it be but the deceitful mirage, if I have been
   deluded, then I am worse off than those who were content with the muddy
   water, for they have at least some cooling draughts; but I have none at
   all. This is precisely the Christian's case. He passes by the pleasures
   of sin, and the amusements of carnal men, because he says, "I do not
   care for them, I find no pleasure in them: my happiness flows from the
   river which springs from the throne of God and flows to me through
   Jesus Christ--I will drink of that," but if there were no hereafter, if
   that were proved to be a deception, then were we more wretched than the
   profligate and licentious.

   Again, the Christian man has learned the vanity of all earthly joys. We
   know when we look upon pomp that it is an empty thing. We walk through
   the world, not with the scorn of Diogenes, the cynical philosopher, but
   with something of his wisdom, and we look upon the common things in
   which men rejoice, and say with Solomon, "Vanity of vanities, all is
   vanity." And why do we say this? Why, because we have chosen eternal
   things in which there is no vanity, and which are satisfying to the
   soul. But, my brethren, it is the most unhappy piece of knowledge which
   a man can acquire, to know that this world is vain, if there be not
   another world abundantly to compensate for all our ills. There is a
   poor lunatic in Bedlam, plaiting straw into a crown which he puts upon
   his head, and calls himself a king, and mounts his mimic throne and
   thinks that he is monarch over all nations, and is perfectly happy in
   his dream. Do you think that I would undeceive him? Nay, verily, if I
   could, I would not. If the delusion makes the man happy, by all means
   let him indulge in it; but, dear friends, you and I have been
   undeceived; our dream of perfect bliss beneath the skies is gone for
   ever; what then if there be no world to come? Why then it is a most
   sorrowful thing for us that we have been awakened out of our sleep
   unless this better thing which we have chosen, this good part which
   shall not be taken from us, should prove to be real and true, as we do
   believe it is.

   Moreover, the Christian man is a man who has had high, noble, and great
   expectations, and this is a very sad thing for us if our expectations
   be not fulfilled, for it makes us of all men most miserable. I have
   known poor men waiting and expecting a legacy. They had a right to
   expect it, and they have waited, and waited, and borne with poverty,
   and the relative has died and left them nothing; their poverty has ever
   afterwards seemed to be a heavier drag than before. It is an unhappy
   thing for a man to have large ideas and large desires, if he cannot
   gratify them. I believe that poverty is infinitely better endured by
   persons who were always poor, than by those who have been rich and have
   had to come down to penury, for they miss what the others never had,
   and what the originally poor would look upon as luxuries they consider
   to be necessary to their existence. The Christian has learned to think
   of eternity, of God, of Christ, of communion with Jesus, and if indeed
   it be all false, he certainly has dreamed the most magnificent of all
   mortal visions. Truly, if any man could prove it to be a vision, the
   best thing he could do would be to sit down and weep for ever to think
   it was not true, for the dream is so splendid, the picture of the world
   to come so gorgeous, that I can only say, if it be not true, it ought
   to be--if it be not true, then there is nothing here worth living for,
   my brethren, and we are disappointed wretches indeed--of all men most
   miserable.

   The Christian, too, has learned to look upon everything here on earth
   as fleeting. I must confess every d