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        Title: Spurgeon's Sermons Volume 09: 1863
   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 Tempted Savior--Our Best Succor

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JANUARY 4, 1863, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "For in that He Himself has suffered being tempted, He is able to
   succor them that are tempted." Hebrews 2:18.

   My text, furnishing the motto for the congregation for the New Year is,
   as you know, always supplied to me by a most venerable clergyman of the
   Church of England who has ever showed to me the most constant and
   affectionate regard. I have no doubt that the present text has been
   suggested to this aged servant of the Lord by his deep experience at
   once of affliction and deliverance--for there he has learned his need
   of solid, substantial food--fat things full of marrow, fit for the
   veteran warriors of the Cross. Having been tempted these many years in
   the wilderness, my esteemed friend finds that as his natural strength
   decays, he needs more and more to cast himself upon the tenderness of
   the Redeemer's love. And he is led more fully to look to Him who is his
   only help and succor in every day of trouble, finding consolation alone
   in the Person of Christ Jesus the Lord.

   My text seems to me to be a staff fitted for hoary age to lean upon in
   the rough places of the way--a sword with which the strong man may
   fight in all hours of conflict. A shield with which youth may cover
   itself in the time of peril and a royal chariot in which babes in grace
   may ride in safety. There is something here forever one of us. As
   Solomon puts it, a portion for seven and also for eight. If we consider
   the Great Prophet and High Priest of our profession--Jesus Christ--as
   being tempted in all points, we shall not grow weary or faint in our
   minds, but shall gird up our loins for our future journey and like
   Elijah go in the strength of this meat for many days to come.

   You that are tempted--and I suppose the major part of this present
   congregation is included in the list--you that are tempted--and indeed
   if you know yourselves you are all in your measure thus exercised--you
   that are tempted listen to me this morning while I endeavor to speak of
   your temptations and in parallel lines of the temptations of Him who,
   having known your trials is able to succor you at all times.

   I. Our first point this morning is this--MANY SOULS ARE TEMPTED--CHRIST
   WAS TEMPTED. All the heirs of Heaven pass under the yoke. All true gold
   must feel the fire. All wheat must be threshed. All diamonds must be
   cut. All saints must endure temptation.

   1. They are tempted from all quarters. It is as Christ's parable puts
   it concerning the house whose foundation was on the rock--"The rain
   descended, the floods came and the winds blew and beat upon that house
   but it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock." The descending rain
   may represent temptations from above. The floods pouring their
   devastating torrents upon the land may well denote the trials which
   spring from the world while the howling winds may typify those
   mysterious influences of evil which issue from the Prince of the power
   of the air.

   Now whether we shudder at the descending rain or fear before the
   uprising flood. Whether we are amazed at the mysterious energy of the
   winds, it is well to recollect our blessed Lord was tempted in all
   points like as we are. This is to be our consolation--that nothing
   strange to the Head has happened to the members.

   Beloved Friends, it is possible that we may be tempted by God. I know
   it is written that "God is not tempted, neither tempts He any man." Yet
   I read in Scripture, "It came to pass that God did tempt Abraham." And
   I know it is a part of the prayer which we are taught to offer before
   God--"Lead us not into temptation"--by which it is clearly implied that
   God does lead into temptation or why else should we be taught to
   entreat Him not to do so? In one sense of the term "tempt," a pure and
   holy God can have no share. But in another sense He does tempt His
   people. The temptation which comes from God is altogether that of
   trial.

   A trial, not with an evil design as are the temptations of Satan, but a
   trial meant to prove and strengthen our graces. And so at once to
   illustrate the power of divine grace, to test the genuineness of our
   virtues and to add to their energy.

   You remember that Abraham was tried and tested of God when he was bid
   to go to a mountain that God would show him, there to offer up his son
   Isaac. You and I may have a like experience. God may call us in the
   path of obedience to a great and singular sacrifice. The desire of our
   eyes may be demanded of us in an hour--or He may summon us to a
   tremendous duty far surpassing all our strength.

   We may be tempted by the weight of the responsibility, like Jonah, to
   flee from the presence of the Lord. We can only know when placed in the
   position what temptations the Lord's message may involve. But, Beloved,
   whatever these may be our Great High Priest has felt them all. His
   Father called Him to a work of the most terrific character. He laid
   upon Him the iniquity of us all. He ordained Him, the second Adam, the
   bearer of the curse, the destroyer of death, the conqueror of Hell, the
   seed of the woman to be wounded in the heel and elected to bruise the
   serpent's head. Our Lord was appointed to toil at the loom and there,
   with ever-flying shuttle, to weave a perfect garment of righteousness
   for all His people.

   Now, beloved, this was a strong and mighty testing of the character of
   Him who was found in fashion as a man and it is not possible that we
   can ever be thrust into such a refiner's fire as that which tried this
   most pure gold. No other can be in the crucible so long or subjected to
   such a tremendous heat as that which was endured by Christ Jesus. If
   then, the trial is sent directly from our heavenly Father, we may
   solace ourselves with this reflection--that He Himself has suffered and
   being tried of God--He is able also to succor them that are likewise
   tried.

   But, dear Friends, our God not only tries us directly but indirectly.
   All is under the Lord's control of Providence. Everything that happens
   to us is meted out by the decree and settled by His purpose. We know
   that nothing can occur to us save as it is written in the secret roll
   of providential predestination. Consequently all the trials resulting
   from circumstances are traceable at once to the great First Cause. Out
   of the golden gate of God's ordinance the armies of trial march forth
   in array. No shower falls without permission from the threatening
   cloud. Every drop has its order before it hastens to the earth.

   Consider poverty for instance. How many are made to feel its pinching
   necessities? They shiver in the cold for want of raiment. They are
   hungry and thirsty. They are houseless, friendless, despised. This is a
   temptation from God, but all this Christ knew--"Foxes have holes and
   the birds of the air have nests, but I, the Son of Man, have not where
   to lay My head." When He had fasted forty days and forty nights He was
   hungry and then it was that He was tempted of the devil.

   Nor does the scant table and the ragged garment alone invite
   temptation, for all Providences are doors to trial. Even our mercies,
   like roses, have their thorns. Men may be drowned in seas of prosperity
   as well as in rivers of affliction. Our mountains are not too high and
   our valleys are not too low for temptation to travel. Where shall we
   flee from their presence? What wings of wind can carry us? What beams
   of light can bear us? Everywhere, above and beneath, we are beset and
   surrounded with dangers.

   Now, since all these are under the superintendence and direction of the
   great Lord of Providence, we may look upon them all as temptations
   which come from Him. But in every one of these Christ had His part. Let
   us choose the special one of sickness--sickness is a strong temptation
   to impatience, rebellion and murmuring. But He Himself took our
   infirmities and bore our sicknesses. That visage had not been marred
   more than that of any man had not the soul been sore vexed and the body
   consequently much tormented.

   Bereavement, too--what a trial is this to the tender heart! You arrows
   of death, you kill but you wound with wounds worse than death. "Jesus
   wept," because His friend Lazarus slept in the tomb. In that great loss
   He was schooled to sympathize with the widow in her needs, with the
   orphan in his fatherless estate and with the friend whose acquaintance
   has been thrust into darkness. Nothing can come from God to the sons of
   men the like of which did not also happen unto the Lord Jesus Christ.
   Herein let us wrap ourselves about with the warm mantle of consolation,
   since Christ was tempted in this point like as we are.

   2. But still more do temptations arise from men. God does try us now
   and then, but our fellow men every day. Our foes are found in our own
   household among our friends. Out of a mistaken kindness it often
   happens that they would lead us to prefer our own ease rather than the
   service of God. Links of love have made iron chains for saints. It is
   hard to ride to Heaven over our own flesh and blood. Kinsfolk and
   acquaintances may much hinder young disciples. This, however, is no
   novelty to our Lord.

   You know how he had to say to Peter, well-beloved disciple though he
   was, "Get you behind Me, Satan. You savor not the things that are of
   God." Poor ignorant human friendship would have kept Him back from the
   Cross, would have made Him miss His great object in being fashioned as
   a man and so have robbed Him of all the honor which only shame and
   death could win Him. Not only true, but false friends attempt our ruin.
   Treason creeps like a snake in the grass and falsehood, like an adder,
   bites the horse's heels.

   Does treachery assault us, let us remember how the Son of David was
   betrayed. "He that eats bread with Me has lifted up his heel against
   Me." "Yes, my own familiar friend in whom I trusted, which did eat of
   my bread has lifted up his heel against me." What shall be done unto
   you, you false tongue? Eternal silence rest on you! And yet you have
   spent your venom on my Lord--why should I marvel if you try your worst
   on me?

   As by friends you and I are tempted, so often are we assailed by
   enemies. Enemies will waylay us with subtle questions, seeking to
   entrap us in our speech. O cunning devices of a generation of vipers!
   They did the same with Christ. The Herodian, the Sadducee, the
   Pharisee, the lawyer--each one has his riddle and each one is
   answered--answered gloriously by the Great Teacher who is not to be
   entrapped. You and I are sometimes asked odd questions. Doctrines are
   set in controversy with doctrines. Texts of Scripture are made to clash
   with other portions of God's Word and we hardly know how to reply. Let
   us retire into the secret chamber of this great fact--in this point,
   too, Christ was tempted.

   And then, when His foes could not prevail against Him, they slandered
   His character. "A drunken man and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans
   and sinners," said they and He became the song of the drunkard till
   their reproach had broken His heart. This may happen to us. We may be
   subjected to slander just in that very point where we are most clear.
   Our good may be evil spoken of. Our motives misinterpreted. Our words
   misquoted. Our actions misconstrued--but here also, we may shelter
   ourselves beneath the eagle wings of this great truth--our glorious
   Head has suffered and being tempted He can give us aid.

   But His foes did even more than this--when they found Him in an agony
   of pain they taunted Him to His face. Pointing their finger they mocked
   His nakedness. Thrusting out their tongue they jeered at His claims and
   hissed out that more than diabolical temptation, "If You are the Son of
   God, come down from the Cross and we will believe in You." How often do
   the sons of men, when they have gone to the full length of their
   tether, charge us in like manner? They have caught us in some unhappy
   moment--surprised us when our spirits were broken, when our
   circumstances were unhappy and then they say, "Now--now where is your
   God? If you are what you profess to be, now prove it."

   They ask us to prove our faith by a sinful action which they know would
   destroy our characters--some rash deed which would be contrary to the
   profession we have espoused. Here, too, we may remember that, having
   been tempted, our High Priest is able to succor those that are tempted.
   Moreover, remember that there are temptations which come from persons
   who are neither friends nor foes--from those with whom we are compelled
   to mix in ordinary society. Jesus went to the Pharisee's table. The
   example of the Pharisee reeked with infectious pride--he sat with the
   publicans, whose characters were contagious with impurity.

   But, whether it was in one leper house or another, the Great Physician
   walked through the midst of moral plagues and leprosies unharmed. He
   associated with sinners, but was not a sinner. He touched disease but
   was not diseased Himself. He could enter into the chambers of evil but
   evil could not find a chamber in Him. You and I are thrown by our daily
   avocations into constant contact with evil. It were impossible, I
   suppose, to walk among men without being tempted by them.
   Inadvertently, men who have no studied design to betray us, by the mere
   force of their ordinary behavior entice us to evil and corrupt our good
   manners.

   Here, too, if we have to cry, "Woe is me, for I dwell in Meshech and
   sojourn in the tents of Kedar," we may remember that our great Leader
   sojourned here, too, and being here He was tempted even as we are.

   Dear Friends, we shall not complete the list of temptations if we
   forget that a vast host and those of a most violent character can only
   be ascribed to Satanic influence. These are usually threefold--for
   Christ's temptation in the wilderness, if I read it right, was a true
   picture of all the temptations which Satan uses against God's people.
   The first grand temptation of Satan is usually made against our faith.
   Being hungry, Satan came to our Lord and said, "If you are the Son of
   God, command that these stones be made bread." Here was that devilish
   "if," that cunning suggestion of a doubt concerning his Sonship coupled
   with the enticement to commit a selfish act, to prove whether he were
   the Son or not.

   Ah, how often does Satan tempt us to unbelief. "God has forsaken you,"
   he says. "God has no love for you. Your experience has been a delusion.
   Your profession is a falsehood. All your hopes will fail you--you are
   but a poor miserable dupe. There is no truth in religion--if there is,
   how is it that you are in this trouble? Why not do as you like, live as
   you like and enjoy yourself?" Ah, foul Fiend, how craftily do you
   spread your net. But it is all in vain, for Jesus has passed through
   and broken the snare. My Hearers, beware of intermeddling with Divine
   Providence! Satan tempts many believers to run before the cloud, to
   carve their own fortunes, build their own house, to steer their own
   vessels. Mischief will surely befall all who yield to this temptation.

   Beware of becoming the keepers of your own souls, for evil will soon
   overtake you. Ah, when you are thus tempted by Satan and your adoption
   seems in jeopardy and your experience appears to melt, fly at once to
   the Good Shepherd remembering this, "In that He Himself has suffered
   being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted."

   The next foul temptation of Satan with Christ was not to unbelief but
   to the very reverse--presumption. "Cast Yourself down," said he as he
   poised the Savior on the pinnacle of the temple. Even so he whispers to
   some of us, "You are a child of God. You know that and therefore you
   are safe--live as you like--cast yourself down, for it is written, 'He
   shall give His angels charge over you to keep you.' " Oh, that foul
   temptation! Many an Antinomian is led by the nose of this--driven like
   a fatted bullock to the slaughter and like a fool to the correction of
   the stocks--for many an Antinomian will say, "I am safe, therefore I
   may indulge my lusts with impunity."

   But you who know better! When you are thus molested. When the devil
   brings the doctrine of election or the great truth of the final
   perseverance of the saints and seeks to soil your purity and stain your
   innocence by temptations drawn from the mercy and love of God--then
   console yourselves by this fact--that Christ was tempted in this point,
   too, and is able to succor you even here.

   The last temptation of Christ in the wilderness was to idolatry.
   Ambition was the temptation, but idolatry was the end at which the
   tempter aimed. "All these things will I give you if you will fall down
   and worship me." The old serpent will suggest, "I will make you rich if
   you will only venture upon that one swindling transaction. You shall be
   famous, only palm off that one falsehood. You shall be perfectly at
   ease, only wink at one small evil. All these things will I give you if
   you will make me Lord of your heart." Ah, then it will be a noble thing
   if you can look up to Him who endured this temptation before you, and
   bid the fiend depart with, "It is written, you shall worship the Lord
   with all your heart and Him only shall you serve."

   Thus shall Satan leave you and angels minister unto you as they did to
   the Tempted One of old. Still further, to enlarge on this point let me
   observe that we are tempted not only from all quarters, but in all
   positions. No man is too lowly for the shafts of Hell--no person too
   elevated for the arrows of evil. Poverty has its dangers--"Lest I be
   poor and steal"--Christ knew these. Contempt has its aggravated
   temptations--to be despised often makes men bitter of spirit,
   exasperates them into savage selfishness and wolfish cruelty of
   revenge. Our great Prophet knew experimentally the temptations of
   contempt.

   It is no small trial to be filled with pain--when all the strings of
   our manhood are strained and twisted it is little wonder if they make a
   discord. Christ endured the greatest amount of physical pain,
   especially upon the Cross. And on the Cross, where all the rivers of
   human agony met in one deep lake within His heart, He bore all that it
   was possible for the human frame to bear. Here, then, without limit He
   learned the pain of pain. Turn the picture--Christ knew the temptations
   of riches. You will say, "How?" He had the opportunities to be rich.
   Mary and Martha and Lazarus would have been too glad to give Him their
   substance.

   The honorable women who ministered to Him would have begrudged Him
   nothing. There were many opportunities when He might have made Himself
   a king. He might have become famous and great like other teachers and
   so have earned honors and wealth. But as He knew, so also He overcame
   the temptations of wealth. The temptations of ease-- and these are not
   small--Christ readily escaped. There would always have been a
   comfortable home for Him at Bethany. There were many disciples who
   would have thought themselves but too honored to have found for Him the
   softest couch on which head ever rested--but He who came not to enjoy
   but to endure.

   He spurned all--but not without knowing the temptation. He learned,
   too, the trials of honor, of popularity and of applause. "Hosanna,
   hosanna, hosanna," said the multitudes in the streets of Jerusalem,
   when palm branches were strewed in the way and He rode in triumph over
   the garments of His disciples! Knowing all this, He was still meek and
   lowly and in Him was no sin. We cannot either be cast down or lifted
   up. We cannot be put into the most strange and singular positions
   without still being able to remember that Christ has made a pilgrimage
   over the least trod of our paths and is therefore able to succor them
   that are tempted.

   3. Further, let me remark that every age has its temptations. The young
   while yet children, if believers, will discover that there are peculiar
   snares for the little ones. Christ knew these. It was no small
   temptation to a youth, a lad of some twelve years of age, to be found
   sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them and answering their
   questions. It would have turned the heads of most boys and yet Jesus
   went down to Nazareth and was subject to His parents. It is small peril
   to grow in knowledge and in favor with God and man, if it were not for
   the word "God" put in it. To grow in favor constantly with men would be
   too much of a temptation for most youths.

   It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth, for youth,
   when honored and esteemed is too apt to lift its head and grow
   conceited, vain and obstinate. When a young man knows that by-and-by he
   shall become something great it is not easy to keep him balanced.
   Suppose that he is born to an estate and knows that when he comes of
   full age he will be lord and master and will be courted by
   everybody--why he is apt to be very wayward and self-willed.

   Now there were prophecies that went before concerning Mary's son--which
   marked him out as King of the Jews and a Mighty One in Israel. But I
   find not that the holy child Jesus was ever decoyed by His coming
   greatness into any actions inconsistent with the duty of a child. So
   young believers, you who are like Samuel and Timothy--you can look to
   Christ and know that he can aid you. In His full manhood it is
   unnecessary for me to repeat the various afflictions which beat upon
   our Lord. You who today bear the burden and heat of the day will find
   an example here.

   Nor need old age look elsewhere for we may view our Redeemer with
   admiration as He goes up to Jerusalem to die. His last moments are
   manifestly near at hand. He knows the temptations of an expected
   dissolution--He sees death more clearly than any of you--even though
   your temples are covered with gray. And yet, whether in life or in
   death, on Tabor's summit or on the banks of the river of death, He is
   still the same--always tempted--but never sinning. Always tried, but
   never found wanting.

   O Lord! You are able thus to succor them that are tempted. Help us! I
   need not say more. If I have not mentioned the particular trial of
   everyone here today, I think it may be included in some one of the
   general descriptions. Whatever it may happen to be it cannot be so out
   of the catalogue as not to come in somewhere or other in the
   temptations of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I, therefore, now turn
   to the second part of the discourse upon which I shall speak with
   brevity.

   II. Our second point is THAT AS THE TEMPTED OFTEN SUFFERED Christ ALSO
   SUFFERED.

   Notice, the text does not say--"In that He Himself also has been
   tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted." It is better than
   that--"In that He Himself has suffered, being tempted, He is able to
   succor them that are tempted." Temptation, even when overcome, brings
   with it to the true child of God a great degree of suffering. The
   suffering consists in two or three things. It lies, mainly, in the
   shock which sin gives to the sensitive, regenerate nature.

   A man who is clothed in armor may walk in a wilderness through the
   midst of tearing thorns and brambles without being hurt. But let the
   man be stripped of his garments and then let him attempt the same
   journey and how sadly will he be cut and torn. Sin, to the man who is
   used to it, is not suffering. If he is tempted it is no pain to him. In
   fact, frequently temptation yields pleasure to the sinner. To look at
   the bait is sweet to the fish which means to swallow it by-and-by. But
   to the child of God who is new-made and quickened, the very thought of
   sin makes him Shudder. He cannot look at it without abhorrence and
   detestation and without being alarmed to think that he is likely ever
   to fall into so abominable a crime.

   Now, dear Friends, in this case, Christ indeed has fellowship and far
   outruns us. His detestation of sin must have been much more deep than
   ours. A word of blasphemy, a thought of sin must have cut Him to the
   very quick. We cannot get a complete idea of the degree of wretchedness
   which Jesus must have endured in merely being upon earth among the
   ungodly. For infinite Purity to dwell among sinners must be something
   as terrible as if you could suppose the best educated, the most pure,
   the most amiable person condemned to live in a den of burglars,
   blasphemers, and filthy wretches. Such a man's life must be miserable.
   No whip, no chain would be needed--merely associating with such people
   would be pain and torment enough.

   So the Lord Jesus, in merely bearing the neighborhood of sin without
   any other troubles, would have had to suffer a vast, incalculable
   amount of woe. Suffering, too, arises to the people of God from a dread
   of the temptation when its shadow falls upon us before it comes. At
   times there is more dread in the prospect of a trial than there is in
   the trial itself. We feel a thousand temptations in fearing one. Christ
   knew this. What an awful dread was that which came over Him in the
   black night of Gethsemane! It was not the cup--it was the fear of
   drinking it. "Let this cup pass from Me," just seemed to indicate what
   the sorrow was.

   He knew how black, how foul, how fiery were its deeps and it was the
   dread of drinking it that bowed Him to the ground till He sweat, as it
   were, great drops of blood. When you have the same overwhelming
   pressure upon your spirit in the prospect of a trial yet to come, fly
   to the loving heart of your sympathizing Lord--for He has suffered all
   this-- having been Himself tempted.

   The suffering of temptation also lies often in the source of it. Have
   you not often felt that you would not mind the temptation if it had not
   come from where it did? "Oh," you say, "to think that my own friend, my
   dearly beloved friend, should test me!" You are a child and you have
   said, "I think I could bear anything but my father's frown, or my
   mother's sneer." You are a husband and you say, "My thorn in the flesh
   is too sharp, for it is an ungodly wife." Or you are a wife which is
   more frequently the case and you think there is no temptation like
   yours, because it is your husband who assaults your religion and who
   speaks evil of your good. It makes all the difference where the
   temptation comes from.

   If some scoundrel mocks us we think it honor--but when it is an honored
   companion we feel his taunt. A friend can cut under our armor and stab
   us the more dangerously. Ah, but the Man of Sorrows knew all this since
   it was one of the chosen twelve who betrayed Him. And besides, "it
   pleased the Father to bruise Him, He has put Him to grief." To find God
   to be in arms against us is a huge affliction. "Eloi, Eloi, lama
   Sabacthani! My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?" is the very
   emphasis of woe. Jesus surely has suffered your griefs, from wherever
   they may come.

   I have no doubt, too, that a portion of the sorrow and suffering of
   temptation may also lie in the fact that God's name and honor are often
   involved in our temptation. It happens to some of us who are more
   publicly placed than others to be reviled and when the reviling is
   merely against our own personal character, against our modes of speech
   or habit. We not only receive it gratefully but thankfully--blessing
   God that He has counted us worthy to suffer for His Name's sake. But
   sometimes the attack is very plainly not against us but against God and
   there will be things said of which we should say with the Psalmist
   David--"Horror has taken hold upon me, because of the wicked that keep
   not Your law!"

   When direct blasphemies are uttered against the Person of Christ, or
   against the doctrine of His holy Gospel, we have been "very heavy." We
   have thought--"If I have opened this dog's mouth against myself it
   matters not, but if I have made him roar against God--then how should I
   answer and what should I speak?" This has often been the bitterness of
   it--"If I fall, God's cause is stained. If I slip through the vehemence
   of this assault, then one of the gates of the Church will be carried by
   storm. Mischief comes not to me alone, but to many of the Israel of
   God."

   David says, of grieving the saints--"When I thought to know this it was
   too painful for me." David's Lord had to suffer this, for He says, "The
   reproaches of them that reproached You fell on Me." He was made the
   target for those errors which were really shot at God and so He had to
   feel first this bitterness of sympathy with His ill-used God.

   I cannot, of course, particularize this morning so as to hit upon the
   precise sorrow which you, beloved Brother in Christ, are enduring as
   the result of temptation. But whatever phase your sorrow may have
   assumed this should always be your comfort--that He has suffered in
   temptation--that He has not merely known the temptation as you
   sometimes have known it--when it rattled on your harness and fell
   harmless to the ground. But it has rankled in His flesh. It has not
   made Him sin, but it has made Him smart. It has not made Him err, but
   it has caused Him to mourn. Oh, child of God, I know not a deeper well
   of purer consolation than this--"He Himself has suffered being
   tempted."

   III. Now for the third and last point. THEY THAT ARE TEMPTED HAVE GREAT
   NEED OF SUCCOR, AND

   CHRIST IS ABLE, HAVING HIMSELF BEEN TEMPTED TO SUCCOR THEM THAT ARE
   TEMPTED.

   Of course this is true of Christ as God. Apart from any temptation He
   has ever endured, He would be able to succor the tempted. But we are
   now speaking in our text of Christ as a High Priest in which we are to
   regard Him in His complex character as God-man. Christ is not only God
   but Man and not only man but God. The Christos--the Anointed One, the
   High Priest of our profession--is in His complex character able to
   succor them that are tempted. How? Why, first, the very fact that He
   was tempted has some succor in it to us.

   If we had to walk through the darkness alone we should know the very
   extremity of misery. But having a companion we have comfort--having
   such a companion as Jesus Christ--we have joy. It is all black about me
   and the path is miry and I sink in it and can find no standing. But I
   plunge onwards, desperately set on reaching my journey's end. It frets
   me that I am alone, but I hear a voice (I can see nothing)--but I hear
   a voice which says, "Yes, though I pass through the valley of the
   shadow of death I will fear no evil."

   I cry out, "Who goes there?" and an answer comes back to me--"I, the
   faithful and true witness, the Alpha and the Omega, the Sufferer who
   was despised and rejected of men, I lead the way." And at once I feel
   that it is light about me and there is a rock beneath my feet. For if
   Christ, my Lord, has been here then the way must be safe. The very fact
   that He has suffered, then, consoles His people.

   But further, the fact that He has suffered without being destroyed is
   inestimably comforting to us. If you could see a block of ore just
   ready to be put into the furnace, if that block of ore could look into
   the flames and could mark the blast as it blows the coals to a vehement
   heat--if it could speak, it would say, "Ah, woe is me that ever I
   should be put into such a blazing furnace as that! I shall be burnt up.
   I shall be melted with the slag. I shall be utterly consumed!" But
   suppose another lump, all bright and glistening could lie by its side
   and say, "No, no, you are just like I was, but I went through the fire
   and I lost nothing! See how bright I am and how I have survived all the
   flames."

   Why then that piece of ore would rather anticipate than dread the
   season when it, too, should be exposed to the purifying heat and come
   out all bright and lustrous like its companion. I see You, I see You,
   Son of Mary--bone of our bone, flesh of our Flesh--You have felt the
   flames but You are not destroyed. The smell of fire has not passed upon
   You. Your heel has been bruised, but You have broken the serpent's
   head. There is no scar, nor spot, nor injury on You. You have survived
   the conflict and I, bearing Your name, purchased with Your blood and
   dear to God as You are dear to Him--I shall survive it too. Therefore
   will I tread the coals with confidence and bear the heat with patience.

   Christ's conquest gives me comfort, for I shall conquer, too. And
   please remember, too, that Christ, in going through the suffering of
   temptation was not simply not a loser but He was a great gainer, for it
   is written it pleased God "to make the Captain of their salvation
   perfect through sufferings." It was through His suffering that He
   obtained the mediatorial glory which now crowns His head. Had He never
   carried the Cross He had never worn that crown--that transcendently
   bright and glorious crown which now He wears as King in Zion and as
   leader of His people whom He has redeemed by blood.

   God over all, blessed forever He would have been, but as God-man
   Mediator He could never have been extolled unless He had been obedient
   even unto death. So He was a gainer by His suffering. And glory be to
   His name we get comfort from this, too, for we also shall be gainers by
   our temptations. We shall come up out of Egypt enriched! As it is
   written, "He brought them forth also with silver and gold," so shall we
   come forth out of trial with better than these treasures.

   "Blessed is the man that endures temptation, for when he is tried he
   shall obtain a crown of life which fades not away." The deeper their
   sorrows the louder their song. The more terrible their toil the sweeter
   their rest. The more bitter the wormwood the more delightful the wine
   of consolation. They shall have glory for their share. They shall have
   honor for their contempt. They shall have songs for their sufferings
   and thrones for their tribulations.

   But more--in that Christ has suffered being tempted, He is able to
   succor us who are tempted by sending His grace to help us. He was
   always able to send grace, but now as God and Man He is able to send
   just the right grace at the right time and in the right place. You know
   a doctor may have all the drugs that can be gathered, but an abundance
   of medicine does not make him a qualified practitioner. If however he
   has been himself and seen the case, then he knows just at what crisis
   of the disease such-and-such a medicine is wanted. The stores are good,
   but the wisdom to use the stores--this is even more precious.

   Now it pleased the Father that in Christ should all fullness dwell--but
   where should the Son of Man earn His diploma and gain the skill with
   which to use the fullness correctly? Beloved, He won it by experience.
   He knows what sore temptations mean for He has felt the same. You know
   if we had comforting grace given to us at one part of our temptation it
   would tempt us more than before--even as certain medicines given to the
   patient at one period of the disease would aggravate the malady, though
   the same medicine would cure it if administered a little later.

   Now Christ knows how to send His comfort at the very nick of time, to
   afford His help exactly when it will not be a superfluity--to send His
   joy when we shall not spend it upon our own lusts. And how knows He
   this? Why, He recollects His own experience--He has passed through it
   all. There appeared an angel unto Him strengthening Him--that angel
   came just when he was wanted. Jesus knows just when to send His angelic
   messenger to strengthen you, when to lay on the rod more heavily and
   when to stay His hand and say, "I have forgiven you. Go in peace."

   Once more, dear Friends, lest I keep you too long. Having suffered
   Himself, being tempted, Christ knows how to succor us by His prayers
   for us. There are some people whose prayers are of no use to us because
   they do not know what to ask for us. Christ is the intercessor for His
   people--He has prevalence in His intercession--but how shall He learn
   what to ask for? How can He know this better than by His own trials? He
   has suffered being tempted. You hear some Brethren pray with such
   power, such unction, such fervor. Why? Part of the reason is that
   theirs are experimental prayers--they pray out their own life.

   They just pray the great deep waters over which they themselves sail.
   Now the prayer of our great High Priest in Heaven is wonderfully
   comprehensive--it is drawn from His own life and it takes in every
   sorrow and every pain that ever rent a human heart, because He Himself
   has suffered being tempted. I know you feel safe in trusting your case
   in the hand of such an Intercessor, for He knows which is the precise
   mercy to ask for and when He asks for it, He knows how to put the words
   and frame the petition so that the mercy shall surely come to you at
   the right time.

   Ah, dear Friends, it is not in my power to bring out the depth which
   lies under my text--but I am certain of this-- when through the deep
   waters He shall cause you to go, or you are made to pass through
   furnace after furnace, you cannot want a better rod and staff nor a
   better table prepared for you in the wilderness than this my text, "In
   that He Himself has suffered being tempted, He is able to succor them
   that are tempted." Hang this text up in your houses. Read it every
   day--take it before God in prayer every time you bend the knee and you
   shall find it to be like the widow's cruse, which failed not and like
   her handful of meal which wasted not. It shall be unto you till the
   last of December what now it is when we begin to feed upon it in
   January.

   Will not my text suit the awakened sinner as well as the saint? There
   are timid souls here. They cannot say they are saved--yet here is a
   loophole of comfort for you, you poor troubled ones that are not yet
   able to get a hold of Jesus. "He is able to succor them that are
   tempted." Go and tell Him you are tempted--tempted, perhaps, to
   despair. Tempted to self-destruction. Tempted to go back to your old
   sins--tempted to think that Christ cannot save you. Go and tell Him
   that He Himself has suffered being tempted and that He is able to
   succor you.

   Believe that He will and He will. You can never believe anything too
   much of the love and goodness of my Lord. He will be better than your
   faith to you. If you can trust Him with all your heart to save you, He
   will do it. If you believe He is able to put away your sin, He will do
   it. If you can but honor Him by giving Him a good character for grace,
   you cannot give Him too good a name--

   "Trust Him, He will not deceive you, Though you hardly on Him lean; He
   will never, never leave you, Nor will let you quite leave Him."
   Receive, then, the blessing--May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and
   the love of God our Father and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be
   with you forever. Amen and Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                             The Voice From Heaven

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 23, 1862, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "And they heard a great voice from Hea ven, saying unto them, Come up
   here."

   Revelation 11:12.

   WHAT may be the particular meaning of the prophecy concerning the
   witnesses clothed in sackcloth, their death, their resurrection, and
   their subsequent entrance into Heaven, I am unable to guess. Nor am I
   clear that anybody else has hit upon it. Although I do not despise
   prophesying, I entertain a very intense disgust of those who know
   nothing about them, and yet pretend to be their interpreters. I am free
   to confess that I have not the key to the Book of Revelation and dare
   not set up to be its expositor.

   This, however is no great matter--for without my venturing upon that
   line of things--there are quite enough who are always studying the
   apocalyptic mysteries, and a sufficient number who believe that they
   can comprehend them. No branch of literature has more devoted students,
   and in none are men more successful in refuting one another, or more
   sure that they have established their own theories by demolishing those
   of others. It may be that there are some whose office it is to open
   sealed books--I know that it is mine to enforce the teachings of the
   unsealed volume.

   They may have a call to expound Daniel and Ezekiel--mine is of a much
   humbler, but, I think I may add, of a much more useful character--not
   so much to foretell the fall of dynasties and the deaths of monarchs as
   to deal with matters of vital godliness--and with eternal realities.
   With things that are plainly revealed, which certainly belong unto us,
   and unto our children, I had rather be a sweet savor unto God in souls
   converted, than explain all the last vials. And I would prefer rather
   to comprehend the heights and depths of my Great Master's love, than to
   count the number of the beast, or calculate the duration of the little
   horn.

   I. Waiving, then, all attempts at explaining the text from its
   connection, I intend to use it as the voice of God to His people. We
   shall regard it, first of all as A SUMMONS SENT AT THE APPOINTED HOUR
   TO EVERY SAINT. When the time shall come, fixed by irreversible decree,
   there shall be heard "a great voice from Heaven" to every Believer in
   Christ, saying, "Come up here."

   This should be to us--each one of us if we are in Christ--the subject
   of very joyful anticipation. Instead of decoding the time when we shall
   leave this world to go to the Father, we should be thirsting and
   panting for the hour that shall set our soul at liberty, and give our
   spirit, once and for all, its full discharge from an imprisonment of
   clay and from the bondage of "the body of this death." To some
   Christians it will not only be joyful in anticipation, but it will be
   intensely delightful when it arrives. It is not true, as some suppose,
   that death when it really appears, is necessarily a dreadful and
   hideous apparition--

   "Death no terrific foe appears. An angel's lovely form he wears, A
   friendly messenger he proves To every soul whom Jesus loves." I doubt
   not that many Believers welcome the kind approach of death as the
   arrival of their best friend, and salute their last hour with intense
   delight. Witness the saint who has been for years bedridden. She is
   tossed to and fro as on a sea of pain, never resting at the anchorage
   of ease. She cries at night, "Would God it were morning," and when the
   light of day affects her eyes, she longs for the returning darkness
   that she may slumber for a little season and forget her pains. Her
   bones have worn through her skin by long lying upon a bed made as soft
   as kindness can render it, but, alas, still too hard for so weak and
   tormented a body.

   Pangs have shot through her frame as arrows piercing the foe. Every
   vein has been a river flushed with agony, and every nerve a telegraph
   conveying messages of pain to the spirit. Oh, how welcome shall it be
   when the Voice shall cry from Heaven, "Come up here!" No more weakness
   now! The joyful spirit shall leave all bodily pain behind. The last
   tear shall be wiped away by the Divine Father's hand. And she that was
   a mass of disease and decay, shall now become an embodiment of intense
   delight, full to the brim with satisfaction, and infinite pleasure in
   that land where Jehovah-Rophi reigns. The inhabitant shall no more say,
   "I am sick."

   With what joy will the Voice from Heaven sound in the ear of the man
   wearied with labor! The world shall know of some of us, when we die,
   that we have not been idle--that we have served our God beyond our
   strength. He who finds the ministry an easy profession shall find the
   flames of Hell no pleasant resting place. Oh, there may be some of you
   in whose name I can speak now who have served God with throbbing brow,
   with palpitating heart--weary in your Master's service, but never weary
   of it--springing to the collar when the load was far too heavy for your
   single strength. Ready to labor, or ready to fight, never putting off
   your armor--you stand harnessed both by night and day, crying in your
   Master's name--

   "Is there a foe before whose face I fear His cause to plead? Is there a
   lamb among His flock I would refuse to feed?"

   The time must come when age shall take away the juvenile vigor which
   for a while carried off weariness, and you shall be constrained to
   lament, saying, "When shall the shadows be drawn out? When shall I
   fulfill, as a hireling, my day?" Happy for the minister if in his
   pulpit he shall hear the voice, "Come up here," and shall--

   "His body and his charge lay down, And cease at once to work and live."
   Happy for you, fellow laborers in the kingdom of Christ and in the
   tribulation of our common Savior! When you think you can do no more,
   your doing shall be ended and your reward shall come and your Savior
   shall say, "Come up here"-- and you shall see the glory which you have
   believed in, upon the earth.

   Beloved, with what intense delight will death be hailed by the sons of
   abject poverty, I mean, "such as are of the household of faith." From
   shivering in the winter's cold to the brightness of Heaven. From the
   solitude and desolation of friendless penury to the communion and
   fellowship of saints made perfect. From the table scantily furnished
   with hard-earned bread--from famishing and want. From the poor
   emaciated bones. From the form ready to be bowed down with hunger--from
   the tongue that cleaves to the mouth with thirst. From crying children
   and a wailing wife--wailing for bread, crying that they may be fed! Oh,
   to be snatched away to Heaven!

   Happy man, to have known so much of ill that he may know better the
   sweetness of perfect bliss! Mansions of the blessed, how bright you are
   in contrast with the cotter's hut! Streets of gold, how you shall make
   the beggar forget the cold doorstep and dry arch! Paupers become
   princes--pensioners are peers. And peasants are kings and priests. O
   land of Goshen, how long before the sons of Israel receive you for an
   heritage?

   And, dear Friends, I think I ought to add this--with what seraphic joy
   must this voice have been heard in the martyrs' ears in caves and dens
   of the earth where the holy wander in their sheepskins and
   goatskins--what holy triumph must this message create! Blandina, tossed
   in the Roman amphitheatre on the horns of bulls--then seated in her
   red-hot iron chair, and mocked while she is there consumed before the
   leering multitude--oh, that voice, "Come up here!" How it must have
   cheered her in those horrid agonies which she bore with more than
   masculine heroism.

   The many who have perished on the rack--surely they have seen visions
   like those of Stephen, who, when the stones were rattling about his
   ears saw Heaven open and heard the Heaven-sent voice, "Come up here."
   The multitude of our ancestors--our venerated predecessors who carried
   the banner of the Cross before our day, who stood on flaming wood and
   bore the flames with patience. Their bodies were consumed by fire till
   their lower limbs were burnt away and life just remained within a mass
   of ashes--oh the joy with which they would leap into their fiery
   chariots drawn by horses of fire straight to Heaven--at this omnipotent
   bidding of the Master--"Come up here!"

   Though yours and mine may never be the lot of protracted sickness, or
   abject penury, or excessive labor, or the death of martyrdom--let us
   still believe that if we are true followers of Christ, whenever death
   shall come, or rather whenever life and immortality shall come--it
   shall be a joyous and blessed time for us! Seek not of the Most High to
   delay the time when He shall summon you to the upper chamber, but
   listen every morning, listen with your heart desiring to hear it--
   listen for the royal message which says, "Come up here." An ancient
   singer sweetly words it--

   "I said sometimes with tears, Ah me!I'm afraid to die! Lord silence You
   these fears; My life's with You on high. Sweet truth to me! I shall
   arise, And with these eyes My Savior see!

   What means my trembling heart, To be thus shy of death? My life and I
   shall not part, Though I resign my breath. Sweet truth to me!
   Ishallarise, And with these eyes My Savior see!

   Then welcome harmless grave! By you to Heaven I'll go-- My Lord, Your
   death shall save Me from the flames below. Sweet truth to me!
   Ishallarise, And with these eyes My Savior see!"

   To change the note a moment--while this should be the subject of joyous
   anticipation, it should also be the object of patient waiting. God
   knows best when it is time for us to be bid to, "Come up here." We must
   not wish to antedate the period of our departure. I know that strong
   love will make us cry--

   "O Lord of Hosts the waves divide, And land us all in Heaven," but
   patience must have her perfect work. I would not wish to die while
   there is more work to do or more souls to win, more jewels to place in
   the Redeemer's crown, more glory to be given to His name, and more
   service to be rendered to His Church.

   When George Whitfield lay sick and wanted to die, his Negro nurse had
   prayed for him and at last said, "No Massa Whitfield there is no dying
   for you! There's many a poor Negro yet to be brought to Christ and you
   must live." And live he did. You know when Melancthon lay very sick,
   Martin Luther said he should not die. And when his prayers began to
   work a cure, Melancthon said, "Let me die Luther, let me die, leave off
   your prayers." Luther replied, "No, man, I want you. God's cause wants
   you, and you shall not die yet." And when Melancthon refused to eat or
   to take the necessary medicine because he hoped to be soon with Christ,
   Luther threatened him with excommunication if he did not then and there
   do as he was bid.

   It is not for us by neglect of means, or wanton waste of strength, or
   profligate zeal, to cut short a life which may be useful. "Do yourself
   no harm"--the advice of Paul to the jailor--is not at all amiss here.
   God knows the pace at which time should travel, and how long the road
   of life should be. Why, if it were possible for there to be regrets in
   Heaven, it might be that we did not live longer here to do more good.
   More sheaves! More jewels! But how, unless there is more work? True,
   there is the other side of it--that living so briefly we sin the less,
   and our temptations are the fewer--but oh, when we are fully serving
   God, and He is using us to scatter precious seed and reap a
   hundred-fold, we would say it is well for us to abide where we are.

   An aged Christian, asked whether she would rather die or live, said she
   would rather it should be as God willed it. "But if you might have your
   choice, which would you have?" "If I might have my choice," said she,
   "I would ask God to choose for me, for I should be afraid to choose for
   myself." So be you ready to stay on this side of Jordan, or to cross
   the flood--just as your Master wills it.

   And then another thought. As this, "Come up here," should excite joyous
   anticipation, tempered by patient waiting, so, Beloved, it should
   always be to us a matter of absolute certainty as to its ultimate
   reception. I would not give sleep to my eyes, nor slumber to my eyelids
   if this were a subject of doubt, personally, as to whether at the last
   I should stand among the justified. I can understand a man being in
   doubt about his interest in Christ, but I cannot understand, and I hope
   I never may, a man's resting content if there are doubts. This is a
   matter about which we want absolute certainty. Young man yonder! Are
   you sure that the King will say to you, "Come up here"?

   If you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ with all your heart, that call
   from the Divine Throne is as certain to meet your ear as that other
   cry, "Dust you are, and unto dust you shall return." He that believes
   on the Son of God has everlasting life. No "ifs" or "buts" ought to be
   tolerated in our hearts. I know they will come up like ill weeds, but
   it is ours to pull them up, heap them together, and set them on fire,
   as farmers do with the twitch in their furrows. The devil loves us to
   cast lots at the foot of the Cross--but Christ would have us look unto
   Him and find a sure salvation.

   No, no, we are not to be put off with guesswork here. My Friend, can
   you be easy without infallible certainty? What? You may die tonight and
   be lost forever, and can you be happy? No, Man, I charge you by the
   living God, shut not those eyes until you are sure that you shall open
   them either in earth or Heaven! But if there is this fear that you may
   lift up those eyes in Hell, how dare you sleep? How dare you sleep,
   lest your bed become your tomb, and your chamber become the door of
   Tophet to you? Oh, Brothers and Sisters, let us seek to have the seal
   of God upon us--the infallible witness of the Holy Spirit bearing
   witness with our spirits--that we are born of God. Then, and only then,
   we may joyfully hope and quietly wait to see the salvation of God when
   the Master says, "Come up here."

   I will add this fourth thought and then proceed. I think very often,
   besides joyfully anticipating, patiently waiting, and being confidently
   assured of it, the Christian should delightfully contemplate it. Ah,
   let every Christian now say, "I shall soon be dying--time swiftly
   speeds away. There is my chamber. I can paint the picture now. They
   have told me that I am very sick, but they have kept back from me, till
   I asked them plainly, the news that I must very speedily die. But now I
   know it and feel the sentence of death in myself.

   Now for the joyous secret--in a few minutes I shall know more of Heaven
   than an assembly of Divines could teach me. But how solemn is the scene
   around me--they are moving quietly about the room--very silently they
   are catching each word that is uttered--treasuring it up. Now Saint,
   you must play the man! Say a good word for your Master! Stir the deeps
   of Jordan with your bold march of victory, O soldier of Jesus! Make its
   shelving shores resound with your melodies! Show them how a Christian
   can die--now let your full heart overflow with flood tides of Heaven.
   Drink up the bitter cup and say, "Death is swallowed up in victory."

   But, how is this that my mind seems fluttering as though about to take
   wing?--

   "What is this absorbs me quite-- Steals my senses--shuts my sight--
   Drowns my spirit--draws my breath? Tell me, my Soul, can this be
   death?" I cannot see. The film is forming on my eyes--it is the death
   glaze. A clammy sweat is on my brow--it is the dew from the damps of
   death. The kind hand of affection has just wiped my forehead, and I
   wish to speak, but there is a throttle in my throat which keeps down
   the word this is the monitor to me of the silence of the tomb. I will
   strive against it--

   "Joyful, with all the strength I have, My quivering lips shall sing,
   Where is your victory, boasting grave? And where's the monster's
   sting?"

   The effort has exhausted the dying one. He must fall back again. They
   stay him up with pillows. Ah, you may prop him up with pillows, but he
   has a better arm beneath him than that of the fondest friend!

   Now does his Beloved say, "Stay him with apples, and comfort him with
   flagons," for while sick to death, he is also "sick of love." His
   Master makes his bed in his sickness. His left hand is under his head,
   and His right hand does embrace him. The Husband of that chosen soul is
   now answering the prayer for His Presence which it delighted to offer,
   saying, "Abide with Me." Now is the poet's prayer granted to the
   letter--

   "Hold then, Your Cross before my closing eyes! Shine through the gloom
   and point me to the skies!
   Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee-- In life and
   death, O Lord, abide with me!" We cannot paint the last moment. The
   rapture, the dawning Glory, the first young flash of the beatific
   Glory--we must leave all that. On earth, the scene is far more somber
   and yet not sad--see yonder friends? They gather round. They say, "Yes,
   he is gone--how placidly he slept! I could not tell the moment when he
   passed from sleep to death. He is gone." They weep, but not with
   hopeless sorrow, for they mourn the body, not the soul. The setting is
   broken, but the gem is safe. The fold is removed, but the sheep is
   feeding on the hilltops of Glory. Worms devour the clay, but angels
   welcome the soul. There is general mourning wherever the good man was
   known--but mark you, it is only in the dark that this sorrow reigns.
   Up there in the light, what are they doing? That spirit, as it left the
   body, found itself not alone. Angels had come to meet it. Angelic
   spirits clasped the disembodied spirit in their arms and bore it upward
   beyond the stars--beyond where the angel in the sun keeps his
   everlasting watch--beyond, beyond this lower sky immeasurable leagues.
   Lo! The pearly gates appear, and the azure light of the city of
   bejeweled walls! The spirit asks, "Is yonder city the fair Jerusalem
   where they need no candle, neither light of the sun?" He shall see for
   himself before long, for they are nearing the Holy City, and it is time
   for the cherub-bearers to begin their choral.
   The music breaks from the lips of those that convey the saint to
   Heaven--"Lift up your heads, O you gates, and be you lifted up you
   everlasting doors, that the blood-bought of the King of Glory may come
   in!" The gates of pearl give way! The joyous crowds of Heaven welcome
   their Brother to the seats of immortality. But what next, I cannot
   tell. In vain the fancy strives to paint it. Jesus is there, and the
   spirit is in His arms in Heaven, where should it be but in the arms of
   Jesus? O joy! Joy! Joy! Boundless oceans of joy! I shall see Him! I
   shall see Him! These eyes shall see Him and not another--
   "Shall see Him wear that very flesh On which my guilt was laid. His
   love intense, His merit fresh, As though but newly slain. These eyes
   shall see Him in that day The Man that died for me! And all my rising
   bones shall say, Lord, who is like to You."

   I could lose myself while talking upon this subject, for my heart is
   all on fire! I wander, but I cannot help it. My heart is far away upon
   the hills with my Beloved Lord. What will the bliss of Glory be? A
   surprise, I think, even to those who shall obtain it. We shall scarcely
   know ourselves when we get to Heaven! We shall be so surprised at the
   difference. That poor man yonder is to be robed in all the splendors of
   a king! Come with me and see those bright ones--that son of toil, who
   rests forever--that child of sin, washed by Jesus, and now a companion
   of the God of Heaven!

   And /, the chief of sinners singing out His praise! Saul of Tarsus,
   hymning the music of Calvary! The penitent thief, with his deep bass
   note, exalting dying love. And Magdalene, mounting to the alto notes,
   for there must be some voices even in Heaven which must sing alone, and
   mount to higher notes where the rest of us cannot reach--the whole
   together singing, "Unto Him that loved us, and has washed us from our
   sins in His blood, unto Him be glory forever and ever." Oh that we were
   there! Oh that we were there! But we must patiently wait the Master's
   will. It shall not be long before He shall say, "Come up here."

   II. And now we shall turn to a second part of the subject. We will take
   the text, this time, not as a summons to depart, but as a WHISPER FROM
   THE SKIES TO THE BELIEVER'S HEART. There is a Voice that sounds from

   Heaven tonight, not as a peremptory summons, but as a gently-whispered
   invitation--"Come up here."

   The Father seems to say this to every adopted child tonight. We say,
   "Our Father which are in Heaven." The Father's heart desires to have
   His children round His knees, and His love each day beckons us with a
   tender, "Come up here." Nor will your Father, and my Father ever be
   content till everyone of His children shall be in the many mansions
   above. And Jesus whispers this in your ear tonight, too. Listen! Do you
   not hear Him say, "I will that they also whom You have given Me be with
   Me where I am, that they may behold My glory--the glory which You have
   given Me--the glory which I had with You before the world was." Jesus
   beckons you to the skies, Believer.

   Lay not hold upon the things of earth. He who is but a lodger in an inn
   must not live as though he were at home. Keep your tent ready for
   striking. Be always prepared to draw up your anchor, and to sail across
   the sea and find the better port--for while Jesus beckons, here we have
   no continuing city. No true wife has rest save in the house of her
   husband. Where her consort is, there is her home--a home which draws
   her soul towards it every day. Jesus, I say, invites us to the skies.
   He cannot be completely content until He brings His body, the Church,
   into the Glory of its Head, and conducts His elect spouse to the
   marriage feast of her Lord.

   Besides the desires of the Father and the Son, all those who have gone
   before seem to be leaning over the battlements of Heaven tonight, and
   calling, "Courage, Brothers! Courage, Brothers and Sisters! Eternal
   Glory awaits you. Fight your way, stem the current, breast the wave,
   and come up here. We, without you, cannot be made perfect--there is no
   perfect Church in Heaven till all the chosen saints are there.
   Therefore come up here."

   They stretch out their hands of fellowship. They look with glistening
   eyes of strong affection upon us, and again, they say, "Come up here."
   Warriors who wear your laurels, you call us to the brow of the hill
   where the like triumphs await us. The angels do the same tonight. How
   they must wonder to see us so careless, so worldly, so hardened! They
   also beckon us away, and cry from their starry seats, "Beloved, you
   over whom we rejoiced when you were brought as prodigals to your
   Father's house, 'Come up here,' for we long to see you. Your story of
   Divine Grace will be a strange and wondrous one--one which angels love
   to hear--

   "Stretch your wings, you saints and fly, Straight to yonder worlds of
   joy."

   I have kept my pledge to be short on that point. You can walk in this
   meditation as in a garden when you are quiet and alone. All nature
   rings the bell which calls you to the temple above. You may see the
   stars at night, looking down like the eyes of God upon you, and saying,
   "Come up here." The whispers of the wind, as they come in the stillness
   of the night talk to you, and say, "There is another and a better land.
   Come away with us--'Come up here.' " Yes, every cloud that sails across
   the sky may say to you, "Mount up beyond me, into the clear ether which
   no cloud can dim. Behold the sun which I can never hide--the noon which
   I can never mar. "Come up here."

   III. I shall want your attention to my third point for a few minutes,
   for I think these words may be used as A LOVING INVITATION TO
   UNCONVERTED PERSONS. There are many spirit voices which cry to them,
   "Come up here.

   Come up to Heaven."

   I like to see so many crowding here on these dark, cold, wintry days.
   This huge place is just as crowded as though it were some little
   vestry. You press upon one another as did the throngs in the days of
   the Master. God gives a spirit of hearing nowadays in a most wonderful
   manner. And oh, I would that while you are hearing, some living spark
   of Divine fire may fall into your hearts and become the parent of a
   glowing fire! If we ask any man whether he desires to go to Heaven, he
   will say, "Yes," but alas, his desires for Heaven are not strong enough
   to be of practical use! They are such sorry winds, that there is no
   sailing to Heaven with them.

   Perhaps if we can quicken those desires tonight, God the Spirit may
   bless our words to the bringing of men into the way of life. Sinner,
   Wanderer, far from God, many voices salute you tonight. Albeit you have
   chosen the paths of the Destroyer, there are many who would turn you to
   the way of peace. First, God our Father calls you. You say, "How?"
   Sinner, you have had many troubles of late. Business goes amiss. You
   have been out of work, unfortunate, troubled, disappointed. You have
   tried to get on, but you cannot do it in your house. Everything is out
   of order--somehow or other, whatever you put your hand to--nothing
   prospers.

   You are always floundering from one slough into another. And you are
   growing weary of your life. Do you not know, Sinner, this is your
   Father saying, "Come up here"? Your portion is not here. Seek another
   and a better land. You have built your nest on a tree that is marked
   for the axe, and He is pulling your nest down for you, that you may
   build on the Rock. I tell you, these troubles are but love strokes to
   deliver you from yourself. If you had been left untouched, I had had
   little hope for you. Surely then, God would have said, "Let him alone.
   He will have no portion in the next life, let him have his portion
   here."

   We have heard of a wife, a godly woman, who for twenty years had been
   persecuted by a brutal husband--a husband so excessively bad that her
   faith at last failed her, and she ceased to be able to believe that he
   would ever be converted. But all this while she was more kind to him
   than ever. One night, at twelve o'clock, in a drunken state, he told
   his friends he had such a wife as no other man had. And if they would
   go home with him, he would get her up, to try her temper, and she
   should get a supper for them all.

   They came and the supper was very soon ready, consisting of such things
   as she had prepared, as well and as rapidly as the occasion would
   allow. And she waited at the table with as much cheerfulness as if the
   feast had been held at the proper time. She did not utter a word of
   complaint. At last, one of the company, more sober than the rest, asked
   how it was she could always be so kind to such a husband. Seeing that
   her conduct had made some little impression, she ventured to say to
   him, "I have done all I can to bring my husband to God, and I fear he
   will never be saved. Since, therefore, his portion must be in Hell
   forever, I will make him as happy as I can while he is here, for he has
   nothing to expect hereafter."

   Now, such is your case tonight. You may get some pleasure here, but you
   have nothing to expect hereafter. God has been pleased, I said just
   now, to take your pleasures away. Here, then, I have good hopes that,
   since He shakes you from the present, you may be driven to the future.
   God your Father is thus making you uncomfortable in order that you may
   seek Him. It is the beckoning of the finger of His love, "Come up
   here." And you know, those deaths you have had lately, all say, "Come
   up here."

   You remember when your mother died--that was a Saint, indeed! Do you
   remember, John, what she said to you? She said, "I could die happy, if
   it were not for you, and your brother. But O that I might have a hope
   that you may yet come to God." Do you remember, Man, how that little
   daughter of yours, that had been to the Sunday School and died so
   young, kissed you and said to you, "Father, dear Father, do give up the
   drunkard's cup and follow me to Heaven. Do not be angry, Father, I am
   dying. Do not be angry because I said that, Father. Follow me to
   Heaven." You have not yielded to that loving entreaty. You are
   descending into Hell.

   Yet remember, all this was God beckoning to you and saying, "Come up
   here." He has called, and you have refused. Take care, lest when you
   call, He should refuse you. Besides, you have had a sickness yourself.
   If I am not mistaken, I am speaking to the right man now. It is not so
   long ago since you had a fever, or what was it? It was an accident, and
   everybody said you had a near escape for life. You had time for
   reflection when you lay in that hospital, or in your own little room.
   Do you remember what conscience said to you? How it rent away the
   curtain and made you look at your destiny, until you read in fiery
   letters these words, "You shall make your bed in Hell"?

   Oh, how you trembled then! You had no objection to see the minister.
   You could not laugh, then, at the Gospel of Christ! You made a great
   many vows and resolutions, and you have broken them all. You have lied
   unto the Most High. You have perjured yourself to the God of Israel,
   and mocked at the God of mercy, and of justice. Beware, lest He take
   you away with a stroke, for then a great ransom shall not deliver you.
   These things, then, have been beckonings of your Father's hand to you,
   saying, "Come up here."

   But more, the Lord Jesus Christ has also beckoned to you to come. You
   have heard that He made a way to Heaven. What does a way mean? Is not a
   road an invitation to a traveler to walk therein? I have crossed the
   Alps, and have seen the mighty roads which Napoleon made that he might
   take his cannon into Austria. But how shall we compare the works which
   men have made through the solid granite and over pathless
   mountains--mountains that before were pathless-- how shall we compare
   these with the road which Christ has made to Heaven through the rocks
   of Justice, over the gulfs of Sin, throwing Himself into the gaps,
   leaping into the chasm to complete the way?

   Now, the way itself speaks to you. The blood of Christ, which made the
   way, speaks better things than that of Abel. And it says, "Sinner,
   believe on Christ and you are saved." By every drop of blood which
   streamed in sweat from Him in the garden. By every drop which poured
   from His hands and feet. By all the agony which He endured, I do
   beseech you-- hear the Voice which cries, "Go and sin no more." Trust
   your soul with Him and you are saved.

   But, my dear Hearer, have patience with me--give me your ear. The
   Spirit of God strives with you, and cries, "Come up here." The Spirit
   of God wrote this Book. And why was this Book written? Hear the words
   of Scripture, "These are written that you might believe that Jesus is
   the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing, you might have life
   through His name." Here is the Book full of promises, perfumed with
   affection, brimming with love. Oh, why, why will you spurn it, and put
   the voice of mercy from you? Every time you see the Bible, imagine you
   see written on its cover, "Go up to Heaven, seek eternal life."

   Then there is the ministry through which the Spirit of God speaks. I
   have often prayed my Master to give me a Baxter's heart to weep for
   sinners, and a Whitfield's tongue to plead. I have neither. But if I
   had them, oh, how would I plead with you! But such as I have, I give
   you. As God's ambassador, I do beseech you, Sinner, turn from the error
   of your ways. "As I live, says the Lord, I have no pleasure in the
   death of him that dies, but would rather that he turn unto Me and
   live." "Why will you die?" Is Hell so pleasant? Is an angry God a
   trifle? Is sin a thing to be laughed at? Is the right hand of God, when
   bared in thunder, a thing to be despised? Oh, turn! Flee to the Refuge!
   The Spirit bids you fly!

   Moreover, does not your conscience say the same? Is not there something
   in your heart tonight which says--"Begin to think about your soul.
   Trust your soul with Christ"? May Divine Grace constrain you to listen
   to the still small voice, that you may be saved!

   And, last of all, the spirits of your departed friends cry from Heaven
   to you tonight--that voice which I would you could hear, "Come up
   here." Mother--unconverted woman--you have a babe in Heaven. Perhaps
   not one or two, but a family of babes in Heaven. You are a mother of
   angels, and those young cherubs cry to you, "Mother, come up here!" But
   this can never be unless you repent and believe in the Lord Jesus
   Christ! I know there are some of you who have carried to the tomb the
   most sainted of relatives. Your hoary-headed father at last went the
   way of all flesh, and from his celestial seat before the eternal throne
   he cries, "Come up here."

   A sister, sickened by consumption, who has long since left your house
   for you to mourn her absence, cries "Come up here." I entreat you, you
   sons of saints in glory! I entreat you, daughter of immortal
   mothers--despise not now the voice of those who speak from Heaven to
   you! Oh, were they here--could it be possible for them to come here to
   speak to you tonight, I know the notes of fond affection which would
   spring from your lips--"There's my mother." "There's my father."

   They cannot come--but I am the spokesman for them. If I cannot speak as
   they might, yet remember, if you are not converted when you hear the
   Gospel preached, "neither would you be converted if one rose from the
   dead." They could but tell you the Gospel. I do no less. That Gospel
   is, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved." "He that
   believes and is baptized shall be saved," says the Evangelist. To
   believe is to trust Christ. To be baptized is not baby sprinkling--for
   that there is no warrant but in the inventions of man. To be baptized
   is to be buried with Christ in Baptism after faith--for that which is
   done without faith, and not done of faith, is contrary to the Lord's
   command.

   Baptism is for Believers, not for sinners--like the Lord's Supper, it
   is in the Church, not out of it. Believing, you are saved. Baptism does
   not save you. You are baptized because you are saved. Baptism is the
   outward recognition of the great inward change which the Spirit of God
   has worked. Believe, then, in Jesus. Flat on your face before His
   Cross, cast yourself. Then rise and say, "Now will I confess His name,"
   and be united with His Church, and believe that at last, having
   confessed Him before men, He may confess you before His Father which is
   in Heaven.

   And now you are going home tonight--I am clear of your blood, remember.
   I know not how many may be here, but I suppose there are seven thousand
   people here tonight who will be without excuse in the Day of Judgment.
   I have warned you as best I can. I have pleaded with you. Sinner!
   Sinner! Your blood is on your own head if you refuse this great
   Salvation! O God the Holy Spirit, make them willing in the day of Your
   Power, and save them this night and forever, for Your name's sake.
   Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                            Broad Rivers And Streams

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JANUARY 18, 1863, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "Look upon Zion, the city of our solemnities: your eyes shall see
   Jerusalem a quiet habitation, a tabernacle that shall not be taken
   down. Not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be removed, neither
   shall any of the cords thereof be broken. But there the glorious Lord
   will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams; wherein shall go
   no galley with oars, neither shall gallant ship pass thereby. For the
   Lord is our Judge, the Lord is our Lawgiver, the Lord is our King. He
   will save us. Your tacklings are loosed, they could not well strengthen
   their mast, they could not spread the sail: then is the prey of a great
   spoil divided, the lame take the prey." Isaiah 33:20-23.

   THIS prophecy was uttered when the city of Jerusalem was reduced to the
   direst extremity. The Assyrian hosts threatened the city with utter
   destruction. Rabshakeh, a fitting herald for his tyrannical master, had
   advanced to inspect the walls while Sennacherib tarried at Lachish.
   False to all treaties, the heavy sum paid down by Hezekiah could not
   ensure the promised mercy from the ferocious despot. The treasuries of
   the city were exhausted, and therefore no further attempt in that
   direction could be made. No help could be looked for from any other
   nation. Even Egypt was in deadly fear of the great power of Nineveh.

   The Assyrians were strong as lions, and cruel as evening wolves. No
   nation had ever equaled them in remorseless and wanton cruelty.
   Punishments the most horrible were constantly executed upon those whom
   they vanquished. Impalement, flaying alive, and piercing out the eyes
   were their ordinary amusements after the close of battle. Look at the
   stones disinterred from Nineveh, and you will see engraved there by
   themselves memorials of the horrible barbarities which they constantly
   perpetrated. Sennacherib's army was exceedingly great. It had already
   stormed many cities.

   Arphad and Sepharvaim, Hamath and Samaria had fallen an easy
   spoil--cities that were surrounded by rivers had been defeated by
   diverting the current and so drying up the streams. Or else by using
   galleys with oars, the Assyrian monarch had reached the walls and
   applied the scaling ladders. The army was so well equipped, so
   numerous, and so thoroughly well supplied with all munitions of war,
   that there was not the slightest hope of the escape of Jerusalem except
   by Divine power. Yet the Assyrians did not shoot an arrow there, nor
   did they cast up a mound against it, for at nightfall the angel of the
   Lord went forth and slew a hundred and forty thousand men, and
   Sennacherib hastened back to his own land.

   Brethren, you know the analogy here, how the Church of Christ is every
   day surrounded by the most ferocious adversaries. She is like
   Jerusalem. All round about her the dogs of Hell are yelping for her as
   their prey. Satan has multitudes of faithful servants too glad to
   engage in battle against the Lord's Anointed, and against the Church
   which He has redeemed by His own blood. They are well armed with an
   infernal protection. They are very skillful, determined and resolute.
   Not a stone will be left unturned to blot out the remembrance of
   Christ's kingdom from under Heaven.

   But rejoice! Even if the dark day should come, be not dismayed! God is
   our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. The Church is
   not in danger. She is impregnably garrisoned. The gates of Hell shall
   not prevail against her, and she shall abide in her place until He
   shall come who has made her beautiful for the situation, the joy of the
   whole earth. He shall come to translate her to the skies, to be the New
   Jerusalem--the Bride, the Lamb's wife--to glitter forever in the
   brightness which far outshines the light of the sun.

   Let us now with profound attention meditate upon our text, and notice
   that, as the existence of Jerusalem was imperiled, the first promise of
   Isaiah was that Jerusalem should still exist--"Your eyes shall see
   Jerusalem a quiet habitation," and so on. But, further, inasmuch as
   during the siege many unbelieving persons had found fault with the
   position of Jerusalem, because it was not surrounded by a river, the
   promise is given that she shall have a glorious position--"There the
   glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams."

   No, more than this, as a climax of blessing, she is promised perpetual
   triumph over all her enemies, since in her streams, "shall go no galley
   with oars, neither shall gallant ship pass thereby." Or, if they come,
   they shall prove a wreck--"Your tacklings are loosed. They could not
   well strengthen their mast, they could not spread the sail."

   I. The first promise made to the Church of God in our text is one
   SECURING TO HER AN EVERLASTING EXISTENCE. The Church is not a temporary
   institution--it shall never be removed, but abide forever.

   1. From the words of the text I gather that the Jerusalem of God shall
   exist as she is. What was she in those days? She was the city of
   solemnities. She was the place where prayer and praise were custom to
   be made. So is she to continue throughout all generations. The Church
   of God is in this world the city of all true solemnities. Any prayer
   and praise that are not offered by the chosen of the Lord, who
   constitute the true and invisible Church of God, are but vain
   oblations.

   Zion--the chosen Church, redeemed by blood, called by the Spirit, and
   preserved by Divine Grace--Zion is the one consecrated enclosure in
   which sacrifices of righteousness can be acceptably offered. This
   hallowed temple shall stand forever as the Lord's chosen dwelling
   place. Beloved, the day shall never come when the Church shall cease to
   be the temple of prayer. The fire upon this altar shall never be
   quenched day nor night--

   "To Him shall constant prayer be made, And princes throng to crown His
   head. His name like sweet perfume shall rise With every morning's
   sacrifice."

   There shall never lack a man in our Israel to hold up holy hands, like
   Moses, upon the mountain, that the hosts of God may prevail in the
   plain below. Elijahs may be taken away, but Elishas shall follow.
   Apostles may cease their perpetual supplications, but a train of
   intercessors shall follow in their footsteps. While earth brings forth
   her harvests, the Church shall yield her sheaves of prayer. Nor shall
   praise ever cease. The hallowed hymn, the psalm of victory, the
   hallelujah of triumphant joy--these shall never be suspended in the
   worst days of the Church. Even when she assembled in the catacombs and
   gathered her sons for worship in the caves of the earth--even then she
   had her hymns of praise--even then they sang of Christ ascended and
   about to come.

   The roaring of the sea may cease, the thunders may be hushed, and the
   spheres may end their songs, but the redeemed of the Lord must praise
   the name of Jehovah world without end. Neither shall the Church ever
   cease to be the fountain of ministry. The ministration of the Word is a
   part of our solemnities. There shall never come a time when the
   Prophet's voice shall be stilled. Our Lord will still raise pastors
   after His own heart, and teachers anointed for His work. The living
   waters shall ever gush from the foot of Mount Zion, and the stream
   which welled up when Jesus sent forth His twelve disciples shall flow
   on, ever widening, ever deepening, "Till, like a sea of glory, it
   spreads from pole to pole."

   City of our solemnities! We delight to behold the feet of the
   ambassadors of the Lord. They are beautiful upon the mountains, for
   they proclaim to us glad tidings. How greatly do we rejoice that we
   shall never lack the messenger sent from Heaven, nor shall the
   candlestick be removed out of its place. Moreover, Beloved, the
   ordinances of God's house, such as Baptism and the Sacred Supper, these
   shall never cease. There was a day when Baptism was hardly known in the
   Christian Church, save only among a persecuted few who were called
   heretics.

   Nevertheless, the hallowed stream has always been stirred by some who,
   "faithful to their Master found," were buried with Him in Baptism unto
   death, and gave in Baptism the answer of a good conscience towards God.
   And the Lord's Supper, too, had almost ceased from the Christian
   Church. The "mass," of course, continued, but what of that? Is that the
   Lord's Supper? No, verily, but a profane prostitution of the simplicity
   of God, a silly mystery more fitted to be styled the incantation of a
   haggard witch, than to be called the Supper of our Lord Jesus Christ.

   But still, there were a faithful few, called heretics, who met together
   and broke bread in remembrance of their Lord and Master. And so,
   Brothers and Sisters, while seedtime and harvest, summer and winter
   shall continue, until He comes, we will show forth His death, we will
   set forth His burial, celebrating, according to His own will, the
   commands and ordinances which He Himself has given us. City of our
   solemnities, methinks I see you now in vision! You are the place where
   God dwells between the curtains, hidden from the gaze of unhallowed
   eyes, seen only by those whom Christ has made kings and priests unto
   God!

   Never, never, never from you, O Church of God, shall the presence of
   the Holy One depart! No rushing of wings shall be heard, as in the
   siege of Jerusalem. No mysterious voice shall thunder, "Arise, let us
   go from here." "Lo I am with you always, even unto the end of the
   world," secures to you, O Zion, the Presence of your Lord and Master
   forever. Methinks I see your altar--on it smokes the Lamb that has just
   been slain--still acceptable before the Lord, and ever to remain the
   finished sacrifice--

   "Dear dying Lamb, Your precious blood Shall never lose its Power, Till
   all the ransomed Church of God Be sa ved to sin no more."

   Hallowed courts, you shall never be desecrated! Sacred rites, you shall
   never cease! The Lord has said it, and it must be! His Church
   abides--though the mountains depart, and the hills be removed, yet
   shall not His Covenant of love depart from her--nor shall her safety
   ever be imperiled, even unto the world's end.

   2. Further, my Brothers and Sisters, it appears to me that the city is
   to exist, not only as the city of our solemnities, which it is, but as
   a quiet habitation which we would desire it to be. The Church of God is
   always a quiet habitation, even when her enemies surround her. Some of
   you may have seen, some months ago in the Exhibition, a Belgian picture
   representing the reading of the statute of the Duke of Alva in the
   Flemish Towns, establishing the Inquisition. Godly merchants are
   listening in deep solemnity of sorrow. The young maiden weeps upon her
   sister's bosom, the aged woman turns her streaming eyes to Heaven.

   All this the painter could depict, but he could not paint the deep
   Heaven-born peace which still possessed the souls of the threatened
   ones--who for the Master's sake could suffer all worldly loss. That
   peace of God which passes all understanding, lives even in the day of
   trial. You know what Martin Luther said, whenever any trouble came,
   "Come, let us go in and sing the forty-sixth Psalm, and defy the
   devil." And oh, how grandly that old Psalm would swell from the deep
   bass voices of the Reformer and his companions--"God is our refuge and
   strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear,
   though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into
   the midst of the sea."

   With all her foes about her, I say, the Church of God is evermore a
   quiet habitation. But how quiet is she, Beloved, when her enemies are
   not allowed to prey upon her! "Then had the Churches rest," says the
   Holy Spirit in the Acts of the Apostles, and verily, the text applies
   to us now. We sit, every man, under his own vine, and under his own fig
   tree, none making us afraid. And besides the quiet we enjoy
   politically, I thank God that in this Church, at least, we know what
   quiet means in our communion with one another. Where ever the Holy
   Spirit dwells, there will be quietness. The Holy Spirit, you know, is
   represented to us as a dove--doves love not the storm, and the Spirit
   of God abides not where there is noise, strife, controversy and
   division. No. There must be peace and quietness.

   And you, my beloved Friends, who are really in the Church of
   Christ--mark, you may be in our Church, and not in the Church of
   Christ--you may make a profession of being in the Church and not be in
   the invisible, mysterious, secret body of the faithful. But if you
   really are among that chosen number, you will enjoy great quietness,
   you will be able to say with the Apostle, "Therefore being justified by
   faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." You will
   get a hold of the Psalmist's meaning when he said, "So He gives His
   beloved sleep." You will rest in God's love even as God rests in it.

   Happy day! Happy day! For those who, by the eye of faith, can look into
   the future after Christ shall come, who can behold the glad millennial
   age--they shall understand yet more fully the meaning of this prophecy,
   "Your eyes shall see Jerusalem a quiet habitation." When everywhere
   Christ shall be known. When in every land the fifth and last empire
   shall rule. Then, as in the days of Solomon, there shall be no war, but
   peace, peace forever. Till then the God of all peace is with us and we
   may be sure that all is well.

   Our quietness must continue, for the Church nestles under the wings of
   God. How can she be disquieted? The mountains of His power are round
   about her. How can she be carried by storm? Her Lord is a wall of fire
   encircling her. Who can touch her? He is the glory in the midst of her.
   How can she fear? He is All in All to her. He wears her on His breast,
   He has written her name on His hands. She is the jewel of His crown and
   the bracelet of His arm. Oh, how blessed must she be!

   3. But, further, our text seems to indicate that there were some
   persons who doubted all this and said, "Well, but you speak of this
   city as though it could stand an attack. It cannot--it is such a feeble
   place, it is like a tent, it can soon be stormed--a gust of wind can
   blow it over." The Lord anticipates this difficulty and shows that the
   feebleness of Jerusalem should be no reason why she should not still
   continue to exist. She is a tabernacle--a mere tent--but she is a
   tabernacle that shall not be taken down.

   It is true that to human eyes she seems to have no huge stones, no
   gates of brass, no bulwarks of solid masonry. But though she has
   nothing but cords and stakes, yet her stakes shall not be loosed, nor
   shall her cords be snapped. Oh, Beloved, one delights to think of the
   feebleness of the Church, as magnifying the power of Him who keeps her!
   What can be more feeble than the Church of God? She has no carnal
   weapons. "My kingdom is not of this world, else would My servants
   fight." The true Church has no great riches. The most of her followers
   are poor. She has no wisdom. They who use logic and cunning can soon
   overthrow her disciples and ridicule her advocates.

   She understands not the wisdom of human speech, or, rather, she
   renounces it and speaks with simplicity, as she ought to speak.
   Philosophers laugh at her. Kings hardly take her into account. They
   think the Church so insignificant that they can put out her candle when
   they will. But, ah, not so. The Church is still secure, despite her
   feebleness. It is wonderful, how during these last nineteen centuries,
   God has been pleased to keep that spark alive. All the devils in Hell
   have been spitting at this candle, but it burns still--they have sought
   to throw the whole of the floods of evil upon the Heaven-kindled spark,
   but the spark still lives.

   They have tried to stamp it out, but it has blazed the more. The
   Church's feebleness, because it drives her to God, is the Church's
   strength. I pray God that our Church may never confide in wisdom, or
   wit, or eloquence, or riches, or rank, or fame. No, Lord, You are the
   reinforced pillar of Your Church's sure support, and if we rest on You,
   we are secure. But if once we depend elsewhere, we fall to our
   confusion.

   4. Further, complete this part of the promise, the city,
   notwithstanding all her feebleness, is to be forever complete. If I
   understand the last two sentences--"Not one of the stakes thereof shall
   ever be removed, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken," we
   learn here that all the true members of the Church are safe. Some of
   them may be driven into the earth as the stakes are driven, with a
   heavy mallet--but the strokes of tribulation shall only give them a
   better hold and minister stability to the whole structure.

   Satan may seek to pull them up, and the winds may blow on the tent
   enough to tear up the stakes that hold it, but no hurricane or raging
   typhoon shall cast down the Divine habitation. Cords are apt to be
   snapped, and if they are long used, the strands at last may rot and new
   cords and new stakes may be required--but not so with the Church of
   God. If you are one of the cords or the stakes of the Church, you shall
   never be cast away, the Lord will take care, not only to preserve the
   Church as a whole, but each individual part of it.

   I need not enlarge here, for you are all sound in your belief of final
   perseverance. What should we do without that precious doctrine! Oh,
   Brothers and Sisters, if one cord could be snapped, surely it were
   myself! If one stake could be removed, I think I hear you say, "It must
   be I. I must be moved, I must be cast away." But not one shall be. Just
   as the stones were taken out of the quarry and all shaped, to be put in
   their own position in Solomon's temple, and no one stone could take
   another stone's niche, so you have your place appointed you. And you
   are being quarried today to be made into the right shape for it, and
   you, and no one but you, can occupy that place in the temple of God in
   Heaven. And you shall shine there as a polished stone forever.

   But I think, dear Friends, that this also relates to the doctrines of
   the Gospel. Every day produces some improved divinity. Every now and
   then, to suit the times, a new edition of the Gospel is issued. Young
   gentlemen at college are taught not to preach the common ordinary
   doctrines, such as John Calvin, St. Augustine, and the Apostle Paul
   preached. They must go to Germany and muddle their own heads, and then
   come forth to muddle other people's. They must have some philosophical
   divinity, some novelty, something more refined than that which would
   attract the mob and gather together the common people.

   Thinking people must be cared for. Sermons must be full of intellectual
   matter. The old Apostles were but fishermen, and of course they could
   not preach more than fishermen's education would enable them to
   comprehend. But these gentlemen have taken their degrees, and can climb
   to far greater heights, and descend into far more profound depths than
   plain Peter or illiterate John. Well, dear Friends, we are content with
   the old wine since it is the best. Christ's Gospel is no new Gospel.

   And moreover, we are old-fashioned enough to believe that not one
   doctrine is to be altered, nor half a doctrine, nor the thousandth part
   of a doctrine! No, nor yet the form of a doctrine. We would "hold fast
   the form of sound words"-- not only the principle, mark--but the words.
   And not only the words, but the very form in which the words were
   molded. "Words, words, words," says somebody, "what is the use of
   words, and forms, and creeds? Why, these are old musty, crusty
   documents, only sectarians care about them."

   Yes, then let us be sectarians. Let us hold with force and strength of
   mind the very form of sound words which have been delivered unto us.
   Not one of the stakes shall be removed, nor one of the cords be
   loosened. So with the ordinances. We do not believe, for instance, that
   we have any power to change the immersion, which was practiced by the
   Apostles, into sprinkling--nor take infants instead of Believers. We
   think that not one of the cords can be removed, nor one of the stakes
   be taken out of its place. We do not think we have any right to change
   the breaking of bread and the drinking of wine into a "mass," and thus
   make a new ceremony, instead of perpetuating that which was delivered
   unto us.

   No, let the old Gospel be the old Gospel. "To the Law and to the
   Testimony, if they speak not according to this Word, it is because
   there is no light in them." We must keep to the same practices and
   believe the same Truths of God even unto the end. Alas for you, you
   cities of earth, you have tottered to your fall! A heap of sand, a
   mountain of ruin is to be found where once Babylon lifted her proud
   head, and where Nineveh exalted her brazen brow! Even old Rome has
   crumbled, and her pillars lie prostrate! Her theatres are but a place
   of emptiness, and her temples but deserted fanes.

   But you, O Church of God, you still exist! Not one of your pillars has
   been shaken! Not a column has left its base or lost its capital.
   Riveted and held fast by more than iron bands, the whole of your fabric
   is as unmoved as the pillars of the universe. Every stone is as new and
   strong as when first Jehovah dug your deep foundations, and laid your
   stones in the fair red cement of Jesus' precious blood!

   Still do your pinnacles glisten in the sun, O you bejeweled city! No
   change has tarnished you. Time has no tooth to devour the glories, no
   foot to trample on your joys. You are the Eternal City and all things
   else are but shadow, mist and dream. Like the God that made you, you
   are immortal, invisible, the only true Church, as He is the only true
   God. Unto Him that built you, and that dwells in you, be glory both now
   and forever. Amen.

   II. The second part of our subject is THE PREEMINENT POSITION. It was a
   cause of lamenting to many of the sinners in Zion that Jerusalem was
   not better defended. The most approved method of ancient defense was to
   surround the city by a broad moat. Joab thought it no mean achievement
   when he took the "city of waters." Hence, God here meets all the wishes
   of His people by telling them that He will be to them all that broad
   rivers and streams could possibly be.

   Jerusalem had nothing but its little brook Kedron, which was not worth
   the mentioning, for it could be no means of defense at all in a day of
   siege. But He, even Jehovah, will be to them all that broad rivers and
   streams would by comparison suggest. At the meaning of this promise I
   must now very hastily glance. First I think it means fertility.
   Understand that especially in the East broad rivers and streams are
   very necessary to fertilize the earth. Egypt owed all her harvests to
   the Nile.

   And the great plain of Mesopotamia, in which Nineveh and Babylon were
   situated, was watered by two great riv-ers--the Tigris and the
   Euphrates--and by innumerable streams which intersected the intervening
   country. The whole land was irrigated by canals and little brooks. It
   is now a desert because there is no irrigation, but then it was the
   most fertile part of the world. We are told in the first chapters of
   Genesis concerning Eden, that there went a river through it. It had not
   been Eden without its Hiddekel.

   Well, now, Jerusalem had none of these broad rivers or streams, but her
   God is to be all that to her. O, Beloved, how fertile God makes His
   Church! Let but the Lord Jehovah come among His people, and there are
   many conversions. Her sons and daughters are as many as the sand of the
   sea, and her offspring like the gravel thereof. Only let the Lord be
   with the minister, and with the Church, and we shall have to say--"Who
   are these that fly as a cloud and like doves to their windows?"

   Moreover, in your heart and mine, if we have Jehovah there, He will be
   to us a place of broad rivers and streams, and we shall be fertile in
   all Divine Graces. Perhaps this morning you feel like a desert,
   bringing forth no fruit. Ah, but think of your glorious Lord! Think of
   the glory of all His attributes--especially think of the glory of His
   Grace, the glory of His finished work for you, the glory of His Cross,
   and of His Throne. You will find that He will give you fertility--your
   faith shall grow and all your graces shall flourish! The glorious Lord
   can make us like a tree planted by the rivers of water so that we shall
   bring forth our fruit in our season.

   And as for good works, which are the true fruit of such as the Lord
   loves, let but Jehovah dwell in us, let His Spirit abide in us, let
   Christ be in constant fellowship with our souls, and we shall abound in
   every good work to the glory of God. We want no Tigris. We need no
   Euphrates. We seek no Nile--Jehovah is to us a place of broad rivers
   and streams. Our fruit surely blossoms and ripens in its time when God,
   the glorious Lord, is with us.

   Broad rivers signify not only fertile soil, but abundance to the
   inhabitants. Places near broad rivers produce a great variety of
   plants. We know that the children of Israel regretted that they had
   left the leeks, garlic, onions, cucumbers and melons of Egypt--plants
   that grew by the rivers. Besides, where there are rivers there is an
   abundance of fish of all kinds, and in the fat pastures, such as
   Goshen, which was well watered by the Nile, abundance of cattle are
   reared. And the abundant harvests which are produced there through the
   admirable irrigation, make that land blessed which has broad rivers and
   streams.

   Well now, our God is all this to His Church. Having God, she has
   abundance. What can she ask for that He will not give her? What want
   can she have which He will not supply? Oh, you citizens of Zion, what
   are your wants this morning? My Master sends me out like a herald from
   a king, and He bids me cry in the streets of this Zion, "Ho, you that
   have any need, come to your king and He will supply you." Want you the
   Bread of Life? It drops like manna from the sky. Want you refreshing
   streams? The Rock follows you, and that Rock is Christ.

   "In this mountain shall the Lord of Hosts make unto all people a feast
   of fat things, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full of
   marrow, of wines on the lees well refined." If you have any want, it is
   your own fault! If you are straitened, you are not straitened in Him,
   but in your own heart.

   Broad rivers and streams in like manner point to commerce. We know that
   in Holland, especially the broad rivers and streams make that nation
   what it is. The harbors are so safe, the rivers so broad, and the
   canals so innumerable, that commerce is easy in every place, and the
   ends of the earth are linked to the nation by its broad rivers and
   streams. In that country we find curious importations hardly known to
   any other people, because they have gathered up the treasures of the
   far-off lands. There was a time when their broad rivers and streams
   enabled them to engross the mercantile power of the whole universe.

   Well, Beloved, our glorious Lord--keep the adjective as well as the
   noun--our glorious Lord is to be to us a place of commerce. Through God
   we have commerce with the past. The riches of Calvary, the riches of
   the Covenant, the riches of the old age of election, the riches of
   eternity--all come to us down the broad stream of our gracious Lord. We
   have commerce, too, with the future. What galleys, laden to the water's
   edge, come to us from the millennium! What visions we have of the days
   of Heaven upon earth.

   Through our glorious Lord we have commerce with angels, commerce with
   the bright spirits washed in blood that sing before the Truth of
   God--no, better still, we have commerce with the Infinite One, with
   eternity, with self-existence, with Immutability, with Omnipotence,
   with Omniscience--for our glorious Lord is to us a place of broad
   rivers and streams. I wonder how Unitarians find comfort, since they
   have no glorious Lord--they have an inglorious Lord. And I think I may
   say of Unitarianism as our Prophet here says concerning Assyria, that,
   having no glorious Lord, "their tacklings are loosed, they cannot well
   strengthen their mast, they cannot spread the sail. There is the prey
   of a great spoil taken from them, the lame take the prey." But we who
   have a glorious Lord, an Incarnate God, God in Christ Jesus, we, I say,
   have commerce with Heaven.

   Finally, broad rivers and streams are specially intended to set forth
   security. We have already alluded to our own happy island. Dr. Watts
   has said of it--

   "Oh, Britain, praise your mighty God, And make His honors known abroad.
   He bade the ocean round you flow, Not bars of brass could guard you
   so."

   In the memorable '88, when the Spanish Armada, as the old Divines of
   that age said, "turreted the seas" till the high prows of the vessels
   hid the waves of the ocean, God blew with His winds and all Spain's
   mighty hosts were broken, and God's favored isle was free.

   We were doubtless spared the horrors of war under the first Napoleon
   through our narrow sea. It was especially so in the old times of
   ancient warfare. Then a narrow trench was almost as useful as a broad
   channel would be now, for they had no ready means of crossing so well.
   Although on old Assyrian sculptures we see galleys with oars crossing
   over rivers and we have one or two sculptures, I believe, in the
   British Museum, of the Assyrian king turning the river into another
   channel so that he might the more easily take the city.

   But still, rivers were for a defense. Oh, Beloved, what a defense is
   God to His Church! Ah, the devil cannot cross this broad river of God.
   Between me and you, O fiend of Hell, is my God. Do remember this,
   Christian, between you and your archenemy is your God. Satan has to
   stand on the other side and oh, how he wishes he could dry up that
   stream, but God is Omnipotent. How Satan wishes he could change the
   current, but fear not, for God abides Immutably the same.

   How Satan wishes he could get at you and me--but only once let us get
   safely in Zion--we may look over its walls, across the broad rivers and
   streams, and remember that we are out of gunshot of the enemy so far as
   our spiritual existence is concerned. He cannot destroy us! Worry us,
   he may--for we are such timid souls--but kill he cannot, for God, even
   our mighty God, keeps us safe beyond all possibility of destruction.

   III. We come now to offer one or two words on the last point, upon
   which we have already entrenched. The last point is ETERNAL SAFETY. I
   have already said that these broad rivers did not always answer the
   purpose of defending the city, because the Assyrian king carried
   galleys with him overland, and thus took the city. But concerning this
   broad river it is written, "There shall go no galley with oars, neither
   shall gallant ship pass thereby," to come up to the walls to attack the
   bulwarks.

   Our text teaches us that to the eye of faith the Church has no enemies
   at all. "Wherein shall go no galley with oars." "No enemies at all."
   "But," says one, "there are enemies to the Truth of God everywhere! We
   see the enemies of God creeping in everywhere. The whole world is in
   arms against us." But faith so clearly perceives the feebleness and the
   frailty of man that, like her Lord, she takes up all the nations as a
   very little thing and counts all her adversaries to be but as a drop in
   the bucket. You ramble in your garden, perhaps, in the summer time, and
   a spider has spun its stoutest web across your path. You walk along and
   you never think that there is anything to hinder you, and yet there are
   those spiders' strong webs, which would have caught a thousand flies,
   but they do not impede you.

   So is it with God's glorious Church--there are barriers across her
   path, but they are only spider's webs. On she walks--she has no
   adversaries, for she counts her adversaries to be nothing. "No weapon
   that is formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue that rises
   against you in judgment you shall condemn." This is the heritage of the
   people of the Lord. "They that war against us shall be as nothing and
   as a thing of nothing." Thus says the Lord.

   Further, mark, dear Friends, that when we are compelled to see that the
   Church has adversaries, yet, according to the promise, those
   adversaries shall be put to confusion. They have launched the ship. The
   galley with oars is on the sea. The text does not say that no galley
   with oars shall ever be there, but "no galley with oars shall go
   there." Now, in order to make it "go" they must fix the mast. They must
   gird the tacklings, or how shall they spread the sail, and how shall
   they proceed on their way? Ah, but they cannot, they cannot strengthen
   their mast. Their tacklings are loosed.

   They are like mariners reeling to and fro. They stagger like drunken
   men. They are at their wit's end. They know not how to make the mast
   stand in its socket. It was shaped and fashioned at Nineveh. It has
   been used in other sieges and it answered well. But this time it will
   not fit into its socket. The wind blows furiously. They cannot fasten
   the tacklings in their proper places. They know not where to find the
   ropes and spars. They cannot strengthen the mast nor spread the sail!
   Oh, how glorious it is to see the confusion of God's enemies!

   Some say the devil is wise, but he is a fool, and has been a fool from
   the very beginning. All he has ever done has been to throw stones in
   the sky which have fallen down upon his own head. He always shoots his
   arrows the wrong end foremost, and then they come back again with their
   points toward him. Somehow or other the crafty old fox, when
   undermining the Church's fall, manages to cover himself with filth.
   When the whole of this world's drama shall come to an end, there will
   be one tremendous laugh from earth and Heaven against the devil, for
   they will say, "Aha! Aha! Aha! He has been God's slave all the while.

   "He has been but God's dupe, working out God's Glory. He thought he was
   having his own way and doing his own will, but he has been but a
   pitiful slave to carry the materials out of which God shall bring forth
   triumphs that shall shine throughout eternity." O Beloved, we need not
   be afraid! Our enemies are in confusion. They do not know how to attack
   us.

   And then, faith not only sees the confusion of her adversaries, but she
   also believes they are so utterly destroyed that she may go out and
   spoil them. They could not spread the sails. They could not fix the
   mast. Look! The wind has driven them on yonder rock! How the ship
   breaks. How she splits. There, now, she divides in pieces, and her
   cargo is drifted on the shore-- and the men and the women and lame men
   are leaning on their staves. And little children all run down to the
   beach and gather the spoil from the wrecked ship. So it always has been
   in every attack that has been made on the Church--we have always seen
   the wreck of our adversaries and gathered spoils from them.

   I see the ship launched once again. She has had her name altered. She
   has sailed from a distant port--not quite from the land from where
   Solomon derived his apes and peacocks, but almost as far. She has a
   proud helmsman, who wears a miter on his head. This time there are
   terrible expectations that Zion's city will be taken and destroyed.
   What will be the result, do you suppose, of the recent attack upon
   Christianity? Why, the result of it will be that we shall have the
   richest spoil we have had for years!

   The Pentateuch, the blessed old Pentateuch, which was the only Bible,
   you remember, David ever had to read--the Book which David used to
   spell over and say blessed was the man who searched it day and
   night--that old-fashioned Pentateuch-- why, we had almost forgotten it!
   People said, "Ah, yes, all very well to preach on the Gospels and
   sometimes on the Epistles, but the Pentateuch is an old-fashioned book
   of little importance." Consequently there are very few comments upon
   the Pentateuch, which is, perhaps, the most neglected part of all
   Inspired Writ.

   And what will be the effect of this new galley with oars? Why, we shall
   all read the Pentateuch more. I believe that the Pentateuch is the text
   of all the Bible, that the Pentateuch is the Law, the statute, the
   Book. And if any part of Scripture has the preeminence, it is the five
   books of Moses. We shall look over those five books again. "In His Law
   we will begin to meditate both day and night." And then there will be
   comments written, there will be sermons preached, and even those who
   are the feeblest in our Zion, even the little children, will get some
   of the spoil. We shall gather some of the rich and rare treasures that
   have been hidden in Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy and
   Numbers.

   We shall have to say, "Thank God that ever the galley with oars came
   here, for the spoil is very great, and we are all made rich thereby." I
   wish they would attack some other part of Scripture. Let some other
   portion of Scripture be attacked, and as silver tried in a furnace of
   earth, purified seven times, so shall the Word of God be. Wherever I
   see the devil's black finger I am obliged to him, for I feel inclined
   to think there must be something there that is good, or else he would
   not have pointed it out as an object of attack to his followers. Let us
   rest assured, dearly Beloved, that the spoil shall surely come in, and
   that we shall not be destroyed.

   And what is to be the end of it all? Our text ascribes glory to a
   Triune God. The Church is, after all her attacks, and all her
   salvations, to ascribe glory to the Three-in-One Jehovah. Read the
   verse, dear Friends, "For the Lord is our Judge. The Lord is our
   Lawgiver. The Lord is our King"--Three, yet One. O Lord, be You
   exalted! Our Father which are in Heaven, You sit on the Throne and You
   are Judge! Jesus, son of Mary, and Son of God, You, by Your holy life,
   have set us such an example that You are our Lawgiver! And you,
   indwelling Spirit, You are with us, and therefore the shout of a King
   is in the midst of our camps.

   Instead of doubting, fearing, and trembling, let us betake ourselves to
   song. The hope of the Church does not rest in her ministers, but in her
   God. Not in her wisdom, but in Him. Not in her eloquence, but in His
   promise. Not in her might or in her numbers, but in His great strength,
   and in the multitude of His loving kindnesses. Dear Friends, let us
   roll all our cares on God this morning. Look up to God alone. Remember,
   you are saved. Do not believe Satan's lies. Hold fast to God's Truth.
   He is on your side. You have trusted yourselves in your Redeemer's
   hand. You are a Believer in Christ. You are, therefore, saved.

   Being saved, expect to see every temptation minister to your growth.
   Expect that every trial shall make you richer in Divine Grace. And go
   home and keep your heart in tune, singing unto God, praising and
   blessing and magnifying His name. Oh, I wish we were all citizens of
   Zion! I wish we were all members and had rights of citizenship in this
   blessed city! The gates are open and aliens who enter become citizens
   at once.

   To become a citizen all that is needed is to be nothing, and to let
   Christ be everything. Trust Christ and you are enrolled a free man--and
   then from that day all the glorious things that are spoken of Zion are
   spoken of you! You shall share her blessedness on earth and her triumph
   above. The Lord now seal these words with His own Spirit for His own
   sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                Gracious Renewal

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JANUARY 25, 1863, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "Renew a right spirit within me." Psalm 51:10.

   WE had a joyful meeting last Wednesday evening. As a Church we all met
   together as a loving family, and it was a sight of the most encouraging
   kind to see a great host, like the host of God, of Brothers and
   Sisters, all dwelling together in unity. That solemnly joyful sight
   suggested to my heart the propriety of addressing you today upon the
   subject of the renewal of your consecration to Christ. I thought that
   the season, the annual season when we all meet together, would be but a
   fit and proper opportunity for our giving ourselves over again to Him
   whose we are, and whom we serve.
   In an honored sanctuary in the neighborhood, it is the custom at the
   early part of the year to have a solemn form of covenant read at
   communion, when the Church members all give their verbal assent with a
   solemn "Amen." There must be something very solemn, and at the same
   time something very delightful, in the uttered consent of a multitude
   of persons to the will and law of Christ. Days of annual celebration
   should be days of solemn dedication.
   Dear Friends, there are other occasions when you might very rightly, I
   think, renew your Covenant with God. After recovery from sickness,
   when, like Hezekiah, you have had a new term of years added to your
   life, and have risen from the bed of languishing to tread the
   greensward, and breathe the fresh air. Then should you sing--
   "My life which You have made Your care, Lord, I devote to You."

   After any extraordinary deliverance, when your troubles have a pause,
   when your joys bud forth anew, when after a season of deep depression
   of spirit you can once again lift up your brow, and bathe it in the
   light of God--then, again, should you visit the foot of the Cross of
   Christ--and by the blood that is sprinkled there renew your
   consecration to your Lord.

   Especially will it be incumbent upon you to do this after any sin,
   after any such sin, I mean, as may have grieved the Holy Spirit, or
   brought dishonor upon the cause of God. Then, like David, repair to
   your chamber, and, with bitter tears of penitence, look to the hyssop,
   and the blood which can make you whiter than snow--and again offer
   yourself unto the Lord Most High as a teacher of sinners--or a singer
   of His praise. I think, Brothers and Sisters, we should not only let
   our troubles confirm our dedication to God, but our prosperity should
   do the same.

   If we should ever meet with occasions which deserve to be called, in
   Oliver Cromwell's words, "crowning mercies," then, surely, if He has
   crowned us, we ought also to crown our God. If He has been pleased to
   give you a wreath of loving kindnesses and of tender mercies, then
   bring forth anew all the jewels of the Divine regalia that have been
   stored in the jewel closet of your heart. And let your God sit upon the
   throne of your love, arrayed in royal apparel. If we would get good out
   of our prosperity, we should not need so much adversity.

   If we would gather from a kiss all the good it might confer upon us, we
   should not so often smart under the rod. If we will not gather wisdom
   from vines and fig trees, we must be taught it with briars and thorns.
   Our folly makes rods for its own back. Do any of you come here today
   with hearts leaping for joy? Have you received a valued favor which you
   little expected? Has the Lord put your feet in a large room? Oh, can
   you sing of mercies multiplied? Then this is the day to put your hand
   upon the horns of the altar and say, "Bind me here, my God. Bind me
   here with cords, even forever."

   I may also suggest that there are certain seasons in life when this
   fresh espousal is very comely--in arriving at manhood, at the birth of
   children, at the death of friends, in passing the anniversaries of our
   birth, in advancing from strength to gray hairs--we may read anew the
   memorials of our love. Inasmuch as we need the fulfillment of new
   promises from God, let us give fresh promises to God, or, rather, let
   us offer renewed prayers that the old ones may not be dishonored.

   I have known persons who have religiously set apart a certain day in
   the month, or year, when they would look anew over their obligations,
   survey their state before God, and determine to be the Lord's forever.
   Let us commend their zeal, if we do not imitate their precision. Well,
   Beloved, I suggest--and I am sure such a joyous act as this will never
   be out of season--I suggest that this morning, if God shall enable us,
   we renew our vows unto Him.

   These were the thoughts which possessed my heart. But there was another
   which overrode them all, and prevented my following out my desire. You
   see, my text deals not with renewing our vows before God, nor with our
   proclaiming anew in the courts of the Lord's house our surrender to
   Him--no, it goes deeper than all this--"Renew a right spirit within
   me." Surely, if the Lord will do this, then our consecration will be
   renewed. If the fountain is filled, then the streams must flow. If the
   sun is made to shine, then the plants must bud. If the sap within the
   tree flows vigorously, then the fruit without will be plentiful.

   Perhaps we have done well to lay the axe at the root of the tree by
   going to the very soul and core of this matter. We have our hand upon
   the lever now--it is a dead weight when a man tries to renew his own
   vows--but now we have the lever under it. If we cry to God in prayer,
   "Renew a right spirit within me," we shall accomplish our end none the
   less certainly, even though we do not so much preach upon the subject
   of consecration, as upon the power of God the Holy Spirit to renew our
   spirit and bring us afresh to Himself.

   Come then, Beloved. I want, not so much to preach, as to lead you now
   to the footstool of Divine mercy in humble, earnest entreaty--that the
   Lord may renew within you a constant spirit and invigorate the life of
   your piety. For this there are several reasons, which we will give at
   once.

   I. And, first, a cogent motive of desiring the renewal of our graces is
   to be found in THE ABSOLUTE NECESSITY FOR IT, IF WE WOULD PERSEVERE.
   That we need renewal is very clearly seen when we reflect that all
   created things need it. Nothing that God has made is self-existent.
   Self-existence belongs exclusively to the, "I AM THAT I AM." Even the
   tall archangel, who stands nearest the eternal Throne, can only claim a
   borrowed existence which is immortal only in the immortality of God.

   The very mountains crumble, rocks dissolve, and marble wears away.
   Those old rivers that have even been adored by idolaters for their
   antiquity, still need to be refreshed with the melted snows from the
   mountain's brow. It is rumored of our mother earth herself, that her
   soil is losing its former fruitfulness. Certain it is that the most
   fertile fields yield no perpetual harvests unless the labor of man
   fertilizes the soil. All things on earth need, perpetually, to be
   renewed.

   "You renew the face of the year," said the Psalmist, for in winter
   earth sleeps like a wearied giant, as if gray with the decay of age,
   the snow covers its slumbering head. In winter the world shows none of
   her youthful verdure. All her beauty lies buried beneath the sod. Are
   not all things hushed and quiet in winter's bedchamber of life? But
   spring comes leaping on. The song of birds arouses the slumbering earth
   and she awakes refreshed.

   But were it not for the renewing of delicious spring, would not earth
   become everywhere as intolerable as at her frozen poles? Nor here,
   alone, is refreshing needed, for doubtless the upper spheres require
   fresh fuel for their ardent flames. The orb of day shines in radiance
   lent him by the great Father of Lights, albeit that he is, in Milton's
   noble phrase, "of this great world both eye and soul." That eye must
   soon grow dim with age, and that soul must lose its overflowing life,
   if the all-filling God refuses His ever-flowing aid.

   No created thing stands by itself. It is only an infernal conceit that
   anything can be without the great Creator's perpetual Presence. And
   will you lend your soul to this blasphemy of Hell? If your piety can
   live without God, it is not of Divine creating. It lives not but in
   your imagination. It is but a dream--for if God has begotten it, it
   would wait upon Him as the flowers wait for the dew.

   Moreover, this Truth of God is especially applicable to those creatures
   of God which are endowed with life. Those without life need
   preserving--but the truth is not so clearly seen in their case as in
   living objects. But life, if God would sustain it, must often, no,
   constantly, receive renewal. What animal can live without the
   refreshment of sleep and food? Job's war horse, whose neck is clothed
   with thunder, must humble himself to his stall and to his provender.

   The wild asses of the wilderness, whose bands the Lord has loosed, have
   the range of the mountains for their pasture. The unicorn abides not by
   the crib, neither will he harrow the valleys for the farmer--yet he
   grows weary and lies down to rest. Behemoth, whose bones are as bars of
   iron, eats grass as an ox, and leviathan, which makes the deep to boil
   like a pot, whose eyes are like the eyelids of the morning, receives
   the breath in his nostrils each hour from his Maker.

   Even the trees, those motionless things, which wear not themselves with
   care, nor shorten their fires with labor-- these must drink of the rain
   of Heaven, and suck from the hidden treasures of the soil. The cedars
   of Lebanon, which God has planted, only live because day by day they
   are full of sap fresh drawn from the earth. You and I, having life,
   cannot expect that it should be sustained without renewal from God. Our
   natural life needs constantly its bread and water. The strongest man
   that ever lived must soon yield to the weakness of death, unless he
   were reinvigorated by nourishment.

   Sampson himself must have a cleft opened in the rock that he may drink,
   for though he has slain the Philistines, yet will he perish unless his
   thirst is quenched. Assuredly it must be so in spiritual life, or else
   all the analogies of nature must be reversed. You must drink again of
   the Living Water. You must feed anew upon the Living Bread. What mean
   those texts in Scripture that speak of waiting upon the Lord, and
   renewing our strength? What can be the meaning of, "renewing our
   strength like the eagle's"? And what could be David's meaning when, in
   his matchless pastoral, he sings, "You restore my soul," if we do not
   need full often the times of refreshing from the Presence of the Lord?

   But I need not travel so far to fetch my arguments in your own inner
   consciousness. My Brothers and Sisters, you are aware that your piety
   requires constant renovation. What downward tendencies the thoughtful
   must perceive in themselves. We could travel downhill to Hell how
   easily, but upwards to Heaven with what difficulty! Downward, without a
   hand to help. But upward, no hand less than the Omnipotent must speed
   our course. Do you not find, Christians, that as we men must eat, so we
   must pray? Is there not a vacuum in your heart and a pang within it, if
   you have neglected supplication?

   Do you not discover that as men must breathe, so you must exercise
   faith in Christ, for if your faith is suspended for a moment, there is
   a suffocation of all your hope, your joy, your love? No--of your very
   life! Have you not found that, as it is necessary to repair the waste
   of the body by the frequent meal, so you must repair the waste of the
   soul by feeding upon the Book of God, or by listening to the preached
   Word, or by the soul-fattening table of the ordinances? I will not give
   a farthing for your experience--it cannot be the experience of a child
   of God--unless you discover a hungering and a thirsting in your inner
   man.

   And what are these but proofs that renewal is wanted--signs by which
   your new nature sets forth to you a secret necessity which moves it to
   these outward longings? Oh, how dull our love becomes if we go for a
   little time without a sight of Christ! How our faith flickers if we are
   for a little season absent from the Cross! How depressed are our graces
   when means are neglected! What poor starvelings some saints are who
   live without the diligent use of the Word of God and secret prayer! You
   know you want renewal! You feel you do. Need I say more?

   Moreover, if you do not perceive this very apparent Truth of God, let
   me remind you that you may be made to see it, and that terribly, by
   some surprising sin. Just as this prayer was forced out of David by his
   adultery with Bathsheba, and his bloody murder of Uriah, so you--yes,
   you, my Brothers and Sisters, saints before the Lord--yes, you,
   Preacher-- you may be made to know it, by being suddenly overtaken in a
   fault, to your own shame forever. "Let him that thinks he stands take
   heed lest he fall."

   There are north winds in the hand of the Almighty which He has not yet
   permitted to come forth upon men. But when the whirlwind shall be
   loosed, woe, woe to the tree that has not sucked up fresh sap and
   grasped the rock with many intertwisted roots. There are tempests yet
   to come forth from the secret treasuries of God. If they come, woe, woe
   to the mariners that have not yet strengthened their mast, nor cast
   their anchor, nor sought the haven.

   Without perpetual restoration, I say, we are not ready for the
   perpetual assaults of Hell, or the stern afflictions of Heaven, nor
   even for the strife within us. If you suffer the good to grow weaker,
   the evil will surely gather strength and struggle desperately for the
   mastery over you. And so may you have a sad downfall, a painful
   desolation--and a lamentable disgrace may follow from your neglect of
   the renewing of your spirit before God.

   Once more, here, and though this reason may not seem so forcible as the
   last, the wise man will understand it, and see that there is yet mighty
   power therein, "That unconscious backsliding from God, which is,
   perhaps, even more dangerous, though not so disgraceful as open sin.
   That unconscious apostasy from God, I say, will certainly be upon you,
   unless you have seasons of renewal. Does not Hosea speak of Ephraim as
   having gray hairs here and there upon him, but he knew it not?

   Oh, Beloved, I do proclaim--I speak not in any severity against God's
   saints--but I do believe that this is the sin in the Church of God at
   the present moment--that the most of us have gray hairs here and there
   and know it not. We walk so carelessly before God. we do not make such
   heart-work of religion as we should. Indifference, I find, to be my own
   temptation. I do not know that I am assaulted with certain other sins
   which prevail over other men, but this indifference I find to be harder
   to meet than even a temptation to lust or covetousness.

   I do believe that the Church, to a great extent, is just now where
   Bunyan's Pilgrim was when he went through the Enchanted Ground and the
   air was heavy, and the Pilgrim had much ado to keep himself from
   sleeping. The Church has rest nowadays. These are times of quietness.
   And therefore we are in danger of being given to slumber. Perhaps it is
   a "ruthless legend that the holidays of Capua ruined the veterans of
   Hannibal," but if it is a legend in his case, it is a fact in ours.

   The peace and quietness of the Church in these calm times bring on an
   idleness, a dullness, an indifference, a lethargy as deadly and as
   damnable as outrageous sin itself. And unless the Holy Spirit arouses
   us and constrains us to come back again to the simple earnestness of
   our first love, we shall slip and slide and discover not how low we
   have fallen till out of the depths we have to cry in agony, "Renew a
   right spirit within me."

   Now, Brothers and Sisters, for these reasons, I do persuade you, and
   therein I do persuade myself--let us take with us words. Let us turn
   unto the Lord. Let us beg Him to heal our backslidings, and to receive
   us graciously. Let us entreat Him to be as the dew unto our souls that
   we may grow as the lily and cast out our roots as Lebanon. In the words
   of Jeremy in the Lamentations let us pray, "Turn You us unto You, O
   Lord, and we shall be turned. Renew our days as of old."

   If the crown is fallen from our head because we have sinned, let us
   seek the Lord with deep humiliation of soul. If the joy of our heart
   has ceased, if our dance is turned into mourning, let us return unto
   Him from whom we have erred, and renew our marriage covenant. "Thus
   says the Lord, I remember you, the kindness of your youth, and the love
   of your espousals." My Brothers and Sisters, if thus He remembers us,
   let us remember Him, and offer this supplication, "Renew a right spirit
   within me." This brings me now to a second method of reasoning with
   you.

   II. Secondly, let us pray the brief but very forcible prayer of the
   text because of our OWN POWERLESSNESS TO RENEW OUR OWN SPIRITS. It is a
   doctrine acknowledged by all orthodox Christians, and confessed in some
   form or other by all Believers, that without the Spirit of God we are
   unable to do anything aright. Nevertheless, I question if any of us
   have given our full consent to the doctrine of human inability in its
   fullest bearings. "Without Me you can do nothing," is a text upon which
   our life is the sermon--but until its very close it is probable we
   shall not fully fathom the depth of our own weakness.

   Brethren, when a ship is in sailing order and in good condition, she
   still cannot speed on her journey of herself! Even though the sails are
   spread, there is no hope of her making port unless the wind shall blow.
   If that is so, how much more is it true that if that ship leaks, if the
   worm has begun to eat her timbers, or if by grazing upon a rock she has
   done serious damage to her bottom, it is impossible that she should
   repair her own damage! If her sails are tattered, how shall she mend
   them? If her masts are strained, if any injury whatever is done to her
   tackling, how shall she be able to recover herself?

   Brethren, you can see the analogy. If the child of God, even when in a
   healthy state, needs to cry for the Divine Spirit, how much more when
   he has fallen under spiritual decays, or has grievously backslidden,
   does he need the Divine hand of the Mighty Carpenter to set him right!
   As for ungodly men, the analogy might be pushed still farther if that
   were in the subject of this morning. If the ship built and manned
   cannot sail without the wind, how much less could the trees of the
   forest hew themselves, convey themselves to the shipwright's yard,
   fashion themselves into timbers, keel, beam, and mast--and then arrange
   themselves into a ship and launch themselves upon the sea!

   Yet even this were less a miracle than for an unconverted man to
   regenerate himself. But we must return to our point, that the
   Christian, when his heart is out of order, has no power to put himself
   right again without the blessed Spirit. The disease of the living must
   be cured by the same Voice which removes the sleep of the dead. He who
   said, "Lazarus come forth!" is needed to say, "Take up your bed and
   walk!" Indeed, if you will think for a moment, you will find the work
   of renewal to be a stern work. It is called in Scripture--conversion.

   Now, in conversion the same power is exercised that was put forth in
   raising Jesus Christ from the dead. What power, then, must be required
   in the renewal of a soul! Besides, to renew a soul is to go directly
   opposite to nature. What power is necessary to make water leap uphill,
   to suspend the waterfall in midair, to compel a flame to blaze in the
   midst of the depths of the sea? Yet such a power as this is absolutely
   needed to reverse the efforts of the flesh, and to make our old carnal
   corruptions, which had begun to get the mastery, resign it once more.

   The strong man armed keeps the house till a stronger than he binds him.
   And sin, when it once prevails in a Believer, would continue to prevail
   unless the Mighty One who first broke our chains shall come to set us
   free. Do you not know, Beloved, that in the renewal of our spirits
   every Divine Grace is needed that was nestled for our first conversion?
   We needed repentance in order to our first salvation--we certainly need
   it now, that we may be renewed. We wanted faith that we might come to
   Christ at first--only the like Grace can bring us to Jesus now.

   We wanted a word from the Most High, a word from the lips of the Loving
   One, to end our fears then--we shall soon discover, when under a sense
   of present sin, that we need it now. No man can be renewed, I say,
   without as real and true an exercise of the Holy Spirit's energy as he
   felt at first, because the work is as great. The same Graces are
   needed, and flesh and blood are as much in the way now as ever they
   were. Let your powerlessness, O Christian, be an argument to make you
   pray earnestly to your God.

   Remember, David, when he felt himself powerless, did not fold his arms
   or close his lips, but he hastened to the Mercy Seat with, "Renew a
   right spirit within me." Let not the doctrine that you, unaided can do
   nothing, make you sleep. Rather let it be a goad in your side to drive
   you with an awful earnestness to the great Fountain from which all
   streams must flow to satisfy your wants and plead it, plead it as
   though you pleaded for your very life--as though you pleaded for your
   only son--"Lord, renew a right spirit within me."

   Nor pray this falsely. Prove that you mean it by going forth to use the
   means. Continue much in prayer. Live much upon the Word of God. Attend
   constantly a soul-satisfying Ministry. Kill the lusts that have driven
   your Lord from you. Be careful to watch over the future uprisings of
   sin--otherwise your prayers cannot be sincere. The man who prays to God
   to do a thing must use the means through which God works. He is a
   hypocrite who asks the Lord to visit him, and then nails up his door,
   or asks for life, and then refuses to eat.

   The Lord has his own appointed ways, and sitting by the wayside you
   will be ready when He passes by. Oh, continue, then, in all those
   blessed ordinances which will foster and nourish your dying Graces. And
   strengthen the things which remain which are ready to die. Knowing that
   all the power must be from Him, cease not to cry, "Renew a right spirit
   within me."

   III. But we change our note and come to a third point. I would the Holy
   Spirit might honor the word this morning, and I should look upon it as
   no mean privilege if I might stir up any of you, my beloved Brothers
   and Sisters in Christ, truly today to come afresh to the Fountain
   filled with Blood, and to renew again your entire surrender and
   resignation of yourselves to your Lord. The argument I use shall be
   found in THE BLESSED RESULTS WHICH ARE SURE TO FOLLOW, if the Lord
   shall renew your spirit.

   Think what joy you will experience! There are some things, Beloved,
   that perhaps may need to be renewed, but they would bring no joy. The
   physician may require you to receive a new bottle of medicine. It may
   be possible that an operation once performed may have lost its potency.
   Painful though it is, it may be required to be performed again. But
   that of which I speak has no pain to the child of God. It is in itself
   so sweet that it ought to tempt you to perform it.

   What is it, my Brothers and Sisters? Is it not the renewal of a
   brotherly covenant, just as when Jonathan and David went into the woods
   and renewed their covenant? I do not believe it was a sorrowful hour to
   Jonathan. I can imagine that David shed tears when he parted from his
   beloved friend, tears of deep affection, perhaps, but oh, with what joy
   did they clasp each other in the woods! With what true love did they
   make a covenant when Jonathan loved David as his own soul.

   The prince stripped himself of the robe that was upon him and gave it
   to David. And he even gave his garments, even to his sword, and to his
   bow, and to his girdle. And surely you will not object to renew your
   embrace of your David today! Can it be a hard matter to you, once more,
   to go without the camp bearing His reproach, to clasp the Man, once
   again who is better to you than all the treasures of Egypt? Besides,
   there is a sweeter figure. The Covenant we have with Christ is a
   marriage Covenant.

   I believe in Sweden it is common when a happy pair have been wedded for
   five-and-twenty years to have what they call, "A silver wedding." And
   if they should be spared to old age, until their children's children
   are round about them, on the fiftieth year, they have, "A golden
   wedding." Who would not wish to have a repetition of the happy day! Let
   us celebrate today, dear Friends, a silver wedding with the Christ whom
   we married years ago. And oh, we will wait awhile longer and anticipate
   our golden wedding, in the year of jubilee, when we shall see Him as He
   is and be like He is.

   What? Will you not give Him the kiss that is the token of continued
   affection? Do you refuse to give Him fresh pledges of your love, which
   is the fruit of His everlasting love to you? Why, the thing is so
   joyous that I cannot refrain from crying, "Let the marriage bells be
   rung again! Bring forth the wedding dainties once more, and let us sit
   at the table of the marriage festival!" Jesus, we do embrace You! We
   are Yours, it is happiness, it is Heaven, it is bliss superlative to
   renew our vows to You and to receive fresh tokens of Your regard to us.

   Do you remember, Beloved, that in our early days, besides having an
   abundance of joy, how full of heavenly light our Graces were, and how
   real everything appeared to our faith at the first? Now if we can have
   our spirit renewed, and made it as it was at first, why, then we shall
   have back the same satisfactory reality in our emotions. I speak for
   one. I know that when my eyes first looked to Christ, He was a very
   real Christ to me. And when my burden of sin rolled from off my back,
   it was a real pardon, and a real release from sin to me. And when that
   day I said for the first time, "Jesus Christ is mine," it was a real
   possession of Christ to me.

   When I went up to the sanctuary then in that early dawn of youthful
   piety, every song was really a Psalm, and when there was a prayer, oh,
   how I followed every word! It was prayer, indeed! And so was it, too,
   in silent quietude, when I drew near to God. Oh it was no mockery, no
   routine, no matter of mere duty. It was a real talking with my Father
   who is in Heaven. And oh, how I loved my Savior Christ then! I can talk
   about loving Him now, and methinks if He said to me as He did to Simon
   Peter--"Do you love me?" I would dare to answer, "You know all things,
   You know that I love

   You."

   But still, my consciousness of loving Christ is not always as vivid,
   now, as it once was. Why, then I was quite sure I loved Him, I know I
   could have burned for Him, or suffered anything for His dear sake. Was
   it not so with you? Well, Beloved, if we will come now, and put our
   hand within His hands afresh, which will be the effect of His renewing
   our spirit, then we shall have back again all the fullness and reality
   that distinguished our early, new-born piety. Oh, how blessed this will
   be!

   Moreover, at that time how active all our Graces were! Do you not
   remember? Why, you had no doubts then, your faith was so strong. You
   had no lukewarmness then, your zeal was so burning. You remember, some
   of you, when first the Lord met with you? Perhaps it was in this house,
   or in the Surrey Music Hall. You would stand in the crowd till you were
   almost ready to drop, but there were no sleepy eyes, no dull, lethargic
   spirits. Oh, how you used to drink in the Word of God! It was marrow
   and fatness to you when you fed upon it.

   If anybody would have bribed you to stay away from a Prayer Meeting or
   from a weeknight lecture, they might have offered the world, but it
   would have been a bribe too low. But now, too often, if there is a
   little discomfort in getting in the gate, if you happen not to get the
   very seat you want, or if you happen to be seated uncomfortably, or in
   a cramped position--you cannot worship as once you did. I know it may
   be the fault of the minister--perhaps he does not preach as he did in
   your younger days--when you were first converted. That is possible, I
   suppose. Still, I think it is more likely that you have lost the ears
   you once had, or that your ears are become dull of hearing.

   I think it is more likely that your eyes have lost their quickness of
   sight, or that your hearts may be less tender and sensitive. Certainly
   your Graces are not in such active exercise as they were. Well now, if
   we come back to our Master, we shall have our youthful force and vigor
   renewed. To my mind it is always a pleasant sight to see lambs skipping
   in the meadows, because it shows they have more strength than they well
   know what to do with--and so they do a great many things that are
   improper for sheep to do. What odd, fantastic gestures they have!

   It is even so with young Christians. They will often do many rash
   things just because they have an excess of liveliness. They have such a
   full tide of love and zeal that they do not know how to put it into
   action. Young life demands exercise. O that some of you who are old in
   years, and others of you upon whose Graces there are signs of decay,
   could but recover some of this juvenile effervescence! Ah, and you can
   have it. In the answer to this prayer you will find it, "Renew a right
   spirit within me."

   A subject like this grows upon me while speaking of it. I cannot doubt
   that you will find it equally enlarge upon you in thinking it over. But
   on no account let us forget the practical ends that ought to be kept in
   view. Dear Friends, your usefulness to others will be increased if the
   Lord should graciously visit you with times of refreshing. You want the
   re- newal of your own spirit in your Sunday school class, in the
   district where you distribute tracts, in the little room where you
   preach--or in your family, with your own children. You want to have
   more Divine Grace in your own hearts that you may have power with them.
   Well, you must get this by coming anew to your Lord.

   Ah, and some of you came up here this morning complaining of the world
   and its trials. The world is very hard with you, and troubles are
   multiplied. How little weight the sorrows of this life will have in the
   scale, if balanced against the joy of your heart when the Lord renews
   your spirit. What did you care when you were first converted, whether
   you were rich or poor? It seemed no matter to you. Like Peter, you left
   the net, and the fishes, that you might get at your Lord. Like the
   woman at the well, you left the water pot that you might go and tell
   others that you had seen a Man who told you all things that ever you
   did.

   Well, now, if your former piety comes back, if the zeal of your young
   days shall be restored to you, the world will be just as much a trifle
   to you, and you will tread it beneath your feet with just as much
   heroic contempt as you did when first you received the Gospel, not in
   word only, but in power. Since all these blessed results will follow,
   let me therefore beseech you--by your love to your own souls, by your
   care to grow in Divine Grace, by your anxiety to prosper in the Lord's
   way, and by your interest in the welfare of others--pray with me this
   prayer, "Renew a right spirit within me."

   And You, O Lord, hear it in Heaven, Your dwelling place. Let Your eyes
   be open unto the supplication of Your servants, to hearken unto us in
   all that we call for unto You.

   IV. One other argument only, where many might be given. Do not GOSPEL
   OBLIGATIONS irresistibly constrain us by the means of this, our prayer,
   to renew our Covenant with God?

   Legal motives I would disdain to urge you with. But Gospel motives I
   may, and must. Did you do right in giving your soul to Christ at first?
   Was it a mistake? Was it the effect of a juvenile excitement, misled by
   some fanatical speech? No, you cannot say that. You believe it was the
   best thing you ever did in your life. You have often regretted you
   never did it before. There are a thousand things you repent of, but
   this one thing, that you gave yourself to God, is a subject of
   perpetual congratulations with you.

   Very well, then, if it was well to do it then, do it now. If you would
   not make out yourself to have been a fool, and your faith to have been
   a lie. If you would not before the eyes of men and of angels declare
   that the whole thing is a farce--this day, even this day--let us go
   into Gilgal, and there let us renew the kingdom before the Lord. Oh,
   once again do what you did at the first--if it were a wise, if it were
   a good thing.

   Moreover, Brothers and Sisters, remember how often Jesus renewed His
   Covenant with His people. It was not enough to have spoken it in the
   ear of Adam, and whispered it to the heart of Eve. Enoch must testify
   of it. Abraham must understand it on the plains of Mamre, as Noah
   adores the time, when floating securely in the ark. There must be a
   renewed revelation to Isaac, and to Jacob, and to Moses, and to Joshua.
   Symbols of the renewed Covenant must be seen in the tabernacle, and in
   the temple. Each day, each week, each month, each year, each jubilee
   must give some fresh form of Christ setting His seal anew to the love
   which He bore to His people and His purpose to redeem His Church by
   blood.

   Does Christ do this, and will you blush to do it? Oh, do as Jesus did
   to you--as you would that "the Man" should do to you, do you also unto
   Him. And moreover, He has renewed His Covenant with you. Come, I want
   you to look back at your old diaries. You have not burned your
   pocketbooks, in which you set down in some mysterious marks that others
   could not read, some mementoes of your Tabors, your Mizars and the
   hills of the Hermonites. I want you to look back. Has not Christ
   renewed His Covenant with some of us many times?

   My soul looks back and sees some joyous seasons, some days marked with
   the red Dominical letter among the days of my history, when He said to
   me afresh, "You are Mine. I have redeemed you by blood." It may be it
   was on a bed of sickness. Perhaps it was when you were walking in the
   streets. It may be it was in a season of holy retirement, or it may be
   in a moment when you were brought down to the earth. Oh, He has renewed
   His Covenant with us many and many a time with such sweet reassuring
   words that our soul, which was tired of this world, has been willing to
   stay her three-score years and ten, because her Husband had visited
   her.

   You have stayed me with flagons. You have comforted me with apples. You
   have made me sick with love. Your left hand has been under my head, and
   Your right hand did embrace me. Therefore will I renew my vows unto You
   even as You did unto me!

   Yet farther, dear Friends, and I shall not stay longer than this,
   though it is a very wide field. Let us be moved today to renew our
   Covenant with Christ, or rather to ask Him to renew our spirit, because
   every Covenant transaction binds us to it. You believe in the doctrine
   of election. We do not blush to preach it, and you love to hear it.
   What does election mean? It means that God has chosen you. Very well,
   if it is so, then you will acknowledge it anew today, by choosing His
   way and Word. You believe in a special and efficacious redemption, that
   you were redeemed from among men. Very well, then, you are not your
   own, you are bought with a price.

   You believe in effectual calling. You know that you were called out. If
   it is so, recognize your distinction and sepa-rateness as a sacred
   people set apart by God. You believe that this distinction in you is
   perpetual, for you will persevere to the end--if you are to be God's
   forever, be His today. And are you not looking for a Heaven from which
   selfishness shall be banished? Are you not expecting a Heaven where
   Glory shall consist in being wholly absorbed in Christ? Well then, this
   day, by all that is coming, as well by all that is cast, let your soul
   be bound as with cords that cannot be snapped to the altar of your God.

   Backsliders, you that have gone astray, pray this prayer today. He bids
   you pray it, and He will, therefore, answer it. The text in the margin
   reads "renew a constant spirit within me." You have been obstinate,
   wayward, unstable, fickle. Poor Backslider, He has put this prayer here
   for you--"Renew a constant spirit within me." My Brothers and Sisters,
   the Church has had to cast you out, but if still there is a desire in
   your soul toward God, return! Return! Return! Your Father waits to meet
   you. The Church, your mother, longs for you. Your Brothers and Sisters
   desire to see your face again.

   Say it, and we will say it with you, "Renew a right spirit within me,"
   and it shall be done. And you, Christians, that have not backslidden,
   you, my Brothers and Sisters, whose heads are covered with the gray
   honors of long service, offer today this prayer, for you need to pray
   it as well as the youngest of us, "Renew a right spirit within me." Ask
   the Master who has kept you in your youth to preserve you till, in
   life's latest hour, YOU bow, "and bless in death a bond so dear."

   You strong men and fathers, who are struggling with the world, battling
   day by day with business and its cares, forget not your God through
   being mindful of many things. Today, in this little pause in the noise
   and turmoil and strife of the world's bustle, come now and renew your
   vows. You young men and maidens, you little ones in God's Israel, whose
   portion it is to be the lambs carried in His bosom, you, also, say,
   "Renew You, O God, a right spirit within me."

   Come, renew the dedication so lately made. You that are brought, like
   Samuels, to God's house, that you may wear the vestments of prophets
   before you wear the garments of manhood--give yourselves anew to the
   Lord. Let your youthful voices, so full of sweet music, unbroken as yet
   to the deeper bass which the world's care is sure to give them
   by-and-by, sing unto the Lord, and let this be your cry--"Lord, I am
   Your servant, and the son of Your handmaiden, You have loosed my
   bonds!"

   May the Lord, the Holy Spirit, so dwell in us that each of us may renew
   our vows, through His renewing a right spirit within us. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                 Our Stronghold

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 26, 1862, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous run into it, and
   are safe."

   Proverbs 18:10.

   STRONG towers were a greater security in a bygone age than they are
   now. Then when troops of marauders invaded the land, strong castles
   were set upon the various hilltops, and the inhabitants gathered up
   their little wealth and fled there at once. Castles were looked upon as
   being very difficult places to attack. And ancient troops would rather
   fight a hundred battles than endure a single siege. Towns which would
   be taken by modern artillery in twelve hours held out for twelve years
   against the most potent forces of the ancient times.

   He that possessed a castle was lord of all the region round about, and
   made their inhabitants either his clients who sought his protection, or
   his dependents whom he ruled at will. He who owned a strong tower felt,
   however potent might be his adversary, his walls and bulwarks would be
   his sure salvation. Generous rulers provided strongholds for their
   people--mountain fastnesses where the peasantry might be sheltered from
   marauders.

   Transfer your thoughts to a thousand years ago, and picture a people,
   who after plowing and sowing, have gathered in their harvest. But when
   they are about to make merry with the harvest festival, a startling
   signal banishes their joy. A trumpet is blown from yonder mountain, the
   bell answers it from the village tower. Hordes of ferocious robbers are
   approaching, their corn will be devoured by strangers! Burying their
   corn and furniture, and gathering up the little portable wealth they
   have, they hasten with all their might to their tower of defense which
   stands on yonder ridge.

   The gates are shut. The drawbridge is pulled up. The iron grating is
   let down. The warders are on the battlements, and the inhabitants
   within feel that they are safe. The enemy will rifle their deserted
   farms, and search for hidden treasure, and finding that the inhabitants
   are quite beyond their reach, they will betake themselves to some other
   place. Such is the figure which is in the text. "The name of the Lord
   is a strong tower: the righteous run into it and are safe."

   I. Of course we all know that by the name of God is meant the Character
   of the Most High, so that our first lesson is that THE CHARACTER OF GOD
   FURNISHES THE RIGHTEOUS WITH ABUNDANT SECURITY.

   The Character of God is the refuge of the Christian, in opposition to
   other refuges which godless men have chosen. Solomon suggestively puts
   the following words in the next verse--"The rich man's wealth is his
   strong city, and as an high wall in his own conceit." The rich man
   feels that his wealth may afford him comfort. Should he be attacked in
   law, his wealth can procure him an advocate. Should he be insulted in
   the streets, the dignity of a full purse will avenge him. Should he be
   sick, he can hire the best physicians. Should he need ministers to his
   pleasures, or helpers of his infirmities, they will be at his call.

   Should famine stalk through the land, it will avoid his door. Should
   war itself break forth, he can purchase an escape from the sword, for
   his wealth is his strong tower in contradistinction to this, the
   righteous man finds in his God all that the wealthy man finds in his
   substance and a vast deal more. "The Lord is my portion, says my soul,
   therefore will I trust in Him." God is our treasure. He is to us better
   than the heaviest purse, or the most magnificent income. Broad acres
   yield not such peace as a well attested interest in the love and
   faithfulness of our heavenly Father. Provinces under our sway could not
   bring to us greater revenues than we possess in Him who makes us heirs
   of all things by Christ Jesus.

   Other men who trust not in their wealth, nevertheless make their own
   names a strong tower. To say the truth, a man's good name is no mean
   defense against the attacks of his fellow men. To wrap one's self about
   in the garment of integrity is to defy the chill blast of calumny and
   to be mailed against the arrows of slander. If we can appeal to God and
   say, "Lord, You know that in this thing I am not wicked"--then let the
   mouth of the liar pour forth his slanders, let him scatter his venom
   where he may--we bear an antidote within before which his poison yields
   its power.

   But this is only true in a very limited sense. Death soon proves to men
   that their own good name can afford them no consolation, and under
   conviction of sin a good repute is no shelter. When conscience is
   awake, when the judgment is unbiased, when we come to know something of
   the law of God and of the justice of His Character, we soon discover
   that self-righteousness is no hiding place for us. It is nothing but a
   crumbling battlement which will fall on the neck of him that hides
   behind it--a pasteboard fortification yielding to the first shock of
   the law--a refuge of lies to be beaten down with the great hailstones
   of eternal vengeance--such is the righteousness of man.

   The righteous trusts not in this--not his own name--but the name of his
   God. Not his own character, but the Character of the Most High is his
   strong tower. Numberless are those castles in the air to which men
   hasten in the hour of peril--ceremonies lift their towers into the
   clouds--professions pile their walls high as mountains, and works of
   the flesh paint their delusions till they seem substantial bulwarks.
   But all, all, shall melt like snow, and vanish like a mist. Happy is he
   who leaves the sand for the Rock, the phantom for the Substance.

   The name of the Lord is a strong tower to the Christian, not only in
   opposition to other men's refuges but as a matter of fact and reality.
   Even when he is not able to perceive it by experience, yet God's
   Character is the refuge of the saint. If we come to the bottom of
   things, we shall find that the basis of the security of the Believer
   lies in the Character of God. I know you will tell me it is the
   Covenant--but what is the Covenant worth, if God were changeable,
   unjust, untrue? I know you will tell me that the confidence of the
   Believer is in the blood of Christ--but what were the blood of Christ
   if God were false?

   If after Christ had paid the ransom the Lord should deny Him the
   ransomed. If after Christ had been the Substitute, the Judge of men
   should yet visit upon our heads, for whom He suffered, our own guilt.
   If Jehovah could be unrighteous, if He could violate His promise and
   become faithless as we are--then, I say, that even the blood of Christ
   would afford us no security. You tell me that there is His promise, but
   again I remind you that the value of a man's promise must depend on his
   character.

   If God were not such that He cannot lie, if He were not so faithful
   that He cannot change His mind, if he were not so mighty that He cannot
   be frustrated when He intends to perform--then His promises were but
   waste paper! His Words like our words, would be but wind, and afford no
   satisfactory shelter for a soul distressed and anxious. But you will
   tell me He has sworn with an oath. Brethren, I know He has. He has
   given us two immutable things in which it is impossible for Him to lie,
   that we may have strong consolation.

   But still what is a man's oath worth irrespective of his character? Is
   it not, after all, what a man is that makes his assertions to be
   eminently mistrusted or profoundly believed? And it is because our God
   cannot by any means foreswear Himself but must be true, that His oath
   becomes of value to you and to me. Brethren, after all, let us remember
   that the purpose of God in our salvation is the glorifying of His own
   Character, and this it is that makes our salvation positively sure. If
   everyone that trusts in Christ is not saved, then is God dishonored,
   the Lord of Hosts has hung up His escutcheon.

   And if in the face of the whole earth He accomplishes not that which He
   declares He will perform in this Book, then is His reputation stained.
   I say it, He has flung down the gauntlet to sin, death, and Hell--and
   if He is not the conqueror over all these in the heart of every soul
   that trusts in Him, then He is no more the God of Victories, nor can we
   shout His everlasting praise as the Lord mighty in battle. His
   Character, then, you see, when we come to the basis of all, is the
   granite formation upon which must rest all the pillars of the Covenant
   of Grace, and the sure mercies thereof.

   His wisdom, truth, mercy, justice, power, eternity and immutability are
   the seven pillars of the house of sure salvation. If we would have
   comfort, we can surely find it in the Character of God. This is our
   strong tower, we run into it and we are safe.

   Mark, Beloved, not only is this true as a matter of fact, but it is
   true as a matter of experience. I hope I shall now speak the feelings
   of your hearts, while I say we have found the Character of God to be an
   abundant safeguard to us. We have known full well the trials of life!
   Thank God we have, for what would any of us be worth if we had no
   troubles? Troubles, like files, take away our rust--like furnaces, they
   consume our dross--like winnowing fans they drive away the chaff. And
   we should have had but little value, we should have had but little
   usefulness--if we had not been made to pass through the furnace.

   But in all our troubles we have found the Character of God a comfort.
   You have been poor--very poor--I know some of you here have been out of
   work a long time. You have wondered where your bread would come from,
   even for the next meal. Now what has been your comfort? Have you not
   said, "God is too good to let me starve. He is too bountiful to let me
   want." And so, you see, you have found His Character to be your strong
   tower. Or else you have had personal sickness--you have long lain on
   the bed of weariness, tossing to and fro, and then the temptation has
   come into your heart to be impatient--"God has dealt harshly with you,"
   so the Evil One whispers. But how do you escape?

   Why you say, "No, He is no tyrant, I know Him to be a sympathizing
   God." "In all their afflictions He was afflicted, the angel of His
   Presence saved them." Or else you have had losses--many losses, and you
   have been apt to ask, "How can these things be? How is it I have to
   work so long, and plod so hard, and have to look about me with all my
   wits to earn but little, and yet when I have made money it melts? I see
   my wealth, like a flock of birds upon the fields--here one moment, and
   gone the next--for a passerby claps his hands, and everything takes to
   itself wings and flies away."

   Then we are apt to think that God is unwise to let us toil for nothing,
   but lo, we run into our strong tower and we feel it cannot be. No. The
   God who sent this affliction could not have acted in a thoughtless,
   reckless, unwise manner. There must be something here that shall work
   for my good. You know, Brothers and Sisters, it is useless for me to
   attempt to describe the various ways in which your trials come. I am
   sure they that know Jehovah's name will put their trust in Him.

   Perhaps your trial has been want, and then you have said, "His name is
   Jehovah-Jireh, the Lord will provide." Or else you have been banished
   from friends, perhaps from country, but you have said, "Ah, His name is
   Jehovah-Shammah, the Lord is there." Or else you have had a disturbance
   in your family. There has been war within, and war without, but you
   have run into your strong tower, for you have said, "His name is
   Jehovah-Shalom, the Lord sends peace." Or else the world has slandered
   you, and you, yourself have been conscious of sin, but you have said,
   "His name is Jehovah-Tsidkenu, the Lord our righteousness."

   And so you have gone there and been safe. Or else many have been your
   enemies, then His name has been "Jehovah-Xissi, the Lord my banner."
   And so He has been a strong tower to you. Defy, then, Brothers and
   Sisters--defy, in God's strength, tribulations of every sort and size.
   Say, with the poet--

   "There is a safe and secret place
   Beneath the wings Divine,
   Reserved for al the heirs of Grace,
   That refuge no w is mine.
   The least and feeblest here may hide
   Uninjured and unawed;
   While thousands fall on every side, I rest secure in God." But,
   Beloved, besides the trials of this life, we have the sins of the
   flesh, and what a tribulation these are! But the name of our God is our
   strong tower then. At certain seasons we are more than ordinarily
   conscious of our guilt. And I would give little for your piety, if you
   do not sometimes creep into a corner with the poor publican and say,
   "God be merciful to me a sinner." Broken hearts and humble walkers,
   these are dear in Jesus' eyes. There will be times with all of us when
   our saintship is not very clear, but our sinnership is very apparent.
   Well, then, the name of our God must be our defense--"He is very
   merciful." "For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness and their
   sins and their iniquities will I remember no more."

   Yes, in the Person of Christ we even dare to look at His justice with
   confidence, since, "He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and
   to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Possibly it is not so much the
   guilt of sin that troubles you, as the power of sin. You feel as if you
   must one day fall by the hand of this enemy within. You have been
   striving and struggling, but the old Adam is too much for you.

   It is a stern conflict and you fear that the sons of Anak will never be
   driven out. You feel you carry a bombshell within your heart. Your
   passions are like a powder magazine--you are walking where the flakes
   of fire are flying, and you are afraid a spark may fall, and then there
   will be a terrible destruction of everything. Ah, then there is the
   power of God, there is the Truth of God, there is the faithfulness of
   God, and, despite all the desperate power of sin, we find a shelter
   here in the Character of the Most High.

   Sin sometimes comes with all the terrors of the law. Then if you know
   not how to hide yourself behind your God, you will be in an evil
   plight. It will come at times with all the fire of the flesh, and if
   you cannot perceive that your flesh was crucified in Christ, and that
   your life is a life in Him, and not in yourself, then you will soon be
   put to the rout. But he who lives in his God and not in himself. He who
   wraps Christ's righteousness about him, and is righteous in Christ--
   such a man may defy all the attacks of the flesh, and all the
   temptations of the world. He shall overcome through the blood of the
   Lamb. "This is the victory that overcomes the world, even our faith."

   Then, Beloved, there are the temptations of the devil, and these are
   very dreadful. But how sweet it is, still, to feel that the Character
   of God is our strong tower. Without walls of Divine Grace and bulwarks
   of mercy, how can a tempted soul escape the clutches of the Destroyer?
   But where the soul lies in the entrenchments of Divine promise, all the
   devils in Hell cannot carry it by storm. I saw this week, one whom many
   of you greatly respect, the former pastor of this Church, Mr. James
   Smith, of Cheltenham--[since departed, to be with Christ, which is far
   better]--a name well-known by his innumerable little works which are
   scattered everywhere and cannot fail to do good.

   You will remember that about a year ago he was struck with paralysis
   and one half of his body was dead. But yet, when I saw him on the bed,
   I had not seen a more cheerful man in the full heyday of strength. I
   had been told that he was the subject of very fearful conflicts at
   times. So after I had shook hands with him, I said, "Friend Smith, I
   hear you have many doubts and fears!" "Who told you that?" said he,
   "for I have none." "Never have any? Why I understood you had many
   conflicts." "Yes," he said, "I have many conflicts, but I have no
   doubts. I have many wars within, but I have no fears.

   "Who could have told you that? I hope I have not led anyone to think
   that. It is a hard battle, but I know the victory is sure. After I have
   had an ill night's rest--of course, through physical debility--my mind
   is troubled, and then that old coward, Satan, who would be afraid to
   meddle with me, perhaps, if I were strong, attacks me when I am weak.
   But I am not afraid of him--don't you go away with that opinion. He
   does throw many fiery darts at me, but I have no doubt as to my final
   victory."

   Then he said, in his own way, "I am just like a packet that is all
   ready to go by train, packed, corded, labeled, paid for, and on the
   platform, waiting for the express to come by and take me to Glory. I
   wish I could hear the whistle now," said he. "I had hoped I should have
   been carried to Heaven long ago, but still I am fine." "And then," he
   said, "I have been telling your George Moore, over there, that I am not
   only on the Rock, but that I am cemented to the Rock, and that the
   cement is as hard as the Rock, so there is no fear of my perishing.
   Unless the Rock falls, I cannot. Unless the Gospel perishes, I cannot
   perish."

   Now, here was a man attacked by Satan--he did not tell me of the bitter
   conflicts he had within, I know they were severe enough. He was anxious
   to bear a good testimony to the faithfulness of his gracious Lord--but
   you see, it was his God that was his stronghold. He ran to this--the
   immutability, the faithfulness, the truthfulness, the mightiness of
   that God upon whose arm he leaned. If you and I will do the same, we
   can always find an attribute of God to oppose to each suggestion of the
   Evil One. "God will leave you," says the Evil One. "You old liar, He
   cannot, for He is a faithful God." "But you will perish after all." "O
   you vile deceiver! That can never be, for He is a mighty God and strong
   to deliver."

   "But one of these times He will abhor you." "No, you false accuser, and
   father of lies, that cannot be, for He is a God of love." "The time
   shall happen when He shall forget you." "No, traitor! That cannot be,
   for He is a God Omniscient, and knows and sees all things." I say, thus
   we may rebut every mischievous slander of Satan, running still into the
   Character of God as our strong tower.

   Brethren, even when the Lord Himself chastens us, it is most blessed to
   appeal against God to God. Do you understand what I mean? He smites us
   with His rod, but then to look up and say, "Father, if I could believe
   what Your rod seems to say, I should say You love me not. But I know
   You are a God of love, and my faith tells me that You love me none the
   less because of that hard blow." See here, Brothers and Sisters, I will
   put myself in the case a moment--Lo, He spurns me as though He hated
   me. He drives me from His Presence, gives me no caresses, denies me
   sweet promises.

   He shuts me up in prison, and gives me the water of affliction, and the
   bread of distress. But my faith declares, "He is such a God that I
   cannot think harshly of Him. He has been so good to me that I know He
   is good now, and in the teeth of all His Providences, even when He puts
   a black mask over His face, I still believe that--

   "Behind a frowning Providence,
   He hides a smiling face."

   But, Friends, I hope you know, I hope each of us may know by
   experience, the blessed are running into the bosom of God and hiding
   there.

   This word to the sinner who has not yet found peace. Do not you see,
   Sinner, the Christian is not saved by what he is, but by what his God
   is? And this is the groundwork of our comfort--that God is perfect--not
   that we are perfect. When I preached last Thursday night about the
   snuffers of the temple, and the golden snuffer trays, and the necessity
   there was for the lamps in the sanctuary to be trimmed, one foolish
   woman said, "Ah, you see, according to the minister's own confession,
   these Christians are as bad as the rest of us, they have many faults.
   Oh," she said, "I dare say I shall be as well off at the last as they
   will."

   Poor soul! She did not see that the Christian's hope does not lie in
   what he is, but in what Christ is. Our trust is not in what we suffer,
   but in what Jesus suffered. Not in what we do, but in what He has done.
   It is not our name--I say again--that is a strong tower to us. It is
   not even our prayers, it is not our good works. It is the name, the
   promise, the truth, the work, the finished righteousness of our God in
   Christ Jesus. Here the Believer finds his defense and nowhere besides.
   Run Sinner, run, for the castle gate is free to all who seek a shelter,
   be they who they may.

   II. By your leave I shall turn to the second point. How THE RIGHTEOUS
   AVAIL THEMSELVES OF THIS

   STRONG TOWER. They run into it. Now, running seems to me to imply that
   they do not stop to make any preparation. You will remember our Lord
   Jesus Christ said to His disciples that when the Romans surrounded
   Jerusalem, he that was on the housetop was not to come down into his
   house, but to run down the outer staircase, and escape. So the
   Christian, when he is attacked by his enemies, should not stop for
   anything, but just run into his God and be safe.

   There is no need for you to tarry until you have prepared your mind,
   until you have performed sundry ablutions, but run, Man, straight away,
   at once. When the pigeons are attacked by the hawk, their better plan
   is not to parley, nor to stay, but swiftly as they can, cut the air and
   fly to the dovecote. So should it be with you. Leave fools, who will,
   to parley with the fiend of Hell--but as for you, fly to your God and
   enter into His secret places till the tempest is over, past. A gracious
   hint, this, to you anxious souls who are seeking to fit yourselves for
   Jesus--away with such legal rubbish, run at once!

   You are safe in following the good example of the righteous. This
   running appears to me to imply that they have nothing to carry. A man
   who has a load, the heavier the load may be, the more will he be
   impeded in his flight. But the righteous run, like racers in the games,
   who have thrown off everything. Their sins they leave to mercy, and
   their righteousness to the moles and bats. If I had any righteousness I
   would not carry it, but run to the righteousness of Christ without
   it--for my own righteousness must be a drag upon me which I could not
   bear.

   Sinners, I know, when they come to Christ, want to bring tons of good
   works, wagon loads of good feelings, and fitness, and repenting and
   such like--but the righteous do no such thing. They just foreswear
   everything they have of their own, and count it but dross and dung,
   that they may run to Christ, and be found in him. Gospel righteousness
   lies all in Jesus, not in the Believer.

   It seems to me, too, that this expression not only implies a want of
   preparation, and having nothing to carry, but it implies that fear
   quickens them. Men do not run to a castle unless they are afraid. But
   when the avenger of death is close behind, then swiftly they fly. It is
   marvelous how godly fear helps faith. There is a man sinking there in
   the river. He cannot swim, he must be drowned! Look! He is going down!
   We push him a plank--with what a clutch he grasps it! And the more he
   is convicted that he has no power to float, the more firmly does he
   grip at this one hope. Fear may even drive a man, I say, to faith, and
   lend him wings to fly, where otherwise he might have crept with laggard
   feet. The fight is the flight of fear, but the refuge is the refuge of
   faith. O, Sinner, if the righteous fly, what ought your pace to be?

   Again, it seems to me that there is great eagerness here, as if the
   Christian did not feel safe till he had entered into his God. As the
   stag pursued by the hounds quickens its flight by reason of the baying
   of the dogs, as the clamor grows louder and louder, see how the stag
   leaps from crag to crag! He dashes through the stream, flies over
   yonder hill, is lost in yonder brake and soon springs through the
   valley! So the Christian flies to his dear God for safety, when the
   hounds of Hell and the dogs of temptation are let loose against him.
   Eagerness! Where indeed shall the like be found?

   "As the hart pants after the water brooks, so pants my soul after you,
   O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God: when shall I come
   and appear before God?" O convicted Sinner, what should your eagerness
   be if thus the righteous pant for God? Brethren, I may add here, that
   there is an absence of all hesitation. He runs. You know, if we want
   somebody to help us, we put our hand to our brow and consider, "Let us
   see, where shall we go? I am in great straits, to whom shall I fly? Who
   will be the best friend to me?" The righteous never ask that question,
   at least when they are in a right mind they never do.

   The moment their trouble comes they run at once to their God, for they
   feel that they have full permission to repair to Him. And again they
   feel they have nowhere else to fly. "To whom, or where should I go, if
   I could turn from You," is a question which is its own answer. Then
   understand, in our text there is eagerness, the absence of all
   hesitation. There is fear, and yet there is courage. There is no
   preparation, there is the flinging aside of every burden. "The
   righteous run into His high tower and are safe."

   Beloved, I will leave that point, when I have said please remember that
   when a man gets into a castle, he is safe because of the impregnability
   of the castle. He is not safe because of the way in which he entered
   into the castle. You hear some man inside saying, "I shall never be
   hurt, because I came into the castle the right way." You will tell him,
   "No, no, no, it is not the way you came into the castle, but the castle
   itself is our defense." So some of you may be thinking, "I do come to
   Christ, but I am afraid that I do not come aright." But it is not your
   coming, it is Christ that saves you!

   If you are in Christ, I do not care a pin how you got in, for I am sure
   you could not get in except by the door! If you are once in, He will
   never throw you out. He will never drive away a soul that comes unto
   Him, for any reason whatever. Your safety does not lie in how you came,
   for in very truth, your safety is in Him. If a man should run into a
   castle and carry all the jewels of a kingdom with him, he would not be
   safer because of the jewels. And if another man should run in with
   hardly a fresh suit of clothes with him, he would not be any the more
   in danger because of his raggedness.

   It is the castle, it is the castle, not the man. The solid walls, the
   strong bastions, the frowning ramparts, the mighty munitions--these
   make up the defense--not the man! Nor the man's wealth, nor the way the
   man came. Beloved, it is most true that salvation is of the Lord, and
   whoever shall look out of self tonight, whoever shall look to Christ
   only, shall find Him to be a strong tower. You may run into your Lord
   and be safe.

   III. And now for our third and closing remark. You that have Bibles
   with margins, just look at them. You will find that the second part of
   the text is put in the margin thus--"The righteous run into it and are
   set aloft." Our first rendering is, "The righteous run into it and are
   safe"--there is the matter offact. The other rendering is, "He is set
   aloft"-- there is the matter of joyous experience.

   1. Now, first, let us see to the matter of fact. The man that is
   sheltered in his God--a man that dwells in the secret places of the
   tabernacle of the Host on High, who is hidden in His pavilion, and is
   set upon a rock, he is safe, for, first, who can hurt him? The Devil?
   Christ has broken his head. Life? Christ has taken his life up to
   Heaven, for we are dead, and, "our life is hid with Christ in God."
   Death? No. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. "O death,
   where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?"

   The law? That is satisfied and it is dead to the Believer, and he is
   not under its curse. Sin? No--that cannot hurt the Believer, for Christ
   has slain it. Christ took the Believer's sins upon Himself, and
   therefore they are not on the Believer any more. Christ took the
   Believer's sins and threw them into the Red Sea of His atoning blood.
   The depths have covered them, not one of them is left. All the sin the
   Believer has ever committed is now blotted out, and a debt that is
   cancelled can never put a man in prison. A debt that is paid, let it be
   ever so heavy, can never make a man an insolvent--it is discharged, it
   has ceased to be.

   "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God that
   justifies. Who is he that condemns? It is Christ that died, yes,
   rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who
   also makes intercession for us." Who can harm us? Let him have
   permission to do what he will, what is there that he can do? Who,
   again, has the power to reach us? We are in the hands of Christ. What
   arrow shall penetrate His hands to reach our souls? We are under the
   skirts of Deity. What strength shall tear away the mantle of God to
   reach His children? Our names are written on the hands of Jesus--who
   can erase those everlasting lines?

   We are jewels in Immanuel's crown. What thievish fingers shall steal
   away those jewels? We are in Christ. Who shall be able to rend us from
   His innermost heart? We are members of His body. Who shall mutilate the
   Savior? "I bore you," says God, "as on eagles' wings." Who shall smite
   through the breast of the Eternal One, Heaven's great eagle? He must
   first do it before he can reach the eaglets, the young sons of God,
   begotten unto a lively hope. Who can reach us? God interposes--Christ
   stands in the way. And the Holy Spirit guards us as a garrison.

   Who shall stand against the Omnipotent? Tens of thousands of created
   powers must fall before him, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting
   strength. What weapon is there that can be used against us? Shall they
   kill us? Then we begin to live. Shall they banish us? Then we are but
   nearer to our Home. Shall they strip us? How can they rend away the
   garment of imputed righteousness? Shall they seize our property? How
   can they touch our treasure since it is all in Heaven? Shall they
   scourge us? Sweet shall be the smart when Christ is present with us!
   Shall they cast us into a dungeon? Where shall the free spirit find a
   prison? What fetters can bind the man who is free in Christ?

   Shall the tongue attack us? Every tongue that rises against us in
   judgment, we shall condemn. I know not what new weapon can be formed,
   for certain it is that the anvil of the Church has broken all the
   hammers that were ever used to smite it, and remains uninjured, still.
   The Believer is--he must be safe. I said this morning that if the
   Believer in Christ is not saved forever, then, Beloved, there is no
   meaning whatever in God's Word. And I say it once again, and I say it
   without any word of apology for so doing--I could never receive that
   Book as the Book of God at all, if it could be proved to me that it did
   not teach the doctrine of the safety of those that trust in Christ.

   I could never believe that God would speak in such a manner as to make
   tens of thousands of us, yes, millions of us, believe that He would
   keep us, and yet after all, He should cast us away. Nor do I believe
   that He would use words which, to say the very least, seem to teach
   final perseverance if He had not intended to teach us the doctrine. All
   the Arminian Divines that ever lived cannot prove the total apostasy of
   Believers. They can attack some other points of the Calvinistic
   doctrine. There are some points of our form of doctrine which
   apparently are far more vulnerable.

   God forbid we should be so foolish as to deny that there are
   difficulties about every system of theology! But about the perseverance
   of the saint there is no difficulty. It is as easy to overthrow an
   opponent, here, as it would be to thrust through, with a spear, a
   shield of pasteboard. Be confident, Believer, that this is God's Truth,
   that they who trust in God shall be as Mount Zion which shall never be
   removed, but abide forever.

   2. But now we conclude by noticing that our text not only teaches us
   our safety, but our experience of it. "He shall set him up aloft." The
   Believer in his high days, and they ought to be every day, is like an
   eagle perched aloft on a towering crag. Yonder is a hunter, down below,
   who would desire to strike the royal bird. He has his rifle with
   him--but his rifle would not reach one third of the way--so the royal
   bird looks down upon him. He sees him load and prime, and aim. He looks
   in quiet contempt on him, not intending even to take the trouble to
   stretch one of his wings.

   He sees him load again, hears the bullet down below, but he is quite
   safe, for he is up aloft. Such is the faithful Christian's state before
   God. He can look down upon every trial and temptation, upon every
   adversary and every malicious attack--for God is his strong tower, and,
   "he is set up aloft." When some people go to the newspaper and write a
   very sharp, bitter, and cutting letter against the minister, "Oh," they
   think, "How he will feel that! How that will cut him to the quick!"

   And yet, if they had seen the man read it through, double it up, and
   throw it into the fire, saying, "What a mercy it is to have somebody
   taking notice of me." If they could see the man go to bed and sleep all
   the better because he thinks he has had a high honor conferred on him
   for being allowed to be abused for Christ, surely they would see that
   their efforts are only, "hate's labor lost." I do not think our enemies
   would take so much trouble to make us happy, if they knew how blessed
   we are under their malice.

   "You have prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies,"
   said David. Some soldiers never eat so well as when their enemies are
   looking on--for there is a sort of gusto about every mouthful which
   they eat, as they seem to say--"snatched from the jaw of the lion, and
   from the paw of the bear, and in defiance of you all, in the name of
   the Most High God I feast to the full, and then set up my banner." The
   Lord sets His people up aloft.

   But there are many who do not appear to be much up aloft. You meet them
   in the corn market and they say, "Wheat does not pay as they used to.
   Farming is no good to anybody." Hear others, after those gales, those
   violent gales, when so many ships have gone down, say, "Ah, you may
   well pity us poor fellows that have to do with shipping, dreadful times
   these, we are all sure to be ruined." See many of our tradesmen--"This
   Exhibition has given us a little spurt, but as soon as this is over,
   there will be nothing doing. Trade never was so dull." Trade has been
   dull ever since I have been in London, and that is nine years!

   I do not know how it is, but our friends are always losing money, yet
   they get on pretty comfortably, too. Some I know, began with nothing.
   And they are getting pretty rich now, but, it is all by losing money,
   if I am to believe what they tell me! Surely this is not sitting up
   aloft. Surely this is not living up on high. This is a low kind of life
   for a child of God. We should not have liked to see the Prince of Wales
   in his boyhood playing with the children in the street, and I do not
   suppose you would like to see him now among coal heavers at a wrestling
   match.

   Nor should the child of God be seen pushing and grasping as if this
   world were all, always using that muckrake to scrape together the
   things of this world. Instead he should be in full satisfaction, being
   content with such things as he has, for God has said, "I will never
   leave you nor forsake you." I am not a little ashamed of myself that I
   do not live more on high, for I know when we get depressed in spirits,
   and downcast, and doubting, we say many unbelieving and God-dishonoring
   words. It is all wrong. We ought not to stay here in these marshes of
   fleshly doubts. We ought never to doubt our God. Let the heathen doubt
   his god, for well he may, but our God made the heavens.

   What a happy people we ought to be! When we are not, we are not true to
   our principles. There are ten thousand arguments in Scripture for
   happiness in the Christian. But I do not know that there is one logical
   argument for misery. Those people who draw their faces down, and like
   the hypocrites, pretend to be of a sad countenance, these, I say, cry,
   "Lord, what a wretched land is this, that yields us no supplies." I
   should think they do not belong to the children of Israel! The children
   of Israel find in the wilderness a Rock following them with its streams
   of water, and manna dropping every day. And when they want them, there
   are the quails, and so the wretched land is filled with good supplies.

   Let us rather rejoice in our God. I should not like to have a serving
   man who always went about with a dreary countenance, because do you
   know people would say, "What a bad master that man has." And when we
   see Christians looking so sad, we are apt to think they cannot have a
   good God to trust to. Come, Beloved, let us change our notes, for we
   have a strong tower, and are safe.

   Let us take a walk upon the ramparts. I do not see any reason for
   always being down in the dungeon. Let us go up to the very top of the
   ramparts, where the banner waves in the fresh air, and let us sound the
   clarion of defiance to our foes! And let it ring across the plain,
   where yonder pale white-horsed rider comes, bearing the lance of death.
   Let us defy even him. Ring out the note again! Salute the evening, and
   make the outgoings of the morning to rejoice.

   Wander upon the castle top, shout to your companion, yonder, and let
   every tower and every turret of the grand old battlements be vocal with
   the praise of Him who has said--

   "Munitions of stupendous rock,
   Your dwelling place shall be.
   There shall your soul without a shock
   The wreck of nature see."

   Sinner, again I say the door is open! Run to the mercy of God in
   Christ, and by His Grace, be safe!
     __________________________________________________________________

                       Nominal Christians--Real Infidels

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 1, 1863, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "If I say the truth, why do you not believe Me?" John 8:46.

   As we meet this evening to commune at the Table of the Lord, it will
   then be necessary for me to seek the edification of God's people. I
   therefore think it best to occupy our time this morning with an
   exhortation to those that are out of the way. May the Holy Spirit make
   our words like arrows from the bow of a mighty man. May He graciously
   direct them to the chosen hearts which He has ordained to bless, and
   may this hallowed hour be a time of salvation to many among you.
   Whatever may be lacking in the human instrument, I trust there will be
   no absence of true affection and solemn earnestness. And O, may the
   Holy Spirit use those infirmities under which I labor this morning to
   magnify His own strength!
   You know, dear Friends, there has been a great deal of talk lately
   about the Infidelity, which like a whirlwind, shakes the Establishment.
   We felt a very stiff breeze caused by certain, "Essays and Reviews,"
   and before that could blow over, a perfect hurricane from the African
   shore astonished many, and alarmed a few. Everybody agrees to censure
   the inconsistency of a man who wears a miter and quarrels with Moses,
   professes to be a minister of the Church and undermines her
   foundations. Too much importance has been attached to the poor attempts
   of the Arithmetical Unbeliever and what was in reality nothing more
   than a storm in a teacup has been exaggerated until all the sea of
   Christendom is tossed with tempest.
   To my mind, there is a terrible enemy abroad far more worthy of our
   steel than the recreant prelate and his Zulu teachers. Spare your
   voices, O Watchmen of Zion, for a mightier enemy--and reserve your
   swords for a sterner adversary of our Israel. Secret unbelief, as the
   mother and foster parent of all open infidelity, requires to be watched
   and wept over. Let us mourn over the professed unbelief of the age. But
   there is an unbelief more gross than this, more dishonest, more
   inconsistent, more widely spread, and more deceptive in its character!
   It is an infidelity so impalpable that we cannot readily arrest it, and
   drag it into the court of conscience!
   It is so unreasonable that argument is out of place in contending with
   it. This "pestilence which walks in darkness," broods frightfully over
   our congregations, and smothers beneath its death-bearing wings not a
   few of you, whose souls I would win for Christ. Into the battle with
   this destroyer of souls I enter this day. Oh, may my Lord and Master
   give me power to strike home. Solemnly I protest against that
   dishonest, inconsistent infidelity of which some of you are the
   victims. You tell me that you believe the Bible to be inspired of God.
   No suspicions as to its Divine authority linger in your mind. You have
   faith in the Gospel which we preach, that it is genuine, true, and
   sound.
   But here lies your inconsistency or dishonesty--you say it is true--but
   you do not believe it! You admit that it came from God, but practically
   you reject it! You will not deny that it is worthy of all
   acceptation--it must be so if it came from God. You admit it deals with
   all-important matters--and yet you practically say it is not worthy of
   your attention, since many of you are still in disobedience to the
   voice of love, neglecting the great salvation.
   Before charging home upon your consciences, my Hearers, I feel impelled
   to remark that many professors of religion deserve the rebuke of the
   text, for they say they believe the Bible, but they do not act in
   accordance with it. We have been boasting, in the language of
   Chillingworth, that the Bible, and the Bible alone, is the religion of
   Protestants--but the boast requires a little examination. Do we not
   tolerate many things among Protestants which can never be vindicated
   from Scripture?
   You tell me that the Bible is your religion, and yet bring your infants
   for Baptism! You sprinkle their brows, or sign their foreheads with a
   cross. And where do you find your warrant for thus profaning an
   ordinance which sets forth the burial of Believers with their Lord?
   Tradition may lend a forced and lame support to baby sprinkling, but to
   the Bible it is a novelty unknown. Moreover I ask you where comes
   confirmation? Will anyone be bold enough to assert that there is
   anything in God's Word like it?
   Yes, and more--where do you find a State Establishment? Verily, not in
   the New Testament, since our Lord has said, "My kingdom is not of this
   world," and this unworldly Gospel is a standing protest against the
   spiritual fornication which State religion involves. Everywhere, in all
   sects, I see inventions of men arrogating the place of the Commandments
   of God. Let us sweep our temples, and return unto the Word of the Lord.
   Say not that you believe the Book, when you act as though it were not
   true--when you advocate practices, and set up rites and ceremonies
   unknown to Apostolic times, and Scriptural records.
   Brethren, again I say it, our Churches require to be brought face to
   face with the infallible Word. By this test try them all--they say the
   thing is true--will they believe it? Will they practice it? Will they
   abide by the standard? High professors, the love of this world is
   enmity against God! You profess to love God, but you are as worldly, as
   fond of fashion and its frivolities, as pleased with pomp and its
   fooleries, as hungry for honor and its pretensions, as you can be. And
   yet you say this Book is true!
   Verily, by your acts you prove that you believe it not. I might draw up
   today a dreadful bill of indictment against the visible Church of this
   age. I might prove to a demonstration that it is not delivered from
   this present evil world, according to the will of God, even the Father.
   And that it teaches for doctrines the commandments of men--so that it
   deserves to be met with the unanswerable question and faithful rebuke
   of our Lord Jesus--"If I say the truth, why do you not believe Me?"

   Although fidelity to my Lord required these few remarks, which are not
   meant as an angry discovery of a Brother's faults, but as the faithful
   wounds of a friend, I turn to the matter which has most to do with you,
   the people of my charge. Having shown you the many giants' heads which
   might be smitten by this smooth stone, taken out of the brook, I shall
   now take aim at your hearts, O you who believe not on my Lord!

   I. Unbelievers in Christ, MY TEXT SETS FORTH VERY PITHILY AND
   PERTINENTLY YOUR INCONSISTENCY.

   "If I say the truth, why do you not believe Me?" If you boldly meet me
   by saying, "I am not converted, for I do not believe in the mission of
   Christ," your position is a consistent, though a terrible one. If you
   tell me you have suspicions about the inspiration of Scripture, and
   therefore you do not believe in Christ, your position is certainly
   dangerous, if it is not despicable. But when you tell me that you
   believe Jesus Christ was sent from Heaven, and that His Gospel is the
   revelation of God to man--and you are still at this day
   unconverted--your position, besides its tremendous responsibility and
   danger, is extraordinarily inconsistent, so inconsistent that an honest
   man should blush to remain in it for an hour.

   Were you rightly to weigh the matter you would say, "I will not, I will
   not be thus a liar unto my soul any longer. I will not contradict
   myself, but I will be consistent, and since the thing is true, I will
   believe it."

   Remember, first of all, that Jesus Christ has revealed to you your
   need. He has told you in express words that you need regeneration.
   "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
   Enlarging upon the doctrine, He adds--"Except a man be born of water
   and of the Spirit he cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven." He has
   laid the new birth before you as an imperative necessity. You admit
   that this is true. Your admission that this Book came from God is
   clearly an assent to this teaching. Why, then, is it that you who have
   never passed from death unto life?

   Why do you remain contented without that Divine change, and are
   satisfied with moral reformation or outward respectability, while the
   Book assures you that these will never do? The Great Master assures you
   that you must be converted. Hear His express words--"Except you are
   converted and become as little children, you shall in no wise enter
   into the kingdom of Heaven." This you allow to be correct, for it is in
   the Book which you agree to reverence. Oh, Sinner, how then, can you be
   at ease in an unconverted state? How is it that you can remain so
   careless, when Heaven is barred against you because you are not
   converted?

   You cannot delude yourself with the thought that perhaps all will be
   well with you, when Christ assures you it cannot be well with you
   except you experience His converting Grace. Has He not told you, too,
   in many a passage of prophetic and Apostolic Scripture, that you must
   return unto the God from whom you have wandered, and leave your sins,
   and give your heart to Him? What meant that gracious parable concerning
   the prodigal? Did it not set you forth, you who have spent your living
   with harlots, and are brought to the degradations of sin? Did He not
   teach you that your only hope lies in quick return to your offended,
   but loving Father in Heaven? "I will arise and go to my Father"--is not
   this fit language for you?

   The citizens of this country--what can they do for you? They send you
   into their fields to feed swine, but you cannot fill your belly with
   the husks which the swine eat. Does not Jesus, in that loving parable,
   say affectionately to you, "Return unto your God"? Oh, if this is true,
   and you say it is, then believe it--and sure I am your heart will yearn
   towards your Father's house, and you will run towards your home at
   once. Is it not true that we must abhor that which is evil and turn
   with full purpose of heart unto the Lord? "True," you answer,
   "certainly it is." Why then, I reply, do you not believe it, and act
   upon the belief?

   Dear Friends, if any physician, well-known and honored, should meet you
   today on your way home, and if he should most affectionately and
   solemnly inform you that you bear about in your person a dreadful
   disease. Methinks if you should profess to believe his warning, and yet
   you should seek no remedy for it, but remain totally unaffected by the
   dreadful assurance, it might well be asked of you, "How can you say it
   is true, for you evidently do not believe it?"

   O my Hearers, as though Christ spoke to you by me, so I ask you this
   question--How can you, as candid persons, how can you as honest men,
   admit this Book to be true, when it tells you that your whole head is
   sick, and your whole heart faint? When it warns you that, dying as you
   now are, without a work of Divine Grace in you, you are lost to all
   eternity--how can you, I say, admit these things to be true, and yet
   prove by your apathy and carelessness that you do not believe them? May
   God press that enquiry home upon you!

   Our Lord Jesus Christ came not only to reveal your need, but also to
   set forth His claims. The claims of Jesus of Nazareth are briefly
   stated by Peter, "Repent and be converted, everyone of you, that your
   sins may be blotted out when the times of refreshing shall come from
   the presence of the Lord." He demands repentance--that is, a change of
   mind--the changing of your mind with reference to sin, caring no more
   for its pleasures, despising it and turning away from it. A change of
   mind with regard to holiness--seeking your happiness in it. A change of
   mind with regard to Christ Himself, so that you shall no longer look
   upon Him as without form or comeliness, but as a most precious Savior,
   such as you need.

   Sinner, Christ demands of you that you should take your ornaments of
   self-righteousness from you, and wrap yourself in the sackcloth of
   humiliation, and cast the ashes of penitence upon your head, and cry,
   "Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!" Moreover, He requires faith of you.
   "Repent and believe the Gospel." "This is the commandment, that you
   believe on Jesus Christ whom God has sent." The Jews said, "What shall
   we do that we may do the work of God?" Christ said, "This is the work
   of God, that you believe on Jesus Christ whom He has sent." He demands
   that faith which will accept Him to be the sole cleanser from sin, and
   to be the sole possessor, as He is the sole redeemer, of the heart.

   Friend, you believe that no less a Person than the Son of God thus bids
   you look unto Him and be saved. You believe that the Son of God was
   nailed to the Cross, and that out of love to you He demands that you
   forsake the sin which will destroy you. And He demands you believe in
   His blood which will cleanse you. Does Jesus thus speak? Are these
   demands the hard inventions of a tyrannical priesthood, or the mild and
   tender claims of love? Is it a mere man who bids you believe and live,
   or is it the Redeemer, "in whom dwells all the fullness of the Godhead
   bodily," who commands you to believe and be baptized?

   If the claim to faith is true and just, why do you not accede to it?
   Why harden your hearts? Why stand out against incarnate love, pleading
   and persuading you? Oh, strange inconsistency, to know the Savior's
   Truth, but not to believe Him! Oh, shameful dishonesty, to grant the
   validity of His claim, but to be careless concerning the discharge of
   it! To grant the justness of the requirement, and refuse to accede to
   it with your hearts is to write yourselves down as deceitful and
   unrighteous. "If I say the truth, why do you not believe Me?"

   Further, Christ came to provide the remedy for your soul. Christ did
   not preach an impossible Gospel--one out of the reach of sinners. He
   provided a real, ready, and available salvation. No, Beloved, He came
   to preach glad tidings of great joy to men, a Gospel worthy of all
   acceptation, in which even the vilest have a share. And this is
   it--that God wills not the death of the sinner, but had rather that he
   should turn unto Him and live. That, in order that mercy and justice
   might both meet, Christ, God's own dear Son, was sacrificed on Calvary
   for the ungodly. The Just for the unjust, that He might bring us to
   God. And that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have
   everlasting life.

   This is the Gospel--a Gospel to be preached to every creature, from the
   cold snows of Lapland to the balmy plains of the torrid zone--a Gospel
   to be published among, every people wherever sinners are found--that
   Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, even the very chief,
   and that an act of faith in Him saves the soul. A simple trusting in
   Him and the soul is delivered from all sin. My Friends, you profess
   that this is true. O my Hearers, very few among you doubt that this
   Gospel is Divine.

   The most of you who sit in these seats Sunday after Sunday, never raise
   any difficulties of that sort. You say, "Our minister has preached the
   Gospel to us." But oh, if this is true, why do you not believe it? If
   there is a remedy, a sure one, a God-appointed one, why do you not
   receive it? O Sirs, this damnable inconsistency of yours will ruin your
   souls, unless you repent of it. Deny it altogether, and I can
   understand your position, though I weep over it. But say that it is
   true, and yet reject it, and your folly is so glaring that it shall be
   a theme for laughter in Hell, when fiends shall be your companions and
   the eternal burnings your perpetual abode.

   How can it be? You are hanging over the jaws of Hell, the flames flash
   into your face! A strong hand that can save you is stretched out. You
   refuse its grasp and will refuse it, still, unless it lays hold on you
   by force. Perishing! The very medicine offered you which will cure you,
   and you will not receive it although you know its healing virtue! You
   do not believe it. There is infidelity in your heart, and before you
   condemn open unbelievers, search your own hearts, for how are you
   better than they? May not your sins be less excusable and your state
   less hopeful than theirs?

   Dear Friends. Our blessed Lord came also to reveal the freeness of His
   Grace. Oh, what freeness was there in the Gospel when Christ preached
   it! No cold theology His lips. Words did not hang like icicles there,
   but out of His mouth there flowed rivers of living water. What can be
   freer than this--"Come unto Me all you that labor and are heavy-laden
   and I will give you rest"? Or what more wide than this--"If any man
   thirst let him come unto Me and drink"? Or what more gracious than
   this, by the lips of His servant John--"Whosoever will, let him come
   and take of the water of life freely"? Oh, I need not repeat these
   invitations! I shall rather remind you that you admit them to be true,
   hearty, Divine invitations.

   Why then, oh, why do you not believe them? You say, "Yes, it is freely
   presented. I have not a doubt about that." Then why do you stand
   shivering and refusing to lay hold on eternal life? Soul, if this
   Gospel were hedged with thorns or guarded with bayonets I would
   recommend you to fling yourself upon their very points to reach it. But
   when the door is opened, and when Christ Himself, dressed in bleeding
   love, woos you to come--how shall I make an excuse for you when you can
   say it is true and yet you do not believe it? May God give you wisdom
   and teach you reason--right reason.

   Furthermore, Jesus Christ in His preaching gave a very clear
   description of the danger of unregenerate souls. Hear how He puts
   it--"Where their worm dies not and their fire is not quenched." Mark
   how He speaks of the unprofitable servant--"Cast him into outer
   darkness, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." Observe how He
   describes the goats on the left hand, these are the thundering accents
   of the Judge of All--"Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting
   fire, prepared for the devil and his angels."

   No preacher was ever so awfully explicit upon future punishment as
   Jesus of Nazareth. No human ministry ever gave such graphic and
   harrowing descriptions of Hell as Christ has given. You say you believe
   the words of Jesus--you do not suspect a loving Savior of exaggeration,
   do you? Oh, my Hearers, I ask you now, in the name of God--if it is
   true, why do you not believe it? You do not believe it--that is clear
   enough. Would you sit quietly in your seat this morning, young man, if
   you really believed that within one instant you may be in Hell?

   Old Man! Old in years, and old in sin--would you be as quiet in your
   soul today as you are if you knew and believed that there is but a step
   between you and the flames? Oh, all of you who can make merry while yet
   you have no hope in Jesus, could it be so with you if you really
   believed in the wrath of God which abides on you? So near the lake of
   fire and yet so full of levity! Death and damnation at your doors, and
   yet jesting and unconcerned! My soul is full of horror at your madness!
   My heart is ready to burst with anguish at the ruin which will so soon
   overtake you! What shall I say unto you? How shall I reason with
   you?--Surely if the thunders of an angry God do not arouse you, you
   will sleep yourselves into the lowest Hell.

   Brethren, let me add, Christ has brought to light the hope of
   immortality, eternal life and Heaven. What glowing pictures does the
   Word of God give of the state of the blessed in the land of the
   hereafter! What music streams from angels' harps! What joy irradiates
   every celestial brow! What hallowed blessedness floats along the river
   of the Water of Life in the midst of every street of the new Jerusalem!
   You admire the poetry of the Book of God and marvel at its matchless
   painting of scenes beyond the flood. You believe that Jesus has
   revealed that which eye had not seen and ear had not heard. Then why do
   you not believe it?

   If you believed it you would seek after it, you would strive to enter
   in at the strait gate. You would labor for the meat which perishes not.
   The Spirit of God would lead you to prize the world to come. You would
   tread this present fleeting world beneath your feet, and be looking
   for, and hasting unto the glories which are yet to be revealed in those
   who love the Lord. The sum of all this is the weighty enquiry of our
   Lord Jesus. "If I say the truth why do you not believe Me?" If Christ
   is no liar, if His Word is no fiction, how can you remain as you now
   are--ungodly, unthinking, unconverted men and women? May the Holy
   Spirit constrain you to give heed to this searching question.

   II. YOU OFFER SOME DEFENSE OF YOUR INCONSISTENCY, BUT I ANSWER THAT
   YOUR APOLOGIES

   DO NOT MEET THE CASE.

   I hear one say, "Sir, I do not feel myself entitled to come to Christ.
   The Revelation of God is true, but I do not believe in Christ because I
   do not feel any need that I should." I answer that this is no
   excuse--this is rather a proof of guilt. You do not believe that which
   Christ has told you concerning yourself. The Word of God informs you in
   many places that your case is an awful and a lamentable one. If you
   believed this, you would never have to complain that you did not feel
   it. In matters relating to the body, we feel first, and then believe.

   My hand smarts, and therefore I believe that it has been wounded. But
   in things relating to the soul, you believe first, and feel afterwards.
   A woman cannot feel grief on account of the loss of her child till she
   believes she has lost it. A young man cannot feel joy at the
   inheritance of a large estate till he believes he has inherited it. But
   it is impossible for a loving mother to believe that her child is lost,
   and not to weep, or for an ambitious young man to believe himself
   suddenly made rich and not to rejoice. Now, if you really believed your
   heart to be as deceitful as the Bible says it is. If you really
   believed sin to be as dreadful a thing as God regards it to be, you
   would necessarily feel repentance and conviction.

   Alas, it is only when the Spirit of God gives you a real belief in
   these things that you repent in earnest. The real root of your hardness
   of heart lies in your not believing what you admit to be true. You say
   the Bible is true, but you say what you do not mean. Oh, I would that
   this inconsistency would strike you! You say it is true, but you cannot
   believe it, or you would be at once aroused to anxious conviction.

   But you make a second apology. "But, Sir, I do not see how faith can
   save me." Here, again, there is no excuse, because the basis of your
   doubt, after all, is this--you do not believe what Scripture reveals.
   If you speak honestly, you really mean to say, "The testimony of the
   Bible concerning salvation through faith is not true." Let me
   affectionately remove this stumbling block, if it is ignorance and not
   willful unbelief. You say you cannot see how faith can save you. Do you
   not know that faith, in itself, does not save?

   Faith saves by reason of that which it lays hold of. Christ stood in
   the place of every man living that ever did or will believe on Him. He
   took the sins of those persons and was punished for them. And those who
   trust Him receive the effect of what He suffered. To say that faith
   could save would be an unreasonable thing--but that the Object of
   faith, the Divine suffering Savior can save--is no unreasonable
   doctrine. Now, if you do really believe what Scripture tells you
   concerning this, you cannot again raise this objection, that you do not
   see how faith can save.

   But you say you prefer works. But Scripture tells you, times without
   number, that by the works of the law there shall no flesh be justified.
   And it adds that all your righteousnesses are but as filthy rags. So
   all hope in that quarter is destroyed. You admit that Scripture is
   true, and yet you want to be saved by your works! This is to say that
   black is white! This is to make God a liar, and yet, to make you bow,
   and compliment Him as the God of Truth at the same time. Sinner, if you
   believe the Bible, it is as clear as noonday that he that believes on
   Him is not condemned, and that he that believes not is condemned
   already, because he has not believed on the Son of God.

   Perhaps you meet me by saying, that you have long thought that the good
   things promised in the Gospel, simply and only to faith, are too good
   to be true. That, conscious of being a lost sinner, and a very wretched
   offender, you have not the presumption to believe that if you were to
   trust Christ this very morning, all your sins would be forgiven. Well
   Friend, come now, you talk like a humble man, but it is very likely you
   are very proud. Let me get ahold of you by the button. What does all
   this mean, my dear Friend, but just this--that you think very meanly of
   God? I do not believe you think so meanly of yourself as you think you
   do.

   You think meanly of God! You think that He has but little mercy, at
   least not so much mercy as you need, and so you limit the Holy One of
   Israel. But I shall meet you on the ground of my text. You allow that
   this Book is true--very well--has not the Lord declared, both by
   instances, and by express words of promise, that though your sins are
   as scarlet they shall be as wool? And though they are red like crimson
   they shall be whiter than snow? However aggravated guilt may be, it can
   damn no man that believes in Christ. I pray you read the Gospel aright.
   You cannot then make the greatness of its Grace a ground of doubt. The
   thing is great, but it is not too great for God. As high as the heavens
   are above the earth so high are His ways above your ways, and His
   thoughts above your thoughts.

   But do I hear you answer that you are not quite sure that the promise
   is made to you. Sinner, I must not lose patience with you, but I would
   you would lose patience with yourself, for this is trifling. You say
   the Bible is true. Sir, if you say it is true, you know that the very
   object for which it was sent to you was that it might save you. What is
   said in the twentieth chapter of the Gospel by John?--"These are
   written that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, and that
   believing you might have life through His name."

   God did not send this Book to you, I am sure, to play with you. He sent
   it that you might be saved. But how can you say the invitations do not
   include you? "Whosoever will." Does that shut you out? The Gospel not
   sent to you? Why, does it not say, "Go you into all the world and
   preach the Gospel to every creature?" Are you not a creature? Can you
   escape there? Soul, you know that, inasmuch as the Gospel is to be
   preached to every creature, and inasmuch as you are condemned already
   for not believing on the Son of God, therefore the Gospel must have
   been sent to you.

   You say you do not feel your need and you are not prepared. No
   preparation was ever asked. "This He gives you--it is His Spirit's
   rising beam." You say you do not feel this, and you do not feel that.
   He never asked you to feel anything as a preparation for Him. All this
   is the gift of His Divine Grace. You know we preach here every Sunday
   to you a Gospel which meets you as you are, not as quickened sinners,
   but as sinners! Not as convicted sinners, but as sinners--naked, poor
   and helpless. You know we speak the Truth of God. Why do you not
   believe us when we tell you that to you, even to you, is the Word of
   this Gospel sent--for him that comes to Christ He will in no wise cast
   out?

   Ah, you will think about this, but the time has not yet come. I answer,
   again, that you do not believe the Bible to be true. If you believed,
   as the Bible describes, that life is short, and death is certain, and
   eternity is near, and there is a dreadful Hell into which you will be
   plunged, and a bright and glorious Heaven which you will lose, you
   would cry out, "Lord, save me, or I perish!" As when the hand of the
   angel hastened Lot from the burning city, so would a full conviction of
   these things hasten you to the Cross for shelter.

   Ah, I repeat what I commenced with, I would care but little for open
   infidelity if this secret unbelief could be killed. You know why men
   are infidels openly? It is because they want to find an excuse for
   their inward infidelity. When men with some few grains of honesty, and
   a little pride mingled with it, begin to reason with themselves, they
   argue thus-- "Now I love my sins too well to give them up. The Bible is
   true, but it demands of me repentance, faith, and other things not at
   all palatable. If I say the old Book is true and do not heed it, I
   shall be inconsistent.

   "I will at least show I have one virtue--I will be consistent. I will
   deny the authority of the Scriptures, and then, though conscience may
   prick me, yet before men I shall earn a reputation for daring
   consistency, my actions and my words agreeing." Well, Sir, I like you
   not for this, but I must say this, that we have seen some of the
   greatest unbelievers converted to God in this House of Prayer, while
   others remain unblest. We have seen many baptized into Christ who once
   did not believe His Deity and who doubted the inspiration of Scripture!

   But all the while there are some of you who say the Word is true, but
   do not believe it, and I am almost ready to give you up. You are like
   some persons we visit on their sick beds. They say, "Yes, Sir," "Yes,
   Sir," to all we say, and they die and are damned with, "Yes, Sir," on
   their tongue, but with "No, Sir" in their heart! This is what you are
   doing. You say, "Yes, Sir," "Yes, Sir," "Yes, Sir," but you do not
   repent, you do not believe. You live, and I fear some of you will die,
   without God.

   III. Again, I would aim at your consciences from another quarter.
   Friend, Friend, be not offended with me while I tell you now a piece of
   solemn Truth. In the forty-fifth verse Jesus gives the reason why some
   did not believe on Him. It is a most unreasonable reason. It is
   this--"Because I tell you the truth you believe Me not." Why, that
   should be the very reason why they should believe Him!

   Now, I fear some of you do not believe the Truth of God, simply because
   it is the Truth of God. Some of you, my Hearers, hate the Truth of God.
   You say, "That is too severe. It is not true." I would not be untrue
   even with a good design, for I do not think we should tell a lie even
   to save a soul. But it is true, solemnly true. Now I will tell one part
   of the Truth as it is taught in Scripture--"Whatsoever a man sows, that
   shall he also reap." Well now, that teaches that if you continue to sow
   sin you will have to reap the result of it, and unless, through Divine
   Grace you are led to give up your right-eye sins and to cut oft your
   right-arm lusts, you will perish.

   Now this is a Truth of God which you hate. That man who comes here on
   Sundays and often has pangs of conscience, but is a drunkard still, a
   secret drunkard still--he hates this Truth. Where shall I find that
   other man who listens to the Word, yes, and often with tears, but he
   has his midnight crime when he thinks no man sees him, and even now,
   when I press harshly upon his vice, he likes it not. You that are here
   this morning listening to me, and this afternoon will be busy with your
   shops on God's own day, beware!

   And you, too, that so trade in business that you no more dare to show
   your books than you dare to look at the flames of Hell--you hate the
   Truth of God. I am sure you do. You abhor the doctrine that all this
   must be given up! You prove you do not like it, because you do not
   practice it. Some of you will even say--"Ah, the preacher is
   Puritanical-- he is too severe--he cuts too close." No! Here it is, you
   believe it not because it is the Truth of God.

   The Pharisees, my Friends, hated God's truth deliberately. I think I
   hear one of you say, "I do not do that. I may hate the Truth in the
   sense you have explained, in rejecting it, and going on in my sins, but
   I do not do it deliberately." Ah, but how long does it take to make an
   action deliberate? I have preached to some of you nine years now--nine
   years! And you are still what you were! Is not that deliberate? Some of
   you have heard the Gospel forty years, and you are unregen-erate
   still--and hate the Truth of God--and prove you do by living in sin! Is
   not that deliberate?

   And you, young Man, the other Sunday you were so impressed that you
   felt as if you must yield to God that very day. You stood on those
   steps under those pillars, and you said to your soul--"To be or not to
   be, that is the question. A companion met you and asked you--asked you
   before the impression had died away, to go with him to the haunt of
   sin. And you stood and poised it in the balance thus--which shall it
   be?

   And you did deliberately choose your own damnation when you chose sin.
   Take care, lest God shall say, "You have chosen your own delusions, and
   I will give you up unto them and that forever." I lay this charge with
   all the boldness of a Nathan at the door of some of you, that you have
   chosen deliberately to despise the Truth of God.

   But the Pharisees, you will tell me, scoffed at it. Yes, and I lay
   that, too, at the door of some of you. There may be here the regular
   scoffer, who mocks at everything sacred. With him I have little to do
   this morning. He shall measure out his iniquities and receive vengeance
   for them. But you who sit here Sunday after Sunday and hear appeals
   which you reject--have Christ preached to you and will not look at
   Him--have His sufferings set forth as we try to paint Him, dipping the
   pencil in His own blood and yet He is nothing to you--do you not
   despise Him?

   I do not know any contempt that is more sorrowful to the man that is
   smitten by it than the contempt of utter silence. Do we not say, "We
   pass you by in silent contempt?" Thus you treat my Lord! We have
   another expression--we say of some people that they are beneath our
   contempt, and some of you have not enough esteem for my Master to treat
   Him with open contempt. You think religion such a trifle, that it is
   not worth your sneering at it. You so despise it, that you think it is
   not worth your despising. Oh, is it so? Is it so? Then are you of your
   father, the devil, and you do his works! May God bring you out of that
   black family and translate you into the kingdom of His own dear Son.

   IV. Having spoken feebly, but yet desiring the Master to make what I
   have said mighty, I close by asking these questions:

   If these things are true, why do you not believe them? Is there
   anything to hinder you? Is the doctrine unreasonable? You say the Bible
   is true. Now the Bible contains many things which are harder to believe
   than that Jesus Christ died for the ungodly. If you can believe that
   Jonah was in the whale's belly. If you can believe all the marvelous
   miracles of Scripture, you cannot say that the doctrine of the Cross is
   unreasonable. To believe that Christ stood as a Substitute, and that
   through His substitution God can pardon sin, is no tax upon faith.

   Nor can you tell me that the precept is intolerable. "His yoke is easy
   and His burden is light." It is your sin that is intolerable, not the
   precept. He only bids you give up that which will ruin you. He only
   asks you to do that which will make you happy. But there is one answer
   you will give. You will tell me you cannot believe. How do you know you
   cannot?

   "Well," says one, "I cannot believe without the Spirit of God." That is
   true, but are you sure the Spirit of God is not with you? Let me ask
   you whether you can now trust Jesus Christ. This is what I am about to
   experiment upon.

   Jesus Christ, who took the sin of men, declares that whoever will trust
   Him to save them shall be saved. Now Christ is God, He is a mighty
   Savior. He has suffered as Man, therefore He has all that is necessary
   for the office. Do you think you can now trust Christ to save you? I
   think I hear one say, "Yes, I could trust such a Savior as that." Then
   you can do it, you see, and inasmuch as you can do it, the Spirit of
   God is with you. Do not expect to see the Spirit of God! He is a great
   mystery. You cannot know His operations except by their effects.

   Faith is the effect of His secret operation. If you can now believe in
   Christ, then doubtless the Spirit of God is with you, and I doubt not
   the Spirit of God is often with you when you know it not. If you can
   now believe, He is with you. Do I hear one say, "Well, I have often
   thought I could trust Christ, but I thought if I could do it then it
   was not the work of the Spirit of God, but the work of the creature."
   No, verily, Beloved, there is no such thing as a simple trust in Christ
   that comes of the creature. It is always the work of the Spirit of
   God--and if you can trust in Christ you need not question about the
   Spirit. The Spirit of God must be in you, or else your trust in Christ
   would never have been there.

   Only if now the thing seems right and reasonable to you, cast yourself
   on Jesus, and you are saved! I might multiply words, but I might not,
   perhaps, increase the force of the text, and therefore let me entreat
   you who stand to the Scriptures as being true, and yet deny their
   veracity by remaining unregenerate--let me entreat you to decide one
   way or the other. Do be consistent. "How long halt you between two
   opinions?" Say the Book is false, and then we shall know what you are,
   and where you stand, and you yourselves will, probably, begin to be
   alarmed at your position. Say the Book is false, and then you will be
   openly numbered with the disciples and slaves of Hell. And it may be
   your conscience will then begin to work.

   But, oh, if you are not prepared to take that side, if Baal is not God,
   and you will not serve him, then if God is God--and that is the only
   other conclusion--serve Him. I bring you to that awful place where the
   two roads meet--the right, the left--to Heaven, to Hell--to
   righteousness, to sin--to God, to fiends! There you stand. I am glad to
   have made you stand there. If it is a thing that needs consideration,
   consider. Put your hand to your brow, now, and turn this matter over.
   And I do trust that through the word which we have spoken to you, the
   Spirit of God will work on your conscience and on your heart and you
   will say, "For God! For Christ! For holiness! For everlasting life!"

   But mark you, I had sooner you would say, "For the devil. For sin. For
   Hell," than say nothing. For if you say nothing, you will go on and be
   as careless and as indifferent as ever. But if you make this last
   choice deliberately, it may be that then God will alarm your conscience
   and stir your soul, so that you may see your danger and may fly to
   Jesus.

   May He bless you, now, and guide your heart into the way of Truth. And
   to His name be glory forever. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                   Gethsemane

   A Sermon

   (No. 493)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 8th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as
   it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground."--Luke 22:44.

   FEW HAD FELLOWSHIP with the sorrows of Gethsemane. The majority of the
   disciples were not there. They were not sufficiently advanced in grace
   to be admitted to behold the mysteries of "the agony." Occupied with
   the Passover feast at their own houses, they represent the many who
   live upon the letter, but are mere babes and sucklings as to the spirit
   of the gospel. The walls of Gethsemane fitly typify that weakness in
   grace which effectually shuts in the deeper marvels of communion from
   the gaze of ordinary believers. To twelve, nay, to eleven only was the
   privilege given to enter Gethsemane and see this great sight. Out of
   the eleven, eight were left at some distance; they had fellowship, but
   not of that intimate sort to which the men greatly beloved are
   admitted. Only three highly favored ones, who had been with him on the
   mount of transfiguration, and had witnessed the life-giving miracle in
   the house of Jairus--only these three could approach the veil of his
   mysterious sorrow: within that veil even these must not intrude; a
   stone's-cast distance must be left between. He must tread the
   wine-press alone, and of the people there must be none with him. Peter
   and the two sons of Zebedee, represent the few eminent, experienced,
   grace-taught saints, who may be written down as "Fathers;" these having
   done business on great waters, can in some degree, measure the huge
   Atlantic waves of their Redeemer's passion; having been much alone with
   him, they can read his heart far better than those who merely see him
   amid the crowd. To some selected spirits it is given, for the good of
   others, and to strengthen them for some future, special, and tremendous
   conflict, to enter the inner circle and hear the pleadings of the
   suffering High priest; they have fellowship with him in his sufferings,
   and are made conformable unto his death. Yet I say, even these, the
   elect out of the elect, these choice and peculiar favourites among the
   kings courtiers, even these cannot penetrate the secret places of the
   Savior's woe, so as to comprehend all his agonies. "Thine unknown
   sufferings" is the remarkable expression of the Greek liturgy; for
   there is an inner chamber in his grief, shut out from human knowledge
   and fellowship. Was it not here that Christ was more than ever an
   "Unspeakable gift" to us? Is not Watts right when he sings--

   "And all the unknown joys he gives,

   Were bought with agonies unknown."

   Since it would not be possible for any believer, however experienced,
   to know for himself all that our Lord endured in the place of the
   olivepress, when he was crushed beneath the upper and the nether
   mill-stone of mental suffering and hellish malice, it is clearly far
   beyond the preacher's capacity to set it forth to you. Jesus himself
   must give you access to the wonders of Gethsemane: as for me, I can but
   invite you to enter the garden, bidding you put your shoes from off
   your feet, for the place whereon we stand is holy ground. I am neither
   Peter, nor James, nor John, but one who would fain like them drink of
   the Master's cup, and be baptized with his baptism. I have hitherto
   advanced only so far as yonder band of eight, but there I have listened
   to the deep groanings of the man of sorrows. Some of you, my venerable
   friends, may have learned far more than I; but you will not refuse to
   hear again the roarings of the many waters which strove to quench the
   love of the Great Husband of our souls.

   Several matters will require our brief consideration. Come Holy Spirit,
   breathe light into our thoughts, life into our words.

   I. Come hither and behold the SAVIOR'S UNUTTERABLE WOE.

   The emotions of that dolorous night are expressed by several words in
   Scripture. John describes him as saying four days before his passion,
   "Now is my soul troubled," as he marked the gathering clouds he hardly
   knew where to turn himself, and cried out "What shall I say?" Matthew
   writes of him, "he began to be sorrowful and very heavy." Upon the word
   ademonein translated "very heavy," Goodwin remarks that there was a
   distraction in the Savior's agony since the root of the word signifies
   "separated from the people--men in distraction, being separated from
   mankind." What a thought, my brethren, that our blessed Lord should be
   driven to the very verge of distraction by the intensity of his
   anguish. Matthew represents the Savior himself as saying "My soul is
   exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." Here the word Perilupos means
   encompassed, encircled, overwhelmed with grief. "He was plunged head
   and ears in sorrow and had no breathing-hole," is the strong expression
   of Goodwin. Sin leaves no cranny for comfort to enter, and therefore
   the sin-bearer must be entirely immersed in woe. Clark records that he
   began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy. In this case
   thambeisthai, with the prefix ek, shows extremity of amazement like
   that of Moses when he did exceedingly fear and quake. O blessed Savior,
   how can we bear to think of thee as a man astonished and alarmed! Yet
   was it even so when the terrors of God set themselves in array against
   thee. Luke uses the strong language of my text--"being in an agony."
   These expressions, each of them worthy to be the theme of a discourse,
   are quite sufficient to show that the grief of the Savior was of the
   most extraordinary character; well justifying the prophetic exclamation
   "Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow which was
   done unto me." He stands before us peerless in misery. None are
   molested by the powers of evil as he was; as if the powers of hell had
   given commandment to their legions, "Fight neither with small nor
   great, save only with the king himself."

   Should we profess to understand all the sources of our Lord's agony,
   wisdom would rebuke us with the question "Hast thou entered into the
   springs of the sea? or hast thou walked in search of the depths?" We
   cannot do more than look at the revealed causes of grief. It partly
   arose from the horror of his soul when fully comprehending the meaning
   of sin. Brethren, when you were first convinced of sin and saw it as a
   thing exceeding sinful, though your perception of its sinfulness was
   but faint compared with its real heinousness, yet horror took hold upon
   you. Do you remember those sleepless nights? Like the Psalmist, you
   said "My bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long, for day
   and night thy hand was heavy upon me; my moisture is turned into the
   drought of summer." Some of us can remember when our souls chose
   strangling rather than life; when if the shadows of death could have
   covered us from the wrath of God we would have been too glad to sleep
   in the grave that we might not make our bed in hell. Our blessed Lord
   saw sin in its natural blackness. He had a most distinct perception of
   its treasonable assault upon his God, its murderous hatred to himself,
   and its destructive influence upon mankind. Well might horror take hold
   upon him, for a sight of sin must be far more hideous than a sight of
   hell, which is but its offspring.

   Another deep fountain of grief was found in the fact that Christ now
   assumed more fully his official position with regard to sin. He was now
   made sin. Hear the word! he, who knew no sin, was made sin for us, that
   we might be made the righteousness of God in him. In that night the
   words of Isaiah were fulfilled--"The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity
   of us all." Now he stood as the sin-bearer, the substitute accepted by
   Divine justice to bear that we might never bear the whole of wrath
   divine. At that hour heaven looked on him as standing in the sinner's
   stead, and treated as sinful man had richly deserved to be treated. Oh!
   dear friends, when the immaculate Lamb of God found himself in the
   place of the guilty, when he could not repudiate that place because he
   had voluntarily accepted it in order to save his chosen, what must his
   soul have felt, how must his perfect nature have been shocked at such
   close association with iniquity?

   We believe that at this time, our Lord had a very clear view of all the
   shame and suffering of his crucifixion. The agony was but one of the
   first drops of the tremendous shower which discharged itself upon his
   head. He foresaw the speedy coming of the traitor-disciple, the seizure
   by the officers, the mock-trials before the Sanhedrim, and Pilate, and
   Herod, the scourging and buffeting, the crown of thorns, the shame, the
   spitting. All these rose up before his mind, and, as it is a general
   law of our nature that the foresight of trial is more grievous than
   trial itself, we can conceive how it was that he who answered not a
   word when in the midst of the conflict, could not restrain himself from
   strong crying and tears in the prospect of it. Beloved friends, if you
   can revive before your mind's eye the terrible incidents of his death
   the hounding through the streets of Jerusalem, the nailing to the
   cross, the fever, the thirst, and, above all, forsaking of his God, you
   cannot marvel that he began to be very heavy, and was sore amazed.

   But possibly a yet more fruitful tree of bitterness was this--that now
   his Father began to withdraw his presence from him. The shadow of that
   great eclipse began to fall upon his spirit when he knelt in that cold
   midnight amidst the olives of Gethsemane. The sensible comforts which
   had cheered his spirit were taken away; that blessed application of
   promises which Christ Jesus needed as a man, was removed, all that we
   understand by the term "consolations of God" were hidden from his eyes.
   He was left single-handed in his weakness to contend for the
   deliverance of man. The Lord stood by as if he were an indifferent
   spectator, or rather, as if he were an adversary, he wounded him "with
   the wound of an enemy, with the chastisement of a cruel one."

   But in our judgment the fiercest heat of the Savior's suffering in the
   garden lay in the temptations of Satan. That hour above any time in his
   life, even beyond the forty days' conflict in the wilderness, was the
   time of his temptation. "This is your hour and the power of darkness."
   Now could he emphatically say, "The prince of this world cometh." This
   was his last hand-to-hand fight with all the hosts of hell, and here
   must he sweat great drops of blood before the victory can be achieved.

   We have glanced at the fountains of the great deep which were broken up
   when the floods of grief deluged the Redeemer's soul. Brethren, this
   one lesson ere we pass from the contemplation. "We have not an high
   priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but
   was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us
   therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain
   mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." Let us reflect that no
   suffering can be unknown to him. We do but run with footmen--he had to
   contend with horsemen; we do but wade up to our ankles in shallow
   streams of sorrow--he had to buffet with the swellings of Jordan. He
   will never fail to succor his people when tempted; even as it was said
   of old, "In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his
   presence saved them."

   II. Turn we next to contemplate THE TEMPTATION OF OUR LORD.

   At the outset of his career, the serpent began to nibble at the heel of
   the promised deliverer; and now as the time approached when the seed of
   the woman should bruise the serpent's head, that old dragon made a
   desperate attempt upon his great destroyer. It is not possible for us
   to lift the veil where revelation has permitted it to fall, but we can
   form some faint idea of the suggestions with which Satan tempted our
   Lord. Let us, however, remark by way of caution, before we attempt to
   paint this picture, that whatever Satan may have suggested to our Lord,
   his perfect nature did not in any degree whatever submit to it so as to
   sin. The temptations were, doubtless, of the very foulest character,
   but they left no speck or flaw upon him, who remained still the fairest
   among ten thousand. The prince of this world came, but he had nothing
   in Christ. He struck the sparks, but they did not fall, as in our case,
   upon dry tinder; they fell as into the sea, and were quenched at once.
   He hurled the fiery arrows, but they could not even scar the flesh of
   Christ; they smote upon the buckler of his perfectly righteous nature,
   and they fell off with their points broken, to the discomfiture of the
   adversary.

   But what, think you, were these temptations? It strikes me, from some
   hints given, that they were somewhat as follows--there was, first, a
   temptation to leave the work unfinished; we may gather this from the
   prayer--"If it be possible, let this cup pass from me." "Son of God,"
   the tempter said, "is it so? Art thou really called to bear the sin of
   man? Hath God said, I have laid help upon one that is mighty,' and art
   thou he, the chosen of God, to bear all this load? Look at thy
   weakness! Thou sweatest, even now, great drops of blood; surely thou
   art not he whom the Father hath ordained to be mighty to save; or if
   thou be, what wilt thou win by it? What will it avail thee? Thou hast
   glory enough already. See what miscreants they are for whom thou art to
   offer up thyself a sacrifice. Thy best friends are asleep about thee
   when most thou needest their comfort; thy treasurer, Judas, is
   hastening to betray thee for the price of a common slave. The world for
   which thou sacrificest thyself will cast out thy name as evil, and thy
   Church, for which thou dost pay the ransom-price, what is it worth? A
   company of mortals! Thy divinity could create the like any moment it
   pleaseth thee; why needest thou, then, pour out thy soul unto death?"
   Such arguments would Satan use; the hellish craft of one who had then
   been thousands of years tempting men, would know how to invent all
   manner of mischief. He would pour the hottest coals of hell upon the
   Savior. It was in struggling with this temptation, among others, that,
   being in an agony, our Savior prayed more earnestly.

   Scripture implies that our Lord was assailed by the fear that his
   strength would not be sufficient. He was heard in that he feared. How,
   then, was he heard? An angel was sent unto him strengthening him. His
   fear, then, was probably produced by a sense of weakness. I imagine
   that the foul fiend would whisper in his ear--"Thou! thou endure to be
   smitten of God and abhorred of men! Reproach hath broken thy heart
   already; how wilt thou bear to be publicly put to shame and driven
   without the city as an unclean thing? How wilt thou bear to see thy
   weeping kinsfolk and thy broken-hearted mother standing at the foot of
   thy cross? Thy tender and sensitive spirit will quail under it. As for
   thy body, it is already emaciated; thy long fastings have brought thee
   very low; thou wilt become a prey to death long ere thy work is done.
   Thou wilt surely fail. God hath forsaken thee. Now will they persecute
   and take thee; they will give up thy soul to the lion, and thy darling
   to the power of the dog." Then would he picture all the sufferings of
   crucifixion, and say, "Can thine heart endure, or can thine hands be
   strong in the day when the Lord shall deal with thee?" The temptation
   of Satan was not directed against the Godhead, but the manhood of
   Christ, and therefore the fiend would probably dwell upon the
   feebleness of man. "Didst thou not say thyself, I am a worm and no man,
   the reproach of men and the despised of the people?' How wilt thou bear
   it when the wrath-clouds of God gather about thee? The tempest will
   surely shipwreck all thy hopes. It cannot be; thou canstnot drink of
   this cup, nor be baptized wiit this baptism." In this manner, we think,
   was our Master tried. But see he yields not to it. Being in an agony,
   which word means in a wrest ring, he struggles with the tempter like
   Jacob with the angel. "Nay," saith he, "I will not be subdued by taunts
   of my weakness; I am strong in the strength of my Godhead, I will
   overcome thee yet." Yet was the temptation so awful, that, in order to
   master it, his mental depression caused him to "sweat as it were great
   drops of blood falling down to the ground."

   Possibly, also, the temptation may have arisen from a suggestion that
   he was utterly forsaken. I do not know--there may be sterner trials
   than this, but surely this is one of the worst, to be utterly forsaken.
   "See," said Satan, as he hissed it out between his teeth--"see, thou
   hast a friend nowhere! Look up to heaven, thy Father hath shut up the
   bowels of his compassion against thee. Not an angel in thy Father's
   courts will stretch out his hand to help thee. Look thou yonder, not
   one of those spirits who honored thy birth will interfere to protect
   thy life. All heaven is false to thee; thou art left alone. And as for
   earth, do not all men thirst for thy blood? Will not the Jew be
   gratified to see thy flesh torn with nails, and will not the Roman
   gloat himself when thou, the King of the Jews, art fastened to the
   cross? Thou hast no friend among the nations; the high and mighty scoff
   at thee, and the poor thrust out their tongues in derision. Thou hadst
   not where to lay thy head when thou wast in thy best estate; thou hast
   no place now where shelter will be given thee. See the companions with
   whom thou hast taken sweet counsel, what are they worth? Son of Mary,
   see there thy brother James, see there thy loved disciple John, and thy
   bold Apostle Peter--they sleep, they sleep; and yonder eight, how the
   cowards sleep when thou art in thy sufferings! And where are the four
   hundred others? They have forgotten thee; they will be at their farms
   and their merchandize by morning. Lo! thou hast no friend left in
   heaven or earth. All hell is against thee. I have stirred up mine
   infernal den. I have sent my missives throughout all regions summoning
   every prince of darkness to set upon thee this night, and we will spare
   no arrows, we will use all our infernal might to overwhelm thee; and
   what wilt thou do, thou solitary one?" It may be, this was the
   temptation; I think it was, because the appearance of an angel unto him
   strengthening him removed that fear. He was heard in that he feared; he
   was no more alone, but heaven was with him. It may be that this is the
   reason of his coming three times to his disciples--as Hart puts it--

   "Backwards and forwards thrice he ran

   As if he sought some help from man."

   He would see for himself whether it was really true that all men had
   forsaken him; he found them all asleep; but perhaps he gained some
   faint comfort from the thought that they were sleeping, not from
   treachery, but from sorrow, the spirit indeed was willing, but the
   flesh was weak.

   We think Satan also assaulted our Lord with a bitter taunt indeed. You
   know in what guise the tempter can dress it, and how bitterly sarcastic
   he can make the insinuation--"Ah! thou wilt not be able to achieve the
   redemption of thy people. Thy grand benevolence will prove a mockery,
   and thy beloved ones will perish. Thou shalt not prevail to save them
   from my grasp. Thy scattered sheep shall surely be my prey. Son of
   David, I am a match for thee; thou canst not deliver out of my hand.
   Many of thy chosen have entered heaven on the strength of thine
   atonement, but I will drag them thence, and quench the stars of glory;
   I will thin the courts of heaven of the choristers of God, for thou
   wilt not fulfill thy suretyship; thou canst not do it. Thou art not
   able to bring up all this great people; they will perish yet. See, are
   not the sheep scattered now that the Shepherd is smitten? They will all
   forget thee. Thou wilt never see of the travail of thy soul. Thy
   desired end will never be reached. Thou wilt be for ever the man that
   began to build but was not able to finish." Perhaps this is more truly
   the reason why Christ went three times to look at his disciples. You
   have seen a mother; she is very faint, weary with a heavy sickness, but
   she labors under a sore dread that her child will die. She has started
   from her couch, upon which disease had thrown her, to snatch a moment's
   rest. She gazes anxiously upon her child. She marks the faintest sign
   of recovery. But she is sore sick herself, and cannot remain more than
   an instant from her own bed. She cannot sleep, she tosses painfully,
   for her thoughts wander; she rises to gaze again--"How art thou, my
   child, how art thou? Are those palpitations of thy heart less violent?
   Is thy pulse more gentle? "But, alas! she is faint, and she must go to
   her bed again, yet she can get no rest. She will return again and again
   to watch the loved one. So, methinks, Christ looked upon Peter, and
   James, and John, as much as to say, "No, they are not all lost yet;
   there are three left," and, looking upon them as the type of all the
   Church, he seemed to say--"No, no; I will overcome; I will get the
   mastery; I will struggle even unto blood; I will pay the ransom-price,
   and deliver my darlings from their foe."

   Now these, methinks, were his temptations. If you can form a fuller
   idea of what they were than this, then right happy shall I be. With
   this one lesson I leave the point--"Pray that ye enter not into
   temptation." This is Christ's own expression; his own deduction from
   his trial. You have all read, dear friends, John Bunyan's picture of
   Christian fighting, with Apollyon. That master-painter has sketched it
   to the very life. He says, though "this sore combat lasted for above
   half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent, I never saw him
   all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he
   had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then indeed, he did
   smile and look upward! But it was the dreadfullest sight I ever saw."
   That is the meaning of that prayer, "Lead us not into temptation." Oh
   you that go recklessly where you are tempted, you that pray for
   afflictions--and I have known some silly enough to do that--you that
   put yourselves where you tempt the devil to tempt you, take heed from
   the Master's own example. He sweats great drops of blood when he is
   tempted. Oh! pray God to spare you such trial. Pray this morning and
   every day, "Lead me not into temptation."

   III. Behold, dear brethren, THE BLOODY SWEAT.

   We read, that "he sweat as it were great drops of blood." Hence a few
   writers have supposed that the sweat was not actually blood, but had
   the appearance of it. That interpretation, however, has been rejected
   by most commentators, from Augustine downward, and it is generally held
   that the words "as it were" do not only set forth likeness to blood,
   but signify that it was actually and literally blood. We find the same
   idiom used in the text--"We beheld his glory, the glory as of the
   only-begotten of the Father." Now, clearly, this does not mean that
   Christ was like the only-begotten of the Father, since he is really so.
   So that generally this expression of Holy Scripture sets forth, not a
   mere likeness to a thing, but the very thing itself. We believe, then,
   that Christ did really sweat blood. This phenomenon, though somewhat
   unusual, has been witnessed in other persons. There are several cases
   on record, some in the old medicine books of Galen, and others of more
   recent date, of persons who after long weakness, under fear of death
   have sweat blood. But this case is altogether one by itself for several
   reasons. If you will notice, he not only sweat blood, but it was in
   great drops; the blood coagulated, and formed large masses. I cannot
   better express what is meant than by the word "gouts"--big, heavy
   drops. This has not been seen in any case. Some slight effusions of
   blood have been known in cases of persons who were previously
   enfeebled, but great drops never. When it is said "falling to the
   ground"--it shows their copiousness, so that they not only stood upon
   the surface and were sucked up by his garments till he became like the
   red heifer which was slaughtered on that very spot, but the drops fell
   to the ground. Here he stands unrivalled. He was a man in good health,
   only about thirty years of age, and was laboring under no fear of
   death; but the mental pressure arising from his struggle with
   temptation, and the straining of all his strength, in order to baffle
   the temptation of Satan, so forced his frame to an unnatural
   excitement, that his pores sent forth great drops of blood which fell
   down to the ground. This proves how tremendous must have been the
   weight of sin when it was able so to crush the Savior that he distilled
   drops of blood! This proves too, my brethren, the mighty power of his
   love. It is a very pretty observation of old Isaac Ambrose that the gum
   which exudes from the tree without cutting is always the best. This
   precious camphire-tree yielded most sweet spices when it was wounded
   under the knotty whips, and when it was pierced by the nails on the
   cross; but see, it giveth forth its best spice when there is no whip,
   no nail, no wound. This sets forth the voluntariness of Christ's
   sufferings, since without a lance the blood flowed freely. No need to
   put on the leech, or apply the knife; it flows spontaneously. No need
   for the rulers to cry "Spring up, O well;" of itself it flows in
   crimson torrents. Dearly beloved friends, if men suffer some frightful
   pain of mind--I am not acquainted with the medical matter--apparently
   the blood rushes to the heart. The cheeks are pale; a fainting fit
   comes on; the blood has gone inward, as if to nourish the inner man
   while passing through its trial. But see our Savior in his agony; he is
   so utterly oblivious of self, that instead of his agony driving his
   blood to the heart to nourish himself, it drives it outward to bedew
   the earth. The agony of Christ, inasmuch as it pours him out upon the
   ground, pictures the fullness of the offering which he made for men.

   Do you not perceive, my brethren, how intense must have been the
   wrestling through which he passed, and will you not hear its voice to
   you?--"Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin." It
   has been the lot of some of us to have sore temptations--else we did
   not know how to teach others--so sore that in wrestling against them
   the cold, clammy sweat has stood upon our brow. The place will never be
   forgotten by me--a lonely spot; where, musing upon my God, an awful
   rush of blasphemy went over my soul, till I would have preferred death
   to the trial; and I fell on my knees there and then, for the agony was
   awful, while my hand was at my mouth to keep the blasphemies from being
   spoken. Once let Satan be permitted really to try you with a temptation
   to blasphemy, and you will never forget it, though you live till your
   hairs are blanched; or let him attack you with some lust, and though
   you hate and loathe the very thought of it, and would lose your right
   arm sooner than indulge in it, yet it will come, and hunt, and
   persecute, and torment you. Wrestle against it even unto sweat, my
   brethren, yea, even unto blood. None of you should say, "I could not
   help it; I was tempted." Resist till you sweat blood rather than sin.
   Do not say, "I was so pressed with it; and it so suited my natural
   temperament, that I could not help falling into it." Look at the great
   Apostle and High Priest of your profession, and sweat even to blood
   rather than yield to the great tempter of your souls. Pray that ye
   enter not into temptation, so that when ye enter into it ye may with
   confidence say, "Lord, I did not seek this, therefore help me through
   with it, for thy name's sake."

   IV. I want you, in the fourth place, to notice THE SAVIOR'S PRAYER.

   Dear friends, when we are tempted and desire to overcome, the best
   weapon is prayer. When you cannot use the sword and the shield, take to
   yourself the famous weapon of All-prayer. So your Savior did. Let us
   notice his prayer. It was lonely prayer. He withdrew even from his
   three best friends about a stone's cast. Believer, especially in
   temptation, be much in solitary prayer. As private prayer is the key to
   open heaven, so is it the key to shut the gates of hell. As it is a
   shield to prevent, so is it the sword with which to fight against
   temptation. Family-prayer, social prayer, prayer in the Church, will
   not suffice, these are very precious, but the best beaten spice will
   smoke in your censer in your private devotions, where no ear hears but
   God. Betake yourselves to solitude if you would overcome.

   Mark, too, it was humble prayer. Luke says he knelt, but another
   evangelist says he fell on his face. What! does the King fall on his
   face? Where, then, must be thy place, thou humble servant of the great
   Master? Doth the Prince fall flat to the ground? Where, then, wilt thou
   lie? What dust and ashes shall cover thy head? What sackcloth shall
   gird thy loins? Humility gives us good foot-hold in prayer. There is no
   hope of any real prevalence with God, who casteth down the proud,
   unless we abase ourselves that he may exalt us in due time.

   Further, it was filial prayer. Matthew describes him as saying "O my
   Father," and Mark puts it, "Abba, Father." You will find this always a
   stronghold in the day of trial to plead your adoption. Hence that
   prayer, in which it is written, "Lead us not into temptation, but
   deliver us from evil," begins with "Our Father which art in heaven."
   Plead as a child. You have no rights as a subject; you have forfeited
   them by your treason, but nothing can forfeit a child's right to a
   father's protection. Be not then ashamed to say, "My Father, hear my
   cry."

   Again, observe that it was persevering prayer. He prayed three times,
   using the same words. Be not content until you prevail. Be as the
   importunate widow, whose continual coming earned what her first
   supplication could not win. Continue in prayer, and watch in the same
   with thanksgiving.

   Further, see how it glowed to a red-hot heat--it was earnest prayer.
   "He prayed more earnestly." What groans were those which were uttered
   by Christ! What tears, which welled up from the deep fountains of his
   nature! Make earnest supplication if you would prevail against the
   adversary.

   And last, it was the prayer of resignation. "Nevertheless, not as I
   will, but as thou wilt." Yield, and God yields. Let it be as God wills,
   and God will will it that it shall be for the best. Be thou perfectly
   content to leave the result of thy prayer in his hands, who knows when
   to give, and how to give, and what to give, and what to withhold. So
   pleading, earnestly, importunately, yet mingling with it humility and
   resignation, thou shalt yet prevail.

   Dear friends, we must conclude, turn to the last point with this as a
   practical lesson--"Rise and pray." When the disciples were lying down
   they slept; sitting was the posture that was congenial to sleep. Rise;
   shake yourselves; stand up in the name of God; rise and pray. And if
   you are in temptation, be you more than ever you were in your life
   before, instant, passionate, importunate with God that he would deliver
   you in the day of your conflict.

   V. As time has failed us we close with the last point, which is, THE
   SAVIOR'S PREVALENCE.

   The cloud has passed away. Christ has knelt, and the prayer is over.
   "But," says one, "did Christ prevail in prayer?" Beloved, could we have
   any hope that he would prevail in heaven if he had not prevailed on
   earth? Should we not have had a suspicion that if his strong crying and
   tears had not been heard then, he would fail now? His prayers did
   speed, and therefore he is a good intercessor for us. "How was he
   heard?" The answer shall be given very briefly indeed. He was heard, I
   think, in three respects. The first gracious answer that was given him
   was, that his mind was suddenly rendered calm. What a difference there
   is between "My soul is exceeding sorrowful,"--his hurrying too and fro,
   his repetition of the prayer three times, the singular agitation that
   was upon him--what a contrast between all these and his going forth to
   meet the traitor with "Betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?" Like
   a troubled sea before, and now as calm as when he himself said, "Peace
   be still," and the waves were quiet. You cannot know a profounder peace
   than that which reigned in the Savior when before Pilate he answered
   him not a word. He is calm to the last, as calm as though it were his
   day of triumph rather than his day of trouble. Now I think this was
   vouchsafed to him in answer to his prayer. He had sufferings perhaps
   more intense, but his mind was now quieted so as to meet them with
   greater deliberation. Like some men, who when they first hear the
   firing of the shots in a battle are all trepidation, but as the fight
   grows hotter and they are in greater danger, they are cool and
   collected; they are wounded, they are bleeding, they are dying; yet are
   they quiet as a summer's eve; the first young flush of trouble is gone,
   and they can meet the foe with peace--so the Father heard the Savior's
   cry, and breathed such a profound peace into his soul, that it was like
   a river, and his righteousness like the waves of the sea.

   Next, we believe that he was answered by God strengthening him through
   an angel. How that was done we do not know. Probably it was by what the
   angel said, and equally likely is it that it was by what he did. The
   angel may have whispered the promises; pictured before his mind's eye
   the glory of his success; sketched his resurrection; pourtrayed the
   scene when his angels would bring his chariots from on high to bear him
   to his throne; revived before him the recollection of the time of his
   advent, the prospect when he should reign from sea to sea, and from the
   river even to the ends of the earth; and so have made him strong. Or,
   perhaps, by some unknown method God sent such power to our Christ, who
   had been like Samson with his locks shorn, that he suddenly received
   all the might and majestic energy that were needed for the terrific
   struggle. Then he walked out of the garden no more a worm and no man,
   but made strong with an invisible might that made him a match for all
   the armies that were round about him. A troop had overcome him, like
   Gad of old, but he overcame at last. Now he can dash through a troop;
   now he can leap over a wall. God has sent by his angel force from on
   high, and made the man Christ strong for battle and for victory.

   And I think we may conclude with saying, that God heard him in granting
   him now, not simply strength, but a real victory over Satan. I do not
   know whether what Adam Clarke supposes is correct, that in the garden
   Christ did pay more of the price than he did even on the cross; but I
   am quite convinced that they are very foolish who get to such
   refinement that they think the atonement was made on the cross, and
   nowhere else at all. We believe that it was made in the garden as well
   as on the cross; and it strikes me that in the garden one part of
   Christ's work was finished, wholly finished, and that was his conflict
   with Satan. I conceive that Christ had now rather to bear the absence
   of his Father's presence and the revilings of the people and the sons
   of men, than the temptations of the devil. I do think that these were
   over when he rose from his knees in prayer, when he lifted himself from
   the ground where he marked his visage in the clay in drops of blood.
   The temptation of Satan was then over, and he might have said
   concerning that part of the work--"It is finished; broken is the
   dragon's head; I have overcome him." Perhaps in those few hours that
   Christ spent in the garden the whole energy of the agents of iniquity
   was concentrated and dissipated. Perhaps in that one conflict all that
   craft could invent, all that malice could devise, all that infernal
   practice could suggest, was tried on Christ, the devil having his chain
   loosened for that purpose, having Christ given up to him, as Job was,
   that he might touch him in his bones and in his flesh, yea, touch him
   in his heart and his soul, and vex him in his spirit. It may be that
   every devil in hell and every fiend of the pit was summoned, each to
   vent his own spite and to pour their united energy and malice upon the
   head of Christ. And there he stood, and he could have said as he stood
   up to meet the next adversary--a devil in the form of man--Judas--"I
   come this day from Bozrah, with garments dyed red from Edom; I have
   trampled on my enemies, and overcome them once for all; now go I to
   bear man's sin and my Father's wrath, and to finish the work which he
   has given me to do." If this be so, Christ was then heard in that he
   feared; he feared the temptation of Satan, and he was delivered from
   it; he feared his own weakness, and he was strengthened; he feared his
   own trepidation of mind, and he was made calm.

   What shall we say, then, in conclusion, but this lesson. Does it not
   say "Whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall have." Then
   if your temptations reach the most tremendous height and force, still
   lay hold of God in prayer and you shall prevail. Convinced sinner! that
   is a comfort for you. Troubled saint! that is a joy for you. To one and
   all of us is this lesson of this morning--"Pray that ye enter not into
   temptation." If in temptation let us ask that Christ may pray for us
   that our faith fail not, and when we have passed through the trouble
   let us try to strengthen our brethren, even as Christ has strengthened
   us this day."
     __________________________________________________________________

                                  The Betrayal

   A Sermon

   (No. 494)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 15th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "And while he yet spake, behold a multitude, and he that was called
   Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near unto Jesus to
   kiss him. But Jesus said unto him, Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man
   with a kiss?"--Luke 22:47, 48.

   WHEN SATAN HAD BEEN ENTIRELY worsted in his conflict with Christ in the
   garden, the man-devil Judas came upon the scene. As the Parthian in his
   flight turns round to shoot the fatal arrow, so the arch-enemy aimed
   another shaft at the Redeemer, by employing the traitor into whom he
   had entered. Judas became the devil's deputy, and a most trusty and
   serviceable tool he was. The Evil One had taken entire possession of
   the apostate's heart, and, like the swine possessed of devils, he ran
   violently downwards towards destruction. Well had infernal malice
   selected the Savior's trusted friend to be his treacherous betrayer,
   for thus he stabbed at the very center of his broken and bleeding
   heart. But, beloved, as in all things God is wiser than Satan, and the
   Lord of goodness outwitteth the Prince of Evil, so, in this dastardly
   betrayal of Christ, prophecy was fulfilled, and Christ was the more
   surely declared to be the promised Messiah. Was not Joseph a type? and,
   lo! like that envied youth, Jesus was sold by his own brethren. Was he
   not to be another Samson, by whose strength the gates of hell should be
   torn from their posts? lo! like Samson, he is bound by his countrymen,
   and delivered to the adversary. Know ye not that he was the anti-type
   of David? and was not David deserted by Ahithophel, his own familiar
   friend and counsellor? Nay, brethren, do not the words of the Psalmist
   receive a literal fulfillment in our Master's betrayal? What prophecy
   can be more exactly true than the language of the forty-first and
   fifty-fifth Psalms? In the first we read, "Yea, mine own familiar
   friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up
   his heel against me;" and in the fifty-fifth the Psalmist is yet more
   clear; "For it was not an enemy that reproached me; then I could have
   borne it: neither was it he that hated me that did magnify himself
   against me; then I would have hid myself from him: but it was thou, a
   man mine equal, my guide, and mine acquaintance. We took sweet counsel
   together, and walked unto the house of God in company. He hath put
   forth his hands against such as be at peace with him: he hath broken
   his covenant. The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war
   was in his heart: his words were softer than oil, yet were they drawn
   swords." Even an obscure passage in one of the lesser prophets, must
   have a literal fulfillment, and for thirty pieces of silver, the price
   of a base slave, must the Savior be betrayed by his choice friend. Ah!
   thou foul fiend, thou shalt find at the last that thy wisdom is but
   intensified folly; as for the deep plots and plans of thy craft, the
   Lord shall laugh them to scorn; after all, thou art but the unconscious
   drudge of him whom thou abhorrest; in all the black work thou doest so
   greedily, thou art no better than a mean scullion in the royal kitchen
   of the King of kings.

   Without further preface, let us advance to the subject of our Lord's
   betrayal. First, concentrate your thoughts upon Jesus, the betrayed
   one; and when ye have lingered awhile there, solemnly gaze into the
   villanous countenance of Judas, the betrayer--he may prove a beacon to
   warn us against the sin which gendereth apostacy.

   I. LET US TARRY AWHILE, AND SEE OUR LORD UNGRATEFULLY AND DASTARDLY
   BETRAYED.

   It is appointed that he must die, but how shall he fall into the hands
   of his adversaries? Shall they capture him in conflict? It must not be,
   lest he appear an unwilling victim. Shall he flee before his foes until
   he can hide no longer? It is not meet that a sacrifice should be hunted
   to death. Shall he offer himself to the foe? That were to excuse his
   murderers, or be a party to their crime. Shall he be taken accidentally
   or unawares? That would withdraw from his cup the necessary bitterness
   which made it wormwood mingled with gall. No; he must be betrayed by
   his friend, that he may bear the utmost depths of suffering, and that
   in every separate circumstance there may be a well of grief. One reason
   for the appointment of the betrayal, lay in the fact that it was
   ordained that man's sin should reach its culminating point in his
   death. God, the great owner of the vineyard, had sent many servants,
   and the husbandmen had stoned one and cast out another; last of all, he
   said, "I will send my Son; surely they will reverence my Son." When
   they slew the heir to win the inheritance, their rebellion had reached
   its height. The murder of our blessed Lord was the extreme of human
   guilt; it developed the deadly hatred against God which lurks in the
   heart of man. When man became a deicide, sin had reached its fullness;
   and in the black deed of the man by whom the Lord was betrayed, that
   fullness was all displayed. If it had not been for a Judas, we had not
   known how black, how foul, human nature may become. I scorn the men who
   try to apologize for the treachery of this devil in human form, this
   son of perdition, this foul apostate. I should think myself a villain
   if I tried to screen him, and I shudder for the men who dare extenuate
   his crimes. My brethren, we should feel a deep detestation of this
   master of infamy; he has gone to his own place, and the anathema of
   David, part of which was quoted by Peter, has come upon him, "When he
   shall be judged, let him be condemned: and let his prayer become sin.
   Let his days be few; and let another take his office." Surely, as the
   devil was allowed unusually to torment the bodies of men, even so was
   he let loose to get possession of Judas as he has seldom gained
   possession of any other man, that we might see how foul, how
   desperately evil is the human heart. Beyond a doubt, however, the main
   reason for this was that Christ might offer a perfect atonement for
   sin. We may usually read the sin in the punishment. Man betrayed his
   God. Man had the custody of the royal garden, and should have kept its
   green avenues sacred for communion with his God; but he betrayed the
   trust; the sentinel was false; he admitted evil into his own heart, and
   so into the paradise of God. He was false to the good name of the
   Creator, tolerating the insinuation which he should have repelled with
   scorn. Therefore must Jesus find man a traitor to him. There must be
   the counterpart of the sin in the suffering which he endured. You and I
   have often betrayed Christ. We have, when tempted, chosen the evil and
   forsaken the good; we have taken the bribes of hell, and have not
   followed closely with Jesus. It seemed most fitting, then, that he who
   bore the chastisement of sin should be reminded of its ingratitude and
   treachery by the things which he suffered. Besides, brethren, that cup
   must be bitter to the last degree which is to be the equivalent for the
   wrath of God. There must be nothing consolatory in it; pains must be
   taken to pour into it all that even Divine wisdom can invent of awful
   and unheard of woe, and this one point--"He that eateth bread with me
   hath lifted up his heel against me," was absolutely necessary to
   intensify the bitterness. Moreover, we feel persuaded that by thus
   suffering at the hand of a traitor the Lord became a faithful High
   Priest, able to sympathize with us when we fall under the like
   affliction. Since slander and ingratitude are common calamities, we can
   come to Jesus with lull assurance of faith; he knows these sore
   temptations, for he has felt them in their very worst degree. We may
   cast every care, and every sorrow upon him, for he careth for us,
   having suffered with us. Thus, then, in our Lord's betrayal, Scripture
   was fulfilled, sin was developed, atonement was completed, and the
   great all-suffering High Priest became able to sympathize with us in
   every point.

   Now let us look at the treason itself. You perceive how black it was.
   Judas was Christ's servant, what if I call him his confidential
   servant. He was a partaker in apostolic ministry and the honor of
   miraculous gifts. He had been most kindly and indulgently treated. He
   was a sharer in all the goods of his Master, in fact he fared far
   better than his Lord, for the Man of Sorrows always took the lion's
   share of all the pains of poverty and the reproach of slander. He had
   food and raiment given him out of the common stock, and the Master
   seems to have indulged him very greatly. The old tradition is, that
   next to the apostle Peter he was the one with whom the Savior most
   commonly associated. We think there must be a mistake there, for surely
   John was the Savior's greatest friend; but Judas, as a servant had been
   treated with the utmost confidence. Ye know, brethren, how sore is that
   blow which comes from a servant in whom we have put unlimited trust.
   But Judas was more than this: he was a friend, a trusted friend. That
   little bag into which generous women cast their small contributions had
   been put into his hands, and very wisely too, for he had the financial
   vein. His main virtue was economy, a very needful quality in a
   treasurer. As exercising a prudent foresight for the little company,
   and watching the expenses carefully, he was, as far as men could judge,
   the right man in the right place. He had been thoroughly trusted. I
   read not that there was any annual audit of his accounts; I do not
   discover that the Master took him to task as to the expenditure of his
   privy purse. Everything was given to him, and he gave, at the Master's
   direction, to the poor, but no account was asked. This is vile indeed,
   to be chosen to such a position, to be installed purse-bearer to the
   Ring of kings, Chancellor of God's exchequer, and then to turn aside
   and sell the Savior; this is treason in its uttermost degree. Remember
   that the world looked upon Judas as colleague and partner with our
   Lord. To a great extent the name of Judas was associated with that of
   Christ. When Peter, James, or John had done anything amiss, reproachful
   tongues threw it all on their Master. The twelve were part and parcel
   of Jesus of Nazareth. One old commentator says of Judas--"He was
   Christ's alter ego"--to the people at large there was an
   indentification of each apostle with the leader of the band. And oh!
   when such associations have been established, and then there is
   treachery, it is as though our arm should commit treason against our
   head, or as if our foot should desert the body. This was a stab indeed!
   Perhaps, dear brethren, our Lord saw in the person of Judas a
   representative man, the portraiture of the many thousands who in after
   ages imitated his crime. Did Jesus see in Iscariot all the Judases who
   betray truth, virtue, and the cross? Did he perceive the multitudes of
   whom we may say, that they were, spiritually, in the loins of Judas?
   Hymeneus, Alexander, Hermogenes, Philetus, Demas, and others of that
   tribe, were all before him as he saw the man, his equal, his
   acquaintance, bartering him away for thirty pieces of silver.

   Dear friends, the position of Judas must have tended greatly to
   aggravate his treason. Even the heathens have taught us that
   ingratitude is the worst of vices. When Caesar was stabbed by his
   friend Brutus, the world's poet writes--

   "This was the most unkindest cut of all;

   For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,

   Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,

   Quite vanquish'd him; then burst his mighty heart;

   And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

   Even at the base of Pompey's statua,

   _________________________great Caesar fell."

   Many ancient stories, both Greek and Roman, we might quote to show the
   abhorrence which the heathens entertain towards ingratitude and
   treachery. Certain, also, of their own poets, such, for instance, as
   Sophocles, have poured out burning words upon deceitful friends; but we
   have no time to prove what you will all admit, that nothing can be more
   cruel, nothing more full of anguish, than to be sold to destruction by
   one's bosom friend. The closer the foeman comes the deeper will be the
   stab he gives; if we admit him to our heart, and give him our closest
   intimacy, then can he wound us in the most vital part.

   Let us notice, dear friends, while we look at the breaking heart of our
   agonizing Savior, the manner in which he met this affliction. He had
   been much in prayer; prayer had overcome his dreadful agitation; he was
   very calm; and we need to be very calm when we are forsaken by a
   friend. Observe his gentleness. The first word he spake to Judas, when
   the traitor had polluted his cheek with a kiss, was this--"FRIEND!"
   FRIEND!! Note that! Not "Thou hateful miscreant," but "Friend,
   wherefore art thou come?" not "Wretch, wherefore dost thou dare to
   stain my cheek with thy foul and lying lips?" no, "Friend, wherefore
   art thou come?" Ah! if there had been anything good left in Judas, this
   would have brought it out. If he had not been an unmitigated,
   incorrigible, thrice-dyed traitor, his avarice must have lost its power
   at that instant, and he would have cried--"My master! I came to betray
   thee, but that generous word has won my soul; here, if thou must be
   bound, I will be bound with thee; I make a full confession of my
   infamy!" Our Lord added these words--there is reproof in them, but
   notice how kind they are still, how much too good for such a
   caitiff--"Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?" I can
   conceive that the tears gushed from his eyes, and that his voice
   faltered, when he thus addressed his own familiar friend and
   acquaintance--"Betrayest thou," my Judas, my treasurer, "betrayest thou
   the Son of Man," thy suffering, sorrowing friend, whom thou hast seen
   naked and poor, and without a place whereon to lay his head. Betrayest
   thou the Son of Man--and dost thou prostitute the fondest of all
   endearing signs--a kiss--that which should be a symbol of loyalty to
   the King, shall it be the badge of thy treachery--that which was
   reserved for affection as her best symbol--dost thou make it the
   instrument of my destruction? Betrayest thou the Son of Man with a
   kiss?" Oh! if he had not been given up to hardness of heart, if the
   Holy Ghost had not utterly left him, surely this son of perdition would
   have fallen prostrate yet again, and weeping out his very soul, would
   have cried--"No, I cannot betray thee, thou suffering Son of man;
   forgive, forgive; spare thyself; escape from this bloodthirsty crew,
   and pardon thy treacherous disciple!" But no, no word of compunction,
   while the silver is at stake! Afterwards came the sorrow that worketh
   death, which drove him, like Ahithophel, his prototype, to court the
   gallows to escape remorse. This, also, must have aggravated the woe of
   our beloved Lord, when he saw the final impenitence of the traitor, and
   read the tearful doom of that man of whom he had once said, it would be
   better for him that he had never been born.

   Beloved, I would have you fix your eyes on your Lord in your quiet
   meditations as being thus despised and rejected of men, a man of
   sorrows and acquainted with grief; and gird up the loins of your minds,
   counting it no strange thing if this fiery trial should come upon you,
   but being determined that though your Lord should be betrayed by his
   most eminent disciples, yet, through his grace you will cling to him in
   shame and in suffering, and will follow him, if needs be, even unto
   death. God give us grace to see the vision of his nailed hands and
   feet, and remembering that all this came from the treachery of a
   friend, let us be very jealous of ourselves, lest we crucify the Lord
   afresh and put him to an open shame by betraying him in our conduct, or
   in our words, or in our thoughts.

   II. Grant me your attention while we make an estimate of the man by
   whom the Son of man was betrayed--JUDAS THE BETRAYER.

   I would call your attention, dear friends, to his position and public
   character. Judas was a preacher; nay, he was a foremost preacher, "he
   obtained part of this ministry," said the Apostle Peter. He was not
   simply one of the seventy; he had been selected by the Lord himself as
   one of the twelve, an honorable member of the college of the apostles.
   Doubtless he had preached the gospel so that many had been gladdened by
   his voice, and miraculous powers had been vouchsafed to him, so that at
   his word the sick had been healed, deaf ears had been opened; and the
   blind had been made to see; nay, there is no doubt that he who could
   not keep the devil out of himself, had cast devils out of others. Yet
   how art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! He that
   was as a prophet in the midst of the people, and spake with the tongue
   of the learned, whose word and wonders proved that he had been with
   Jesus and had learned of him--he betrays his Master. Understand, my
   brethren, that no gifts can ensure grace, and that no position of honor
   or usefulness in the Church will necessarily prove our being true to
   our Lord and Master. Doubtless there are bishops in hell, and crowds of
   those who once occupied the pulpit are now condemed for ever to bewail
   their hyprocrisy. You that are Church-officers, do not conclude that
   because you enjoy the confidence of the Church, that therefore of an
   absolute certainty the grace of God is in you. Perhaps it is the most
   dangerous of all positions for a man to become well known and much
   respected by the religious world, and yet to be rotten at the core. To
   be where others can observe our faults is a healthy thing though
   painful; but to live with beloved friends who would not believe it
   possible for us to do wrong, and who if they saw us err would make
   excuses for us--this is to be where it is next to impossible for us
   ever to be aroused if our hearts be not right with God. To have a fair
   reputation and a false heart is to stand upon the brink of hell.

   Judas took a very high degree officially. He had the distinguished
   honor of being entrusted with the Master's financial concerns, and
   this, after all, was no small degree to which to attain. The Lord, who
   knows how to use all sorts of gifts, perceived what gift the man had.
   He knew that Peter's unthinking impetuosity would soon empty the bag
   and leave the company in great straits, and if he had entrusted it to
   John, his loving spirit might have been cajoled into unwise benevolence
   towards beggars of unctious tongue; he might even have spent the little
   moneys in buying alabaster boxes whose precious ointments should anoint
   the Master's head. He gave the bag to Judas, and it was discreetly,
   prudently, and properly used; there is no doubt he was the most
   judicious person, and fitted to occupy the post. But oh! dear friends,
   if the Master shall choose any of us who are ministers or
   Church-officers, and give us a very distinguished position; if our
   place in the ranks shall be that of commanding officers, so that even
   our brother ministers look up with esteem, and our fellow-elders or
   deacons regard us as being fathers in Israel--oh! if we turn, if we
   prove false, how damnable shall be our end at the last! What a blow
   shall we give to the heart of the Church, and what derision will be
   made in hell!

   You will observe that the character of Judas was openly an admirable
   one. I find not that he committed himself in any way. Not the slightest
   speck defiled his moral character so far as others could perceive. He
   was no boaster, like Peter; he was free enough from the rashness which
   cries, "Though all men should forsake thee yet will not I." He asks no
   place on the right hand of the throne, his ambition is of another sort.
   He does not ask idle questions. The Judas who asks questions is "not
   Iscariot." Thomas and Philip are often prying into deep matters, but
   not Judas. He receives truth as it is taught him, and when others are
   offended and walk no more with Jesus, he faithfully adheres to him,
   having golden reasons for so doing. He does not indulge in the lusts of
   the flesh or in the pride of life. None of the disciples suspected him
   of hypocrisy; they said at the table, "Lord, is it I?" They never said,
   "Lord, is it Judas?" It was true he had been filching for months, but
   then he did it by littles, and covered his defalcations so well by
   financial manipulations that he ran no risk of detection from the
   honest unsuspecting fishermen with whom he associated. Like some
   merchants and traders we have heard of--invaluable gentlemen as
   chairmen of speculating companies and general managers of swindling
   banks--he could abstract a decent per-centage and yet make the accounts
   exactly tally. The gentlemen who have learned of Judas, manage to cook
   the accounts most admirably for the shareholders, so as to get a rich
   joint for their own table; over which they, no doubt, entreat the
   divine blessing. Judas was, in his known life, a most admirable person.
   He would have been an alderman ere long there is no doubt, and being
   very pious and richly-gifted, his advent at churches or chapels would
   have created intense satisfaction. "What a discreet and influential
   person;" say the deacons. "Yes," replies the minister; "what an
   acquisition to our councils; if we could elect him to office he would
   be of eminent service to the Church." I believe that the Easter chose
   him as apostle on purpose that we might not be at all surprised if we
   find such a man a minister in the pulpit, or a colleague of the
   minister, working as an officer in Christ's Church. These are solemn
   things, my brethren; let us take them to heart, and if any of us wear a
   good character among men and stand high in office, let this question
   come home close to us--"Lord, is it I? Lord, is it I?" Perhaps he who
   shall last ask the question is just the man who ought to have asked it
   first.

   But, secondly, I call your attention to his real nature and sin. Judas
   was a man with a conscience. He could not afford to do without it. He
   was no Sadducee who could fling religion overboard; he had strong
   religious tendencies. He was no debauched person; he never spent a
   two-pence in vice on his life, not that he loved vice less, but that he
   loved the two-pence more. Occasionally he was generous, but then it was
   with other people's money. Well did he watch his lovely charge, the
   bag. He had a conscience, I say, and a ferocious conscience it was when
   it once broke the chain, for it was his conscience which made him hang
   himself. But then it was a conscience that did not sit regularly on the
   throne; it reigned by fits and starts. Conscience was not the leading
   element. Avarice predominated over conscience. He would get money, if
   honestly, he liked that best, but if he could not get it
   conscientiously, then anyhow in the world. He was but a small trader;
   his gains were no great things, or else he would not have sold Christ
   for so small a sum as that--ten pounds at the outside, of our money at
   its present value--some three or four pounds, as it was in those days.
   It was a poor price to take for the Master; but then a little money was
   a great thing to him. He had been poor; he had joined Christ with the
   idea that he would soon be proclaimed King of the Jews, and that then
   he should become a nobleman, and be rich. Finding Christ a long while
   in coming to his kingdom, he had taken little by little, enough to lay
   by in store; and now, fearing that he was to be disappointed in all his
   dreams, and never having had any care for Christ, but only for himself,
   he gets out of what he thinks to have been a gross mistake in the best
   way he can, and makes money by his treason against his Lord. Brethren,
   I do solemnly believe, that of all hypocrites, those are the persons of
   whom there is the least hope whose God is their money. You may reclaim
   a drunkard; thank God, we have seen many instances of that; and even a
   fallen Christian, who has given way to vice, may loathe his lust, and
   return from it; but I fear me that the cases in which a man who is
   cankered with covetousness has ever been saved, are so few, that they
   might be written on your finger-nail. This is a sin which the world
   does not rebuke; the most faithful minister can scarce smit its
   forehead. God knoweth what thunders I have launched out against men who
   are all for this world, and yet pretend to be Christ's followers; but
   yet they always say, "I is not for me." What I should call stark naked
   covetousness, they call prudence, discretion, economy, and so on; and
   actions which I would scorn to spit upon, they will do, and think their
   hands quite clean after they have done them, and still sit as God's
   people sit, and hear as God's people hear, and think that after they
   have sold Christ for paltry gain, they will go to heaven. O souls,
   souls, souls, beware, beware, beware, most of all of greed! It is not
   money, nor the lack of money, but the love of money which is the root
   of all evil. It is not getting it; it is not even keeping it; it is
   loving it; it is making it your god; it is looking at that as the main
   chance, and not considering the cause of Christ, nor the truth of
   Christ, nor the holy life of Christ, but being ready to sacrifice
   everything for gains' sake. Oh! such men make giants in sin; they shall
   be set up for ever as butts for infernal laughter; their damnation
   shall be sure and just.

   The third point is, the warning which Judas received, and the way in
   which he persevered. Just think--the night before he sold his Master
   what do you think the Master did? Why, he washed his feet! And yet he
   sold him! Such condescension! Such love! Such familiarity! He took a
   towel, and girded himself, and washed Judas's feet! And yet those very
   feet brought Judas as a guide to them that took Jesus! And you remember
   what he said when he had washed his feet--"Now ye are clean, but not
   all;" and he turned a tearful eye on Judas. What a warning for him!
   What could be more explicit? Then when the Supper came, and they began
   to eat and drink together, the Lord said--"One of you shall betray me."
   That was plain enough; and a little farther on he said explicitly--"He
   that dippeth with me in the dish the same is he." What opportunities
   for repentance! He cannot say he had not a faithful preacher. What
   could have been more personal? If he does not repent now, what is to be
   done? Moreover, Judas saw that which was enough to make a heart of
   adamant bleed; he saw Christ with agony on his face, for it was just
   after Christ had said "Now is my soul troubled," that Judas left the
   feast and went out to sell his Master. That face, so full of grief,
   ought to have turned him, must have turned him, if he had not been,
   given up and left alone, to deliver over his soul unto his own devices.
   What language could have been more thundering than the words of Jesus
   Christ, when he said, "Woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is
   betrayed; it had been good for that man if he had not been born." He
   had said, "Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil."
   Now, if while these thunders rolled over his head, and the
   lightningflashes pointed at his person, if, then, this man was not
   aroused, what a hell of infernal pertinacity and guilt must have been
   within his soul! Oh! but if any of you, if any of you shall sell Christ
   for the sake of keeping the shop open on Sunday, if you shall sell
   Christ for the extra wages you may earn for falsehood--oh! if you shall
   sell Christ for the sake of the hundred pounds that you may lay hold of
   by a villanous contract--if you do that, you do not perish unwarned. I
   come into this pulpit to please no man among you. God knoweth if I knew
   more of your follies you should have them pointed out yet more plainly;
   if I knew more of the tricks of business, I would not flinch to speak
   of them! But, O sirs, I do conjure you by the blood of Judas, who
   hanged himself at last, turn you--if such there be--turn you from this
   evil, if haply your sin may be blotted out!

   Let us for one minute notice the act itself. He sought out his own
   temptation. He did not wait for the devil to come to him; he went after
   the devil. He went to the chief priests and said, "What will ye give
   me?" One of the old Puritan divines says, "This is not the way people
   generally trade; they tell their own price." Judas says "What will ye
   give me? Anything you like. The Lord of life and glory sold at the
   buyer's own price. What will ye give me?" And another very prettily
   puts it, "What could they give him? What did the man want? He did not
   want food and raiment; he fared as well as his Master and the other
   disciples; he had enough; he had all that his needs could crave, and
   yet he said, What will ye give me? What will ye give me? What will ye
   give ne?" Alas! some people's religion is grounded on that one
   question--"What will you give me?" Yes, they would go to church if
   there are any charities given away there, but if there were more to be
   got by not going they would do that. "What will you give me?" Some of
   these people are not even so wise as Judas. Ah! there is a man over
   yonder who would sell the Lord for a crown, much more for ten pounds,
   as Judas did! Why, there are some who will sell Christ for the smallest
   piece of silver in our currency. They are tempted to deny their Lord,
   tempted to act in an unhallowed way, though the gains are so paltry
   that a year's worth of them would not come to much. No subject could be
   more dreadful than this, if we really would but look at it carefully.
   This temptation happeneth to each of us. Do not deny it. We all like to
   gain; it is but natural that we should; the propensity to acquire is in
   every mind, and under lawful restrictions it is not an improper
   propensity; but when it comes into conflict with our allegiance to our
   Master, and in a world like this it often will, we must overcome it or
   perish. There will arise occasions with some of you many times in a
   week in which it is "God--or gain;" "Christ, or the thirty pieces of
   silver;" and therefore I am the more urgent in pressing this on you. Do
   not, though the world should bid its highest, though it should heap its
   comforts upon one another, and add fame, and hononr, and respect, do
   not, I pray you, forsake your Master. There have been such cases; cases
   of persons who used to come here, but they found they did not get on,
   because Sunday was the best day's trade in the week; they had some good
   feelings, some good impressions once, but they have lost them now. We
   have known others who have said, "Well, you see, I did once think I
   loved the Lord, but my business went so badly when I came up to the
   house of God, that I left it; I renounced my profession." Ah, Judas!
   ah, Judas! ah, Judas! let me call thee by thy name, for such thou art!
   This is the sin of the apostate over again; God help thee to repent of
   it, and go, not to any priest, but to Christ and make confession, if
   haply thou mayest be saved. You perceive that in the act of selling
   Christ, Judas was faithful to his master. "Faithful to his master?" you
   say. Yes, his master was the devil, and having made an agreement with
   him he carried it out honestly. Some people are always very honest with
   the devil. If they say they will do a wrong thing they say they ought
   to do it because they said they would; as if any oath could be binding
   on a man if it be an oath to do wrong? "I will never go into that house
   again," some have said, and they have said afterwards, "Well, I wish I
   had not said it." Was it a wrong thing? What is your oath then? It was
   an oath given to the devil. What was that foolish promise but a promise
   to Satan, and will you be faithful to him? Ah! would God that you were
   faithful to Christ! Would that any of us were as true to Christ as
   Satan's servants are to their master!

   Judas betrayed his Master with a kiss. That is how most apostates do
   it; it is always with a kiss. Did you ever read an infidel book in your
   life which did not begin with profound respect for truth? I never have.
   Even modern ones, when bishops write them, always begin like that. They
   betray the Son of man with a kiss. Did you ever read a bank of bitter
   controversy which did not begin with such a sickly lot of humility,
   such sugar, such butter, such treacle, such everything sweet and soft,
   that you said, "Ah! there is sure to be something bad here, for when
   people begin so softly and sweetly, so humbly and so smoothly, depend
   upon it they have rank hatred in their hearts." The most devout looking
   people are often the most hypocritical in the world.

   We conclude with the repentance of Judas. He did repent; he did repent,
   but it was the repentance that worketh death. He did make a confession,
   but there was no respect to the deed itself, but only to its
   consequences. He was very sorry that Christ was condemned. Some latent
   love that he had once had to a kind Master, came up when he saw that he
   was condemned. He did not think, perhaps, it would come to that; he may
   have had a hope that he would escape out of their hands, and then he
   would keep his thirty pieces of silver and perhaps sell him over again.
   Perhaps he thought that he would rid himself from their hands by some
   miraculous display of power, or would proclaim the kingdom, and so he
   himself would only be hastening on that very blessed consummation.
   Friends, the man who repents of consequences does not repent. The
   ruffian repents of the gallows but not of the murder, and that is no
   repentance at all. Human law of course must measure sin by
   consequences, but God's law does not. There is a pointsman on a railway
   who neglects his duty; there is a collision on the line, and people are
   killed; well, it is manslaughter to this man through his carelessness.
   But that pointsman, perhaps, many times before had neglected his duty,
   but no accident came of it, and then he walked home and said, "Well, I
   have done no wrong." Now the wrong, mark you, is never to be measured
   by the accident, but by the thing itself, and if you have committed an
   offense and you have escaped undetected it is just as vile in God's
   eye; if you have done wrong and Providence has prevented the natural
   result of the wrong, the honor of that is with God, but you are as
   guilty as if your sin had been carried out to its fullest consequences,
   and the whole world set ablaze. Never measure sin by consequences, but
   repent of them as they are in themselves.

   Though being sorry for consequences, since these are unalterable, this
   man was led to remorse. He sought a tree, adjusted the rope, and hanged
   himself, but in his haste he hanged himself so badly that the rope
   broke, he fell over a precipice, and there we read his bowels gushed
   out; he lay a mangled mass at the bottom of the cliff, the horror of
   every one who passed. Now you that make a gain of godliness--if there
   be such here--you may not come to a suicide's end, but take the lesson
   home. Mr. Keach, my venerable predecessor, gives at the end of one of
   his volumes of sermons, the death of a Mr. John Child. John Child had
   been a Dissenting minister, and for the sake of gain, to get a living,
   he joined the Episcopalians against his conscience; he sprinkled
   infants; and practiced all the other paraphernalia of the Church
   against his conscience. At last, at last, he was arrested with such
   terrors for having done what he had, that he renounced his living, took
   to a sick bed, and his dying oaths, and blasphemies, and curses, were
   something so dreadful, that his case was the wonder of that age. Mr.
   Keach wrote a full account of it, and many went to try what they could
   do to comfort the man, but he would say, "Get ye hence; get ye hence;
   it is of no use; I have sold Christ." You know, also, the wonderful
   death of Francis Spira. In all literature, there is nothing so awful as
   the death of Spira. The man had known the truth; he stood well among
   reformers; he was an hononred, and to a certain extent apparently a
   faithful man; but he went back to the Church of Rome; he apostatized;
   and then when conscience was aroused he did not fly to Christ, but he
   looked at the consequences instead of at the sin, and so, feeling that
   the consequences could not be altered, he forget that the sin might be
   pardoned, and perished in agonies extreme. May it never be the unhappy
   lot of any of us to stand by such a death-bed; but the Lord have mercy
   upon us now, and make us search our hearts. Those of you who say, "We
   do not want that sermon," are probably the persons who need it most. He
   who shall say, "Well, we have no Judas amongst us," is probably a Judas
   himself. Oh! search yourselves; turn out every cranny; look in every
   corner of your soul, to see whether your religion be for Christ's sake,
   and for truth's sake, and for God's sake, or whether it be a profession
   which you take up because it is a respectable thing, a profession which
   you keep up because it keeps you up. The Lord search us and try us, and
   bring us to know our ways.

   And now, in conclusion--there is a Savior, and that Savior is willing
   to receive us now. If I am not a saint, yet I am a sinner. Would it not
   be best for all of us to go again to the fountain, and wash and be
   clean. Let each of us go anew, and say, "Master, thou knowest what I
   am; I know not myself; but, if I be wrong, make me right; if I be
   right, keep me so. My trust is in thee. Keep me now, for thine own
   sake, Jesus." Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                          The Greatest Trial on Record

   A Sermon

   (No. 495)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, February 22nd, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel
   together, against the Lord, and against his anointed."--Psalm 2:2.

   AFTER OUR LORD HAD been betrayed by the false-hearted Judas, he was
   bound by the officers who had come to take him; no doubt the cords were
   drawn as tight, and twisted as mercilessly as possible. If we believe
   the traditions of the fathers, these cords cut through the flesh even
   to the very bones, so that all the way from the garden to the house of
   Annas, his blood left a crimson trail. Our Redeemer was hurried along
   the road which crosses the brook Kedron. A second time he was made like
   unto David, who passed over that brook, weeping as he went; and perhaps
   it was on this occasion that he drank of that foul brook by the way.
   The brook Redron, you know, was that into which all the filth of the
   sacrifices of the temple was cast, and Christ, as though he were a foul
   and filthy thing, must be led to the black stream. He was led into
   Jerusalem by the sheep-gate, the gate through which the lambs of the
   Passover and the sheep for sacrifice were always driven. Little did
   they understand, that in so doing they were again following out to the
   very letter the significant types which God had ordained in the law of
   Moses. They led, I say, this Lamb of God through the sheep-gate, and
   they hastened him on to the house of Annas, the ex-high priest, who,
   either from his relationship to Caiaphas, from his natural ability, or
   his prominence in opposing the Savior, stood high in the opinion of the
   rulers. Here they made a temporary call, to gratify the bloodthirsty
   Annas with the sight of his victim; and then, hastening on, they
   brought him to the house of Caiaphas, some little distance off; where,
   though it was but a little past the dead of night, many members of the
   Sanhedrim were assembled. In a very short time, no doubt informed by
   some speedy messenger, all the rest of the elders came together, and
   sat down with great delight to the malicious work. Let us follow our
   Lord Jesus Christ, not, like Peter, afar off, but, like John, let us go
   in with Jesus into the high priest's house, and when we have tarried
   awhile there, and have seen our Savior despitefully used, let us
   traverse the streets with him, till we come to the hall of Pilate, and
   then to the palace of Herod, and then afterwards to the place called
   "the pavement," where Christ is subjected to an ignominious competition
   with Barabbas, the murderer, and where we hear the howling of the
   people, "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

   Brethren, as the Lord gave commandment concerning even the ashes and
   offal of the sacrifices, we ought to think no matter trivial which
   stands in connection with our great burnt offering. My admonition is,
   "Gather up the fragments which remain, that nothing be lost." As
   goldsmiths sweep their shops, to save even the filings of the gold, so
   every word of Jesus should be treasured up as very precious. But,
   indeed, the narrative to which I invite you is not unimportant. Things
   which were purposed of old, prophesied by seers, witnessed by apostles,
   written by evangelists, and published by the ambassadors of God, are
   not matters of secondary interest, but deserve our solemn and devout
   attention. Let all our hearts be awed as we follow the King of kings in
   his pathway of shame and suffering.

   I. Come we, then, to the hall of Caiaphas. After the mob had dragged
   our Lord from the house of Annas, they reached the palace of Caiaphas,
   and there a brief interval occurred before the High Priest came forth
   to question the prisoner. How were those sad minutes spent? Was the
   poor victim allowed a little pause to collect his thoughts, that he
   might face his accusers calmly? Far from it; Luke shall tell the
   pitiful story: "And the men that held Jesus mocked him, and smote him.
   And when they had blindfolded him, they struck him on the face, and
   asked him, saying, Prophesy, who is it that smote thee? And many other
   things blasphemously spake they against him." The officers were pausing
   until the chairman of the court should please to have an interview with
   the prisoner, and instead of suffering the accused to take a little
   rest before a trial so important, upon which his life and character
   depended, they spend all the time in venting their bitter malice upon
   him. Observe how they insult his claim to the Messiahship! In effect,
   they mock him thus: "Thou claimest to be a prophet like unto Moses;
   thou knowest things to come; if thou be sent of God, prove it by
   discovering thy foes; we will put thee on thy trial, and test thee, O
   thou man of Nazareth." They bind his eyes, and then, smiting him one
   after another, they bid him exercise his prophetic gift, for their
   amusement, and prophesy who it was that smote him. Oh, shameful
   question! How gracious was the silence, for an answer might have
   withered them for ever. The day shall come when all that smite Christ,
   shall find that he has seen them, though they thought his eyes were
   blinded. The day shall come, blasphemer, worldling, careless man, when
   everything that you have done against Christ's cause and Christ's
   people, shall be published before the eyes of men and angels, and
   Christ shall answer your question, and shall tell you who it is that
   smote him. I speak to some this morning who have forgotten that Christ
   sees them; and they have ill-treated his people; they have spoken ill
   of his holy cause, saying, "How doth God know? and is there knowledge
   in the Most High?" I tell you, the Judge of men shall ere long, point
   you out, and make you, to your shame and confusion of face, confess
   that you smote the Savior when you smote his Church.

   This preliminary mockery being over, Caiaphas, the high priest came in;
   he began at once to interrogate the Lord before the public trial
   doubtless with the view of catching him in his speech. The high priest
   asked him first of his disciples. We do not know what questions he
   asked; perhaps they were something like these: "What meanest thou, to
   allow a rabble to follow thee wherever thou goest? Who art thou, that
   thou shouldst have twelve persons always attending thee and calling
   thee Master? Dost thou intend to make these the leaders of a band of
   men? Are these to be thy lieutenants, to raise a host on thy behalf? Or
   dost thou pretend to be a prophet, and are these the sons of the
   prophets who follow thee, as Elisha did Elias Moreover, where are they?
   Where are thy gallant followers? If thou art a good man, why are they
   not here to bear witness to thee? Where are they gone? Are they not
   ashamed of their folly, now that thy promises of honor all end in
   shame?" The high priest "asked him of his disciples." Our Lord Jesus on
   this point said not a syllable. Why this silence? Because it is not for
   our Advocate to accuse his disciples. He might have answered, "Well
   dost thou ask, Where are they?' the cowards forsook me; when one proved
   a traitor, the rest took to their heels. Thou sayest, Where are my
   disciples?' there is one yonder, sitting by the fire, warming his
   hands, the same who just now denied me with an oath." But no, he would
   not utter a word of accusation; he whose lips are mighty to intercede
   for his people, will never speak against them. Let Satan slander, but
   Christ pleads. The accuser of the brethren is the prince of this world:
   the Prince of peace is ever our Advocate before the eternal throne.

   The high priest next shifted his ground, and asked him concerning his
   doctrine--what it was that he taught--whether what he taught was not in
   contradiction to the original teachings of their great law-giver
   Moses--and whether he had not railed at the Pharisees, reviled the
   Scribes, and exposed the rulers. The Master gave a noble answer. Truth
   is never shamefaced; he boldly points to his public life as his best
   answer. "I spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue,
   and in the temple, whither the Jews always resort; and in secret have I
   said nothing. Why askest thou me? ask them which heard me, what I have
   said unto them: behold they know what I said." No sophistries--no
   attempt at evasion--the best armor for truth is her own naked breast.
   He had preached in the market-places, on the mountain's brow, and in
   the temple courts; nothing had been done in a corner. Happy is the man
   who can make so noble a defense. Where is the joint in such harness?
   Where can the arrow pierce the man arrayed in so complete a panoply?
   Little did that arch-knave Caiaphas gain by his crafty questioning. For
   the rest of the questioning, our Lord Jesus said not a word in
   self-defense; he knew that it availed not for a lamb to plead with
   wolves; he was well aware that whatever he said would be misconstrued
   and made a fresh source of accusation, and he willed, moreover, to
   fulfill the prophecy, "He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as
   a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth." But
   what power he exerted in thus remaining silent! Perhaps nothing
   displays more fully the omnipotence of Christ, than this power of
   self-control. Control the Deity? What power less than divine can
   attempt the task? Behold, my brethren, the Son of God does more than
   rule the winds and commend the waves, he restrains himself. And when a
   word, a whisper, would have refuted his foes, and swept them to their
   eternal destruction, he "openeth not his mouth." He who opened his
   mouth for his enemies, will not utter a word for himself. If ever
   silence were more than golden, it is this deep silence under infinite
   provocation.

   During this preliminary examination, our Lord suffered an outrage which
   needs a passing notice. When he had said, "Ask them that hear me," some
   over-officious person in the crowd struck him in the face. The margin
   in John 18:22, very properly corrects our version, and renders the
   passage, "with a rod." Now, considering that our blessed Lord suffered
   so much, this one little particular might seem unimportant, only it
   happens to be the subject of prophecy in the book of Micah 5:1, "They
   shall smite the Judge of Israel with a rod upon the cheek." This
   smiting while under trial is peculiarly atrocious. To strike a man
   while he is pleading in his own defense, would surely be a violation of
   the laws even of barbarians. It brought Paul's blood into his face, and
   made him lose his balance when the high priest ordered them to smite
   him on the mouth. I think I hear his words of burning indignation: "God
   shall smite thee, thou whited wall: for sittest thou to judge me after
   the law, and commandest me to be smitten contrary to the law?" How soon
   the servant loses his temper: how far more glorious the meekness of the
   Master. What a contrast do these gentle words afford us--"If I have
   spoken evil bear witness to the evil; but if well, why smitest thou
   me?" This was such a concentrated infamy, to strike a man while
   pleading for his life, that it well deserved the notice both of
   evangelist and prophet.

   But now the Court are all sitting; the members of the great Sanhedrim
   are all in their various places, and Christ is brought forth for the
   public trial before the highest ecclesiastical court; though it is,
   mark you, a foregone conclusion, that by hook or by crook they will
   find him guilty. They scour the neighborhood for witnesses. There were
   fellows to be found in Jerusalem, like those who in the olden times
   frequented the Old Bailey, "straw witnesses," who were ready to be
   bought on either side; and, provided they were well paid, would swear
   to anything. But for all this, though the witnesses were ready to
   perjure themselves, they could not agree one with another; being heard
   separately, their tales did not tally. At last two came, with some
   degree of similarity in their witness; they were both liars, but for
   once the two liars had struck the same note. They declared that he said
   "I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and within three
   days I will build another made without hands," Mark 14:58. Now here
   was, first, misquotation. He never said, "I will destroy the temple,"
   his words were, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it
   up." See how they add to his words and twist them to their own ends.
   Then again, they not only misquoted the words, but they misrepresented
   the sense, wilfully, because he spake concerning the temple of his
   body, and not the literal temple in which they worshipped; and this
   they must have known. He said, "Destroy this temple"--and the
   accompanying action might have showed them that he meant his own body,
   which was raised by his glorious resurrection after destruction upon
   the cross. Let us add, that even when thus misrepresented, the witness
   was not sufficient as the foundation of a capital charge. Surely there
   could be nothing worthy of death in a man's saying, "Destroy this
   temple, and I will build it in three days." A person might make use of
   those words a thousand times over--he might be very foolish, but he
   would not be guilty of death for such an offense. But where men have
   made up their minds to hate Christ, they will hate him without a cause.
   Oh! ye that are adversaries of Christ--and there are some such here
   to-day--I know ye try to invent some excuse for your opposition to his
   holy religion; ye forge a hundred falsehoods; but ye know that your
   witness is not true, and your trial in conscience through which you
   pass the Savior, is but a mock one. Oh that ye were wise, and would
   understand him to be what he is, and submit yourselves to him now.

   Finding that their witness, even when tortured to the highest degree,
   was not strong enough, the high priest, to get matter of accusation,
   adjured him by the Most High God to answer whether he was the Christ,
   "the Son of the Blessed." Being thus adjured, our Master would not set
   us an example of cowardice; he spake to purpose; he said, "I am," Mark
   14:62, and then, to show how fully he knew this to be true, he added,
   "ye shall see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and
   coming in the clouds of heaven." I cannot understand what Unitarians do
   with this incident. Christ was put to death on a charge of blasphemy,
   for having declared himself to be the Son of God. Was not that the time
   when any sensible person would have denied the accusation? If he had
   not really claimed to be the Son of God, would he not now have spoken?
   Would he not now, once for all, have delivered our minds from the
   mistake under which we are laboring, if, indeed, it be a mistake, that
   he is the Son of God? But no, he seals it with his blood; he bears open
   testimony before the herd of his accusers. "I am." I am the Son of God,
   and I am the sent-one of the Most High. Now, now the thing is done.
   They want no further evidence. The judge, forgetting the impartiality
   which becomes his station, pretends to be wonderfully struck with
   horror, rends his garments, turns round to ask his co-assessors whether
   they need any further witness, and they, all too ready, hold up their
   hands in token of unanimity, and he is at once condemned to die. Ah!
   brethren, and no sooner condemned, than the high priest, stepping down
   from his divan, spits in his face, and then the Sanhedrim follow, and
   smite him on his cheek; and then they turn him down to the rabble that
   had gathered in the court, and they buffet him from one to the other,
   and spit upon his blessed cheeks, and smite him, and then they play the
   old game again, which they had learned so well before the trial came
   on; they blindfold him for a second time, place him in the chair, and
   as they smite him with their fists they cry. "Prophet! Prophet!
   Prophet! who is it that smote thee? Prophecy unto us!" And thus the
   Savior passed a second time through that most brutal and ignominious
   treatment. If we had tears, if we had sympathies, if we had hearts, we
   should prepare to shed those tears, to awake those sympathies, and
   break those hearts, now. O thou Lord of life and glory! how shamefully
   wast thou illtreated by those who pretended to be the curators of holy
   truth, the conservators of integrity, and the teachers of the law!

   Having thus sketched the trial as briefly as I could, let me just say,
   that, throughout the whole of this trial before the ecclesiastical
   tribunal, it is manifest that they did all they could to pour contempt
   upon his two claims--to Deity and to Messiahship. Now, friends, this
   morning--this morning, as truly as on that eventful occasion--you and I
   must range ourselves on one of two sides. Either this day we must
   cheerfully acknowledge his Godhead, and accept him also as the Messias,
   the Savior promised of old to us; or else we must take our post with
   those who are the adversaries of God and of his Christ. Will you ask
   yourself the question, on which side will you now stand? I pray you, do
   not think that Christ's Deity needs any further proof than that which
   this one court gives. My dear friends, there is no religion under
   heaven, no false religion, which would have dared to hazard such a
   statement, as that yonder man who was spit upon and buffeted was none
   other than incarnate God. No false religion would venture to draw upon
   the credulity of its followers to that extent. What! that man there who
   speaks not a word, who is mocked, despised, rejected, made nothing
   of--what! he "very God of very God?" You do not find Mohammed, nor any
   false prophet, asking any person to believe a doctrine so
   extraordinary. They know too well that there is a limit even to human
   faith; and they have not ventured upon such a marvellous assertion as
   this, that yonder despised man is none other than the upholder of all
   things. No false religion would have taught a truth so humbling to him
   who is its founder and Lord. Besides, it is not in the power of any
   man-made religion to have conceived such a thought. That Deity should
   willingly submit to be spit upon to redeem those whose mouths vented
   the spittle! In what book do you read such a wonder as this? We have
   pictures drawn from imagination; we have been enchanted along romantic
   pages, and we have marvelled at the creative flights of human genius;
   but where did you ever read such a thought as this? "God was made flesh
   and dwelt among us"--he was despised, scourged, mocked, treated as
   though he were the offscouring of all things, brutally treated, worse
   than a dog, and all out of pure love to his enemies. Why, the thought
   is such a great one, so God-like, the compassion in it is so divine,
   that it must be true. None but God could have thought of such a thing
   as this stoop from the highest throne in glory to the cross of deepest
   shame and woe. And do you think that if the doctrine of the cross were
   not true, such effects would follow from it? Would those South Sea
   Islands, once red with the blood of cannibalism, be now the abode of
   sacred song and peace? Would this island, once itself the place of
   naked savages, be what it is, through the influence of the benign
   gospel of God, if that gospel were a lie? Ah! hallowed mistake, indeed,
   to produce such peaceful, such blessed, such lasting, such divine
   results! Ah! he is God. The thing is not false. And that he is Messiah,
   who shall doubt? If God should send a prophet, what better prophet
   could you desire? What character would you seek to have exhibited more
   completely human and divine? What sort of a Savior would you wish for?
   What could better satisfy the cravings of conscience? Who could commend
   himself more fully to the affections of the heart? He must be, we feel
   at once, as we see him, one alone by himself, with no competitor; he
   must be the Messiah of God.

   Come, now, sirs, on which side will you range yourselves? Will you
   smite him? I put the question--"Who is it that will smite him this day?
   Who is it that will spit upon him this day?" "I will not," says one,
   "but I do not accept nor believe in him." In that you smite him. "I do
   not hate him," says another, "but I am not saved by him." In refusing
   his love you smite him. Whoever among you will not trust him with your
   soul--in that you smite him, smite him in the tenderest part: since you
   impugn his love and power to save. Oh! "Kiss the Son, lest he be angry,
   and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little."
   That suffering man stands in the room, and place, and stead of every
   one that will believe on him. Trust him! trust him!--you have then
   accepted him as your God, as your Messiah. Refuse to trust him!--you
   have smitten him; and you may think it little to do this to-day; but
   when he rides upon the clouds of heaven you will see your sin in its
   true light, and you will shudder to think that ever you could have
   refused him who now reigns "King of kings and Lord of lords." God help
   you to accept him, as your God and Christ, to-day!

   II. But our time flies too rapidly, and we must hasten with it, and
   accompany our Savior to another place.

   The Romans had taken away from the Jews the power to put a person to
   death, they sometimes did it still, but they did it, as in the case of
   Stephen, by popular tumult. Now, in our Savior's case they could not do
   this, because there was still a strong feeling in favor of Christ among
   the people, a feeling so strong, that had they not been bribed by the
   rulers, they would never have said, "Crucify him! crucify him!" You
   will remember that the priests and rulers did not arrest him on the
   feast day, "lest" said they "there be a tumult among the people."
   Besides, the Jewish way of putting a person to death, was by stoning:
   hence, unless there was a sufficient number of persons who hated him, a
   person would never get put to death at all. That is why the method of
   putting to death by stoning was chosen, because if a person was
   generally thought to be innocent, very few persons would stone him; and
   although he would be somewhat maimed, his life might possibly be
   spared. They thought, therefore, the Savior might escape as he did at
   other times, when they took up stones to stone him. Moreover they
   desired to put him to the death of the accursed; they would confound
   him with slaves and criminals, and hang him like the Canaanitish kings
   of old; therefore they hound him away to Pilate. The distance was about
   a mile. He was bound in the same cruel manner, and was doubtless cut by
   the cords. He had already suffered most dreadfully; please to remember
   the bloody sweat of last Sabbath week; then remember that he has
   already twice been beaten; and he is now hurried along, without any
   rest or refreshment, just as the morning is breaking, along the streets
   to the place where Pilate lived, perhaps the tower of Antonia, close to
   the temple itself; we are not quite sure. He is bound and they hurry
   him along the road; and here the Romish writers supply a great number
   of particulars of anguish out of their very fertile imaginations. After
   they had brought him there a difficulty occurred. These holy people,
   these very righteous elders, could not come into the company of Pilate,
   because Pilate, being a Gentile, would defile them; and there was a
   broad space outside the palace, like a raised platform, this was called
   "the pavement," where Pilate was wont to sit on those high days, that
   he might not touch these blessed Jews. So he came out on the pavement,
   and they themselves went not into the hall, but remained before "the
   pavement." Always notice, that sinners who can swallow camels will
   strain at gnats, crowds of men who will do great sins are very much
   afraid of committing some little things which they they think will
   affect their religion. Notice, that many a man who is a big thief
   during the week, will ease his conscience by rigid Sabbatarianism when
   the day comes round. In fact, most hypocrites run for shelter to some
   close observance of days, ceremonies, and observations, when they have
   slighted the weightier matters of the law.

   Well, Pilate receives him bound. The charge brought against him was
   not, of course, blasphemy; Pilate would have laughed at that, and
   declined all interference. They accused him of stirring up sedition,
   pretending to be a king, and teaching that it was not right to pay
   tribute to Caesar. This last charge was a clear and manifest lie. He
   refuse to pay tribute? Did not he send to the fish's mouth to get the
   money? He say that Caesar must not have his due? Did he not tell the
   Herodians--"Render unto Caesar the things that are Cresar's?" He stir
   up a sedition?--the man that had "not where to lay his head?" He
   pretend to snatch the diadem from Caesar?--he, the man who hid himself,
   when the people would have taken him by force and made him a king?
   Nothing can be more atrociously false. Pilate examines him, and
   discovers at once, both from his silence and from his answer, that he
   is a most extraordinary person; he perceives that the kingdom which he
   claims is something supernatural; he cannot understand it. He asks him
   what he came into the world for, the reply puzzles and amazes him, "To
   bear witness to the truth," says he. Now, that was a thing no Roman
   understood; for a hundred years before Pilate came, Jugurtha said of
   the city of Rome, "a city for sale;" bribery, corruption, falsehood,
   treachery, villany, these were the gods of Rome, and truth had fled the
   seven hills, the very meaning of the word was scarcely known. So Pilate
   turned on his heel, and said, "What is truth?" As much as to say, "I am
   the procurator of this part of the country; all I care for is money."
   "What's truth?" I do not think he asked the question, "What is truth?"
   as some preach from it, as if he seriously desired to know what it
   really was, for surely he would have paused for the divine reply and
   not have gone away from Christ the moment afterwards. He said, "Pshaw;
   What's truth?" Yet there was something so awful about the prisoner,
   that his wife's dream, and her message--"See that thou have nothing to
   do with this just person," all worked upon the superstitious fears of
   this very weak-minded ruler; so he went back and told the Jews a second
   time, "I find no fault in him;" and when they said, "He stirreth up the
   people, teaching throughout all Jewry, beginning at Galilee to this
   place," he caught at that word "Galilee." "Now," he thought, "I will be
   rid of this man; the people shall have their way, and yet I will not be
   guilty." "Galilee?" said he; "why, Herod is ruler there; you had better
   take him to Herod at once." He thus gained two or three points; he made
   Herod his friend; he hoped to exonerate himself of his crime, and yet
   please the mob. Away they go to Herod. Oh! I think I see that blessed
   Lamb of God again hounded through the streets. Did you ever read such a
   tale? No martyr, even in bloody Mary's time, was ever harried thus as
   the Savior was. We must not think that his agonies were all confined to
   the cross; they were endured in those streets--in those innumerable
   blows, and kicks, and strikings with the fist, that he had to bear.
   They took him before Herod, and Herod having heard of his miracles,
   thought to see some wonderful thing, some piece of jugglery, done in
   his presence; and when Christ refused to speak, and would not plead
   before "that fox" at all, then Herod treated him with a sneer. "They
   made nothing of him." Can you picture the scene? Herod, his captains,
   his lieutenants, all, down to the meanest soldiers, treat the Savior
   with a broad grin! "A pretty king," they seem to say; "a miserable
   beggar better! Look at his cheeks, all bruised where they have been
   smiting him: is that the color of royalty's complexion?" "Look," say
   they, "he is emaciated, he is covered with blood, as though he had been
   sweating drops of blood all night. Is that the imperial purple?" And so
   they "made nothing of him," and despised his kingship. And Herod said,
   "Bring out that costly white robe, you know, if he be a king, let us
   dress him so," and so the white robe is put on him--not a purple
   one--that Pilate put on afterwards. He has two robes put on him--the
   one put on by the Jews, the other by the Gentiles; seeming to be a fit
   comment on that passage in Solomon's song, where the spouse says, "My
   beloved is white and ruddy"--white with the gorgeous robe which marked
   him King of the Jews, and then red with the purple robe which Pilate
   afterwards cast upon his shoulders, which proved him King of nations
   too. And so Herod and his men of war, after treating him as shamefully
   as they could, looking at him as some madman mare fit for Bedlam than
   elsewhere, sent him back again to Pilate. Oh! can you not follow him?
   You want no great imagination--as you see them dragging him back again!
   It is another journey along those streets; another scene of shameful
   tumult, bitter scorn, and cruel smitings. Why, he dies a hundred
   deaths, my brethren, it is not one--it is death on death the Savior
   bears, as he is dragged from tribunal to tribunal.

   See, they bring him to Pilate a second time. Pilate again is anxious to
   save him. He says, "I have found no fault in this man touching those
   things whereof ye accuse him: no, nor yet Herod; I will therefore
   release him!" "No, no," they say; and they clamor greatly. He proposes
   a cruel alternative, which yet he meant for tender mercy "I will
   therefore chastise him, and let him go." He gave him over to his
   lictors to be scourged. The Roman scourge was, as I have explained
   before, a most dreadful instrument. It was made of the sinews of oxen,
   and little sharp pieces of bone, which, you know, cause the most
   frightful lacerations, if by accident you even run them into your hand;
   little sharp pieces, splinters of bone, were intertwisted every here
   and there among the sinews; so that every time the lash came down some
   of these pieces of bone went right into the flesh, and tore off heavy
   thonglulls, and not only the blood but the very flesh would be rent
   away. The Savior was tied to the column, and thus beaten. He had been
   beaten before; but this of the Roman lictor was probably the most
   severe of his flagellations. After Pilate had beaten him, he gave him
   up to the soldiers for a short time, that they might complete the
   mockery, and so be able to witness that Pilate had no idea of the
   royalty of Jesus, and no complicity in any supposed treason. The
   soldiers put a crown of thorns on his head, and bowed before him, and
   spat on him, and put a reed in his hands; they smote the crown of
   thorns into his temple, they covered him with a purple robe; and then
   Pilate brought him out, saying, "Behold the man!" I believe he did it
   out of pity. He thought, "Now I have wounded him and cut him to pieces
   thus, I will not kill him; that sight will move their hearts." Oh! that
   Ecce Homo ought to have melted their hearts, if Satan had not made them
   harder than flints and sterner than steel. But no, they cry, "Crucify
   him! crucify him!" So Pilate listens to them again, and they change
   their note, "He hath spoken blasphemy." This was a wrong charge to
   bring; for Pilate, having his superstition again aroused, is the more
   afraid to put him to death; and he comes out again, and says, "I find
   no fault in him." What a strong contest between good and evil in that
   man's heart! But they cried out again, "If thou let this man go thou
   art not Caesar's friend." They hit the mark this time, and he yields to
   their clamor. He brings forth a basin of water, and he washes his hands
   before them all, and he says, "I am innocent of the blood of this just
   person: see ye to it." A poor way of escaping! That water could not
   wash the blood from his hands, though their cry did bring the blood on
   their heads--"His blood be on us and on our children." When that is
   done, Pilate takes the last desperate step of sitting down on the
   pavement in royal state; he condemns Jesus, and bids them take him
   away. But ere he is taken to execution, the dogs of war shall snap at
   him again. The Jews no doubt having bribed the soldiers to excessive
   zeal of scorn, they a second time--(oh! mark this; perhaps ye thought
   this happened only once. This is the fifth time he has thus been
   treated)--the soldiers took him back again, and once more they mocked
   him, once more they spat upon him, and treated him shamefully. So, you
   see, there was once when he first went to the house of Caiaphas; then
   after he was condemned there; then Herod and his men of war; then
   Pilate after the scourging; and then the soldiers, after the ultimate
   condemnation. See ye not how manifestly "he was despised and rejected
   of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; we hid as it were
   our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not." I do not
   know when I ever more heartily wished to be eloquent than I do now. I
   am talking to my own lips, and saying, "Oh! that these lips had
   language worthy of the occasion!" I do but faintly sketch the scene. I
   cannot lay on the glowing colors. Oh, that I could set forth thy grief,
   thou Man of Sorrows! God the Holy Ghost impress it on your memories and
   on your souls, and help you pitifully to consider the griefs of your
   blessed Lord.

   I will now leave this point, when I have made this practical
   application of it. Remember, dear friends, that this day, as truly as
   on that early morning, a division must be made among us. Either you
   must this day accept Christ as your King, or else his blood will be on
   you. I bring my Master out before your eyes, and say to you, "Behold
   your King." Are you willing to yield obedience to him? He claims first
   your implicit faith in his merit: will you yield to that? He claims,
   next, that you will take him to be Lord of your heart, and that, as he
   shall be Lord within, so he shall be Lord without. Which shall it be?
   Will you choose him now? Does the Holy Spirit in your soul--for without
   that you never will--does the Holy Spirit say, "Bow the knee, and take
   him as your king?" Thank God, then. But if not, his blood is on you, to
   condemn you. You crucified him. Pilate, Caiaphas, Herod, the Jews and
   Romans, all meet in you. You scourged him; you said, "Let him be
   crucified." Do not say it was not so. In effect you join their clamours
   when you refuse him; when you go your way to your farm and to your
   merchandise, and despise his love and his blood, you do spiritually
   what they did literally--you despise the King of kings. Come to the
   fountain of his blood, and wash and be clean.

   III. But we must close with a third remark. Christ really underwent yet
   a third trial. He was not only tried before the ecclesiastical and
   civil tribunals, but, he was really tried before the great democratical
   tribunal, that is, the assembly of the people in the street.

   You will say, "How?" Well, the trial was somewhat singular, but yet it
   was really a trial. Barabbas--a thief, a felon, a murderer, a traitor,
   had been captured; he was probably one of a band of murderers who were
   accustomed to come up to Jerusalem at the time of the feast, carrying
   daggers under their cloaks to stab persons in the crowd, and rob them,
   and then he would be gone again; besides that, he had tried to stir up
   sedition, setting himself up possibly as a leader of banditti. Christ
   was put into competition with this villain; the two were presented
   before the popular eye, and to the shame of manhood, to the disgrace of
   Adam's race, let it be remembered that the perfect, loving, tender,
   sympathizing, disinterested Savior was met with the word, "Crucify
   him!" and Barabbas, the thief, was preferred. "Well," says one, "that
   was atrocious." The same thing is put before you this morning--the very
   same thing; and every unregenerate man will make the same choice that
   the Jews did, and only men renewed by grace will act upon the contrary
   principle. I say, friend, this day I put before you Christ Jesus, or
   your sins. The reason why many come not to Christ is because they
   cannot give up their lusts, their pleasures, their profits. Sin is
   Barabbas; sin is a thief; it will rob your soul of its life; it will
   rob God of his glory. Sin is a murderer; it stabbed our father Adam; it
   slew our purity. Sin is a traitor; it rebels against the king of heaven
   and earth. If you prefer sin to Christ, Christ has stood at your
   tribunal, and you have given in your verdict that sin is better than
   Christ. Where is that man? He comes here every Sunday; and yet he is a
   drunkard? Where is he? You prefer that reeling demon Bacchus to Christ.
   Where is that man? He comes here. Yes; and where are his midnight
   haunts? The harlot and the prostitute can tell! You have preferred your
   own foul, filthy lust to Christ. I know some here that have their
   consciences open pricked, and yet there is no change in them. You
   prefer Sunday trading to Christ; you prefer cheating to Christ; you
   prefer the theater to Christ; you prefer the harlot to Christ; you
   prefer the devil himself to Christ, for he it is that is the father and
   author of these things. "No," says one, "I don't, I don't." Then I do
   again put this question, and I put it very pointedly to you--"If you do
   not prefer your sins to Christ, how is it that you are not a
   Christian?" I believe this is the main stumbling-stone, that "Men love
   darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil." We come not
   to Christ because of the viciousness of our nature, and depravity of
   our heart; and this is the depravity of your heart, that you prefer
   darkness to light, put bitter for sweet, and choose evil as your good.
   Well, I think I hear one saying, "Oh! I would be on Jesus Christ's
   side, but I did not look at it in that light; I thought the question
   was. "Would he be on my side? I am such a poor guilty sinner that I
   would fain stand anywhere, if Jesu's blood would wash me." Sinner!
   sinner! if thou talkest like that, then I will meet thee right
   joyously. Never was a man one with Christ till Christ was one with him.
   If you feel that you can now stand with Christ, and say, "Yes, despised
   and rejected, he is nevertheless my God, my Savior, my king. Will he
   accept me? Why, soul, he has accepted you; he has renewed you, or else
   you would not talk so. You speak like a saved man. You may not have the
   comfort of salvation, but surely there is a work of grace in your
   heart, God's divine election has fallen upon you, and Christ's precious
   redemption has been made for you, or else you would not talk so. You
   cannot be willing to come to Christ, and yet Christ reject you. God
   forbid we should suppose the possibility of any sinner crying after the
   Savior, and the Savior saying, "No, I will not have you." Blessed be
   his name, "Him that cometh to me," he says, "I will in no wise cast
   out." "Well," says one, "then I would have him to-day. How can I do
   it?" There is nothing asked of thee but this. Trust him! trust him!
   Believe that God put him in the stead of men; believe that what he
   suffered was accepted by God instead of their punishment; believe that
   this great equivalent for punishment can save you. Trust him; throw
   yourself on him; as a man commits himself to the waters, so do you;
   sink or swim! You will never sink, you will never sink; for "he that
   believeth on the Lord Jesus Christ hath everlasting life, and shall
   never come into condemnation."

   May these faint words upon so thrilling a subject bless your souls, and
   unto God be glory, for ever and ever. Amen and Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                  The New Song

   A Sermon

   (No. 496)

   Delivered on Sunday Evening, December 28th, 1862, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "O sing unto the Lord a new song; for he hath done marvellous things:
   his right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory."--Psalm
   98:1.

   THERE MUST BE NEW SONGS on new occasions of triumph. It would have been
   absurd for Miriam with her timbrel to conduct the music of the
   daughters of Israel to some old sonnet that they had learned in Egypt.
   Nay, an old song could not have spoken out the feelings of that
   generation, much less could it have served to utter a voice, the
   jubilant notes of which distant posterity should echo. They must have a
   new song while they cry the one unto the other, "Sing unto the Lord,
   for he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he
   thrown into the sea." The like had never been known before, but
   henceforth father to son must show forth its fame. In after times, when
   Deborah and Barak had routed the hosts of Sisera, they did not borrow
   Miriam's song; but they had a new psalm for the new event. They said,
   "Awake, awake, Deborah; awake, awake, utter a song: arise, Barak, and
   lead thy captivity captive, thou son of Abinoam." In after years, at
   the building of the temple, or on the solemn feast days, it was ever
   the wont of the inspired poets of the age to cry, "O come, let us sing
   unto the Lord a new song." Thus the grateful notes of praise have
   gathered volume and augmented their compass as the ages have rolled
   onwards; and these as it were only the rehearsals for a grand oratorio.
   What then, shall be the marvellous novelty and the matchless glory of
   that song which shall be sung at the last upon Mount Zion, when ten
   thousand times ten thousand of the warriors of God shall surround Jesus
   the conqueror, when we shall hear a voice from heaven as the voice of
   many waters, and like great thunders, when shall be heard the voice of
   harpers, harping with their harps; what shall be, I say, the strange
   novelty of that new song which they shall sing before the throne, when
   the four and twenty elders and the four living creatures shall fall
   before God upon their faces, and worship him for ever and ever? Would
   that our ears could anticipate that tremendous burst of "Hallelujah!
   hallelujah! hallelujah! the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth."

   I want to carry your minds, if I can, to-night, for a little season to
   that last and grandest, because the decisive victory, which shall tell
   out the name and fame of Jehovah in all his mighty attributes, and in
   all his majestic deeds, when the battle shall be over for ever, and the
   banner shall be furled and the sword shall be sheathed, because the
   last foe shall be destroyed, and placed beneath the feet of the
   Almighty victor; "His right hand, and his holy arm, hath him the
   victory." My text seems, however suitable it may be to other occasions,
   to be most fitting to that last and most splendid triumph.

   Three things there are in it: victory transcendent; Deity conspicuous;
   holiness glorified.

   I. First in our text we perceive very clearly VICTORY TRANSCENDENT.

   What shall we say of that victory? The shouts thereof already greet our
   ears, and the anthem that celebrates it is already prepared, when all
   the principalities and powers of this world shall be laid low, the
   pride of earth shall burst like a bubble, the great globe itself shall
   dissolve, and the things that are seen shall be folded up like a
   vesture, worn out, and crumbled with decay, that victory will be
   transcendent; there shall be none comparable to it; it shall stand
   matchless and unrivalled in all the wars of God, of angels, or men.

   Well, we must say of that victory, there shall be none to dispute the
   claim of God the Most High. The most splendid victories of one army
   have frequently been claimed by the opposite partisans. If you stand
   beneath the triumphal arch in Paris, you will see the names of some
   battles which you simple-minded Englishmen always thought had been won
   by British soldiers; but you discover that our history was all a
   mistake, and that the Frenchmen really retired victorious from the
   plain. I suppose in America it is always difficult to ascertain who has
   been the conqueror; and where there are no generals, and the whole
   affair seems to be which shall kill the most and wade through the most
   blood, there naturally must be difficulty in ascertaining who has won
   the day. But in this case there shall be no dispute whatever. The
   dragon's head shall be so completely broken, that he can do nothing but
   bite his iron bonds and growl out his confession that God is stronger
   than he. The hosts of hell shall have been so utterly routed, that the
   deep groans of dismay and shrieks of terror shall be the confession
   that Omnipotence rules their terrible doom. As for Death, when he shall
   see his captives all loosed before his eyes; as for the grave, when the
   key shall be rent from her grip, and all her treasures plucked from her
   grasp--death and the grave shall both acknowledge that their victory is
   gone for ever; Christ has been the conqueror, the Son of God who in our
   nature has already taken away the sting. There may be to-day some who
   write their names down as Atheists; there may be others who openly avow
   that they are the adversaries of God; and throughout the universe there
   are never wanting those who are hopeful that the issue will turn out as
   they wish--they are hopeful that wrong will master right; that evil
   shall drive out good, and darkness extinguish light. But there shall
   not be one such being left on that great day of victory; it shall be
   acknowledged even by the lip of despair that the Lord God, "with his
   own right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory."
   Blazoned across the sky in lightnings such as the eye of terror has
   never beheld before; thundered out with trumpet louder than even that
   which startled the sleeping dead, every tongue in earth and hell shall
   confess, because every ear hath heard, that the Lord reigneth, and is
   king for ever and ever.

   But further, as this victory will be certainly beyond all dispute, let
   me remind you it will be transcendent, because there shall be nothing
   that can occur to mar it. When the last shock of the dread artillery
   shall have been endured by the hosts of God's elect; when the last
   charge shall have driven the foes before them as thin clouds fly before
   a Biscay gale; then, as the heroes sit down to read the story of the
   war, they shall discover that there is nothing to mar the splendor of
   that glory, for it has been a victory throughout. Of all other
   victories we read, at one time the balance trembled--sometimes the host
   on this side wavered; perhaps for the first half day it seemed not only
   doubtful which would win, but it appeared as though the adversary at
   length defeated would certainly be the conqueror. But, beloved, when we
   shall read history in the light of heaven, we shall discover that God
   was never conquered--that never did the ranks reel; we shall see that
   even the most disastrous strokes of Providence, even the most dire
   calamities that ever occurred to the Church, were only the on-march,
   the tramp of victories yet to come. I am certain that those things we
   most deplore to-day will even become the subjects of the most
   marvellous gratitude to-morrow. We look to-day upon the black side of
   the question, and say, "Ah! here, indeed, goodness was foiled;" but
   when we look at the whole matter through, we shall see that every dark
   and bending line meets in the center of the divine plan, and that which
   seemed the most incongruous and out of place with its fellow, was the
   most fitting and the most necessary of the whole programme. Satan at
   the last shall not be able to put his finger upon any spot of the
   battle-field and say, "Here my hosts routed the troops of Emmanuel."
   Everywhere it shall be seen that, from the dawning day, when first he
   struck the blow at Eve and made her sin, to the very last, when Christ
   shall drag him up the everlasting hills, led captive at his chariot
   wheels, from the first to the last, the Lord's "right hand, and his
   holy arm, hath gotten him the victory."

   Remember, too, that this is a victory all along the line. The general's
   cautious eye marks that there the left wing has driven the adversary
   back, but for that right wing bring up the reserves, let not the ranks
   be broken. Stern liners, let your chivalry be seen yonder for that wing
   reels. Generally in the battle some part must fail, while in this
   portion or the other there shall be success. Ah! but at the last when
   Christ shall stand, and bare his brow in heaven's sunlight, and all his
   angels shall be with him, it shall be seen that they were everywhere
   triumphant. The blood on Madagascar's rocks shall not defeat the
   on-march of God's armies. Saints may be burned, may be sawn in sunder,
   may wander about in sheep skins and goat skins, but they shall be
   victorious everywhere. Spain may shut her gates against the gospel, and
   the inquisition may make that place its stronghold, but as sure as
   there is a God in heaven, Christ shall be conqueror there. Tyrants may
   pass edicts to exterminate Christians, conclaves may make decrees to
   drive out the religion of Jesus, but in every place, in every land,
   where ever foot of man has trodden this green earth, shall there be
   victory; from the north to the south, from the east to the west,
   everywhere shall be triumph--China and Japan, Brazil and Chili, the
   islands of the south, the frozen regions of the north, even Africa with
   her sable sons, the dwellers in the wilderness shall bow before him and
   lick the dust at his feet. There shall be victory all along the line.
   Not from one place merely, but from all, shall be heard the tune--"His
   own right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory."

   And it shall be a victory Sustained by the news of the morrow. Not so
   among the embattled hosts of men. How hard to brook the morrow! Then
   the general's brow is dark, and his eye is heavy, for the list of the
   dead and wounded is brought in for inspection. "Another victory like
   this," says one, "and I am defeated for ever. It is dearly purchased,"
   saith he, "with the blood of these mothers' sons. My comrades and
   companions in arms must bite the ground to let the country live." But
   in that last great battle of God the muster-roll shall be found without
   one missing in it; as they call their names they shall all answer,
   there shall not be one left dead upon the field. "How so? How so?"
   saith unbelief, "are they not dead and buried now? Have not their
   bodies lain to bleach upon the side of the Alps? Have they not been
   burned in the fire and scattered as ashes to the four winds? Do not the
   saints sleep to-day in our cemeteries, and in our grave-yards, and doth
   not the deep engulf full many a body that was a temple of the Holy
   Ghost?" I answer, yes, but they shall come again. Refrain thine eyes
   from weeping, O daughter of Jerusalem; refrain thine heart from sorrow,
   for they shall come again from the land of their captivity. We that are
   alive and remain shall not have the preference beyond them that sleep,
   "For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised
   incorruptible, and we shall be changed; so when this corruptible shall
   have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on
   immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written,
   Death is swallowed up in victory." "His right hand, and his holy arm,
   hath gotten him the victory."

   And sometimes, on the morrow, the general feels the glory of the
   victory is marred, for there are many prisoners; they are not dead,
   their corpses lie not on the field, but they have been taken off by the
   opposite parties, and they are a prey; and who knoweth what may become
   of them; what dungeons may contain them; to what tortures they may be
   put. But in this last victory of God, there shall be no prisoners, no
   prisoners left in the hand of his enemy. I know there are some who say
   that we may be children of God, and yet fall from grace and perish. My
   brethren, it is a foul slander upon the faithfulness and power of the
   Redeemer. I know that all he undertakes to save he will save, and he
   will bring the troops off from the battle field, every brow crowned
   with laurel, not one slain, not one a prisoner; the gates of hell shall
   never enclose the ransomed of the Lord; amongst the groans of the lost
   there shall never be heard a sigh from one that was once a saint before
   God. There are no prisoners. March out your prisoners, Prince of Hell,
   bring forth, if you can, one soul that Jesus bought with blood, one
   soul that the Spirit quickened, one soul that the Eternal Father gave
   to the hands of the Great Surety to keep for ever--bring him forth. Ah!
   ye have none. "Shall the prey be taken from the mighty, or the lawful
   captive delivered?" Thus saith the Lord, the God of hosts, "My ransomed
   shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon
   their heads;" then shall it be said, "His right hand, and his holy arm,
   hath gotten him the victory."

   But, beloved, after the battle is over, the conqueror wipes his brow
   and says, "Ah, but the scattered hosts may rally, and they who were
   driven to-day like chaff before the wind, may rise again, and long may
   be the campaign, and fierce the struggle, before we have stamped out
   the sparks of war. "Sleep on your arms," saith he, "you may be attacked
   to-morrow, be ready for the cry of boot and saddle,' for there may be a
   charge again ere many hours are spent." But not so in this case: the
   victory is crushing, total, final; it is once for ever with evil, with
   darkness, with hell; they shall never again be able to tempt the
   righteous, or to cast them down, or to pale their cheeks with fear;
   they shall never be able again to win the world to their dominion, they
   are routed, routed, routed for ever. Hosts of evil, it is not your heel
   that is bruised--your head is broken; the Lord hath used his people as
   his battle-axe and his weapons of war, and he hath cleft ye and left ye
   without might or strength for ever and for ever. So, dear friends, this
   is our joy and comfort, that once the battle over, the whole campaign
   is ended; there shall be no further onslaughts; we rest eternally; we
   triumph everlastingly; no more fights to risk, no more conflicts in
   which to tug and strive. This shall be the note that shall ring
   throughout the arches of eternity--"The Lord's right hand, and his holy
   arm, hath gotten him the victory for ever and for ever."

   I think these are two good reasons why I should say this victory is
   transcendent--there is none to dispute it, and there is nothing to mar
   it.

   But yet further we will venture to enlarge upon this victory by shewing
   its particulars. The ultimate triumph and victory of God in all his
   purposes will lie in several things. How glorious the fact that all
   whom he ordained to save are saved! Calling was the first work which he
   wrought in them; they were called every one of them, but like the rest
   of mankind they would not come; their wills were so desperate that they
   resisted long; the minister preached at them; their mother wept over
   them; their father entreated them; providence came and hewed them;
   afflictions broke them in pieces, and they were unsaved still; but not
   in one case where God ordains to call has the calling failed. In every
   case where his electing love hath set its purpose, the will is turned
   round, the affections yield, the judgment gives way, the man is
   subdued--he is called, he is quickened. There may be some such here
   to-night, who think, "Well, I never would be saved upon such terms as
   acknowledging the sovereign grace of God, even if he wills to do it."
   Thy will must give way before the crushing force of the will of God. He
   hath mysterious ways of finding an entrance into the most reluctant
   heart, and taking up his throne there for ever.

   How clearly is this victory seen in the subjugation of the lusts and
   passions of the called sinner! He may have been a drunkard, he thought
   he could not give it up, but the rod of iron "dashes in pieces the
   potter's vessel." He may have loved the pleasures of the flesh, they
   were dear to him as his right eye, but grace overcame the most darling
   lust, and threw to the earth the most pampered sin.

   Not less conspicuously will it appear in the perseverance of every
   saint. Not a stone will have been left unturned by the adversary to
   prevent the saints holding on; the caverns of hell will be emptied
   against God's redeemed; Satan and his myrmidons will do their utmost to
   cast them down to destruction, but they shall hold on their way, they
   shall wax stronger and stronger, and when at last the gates of heaven
   shall be fast closed, because there are no more to enter, it shall be
   proclaimed, while devils bite their iron bands in shame, that not a
   soul who was written in the Book of Life was lost, not one whom Jesus
   bought with blood has been unredeemed, not one quickened by grace
   suffered to die, not one who truly began the heavenly race turned aside
   from it, not one concerning whom it was said, "These are mine, and in
   the day when I make up my jewels they shall be mine;" not one of these
   is lost, but all saved, saved eternally. Oh! that will be a splendid
   victory! What can be greater? You that know the conflict through which
   the child of God has to pass will bear me witness that if you get to
   heaven, you will sing with all your might the conqueror's hymn. And I
   think we all should do the same. I remember saying once that if ever I
   got to heaven I would sing the loudest there, for I owed the most to
   sovereign grace. But when I came down stairs, one said to me, "You made
   a mistake, I shall sing more loudly than you, for I owe more than you
   do." And I found that was the general opinion, that each brother and
   each sister thought that he owed most to divine grace. Now, if we are
   all to sing loudest what a shout of triumph there will be! And I
   suppose the verse in our hymn is quite true to the apprehension of each
   of us--

   "Then loudest of the crowd I'll sing,

   While heaven's resounding mansions ring

   With shouts of sovereign grace."

   What a transcendent triumph!

   Not a few shall there be to share the triumph, but a multitude that no
   man can number; for the glory shall be enhanced by the salvation of so
   many. Heaven is none of your narrow places for narrow-hearted bigots.
   No, brethren, our largest imagination never yet could grasp heaven, but
   it will hold multitudes of multitudes. Nor will the praise be any the
   less, when we consider that there were so many of such varied clans and
   climes, some of all kindreds on the face of the earth, swarthy or
   white. There shall be found in heaven the vilest sinner that lived,
   there shall be brought thither the proudest rebel, and the stoutest
   hearted, and the most obstinate of sinners; there shall be such in
   heaven as would have made a wonder in hell, some, I say, who would have
   been such great sinners, had they been suffered to go to hell, that
   their dreadful fall would even hell itself appal, but they are in
   heaven, saved by sovereign grace. And, O beloved! as there are such
   persons, this will help to make the victory grand, that they were saved
   by such means, such simple means, by the simple preaching of the
   gospel; not by wisdom, not by science, not by eloquence, but by the
   simple telling out of the story of the cross. How this will tend to
   make the triumph brighter than it could have been in any other way.

   And, O beloved, this victory will excel all others in the routing of
   such foes, such cruel, such crafty, such mighty, such numerous foes.
   Sin, sin, it is a name of horror--sin o'erthrown. Death--what glooms
   are concentrated in that word!--death destroyed. Satan--what craft,
   what cruelties, what malice linger there--Satan bound hand and foot,
   and led captive. Such a victory over such foes. I find no words in any
   tongue by which I can describe its magnitude. And oh! the results of
   that victory, how bright! Souls knit to Christ by such love, tongues
   tuned to such music, hearts burning with such fire, heaven filled with
   such devout, such holy inhabitants, the ears of Deity regaled with such
   grateful music, heaven filled with such myriads of happy spirits. The
   peaceful results, setting aside the overthrow, will be enough to make
   this victory grander than all the triumphs of men or angels put
   together.

   Say now, and gather up all your enthusiasm to say it--What a victory
   shall that be, when there shall not be a single trophy in the hands of
   the adversary. The victory shall be unparalleled in this, that all the
   success which the enemy thought he had achieved shall only tend to make
   his defeat the more galling, and add lustre to the victorious King of
   kings. You see sometimes hanging up in old minsters tattered flags,
   that were taken from the adversary; sometimes when the report of battle
   comes in, we are told the battle was won, that so many cannon and so
   many flags were left with the enemy. But, O Lord God! thou hast not
   left a single trophy in the hands of thy foe. I said he had no
   prisoners, but he shall not even have a flag, not one truth rent in
   pieces, not one doctrine of revelation hung up to rot in the minsters
   of hell; not one single attribute of God that shall be trailed in the
   mire, not one single truth of Christianity to be laughed at, and
   despised by fiends, not a trophy; there shall not a hair of your head
   perish, not so much as that shall Satan gain, not a bone, not a
   fragment of the saint, either of his body or his spirit--no trophies
   left. And all this will make hell angry, to think that God gave him
   vantage-ground, let him contend with poor feeble men; but God was in
   man, and fought with Satan--man, a poor feeble worm, fought with Satan,
   and, like David, he threw the stone of faith at the giant's head, and
   destroyed him with his own weapons. God hath destroyed death by the
   death of Christ, destroyed sin by the great sin-bearer, yea he has
   destroyed the dragon by the seed of a woman, who bruised his head with
   that very seed whose heel the serpent once did bite. Glory be unto
   thee, O Lord! This is thy victory. The more we muse upon it, the higher
   doth our rapture rise, and the more prepared do our hearts grow to peal
   forth the words of the Psalmist, "His right hand, and his holy arm hath
   gotten him the victory."

   II. Secondly; observe that DEITY IS CONSPICUOUS HERE.

   Man is not made mention of. There is no name of Moses, or of the
   prophets, or of the apostles here; I read not the names of Chrysostom
   and Augustine, nor of those modern fathers of the Church, such as
   Calvin, and Zwingle--the stars are lost in the blaze of the sun. O God!
   how glorious is thy right arm, and how do thy disciples, thy children,
   hide their heads and say, "Not unto us, but unto thy name be all the
   glory!" But mark, beloved, as they are not mentioned it is not because
   the mention need to be avoided, for the more we talk of
   instrumentalities, or rather think about them--(I do not say the more
   we think of them, but the more we think about them)--the more persuaded
   we shall be that it only adds to God's glory to use men, for men are
   such poor tools to work with. You have heard of the celebrated painter
   who gained renown by painting with poor brushes, when the good ones
   were stolen; and Quintin Matsys, who made a cover for the well without
   tools, when all the proper tools were taken away; he wrought the
   ironwork with such poor implements as he could get. So was the skill of
   the painter or artisan admired in that he could produce such effects
   under such disadvantageous conditions. Ah! then what an artist must he
   be! they exclaim concerning the one. And they look upon this piece of
   ironwork, and say of the other, "What! no graving tools, no casting,
   how could he do it?" So when we shall come to look at men, when we look
   at them in the light which eternity shall reveal, we shall say of the
   best of them, "How can the Lord have won such victories with such poor
   things as these!" So that you may mention the instruments every one of
   them, from righteous Abel down to the last preacher of the Word, and
   yet it shall be true, that the victory shall speak the sole praise of
   the General. No doubt, dear friends, this will be a part of the
   splendor of the triumph to think that he did win by man. It was in man
   that Satan conquered: Adam and Eve were led astray by the crafty wiles
   of Satan. It is by man that death came, and by man comes the
   resurrection of the dead. This will be gall and wormwood in the cup of
   the lost, when they shall see the Man Christ Jesus, the seed of the
   woman, sitting at the right hand of God. This is judgment's greatest
   terror, "Hide us from the Lamb;" and this shall be hell's greatest
   horror, "Hide us from the Lamb; let us not behold his face." But glory
   be unto thee, most gracious God, for thou hast lifted man up above all
   the works of thy hands, and given him dominion above all creatures, so
   that principalities and powers are put beneath his feet in the person
   of Christ. And all this only proves that "His own right-hand, and his
   holy arm, hath gotten him the victory."

   I wish I might enlarge here and speak of the conspicuous glory of God
   in this respect, that all the persons of the Trinity will be glorified,
   the Father, the Son, the Spirit. All the attributes of God, his
   unsearchable greatness, and his unrivalled majesty, his grace, his
   power, his truth, his justice, his holiness, his immutability, these
   shall shine forth with resplendent lustre. His wondrous works and his
   terrible acts shall declare his praise; they shall be the theme of
   every tongue, and the topic of every conversation. "Men shall speak of
   the glory of thy kingdom, and talk of thy power." All his decrees shall
   be seen in their final accomplishment, every one of them fulfilled, the
   counsel answering to the providence. Of all that the Father willed, of
   all that the Son performed, of all that the Spirit revealed, not one
   thing is frustrated. How shall I gather up these things? O for the
   voice of a mighty angel! O for a seraph's lip of fire, to speak now of
   the splendor of that last day, when not only the great but the little,
   not only the abundance of God's providence, and the great deeps of his
   counsel, but even the small deeds of his lovingkindness shall be made
   to sing forth his praise, when not only the leviathian deeds of God
   shall make the deep to praise the Lord, but even the little fish that
   move therein, shall leap up to join the chorus, and everywhere from
   everything, for everything, there shall be heard the tune--"His right
   hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory."

   III. We have in our text a third thought, which we can only hint at. In
   all this--HOLINESS WILL BE GLORIFIED.

   Note the adjective,--"His holy arm." When we contemplate any actions of
   God, you will notice that the name which cherubs utter, "Holy, holy,
   holy, Lord God of Sabaoth," is always brought out. Where Christ bears
   sin, and overcomes it, I hear the cry of "Holy, holy, holy," from the
   cross. Where Jesus breaks the tomb, and conquers death, I seem to hear
   the note of "Holy, holy, holy," for it makes the day holy on which the
   deed was done. And when he ascends to glory, and the Father says, "Well
   done," we seem to hear still the note, "Holy, holy, holy." In
   everything, from the manger to the cross, and from the cross onward to
   the crown, holiness becometh God's house, and all God's acts for ever.
   Is it not, dear friends, after all the hinge of the struggle? Is not
   this the point, just as you know in great battles, there is some one
   mountain or hill, which is the object of struggle, not for the value of
   that particular hill, but because on that the battle will depend, so
   holiness is just the point, the rallying point between God and Satan.
   Here are the two war-cries. The hosts of evil cry, "Sin, sin, sin;" but
   the cry of the armies of the Lord of hosts is this, "Holiness,
   holiness, holiness." Every time we strike a blow it is "Holiness;" and
   every time they attack us it is "Sin." Sin is the real object of their
   aim. When Satan attacks, it is to stab at holiness, and when we resist,
   it is to guard holiness, or to drive back his sin. Mark you, this, I
   say, is the point of the battle, and by that ye shall be able to judge
   on which side you are. What is your war-cry? What is your war-cry? When
   Cromwell fought with the soldiers of the covenant at Dunbar, you will
   remember they were distinguished by their cries, on the one side, "The
   Covenant, the Covenant;" and on the other side, "The Lord of hosts, the
   Lord of hosts." And so to-night there is the cry on either side, "Sin
   and the pleasures thereof." Is that your war-cry, friend? You say
   "No,"--how is it then you were at the theater the other night? You say
   "No,"--how is it then you frequent the tavern? You say "No,"--how is it
   then you have got so many misgotten gains about you now? You say,
   "No,"--how is it you make appointments for deeds of sin, and perhaps
   to-night, or to-morrow night, intend to fulfill them? I tell you, sirs,
   there are many of you whose war-cry to-night is "Sin, and the pleasures
   thereof." On the other hand, I trust there are not a few in this vast
   throng, who can say, "Oh! sir, feebly though I speak it, yet my war"
   cry is Holiness, and the cross'"--that goeth with it, "Holiness, and
   the cross." Ah! beloved you are just now on the side that is laughed
   at, the world points at you and says, "There are your saints." Yes,
   here they are, sir, what dare you say against them? Abide your time,
   man, and have your jeering out; ye shall change that laugh for
   everlasting howlings by-and-bye. "There are your Methodists; there are
   your hypocritical professors." What, sir, dare you say it? The servants
   of the living God will know how to answer you in that day, when their
   king shall be revealed in the clouds of heaven, and his glory shall be
   manifest, and they shall share his triumph, and all flesh shall see it,
   for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it. The world knoweth us not,
   because it knew him not. "It doth not yet appear what we shall be, but
   when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he
   is." Come, we will pass that question again to-night, "What is your
   war-cry?" There has been a good deal of wickedness these last few days
   in London. I love to see holy mirth; I delight to see men well feasted.
   I like Christmas; I wish it came six times a-year. I like the
   generosity of those who give to the poor. Let it be extended. I would
   not stop a smile. God forbid me! But cannot men be happy without
   drunkenness? cannot they be mirthful without blasphemy? Is there no
   possibility of being happy without lasciviousness? Are there no other
   ways of finding true pleasure besides selling your soul to the devil? O
   sirs! I say there have been thousands in this huge city who have been
   going about the streets, and whose cry has been, "Sin, and the
   pleasures thereof! Where is the music-hall? Where is the Casino? Where
   is the Coal Hole? Where is the tavern? Where is the ball-room? Sin, and
   the pleasures thereof." O Satan! thou hast many soldiers, and right
   brave soldiers they are, and never are they afraid of thy cause, nor
   ashamed of thy name nor of thy unholy work. Ay, thou art well served, O
   prince of hell! and rich will be thy wages when thy drudges earn the
   fire for which they have labored. But I hope and trust there are some
   to-night who will change their watch-note. Ye have not nailed your
   colors to the mast, have you? Even if you have, by God's grace I would
   pull the nails out. Are ye determined to die? Will you serve the black
   prince for ever, and perish with him? Jesus Emmanuel, the captain of
   our salvation, bids me cry to you, "Enlist beneath my banner." Believe
   in him, trust in him, and live. Oh! trust the merit of the cross, the
   virtue of the blood, the tears, and the dying groans. This it is to be
   a Christian, and ever afterwards this shall be your
   war-note--"Holiness, and the cross thereof!" O take this, all! Fear
   not. The cross with holiness will bring the mortifying of the flesh,
   the shame of the world, and the reproach of men. Take both, for now the
   battle is raging. But, O my brethren, another crush, and another, and
   another, and another, and we shall gain the top of the hill, and the
   shout of "Holiness and the cross!" shall be answered by the echoes all
   round the world, for everywhere holiness shall be victorious, and men
   shall know the Lord. Ay, and the echoes of heaven shall answer, too,
   and the spirits of the sanctified shall cry, "Holiness, and the crown
   thereof!" Then we will change one word of our watch-note; and as our
   enemies have broken before us and are utterly destroyed; as they melt
   away like the fat of rams; as unto smoke they consume away, we will
   sing for ever, "Holiness, and the crown thereof! holiness, and the
   crown thereof!" But that shall be only one note: this shall be the
   song--"His own right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the
   victory."

   I would that some soul would believe in Jesus to-night, that it might
   share in the victory. I would that young man's heart would be given to
   Christ to-night, or yours yonder. He deserves it of you: if it were
   only his mercy in having spared you, he deserves it. And thou
   greyheaded sinner there, does he not deserve thy heart for sparing thee
   so long? Yield, I pray thee; his love meets thee. Yield; his terrors
   threaten thee. Yield; lay down thy weapons, and be for ever forgiven.
   May God help thee to do it. The Lord prove his sovereignty and his
   power to-night in the conversion of many of his chosen; and unto him
   shall be the glory for ever and ever. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                            The Procession of Sorrow

   A Sermon

   (No. 497)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 1st, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "And they took Jesus, and led him away."--John 19:16.

   NEXT SATURDAY ALL EYES will be fixed on a great Prince who shall ride
   through our streets with his Royal Bride. To-day I invite your
   attention to another Prince, marching in another fashion through his
   metropolis. London shall see the glory of the one: Jerusalem beheld the
   shame of the other. Come hither, ye lovers of Immanuel, and I will show
   you this great sight--the King of sorrow marching to his throne of
   grief, the cross. I claim for the procession of my Lord an interest
   superior to the pageant you are now so anxiously expecting. Will your
   Prince be sumptuously arrayed? Mine is adorned with garments crimsoned
   with his own blood. Will your Prince be decorated with honors? Behold,
   my King is not without his crown--alas, a crown of thorns set with ruby
   drops of blood! Will your thoroughfares be thronged? So were the
   streets of Jerusalem; for great multitudes followed him. Will ye raise
   a clamor of tumultuous shouting? Such a greeting had the Lord of glory,
   but alas, it was not the shout of welcome, but the yell of "Away with
   him! away with him." High in the air ye bid your banners wave about the
   heir of England's throne, but how shall ye rival the banner of the
   sacred cross, that day for the first time borne among the sons of men.
   For the thousands of eyes which shall gaze upon the youthful Prince, I
   offer the gaze of men and angels. All nations gathered about my Lord,
   both great and mean men clustered around his person. From the sky the
   angels viewed him with wonder and amazement; the spirits of the just
   looked from the windows of heaven upon the scene, yea, the great God
   and Father watched each movement of his suffering Son. But ye ask me
   where is the spouse, the king's daughter fair and beautiful? My Lord is
   not altogether without his espoused one. The Church, the bride of
   Christ, was there conformed to the image of her Lord; she was there, I
   say, in Simon, bearing the cross, and in the women weeping and
   lamenting. Say not that the comparison is strained, for in a moment I
   will withdraw it and present the contrast. Grant me only thus much of
   likeness: we have here a Prince with his bride, bearing his banner, and
   wearing his royal robes, traversing the streets of his own city,
   surrounded by a throng who shout aloud, and a multitude who gaze with
   interest profound. But how vast was the disparity! The most careless
   eye discerns it. Yonder young Prince is ruddy with the bloom of early
   youth and health; my Master's visage is more marred than that of any
   man. See, it has been blackened with bruises, and stained with the
   shameful spittle of them that derided him. Your heir of royalty is
   magnificently drawn along the streets in his stately chariot, sitting
   at his ease: my princely sufferer walks with weary feet, marking the
   road with crimson drops; not borne, but bearing; not carried, but
   carrying his cross. Your Prince is surrounded by a multitude of
   friends; hark how they joyously welcome him! And well they may; the son
   of such noble parents deserves a nation's love. But my Prince is hated
   without a cause. Hark how their loud voices demand that he should be
   hastened to execution! How harshly grate the cruel syllables, "Crucify
   him! crucify him!" Your noble Prince is preparing for his marriage:
   mine is hastening to his doom. Oh, shame that men should find so much
   applause for Princes and none for the King of kings. Yet, dear friends,
   to some eyes there will be more attraction in the procession of sorrow,
   of shame, and of blood, than in you display of grandeur and joy. Oh! I
   pray you, lend your ears to such faint words as I can utter on a
   subject all too high for me, the march of the world's Maker along the
   way of his great sorrow; your Redeemer traversing the rugged path of
   suffering, along which he went with heaving heart and heavy footsteps,
   that he might pave a royal road of mercy for his enemies.

   I. After our Lord Jesus Christ had been formally condemned by Pilate,
   our text tells us he was led away. I invite your attention to CHRIST AS
   LED FORTH.

   Pilate, as we reminded you, scourged our Savior according to the common
   custom of Roman courts. The lictors executed their cruel office upon
   his shoulders with their rods and scourges, until the stripes had
   reached the full number. Jesus is formally condemned to crucifixion,
   but before he is led away he is given over to the Praetorian guards
   that those rough legionaries may insult him. It is said that a German
   regiment was at that time stationed in Judea, and I should not wonder
   if they were the lineal ancestors of those German theologians of modern
   times who have mocked the Savior, tampered with revelation, and cast
   the vile spittle of their philosophy into the face of truth. The
   soldiery mocked and insulted him in every way that cruelty and scorn
   could devise. The platted crown of thorns, the purple robe, the reed
   with which they smote him, and the spittle with which they disfigured
   him, all these marked the contempt in which they held the King of the
   Jews. The reed was no mere rush from the brook, it was of a stouter
   kind, of which easterns often make walkingstaves, the blows were cruel
   as well as insulting; and the crown was not of straw but thorn, hence
   it produced pain as well as pictured scorn. When they had mocked him
   they pulled off the purple garment he had worn, this rough operation
   would cause much pain. His wounds unstaunched and raw, fresh bleeding
   from beneath the lash, would make this scarlet robe adhere to him, and
   when it was dragged off; his gashes would bleed anew. We do not read
   that they removed the crown of thorns, and therefore it is most
   probable, though not absolutely certain, that our Savior wore it along
   the Via Dolorosa, and also bore it upon his head when he was fastened
   to the cross. Those pictures which represent our Lord as wearing the
   crown of thorns upon the tree have therefore at least some scriptural
   warrant. They put his own clothes upon him, because they were the
   perquisites of the executioner, as modern hangmen take the garments of
   those whom they execute, so did the four soldiers claim a right to his
   raiment. They put on him his own clothes that the multitudes might
   discern him to be the same man, the very man who had professed to be
   the Messias. We all know that a different dress will often raise a
   doubt about the identity of an individual; but lo! the people saw him
   in the street, not arrayed in the purple robe, but wearing his garment
   without seam, woven from the top throughout, the common smock-frock, in
   fact, of the countrymen of Palestine, and they said at once, "Yes, tis
   he, the man who healed the sick, and raised the dead; the mighty
   teacher who was wont to sit upon the mountain-top, or stand in the
   temple courts and preach with authority, and not as the Scribes." There
   can be no shadow of doubt but that our Lord was really crucified, and
   no one substituted for him. How they led him forth we do not know.
   Romish expositors, who draw upon their prolific fancy for their facts,
   tell us that he had a rope about his neck with which they roughly
   dragged him to the tree; this is one of the most probable of their
   surmises, since it was not unusual for the Romans thus to conduct
   criminals to the gallows. We care, however, far more for the fact that
   he went forth carrying his cross upon his shoulders. This was intended
   at once to proclaim his guilt and intimate his doom. Usually the crier
   went before with an announcement such as this, "This is Jesus of
   Nazareth, King of the Jews, who for making himself a King, and stirring
   up the people, has been condemned to die." This cross was a ponderous
   machine; not so heavy, perhaps, as some pictures would represent it,
   but still no light burden to a man whose shoulders were raw with the
   lashes of the Roman scourge. He had been all night in agony, he had
   spent the early morning at the hall of Caiaphas, he had been hurried,
   as I described to you last Sunday, from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate
   to Herod, and from Herod back again to Pilate; he had, therefore, but
   little strength left, and you will not wonder that by-and-bye we find
   him staggering beneath his load, and that another is called to bear it
   with him. He goes forth, then, bearing his cross.

   What learn we here as we see Christ led forth? Do we not see here the
   truth of that which was set forth in shadow by the scape-goat? Did not
   the high-priest bring the scape-goat, and put both his hands upon its
   head, confessing the sins of the people, that thus those sins might be
   laid upon the goat? Then the goat was led away by a fit man into the
   wilderness, and it carried away the sins of the people, so that if they
   were sought for, they could not be found. Now we see Jesus brought
   before the priests and rulers, who pronounce him guilty; God himself
   imputes our sins to him; he was made sin for us; and, as the substitute
   for our guilt, bearing our sin upon his shoulders--for that cross was a
   sort of representation in wood of our guilt and doom--we see the great
   Scape-goat led away by the appointed officers of justice. Bearing upon
   his back the sin of all his people, the offering goes without the camp.
   Beloved, can you say he carried your sin? As you look at the cross upon
   his shoulders does it represent your sin? Oh I raise the question, and
   be not satisfied unless you can answer it most positively in the
   affirmative. There is one way by which you can tell whether he carried
   your sin or not. Hast thou laid thy hand upon his head, confessed thy
   sin, and trusted in him? Then thy sin lies not on thee; not one single
   ounce or drachma of it lies on thee; it has all been transferred by
   blessed imputation to Christ, and he bears it on his shoulder in the
   form of yonder heavy cross. What joy, what satisfaotion this will give
   if we can sing--

   "My soul looks back to see

   The burden thou didst bear,

   When hastening to the accursed tree,

   And knows her guilt was there!"

   Do not let the picture vanish till you have satisfied yourselves once
   for all that Christ was here the substitute for you.

   Let us muse upon the fact that Jesus was conducted without the gates of
   the city. It was the common place of death. That little rising ground,
   which perhaps was called Golgotha, the place of a skull, from its
   somewhat resembling the crown of a man's skull, was the common place of
   execution. It was one of Death's castles; here he stored his gloomiest
   trophies; he was the grim lord of that stronghold. Our great hero, the
   destroyer of Death, bearded the lion in his den, slew the monster in
   his own castle, and dragged the dragon captive from his own den.
   Methinks Death thought it a splendid triumph when he saw the Master
   impaled and bleeding in the dominions of destruction; little did he
   know that the grave was to be rifled, and himself destroyed, by that
   crucified Son of man.

   Was not the Redeemer led thither to aggravate his shame? Calvary was
   like our Old Bailey; it was the usual place of execution for the
   district. Christ must die a felon's death, and it must be upon the
   felon's gallows, in the place where horrid crimes had met their due
   reward. This added to his shame; but, methinks, in this, too, he draws
   the nearer to us, "He was numbered with the transgressors, and bare the
   sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors."

   But further, my brethren; this, I think, is the great lesson from
   Christ's being slaughtered without the gate of the city--let us go
   forth, therefore, without the camp, bearing his reproach. You see there
   the multitude are leading him forth from the temple. He is not allowed
   to worship with them. The ceremonial of the Jewish religion denies him
   any participation in its pomps; the priests condemn him never again to
   tread the hallowed floors, never again to look upon the consecrated
   altars in the place of his people's worship. He is exiled from their
   friendship, too. No man dare call him friend now, or whisper a word of
   comfort to him. Nay more; he is banished from their society, as if he
   were a leper whose breath would be infectious whose presence would
   scatter plague. They force him without the walls, and are not satisfied
   till they have rid themselves of his obnoxious presence. For him they
   have no tolerance. Barrabas may go free; the thief and the murderer may
   be spared; but for Christ there is no word, but "Away with such a
   fellow from the earth! It is not fit that he should live." Jesus is
   therefore hunted out of the city, beyond the gate, with the will and
   force of his oven nation, but he journeys not against his own will;
   even as the lamb goeth as willingly to the shambles as to the meadow,
   so doth Christ cheerfully take up his cross and go without the camp.
   See, brethren, here is a picture of what we may expect from men if we
   are faithful to our Master. It is not likely that we shall be able to
   worship with their worship. They prefer a ceremonial pompous and gaudy;
   the swell of music, the glitter of costly garments, the parade of
   learning all these must minister grandeur to the world's religion, and
   thus shut out the simple followers of the Lamb. The high places of
   earth's worship and honor are not for us. If we be true to our Master
   we shall soon lose the friendship of the world. The sinful find our
   conversation distasteful; in our pursuits the carnal have no interest;
   things dear to us are dross to worldlings, while things precious to
   them are contemptible to us. There have been times, and the days may
   come again, when faithfulness to Christ has entailed exclusion from
   what is called "society." Even now to a large extent the true Christian
   is like a Pariah, lower than the lowest caste, in the judgment of some.
   The world has in former days counted it God's service to kill the
   saints. We are to reckon upon all this, and should the worst befal us,
   it is to be no strange thing to us. These are silken days, and religion
   fights not so stern a battle. I will not say it is because we are
   unfaithful to our Master that the world is more kind to us, but I half
   suspect it is, and it is very possible that if we were more thoroughly
   Christians the world would more heartily detest us, and if we would
   cleave more closely to Christ we might expect to receive more slander,
   more abuse, less tolerance, and less favor from men. You young
   believers, who have lately followed Christ, should father and mother
   forsake you, remember you were bidden to reckon upon it; should
   brothers and sisters deride, you must put this down as part of the cost
   of being a Christian. Godly working-men, should your employers or your
   fellow-workers frown upon you; wives, should your husbands threaten to
   cast you out, remember, without the camp was Jesus' place, and without
   the camp is yours. Oh! ye Christian men, who dream of trimming your
   sails to the wind, who seek to win the world's favor, I do beseech you
   cease from a course so perilous. We are in the world, but we must never
   be of it; we are not to be secluded like monks in the cloister, but we
   are to be separated like Jews among Gentiles; men, but not of men;
   helping, aiding, befriending, teaching, comforting, instructing, but
   not sinning either to escape a frown or to win a smile. The more
   manifestly there shall be a great gulf between the Church and the
   world, the better shall it be for both; the better for the world, for
   it shall be thereby warned; the better for the Church, for it shall be
   thereby preserved. Go ye, then, like the Master, expecting to be
   abused, to wear an ill-name, and to earn reproach; go ye, like him,
   without the camp.

   II. Let us now gaze for awhile upon CHRIST CARRYING HIS CROSS.

   I have shown you, believer, your position; let me now show you your
   service. Christ comes forth from Pilate's hall with the cumbrous wood
   upon his shoulder, but through weariness he travels slowly, and his
   enemies urgent for his death, and half afraid, from his emaciated
   appearance, that he may die before he reaches the place of execution,
   allow another to carry his burden. The tender mercies of the wicked are
   cruel, they cannot spare him the agonies of dying on the cross, they
   will therefore remit the labor of carrying it. They place the cross
   upon Simon, a Cyrenian, coming out of the country. We do not know what
   may have been the color of alimony face, but it was most likely black.
   Simon was an African; he came from Cyrene. Alas poor African, thou hast
   been compelled to carry the cross even until now. Hail, ye despised
   children of the sun, ye follow first after the King in the march of
   woe. We are not sure that Simon was a disciple of Christ; he may have
   been a friendly spectator; yet one would think the Jews would naturally
   select a disciple if they could. Coming fresh from the country, not
   knowing what was going on, he joined with the mob, and they made him
   carry the cross. Whether a disciple then or not, we have every reason
   to believe that he became so afterwards; he was the father, we read, of
   Alexander and Rufus, two persons who appear to have been well known in
   the early Church; let us hope that salvation came to his house when he
   was compelled to bear the Savior's cross.

   Dear friends, we must remember that, although no one died on the cross
   with Christ, for atonement must be executed by a solitary Savior, yet
   another person did carry the cross for Christ; for this world, while
   redeemed by price by Christ, and by Christ alone, is to be redeemed by
   divine power manifested in the sufferings and labors of the saints as
   well as those of Christ. Mark you, the ransom of men was all paid by
   Christ; that was redemption by price. But power is wanted to dash down
   those idols, to overcome the hosts of error; where is it to be found?
   In the Lord of Hosts, who shows his power in the sufferings of Christ
   and of his Church. The Church must suffer, that the gospel may be
   spread by her means. This is what the Apostle meant when he said, "I
   fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh
   for his body's sake, which is the Church." There was nothing behind in
   the price, but there is something behind in the manifested power, and
   we must continue to fill up that measure of revealed power, carrying
   each one of us the cross with Christ, till the last shame shall have
   been poured upon his cause, and he shall reign for ever and ever. We
   see in Simon's carrying the cross a picture of what the Church is to do
   throughout all generations. Mark then, Christian, Jesus does not suffer
   so as to exclude your suffering. He bears a cross, not that you may
   escape it, but that you may endure it. Christ does exempt you from sin,
   but not from sorrow; he does take the curse of the cross, but he does
   not take the cross of the curse away from you. Remember that, and
   expect to suffer.

   Beloved, let us comfort ourselves with this thought, that in our case,
   as in Simon's, it is not our cross, but Christ's cross which we carry.
   When you are molested for your piety; when your religion brings the
   trial of cruel mockings upon you; then remember, it is not your cross,
   it is Christ's cross; and how delightful is it to carry the cross of
   our Lord Jesus?

   You carry the cross after him. You have blessed company; your path is
   marked with footprints of your Lord. If you will look, there is the
   mark of his blood-red shoulder upon that heavy cross. Tis his cross,
   and he goes before you as a shepherd goes before his sheep. Take up
   your cross daily and follow him.

   Do not forget, also, that you bear this cross in partnership. It is the
   opinion of some commentators that Simon only carried one end of the
   cross, and not the whole of it. That is very possible; Christ may have
   carried the heavier end, against the transverse beam, and Simon may
   have borne the lighter end. Certainly it is so with you; you do but
   carry the light end of the cross; Christ bore the heavier end.

   "His way was much rougher and darker than mine;

   Did Christ, my Lord, suffer, and shall I repine?"

   Rutherford says, "Whenever Christ gives us a cross, he cries, Halves,
   my love.'" Others think that Simon carried the whole of the cross. If
   he carried all the cross, yet he only carried the wood of it; he did
   not bear the sin which made it such a load. Christ did but transfer to
   Simon the outward frame, the mere tree; but the curse of the tree,
   which was our sin and its punishment, rested on Jesus' shoulders still.
   Dear friend, if you think that you suffer all that a Christian can
   suffer; if all God's billows roll over you, yet, remember, there is not
   one drop of wrath in all your sea of sorrow. Jesus took the wrath;
   Jesus carried the sin; and now all that you endure is but for his sake,
   that you may be conformed unto his image, and may aid in gathering his
   people into his family.

   Although Simon carried Christ's cross, he did not volunteer to do it,
   but they compelled him. I fear me, beloved, I fear me that the most of
   us if we ever do carry it, carry it by compulsion, at least when it
   first comes on to our shoulders we do not like it, and would fain run
   from it, but the world compels us to bear Christ's cross. Cheerfully
   accept this burden, ye servants of the Lord. I do not think we should
   seek after needless persecution. That man is a fool and deserves no
   pity, who purposely excites the disgust of other people. No, no; we
   must not make a cross of our own. Let there be nothing but your
   religion to object to, and then if that offends them let them be
   offended, it is a cross which you must carry joyfully.

   Though Simon had to bear the cross for a very little while, it gave him
   lasting honor. I do not know how far it was from Pilate's house to the
   Mount of Doom. Romanists pretend to know; in fact they know the very
   spot where Veronica wiped the blessed face with her handkerchief, and
   found his likeness impressed upon it; we also know very well where that
   was not done; in fact they know the very spot where Jesus fainted, and
   if you go to Jerusalem you can see all these different places if you
   only carry enough credulity with you; but the fact is the city has been
   so razed, and burned, and ploughed, that there is little chance of
   distinguishing any of these positions, with the exception, it may be,
   of Mount Calvary, which being outside the walls may possibly still
   remain. The Via Dolorosa, as the Romanists call it, is a long street at
   the present time, but it may have been but a few yards. Simon had to
   carry the cross but for a very little time, yet his name is in this
   Book for ever, and we may envy him his honor. Well, beloved, the cross
   we have to carry is only for a little while at most. A few times the
   sun will go up and down the hill; a few more moons will wax and wane,
   and then we shall receive the glory. "I reckon that these light
   afflictions, which are but for a moment, are not worthy to be compared
   with the glory which shall be revealed in us." We should love the
   cross, and count it very dear, because it works out for us a far more
   exceeding and eternal weight of glory. Christians, will you refuse to
   be cross-bearers for Christ? I am ashamed of some professed Christians,
   heartily ashamed of them! Some of them have no objection to worship
   with a poor congregation till they grow rich, and then, forsooth, they
   must go with the world's church, to mingle with fashion and gentility.
   There are some who in company hold their tongues, and never say a good
   word for Christ. They take matters very gently; they think it
   unnecessary to be soldiers of the cross. "He that taketh not up his
   cross and followeth not after me," says Christ, "is not worthy of me."
   Some of you will not be baptized because you think people will say, "He
   is a professor; how holy he ought to be." I am glad the world expects
   much from us, and watches us narrowly. All this is a blessed clog upon
   us, and a means of keeping us more near the Lord. Oh! you that are
   ashamed of Christ, how can you read that text, "He that is ashamed of
   me, and of my words, of him will I be ashamed when I come in the glory
   of my Father, and all my holy angels with me." Conceal your religion?
   Cover it with a cloak? God forbid! Our religion is our glory; the Cross
   of Christ is our honor, and, while not ostentatiously parading it, as
   the Pharisees do, we ought never to be so cowardly as to conceal it.
   "Come ye out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch not the
   unclean thing." Take up your cross, and go without the camp, following
   your Lord, even until death.

   III. I have now a third picture to present to you--CHRIST AND HIS
   MOURNERS.

   As Christ went through the streets, a great multitude looked on. In the
   multitude there was a sparse sprinkling of tender-hearted women,
   probably those who had been healed, or whose children had been blessed
   by him. Some of these were persons of considerable rank; many of them
   had ministered to him of their substance; amidst the din and howling of
   the crowd, and the noise of the soldiery, they raised an exceeding loud
   and bitter cry, like Rachel weeping for her children, who would not be
   comforted, because they were not. The voice of sympathy prevailed over
   the voice of scorn. Jesus paused, and said, "Daughters of Jerusalem,
   weep not for me; but weep for yourselves and for your children." The
   sorrow of these good women was a very proper sorrow; Jesus did not by
   any means forbid it, he only recommended another sorrow as being
   better; not finding fault with this, but still commending that. Let me
   show what I think he meant. Last Sunday the remark was made to me--"If
   the story of the sufferings of Christ had been told of any other man,
   all the congregation would have been in tears." Some of us, indeed,
   confess that, if we had read this narrative of suffering in a romance,
   we should have wept copiously, but the story of Christ's sufferings
   does not cause the excitement and emotion one would expect. Now, I am
   not sure that we ought to blame ourselves for this. If we weep for the
   sufferings of Christ in the same way as we lament the sufferings of
   another man, our emotions will be only natural, and may work no good.
   They would be very proper, very proper; God forbid that we should stay
   them, except with the gentle words of Christ, "Daughters of Jerusalem,
   weep not for me." The most Scriptural way to describe the sufferings of
   Christ is not by laboring to excite sympathy through highly-coloured
   descriptions of his blood and wounds. Romanists of all ages have
   wrought upon the feelings of the people in this manner, and to a degree
   the attempt is commendable, but if it shall all end in tears of pity,
   no good is done. I have heard sermons, and studied works by Romish
   writers upon the passion and agony, which have moved me to copious
   tears, but I am not clear that all the emotion was profitable. I show
   unto you a more excellent way.

   What, then, dear friends, should be the sorrows excited by a view of
   Christ's sufferings? They are these--Weep not because the Savior bled,
   but because your sins made him bleed.

   "Twere you my sins, my cruel sins,

   His chief tormentors were;

   Each of my grimes became a nail,

   And unbelief the spear."

   When a brother makes confession of his transgressions, when on his
   knees before God he humbles himself with many tears, I am sure the Lord
   thinks far more of the tears of repentance than he would do of the mere
   drops of human sympathy. "Weep for yourselves," says Christ, "rather
   than for me."

   The sufferings of Christ should make us weep over those who have
   brought that blood upon their heads. We ought not to forget the Jews.
   Those once highly favored people of God who cursed themselves with,
   "His blood be upon us and upon our children," ought to make us mourn
   when we think of their present degradation. There are no passages in
   all the public ministry of Jesus so tender as those which have regard
   to Jerusalem. It is not sorrow over Rome, but Jerusalem. I believe
   there was a tenderness in Christ's heart to the Jew of a special
   character. He loved the Gentile, but still Jerusalem was the city of
   the Great King. It was, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have
   gathered thy children together as a hen gathereth her chickens under
   her wings, but ye would not!" He saw its streets flowing like bloody
   rivers; he saw the temple naming up to heaven; he marked the walls
   loaded with Jewish captives crucified by command of Titus; he saw the
   city razed to the ground and sown with salt, and he said, "Weep not for
   me, but for yourselves and for your children, for the day shall come
   when ye shall say to the rocks, Hide us, and to the mountains, Fall
   upon us."

   Let me add, that when we look at the sufferings of Christ, we ought to
   sorrow deeply for the souls of all unregenerate men and women.
   Remember, dear friends, that what Christ suffered for us, these
   unregenerate ones must suffer for themselves, except they put their
   trust in Christ. The woes which broke the Savior's heart must crush
   theirs. Either Christ must die for me, or else I must die for myself
   the second death; if he did not carry the curse for me, then on me must
   it rest for ever and ever. Think, dear friends, there are some in this
   congregation who as yet have no interest in Jesu's blood, some sitting
   next to you, your nearest friends who, if they were now to close their
   eyes in death, would open them in hell! Think of that! Weep not for
   him, but for these. Perhaps they are your children, the objects of your
   fondest love, with no interest in Christ, without God and without hope
   in the world! Save your tears for them; Christ asks them not in
   sympathy for himself. Think of the millions in this dark world! It is
   calculated that one soul passes from time into eternity every time the
   clock ticks! So numerous has the family of man now become, that there
   is a death every second; and when we know how very smell a proportion
   of the human race have even nominally received the cross--and there is
   none other name given under heaven among men whereby we must be
   saved--oh! what a black thought crosses our mind! What a cataract of
   immortal souls dashes downwards to the pit every hour! Well might the
   Master say, "Weep not for me, but for yourselves." You have, then, no
   true sympathy for Christ if you have not an earnest sympathy with those
   who would win souls for Christ. You may sit under a sermon, and feel a
   great deal, but your feeling is worthless unless it leads you to weep
   for yourselves and for your children. How has it been with you? Have
   you repented of sin? Have you prayed for your fellow men? If not, may
   that picture of Christ fainting in the streets lead you to do so this
   morning.

   IV. In the fourth place, one or two words upon CHRIST'S
   FELLOW-SUFFERERS.

   There were two other cross-bearers in the throng; they were
   malefactors; their crosses were just as heavy as the Lord's, and yet,
   at least, one of them had no sympathy with him, and his bearing the
   cross only led to his death, and not to his salvation. This hint only.
   I have sometimes met with persons who have suffered much; they have
   lost money, they have worked hard all their lives, or they have laid
   for years upon a bed of sickness, and they therefore suppose that
   because they have suffered so much in this life, they shall thus escape
   the punishment of sin hereafter. I tell you, sirs, that yonder
   malefactor carried his cross and died on it; and you will carry your
   sorrows, and be damned with them, except you repent. That impenitent
   thief went from the cross of his great agony--and it was agony indeed
   to die on a cross--he went to that place, to the flames of hell; and
   you, too, may go from the bed of sickness, and from the abode of
   poverty, to perdition, quite as readily as from the home of ease and
   the house of plenty. No sufferings of ours have anything to do with the
   atonement of sin. No blood but that which He has spilt, no groans but
   those which came from His heart, no suffering but that which was
   endured by Him, can ever make a recompense for sin. Shake off the
   thought, any of you who suppose that God will have pity on you because
   you have endured affliction. You must consider Jesus, and not yourself;
   turn your eye to Christ, the great substitute for sinners, but never
   dream of trusting in yourselves. You may think that this remark is not
   needed; but I have met with one or two cases where it was required; and
   I have often said I would preach a sermon for even one person, and,
   therefore, I make this remark, even though it should rebuke but one.

   V. I close with THE SAVIOR'S WARNING QUESTION--"If they do these things
   in the green tree, what will they do in the dry?" Among other things
   methinks he meant this--"If I, the innocent substitute for sinners,
   suffer thus, what will be done when the sinner himself--the dry
   tree--whose sins are his own, and not merely imputed to him, shall fall
   into the hands of an angry God." Oh! ye unregenerate men and women, and
   there are not a few such here now, remember that when God saw Christ in
   the sinner's place he did not spare him, and when he finds you without
   Christ, he will not spare you. You have seen Jesus led away by his
   enemies; so shall you be dragged away by fiends to the place appointed
   for you. "Deliver him to the tormentors," was the word of the king in
   the parable; it shall be fulfilled to you--"Depart ye cursed into
   everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." Jesus was
   deserted of God; and if he, who was only imputedly a sinner, was
   deserted, how much more shall you be? "Eloi, Eloi, lama
   sabachthani,"--what an awful shriek! But what shall be your cry when
   you shall say, "Good God! good God! why hast thou forsaken me?" and the
   answer shall come back, "Because I have called, and ye refused; I have
   stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought
   all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your
   calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh." These are awful words,
   but they are not mine; they are the very words of God in Scripture. Oh!
   sinner, if God hides his face from Christ, how much less will he spare
   you! He did not spare his Son the stripes. Did I not describe last
   Sabbath the knotted scourges which fell upon the Saviours back? What
   whips of steel for you, what knots of burning wire for you, when
   conscience shall smite you, when the law shall scourge you with its
   ten-thonged whip! Oh! who would stand in your place, ye richest, ye
   merriest, ye most self-righteous sinners--who would stand in your place
   when God shall say, "Awake O sword against the rebel, against the man
   that rejected me; smite him, and let him feel the smart for ever!"
   Christ was spit upon with shame; sinner, what shame will be yours! The
   whole universe shall hiss you; angels shall be ashamed of you; your own
   friends, yes, your sainted mother, shall say "Amen" to your
   condemnation; and those who loved you best shall sit as assessors with
   Christ to judge you and condemn you! I cannot roll up into one word all
   the mass of sorrows which met upon the head of Christ who died for us,
   therefore it is impossible for me to tell you what streams, what oceans
   of grief must roll over your spirit if you die as you now are. You may
   die so, you may die now. There are more unlikely things than that you
   will be dead before next Sunday. Some of you will! It does not often
   happen that five or six thousand people meet together twice; it never
   does, I suppose; the scythe of death must cut some of you down before
   my voice shall warn you again! Oh! souls, I do beseech you, by the
   agonies of Christ, by his wounds and by his blood, do not bring upon
   yourselves the curse; do not bear in your own persons the awful wrath
   to come! May God deliver you! Trust in the Son of God and you shall
   never die.

   The Lord bless you, for Jesu's own sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                       The Gladness of the Man of Sorrows

   A Sermon

   (No. 498)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 8th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy
   God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows. All
   thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory
   palaces, whereby they have made thee glad."--Psalm 45:7, 8.

   DURING THE LAST FEW SABBATH-DAYS we have been considering the
   sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ. We followed him through the agony
   of the garden, the sorrows of the betrayal, the weariness and slander
   of his various trials, the shame and mockery of the soldiery, and the
   sorrows of his cross-bearing progress along the streets of the city. It
   seems fit this morning to make a pause that we may take breath awhile
   in this our pilgrimage of sorrow, and be comforted by a view of the
   glory-land to which the thorny pathway leads. A festive occasion like
   the present may have unfitted your minds for deep contemplations upon
   the Passion, and it may be more congenial with our present mood of
   gladness to meditate upon the glory which followed the shame. The same
   person will be before our eye, but we shall view him in a brighter
   light, we shall see the silver lining of the black cloud of anguish,
   the rich pearls hidden in the stormy deep of his sufferings, and the
   days of heaven which were conceived in the womb of the black night of
   his agony. The Man of Sorrows is the fountain of all joy to others, and
   is the possessor of all the joys of heaven and earth, by virtue of his
   triumphs. He has experienced joys in proportion to his sorrows; as he
   once waded through deep waters of grief he has now climbed to the
   highest mountains of happiness. For the joy that was set before him he
   endured the cross despising the shame, and now having sat down at his
   Father's right-hand he enjoys pleasures for evermore. We have seen our
   David crossing the brook Kedron weeping as he went; shall we not gaze
   upon him as he dances before the ark for joy? We saw him crowned with
   thorns, shall we not go forth to meet him and behold him with the crown
   wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in
   the day of the gladness of his heart? Oh that while we muse upon these
   things our heavenly Father may hear the prayer of our great Advocate
   who once cried on our behalf--"And now come I to thee; and these things
   I speak in the world, that they might have my joy fulfilled in
   themselves."

   Our text describes the joy poured forth upon our glorious King in a
   twofold manner. Our Lord is first made joyous by his Father--"Thou
   lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy God,
   hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows." But
   there is another joy, which he getteth not from one person, but from
   many. Read the next verse--"All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes,
   and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee
   glad." Here both saints and angels unite to swell the ever-deepening,
   and widening river of the Savior's gladness. When we shall have walked
   by these still waters and trodden these green pastures, perhaps we
   shall be prepared to say with the apostle, "And not only so, but we
   also joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now
   received the atonement," and we shall be qualified to sing with the
   spouse, "We will rejoice and be glad in thee; Ye will remember thy love
   more than wine; the upright love thee."

   I. Come, my brethren, let us ponder that part of OUR SAVIOR'S JOY WHICH
   IS GIVEN HIM BY HIS FATHER.

   To a degree the Redeemer possessed this joy even while he was here on
   earth. We are not sure that the early life of the Savior was full of
   sorrow. As he grrew in wisdom and in stature, he also grew in favor
   both with God and man; and favor with God and man would probably give
   the youthful Jesus an unusual degree of holy happiness. When he entered
   upon his public ministry, sorrows in troops beset him, so that the
   countenance once fairer than the children of men, became more marred
   than that of any man, and at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three he
   was taken to be near fifty, from the effect of labor, hardship and woe.
   Yet, even in the days of his affliction, the Great Mourner was not
   utterly wretched, even amid the wormwood and the gall there were drops
   of joy. When, in his baptism, the heavens were opened, and the Spirit
   descended, did that divine Dove bring no peace, no comfort upon his
   wings? When the Father bare witness, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I
   am well pleased," did those approving words from the opening heavens
   afford no satisfaction to the mind of the obedient Son? Brethren, the
   perfect nature of our Redeemer could not but rejoice exceedingly in the
   smile of the Father and the descent of the Holy Ghost. When in the
   wilderness, after the forty days of fasting and of temptation, the
   angels ministered unto him, did they bring him no celestial joys, no
   consolations of God? Did he know no secret joys upon the mountain-tops,
   where he communed with God at midnight? Was it no delight to him to
   utter sweet invitations and loving words of mercy? Surely those lips
   were blessed which poured forth benedictions, and there must have been
   some comfort in the hands which bound up the broken-hearted and opened
   the prisons of the captives. We read that Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and
   said, "Father, I thank thee, that thou hast hid these things from the
   wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so, Father,
   for so it seemed good in thy sight." The doctrine of electing love
   stirred the deeps of his great soul, and made the floods clap their
   hands. "The King shall joy in thy strength, O Lord; and in thy
   salvation how greatly shall he rejoice."

   Do you think, brethren, our Savior lived in this world, doing so much
   good, without receiving some joy in his acts of mercy? To teach, to
   labor, and to make men holy, must give joy to a benevolent mind. It
   could not be otherwise than pleasant to a good man to do good. If God
   deligllteth in mercy, surely his express image must do the same. To
   restore the dead to their sorrowing relations, was this no
   satisfaction? Did the widow's grateful eye in the gates of Nain kindle
   no joy-flashes in his heart? Bid the thankfulness of Mary and Martha
   inspire no comfort in the Life-giver? Think you that it was not
   gladsome work to feed the famishing multitudes? Who could look upon the
   feasting thousands without rejoicing? To heal the leper, to restore the
   lame, to give eyes to the blind and ears to the deaf, who could do all
   this and not be happy in distributing the boons? Surely, brethren,
   there were some hosannas in Jesu's ears, and though he could always
   bear the cry of "Crucify him! Crucify him!" yet he must have felt the
   wondrous joy of doing good, which is one of the delights entailed on
   all self-sacrificing lovers of others.

   Bethink you, beloved, of his character, and surely he must have known
   the joy of being good; for there is a deep gladness in holiness, a
   blessed peacefulness in righteousness. The holiness of angels is their
   happiness, and although to a large degree the Savior laid his peace
   aside, yet there is a rest of soul from which virtue cannot separate.
   Distractions of conscience he never knew, disturbance of mind, on
   account of sin he did not feel on his own account, although as our
   substitute he was made sin for us. He suffered. Mark, I am not for a
   moment detracting from his sufferings, high mountains of grief I see;
   the eagle's wing cannot reach their summit, nor foot of angel climb
   their brows; but lo, I see leaping streams of pleasure running adown
   the rugged steeps, and amid the hollows of the desolate hills I gaze
   upon deep lakes of joy unfathomable by mortal line.

   Brethren, we have every reason to believe that our Savior permanently
   found a solace while on earth, in the consideration that he was doing
   his Father's will. He said, "It is my meat and my drink, to do the will
   of him that sent me." "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's
   business?" On several occasions the voice from heaven proclaimed the
   Father's good pleasure in his only begotten: once the glory of heaven
   enwraps him on the holy mount; and during his whole life he had the
   presence of God until the moment of necessary desertion, when we find
   him, for the first and only time, crying, "My God, my God, why hast
   thou forsaken me!" To do a work which he had contemplated from all
   eternity, to engage in an occupation which had always been most
   delightful in prospect, could not have been altogether and only
   sorrowful. It was a Passover with many bitter herbs, but with desire
   had he desired to eat of it. It was a baptism, and a baptism of blood,
   but he was straitened until it was accomplished. Of old, in expectation
   his delights were with the sons of men. Were there none in the work?
   Brethren, let your Lord speak for himself--"Lo, I come: in the volume
   of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God:
   yea, thy law is within my heart."

   In the glorious prospect which this great work opened to him when it
   should he completed, I am absolutely sure our Savior found comfort.
   Think not I speak too strongly; I have scriptural warrant. Turn to the
   twenty-second Psalm, which is the soliloquy of Christ upon the cross,
   and you find him, after he bemoaned his desolate condition, comforting
   himself thus, "All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto
   he Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.
   All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they that go
   down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep alive his own
   soul. A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a
   generation. They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a
   people that shall be born, that he hath done this." He saw with
   prescient eye through the thick darkness which enveloped the cross, the
   rising of the bright sun of heaven's eternal noon. He saw, when he hung
   upon the cross, not only the mocking eyes of multitudes of enemies, but
   the loving eyes of millions of souls whom he should redeem from hell;
   he heard not only the shouts of the ribald mob, but the songs of
   blood-redeemed spirits. When he saw the lions and heard them roar, was
   it not a comfort to the shepherd that he had kept the sheep, and none
   of them had perished. Indeed, my brethren, there is more than enough of
   evidence to prove that a rich anointing of gladness rested on the head
   of the Man of Sorrows.

   Still, dear friends, this may be viewed by some as a moot point; we
   allow that there is room for difference of opinion; but not so as to
   the great joy which Christ obtained after he had endured the cross,
   despising the shame. Let us enter into the secret joys of our Beloved.
   Consider, my brethren, the work accomplished; Chiist has borne the
   wrath of God; God is reconciled to his people; death has been
   destroyed; Christ as risen from the dead; the dragon's head has been
   broken, the powers of sin have been subdued; our Lord ascends to heaven
   with a shout, with the trump of the archangel; the glorified spirits
   accord him a triumphal entry. "Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be
   ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, that the King of Glory may come
   in!" He sits down upon his throne at his Father's right hand, and then
   it is that he is anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows.

   I should not have failed to remark that, as God, our Redeemer always
   possessed fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore, We are speaking
   of him in his complex person as man and God, and in his official
   character as Mediator, it is his delight in this capacity which we now
   consider.

   The joy of the risen Mediator laid, first of all, in this, that he had
   now accomplished a work which he had meditated upon from all eternity.
   Before the day-star marked the dawn; before the calm of space had ever
   been stirred by wing of angel, or the solemnity of silence had been
   startled with song of seraph, Christ had purposed to redeem his people,
   It was in the eternal purpose of the great Second Person in the Divine
   Unity, from before all worlds, to redeem unto himself a people by
   price. What joy must it give him now that he can say, "I have finished
   transgression, made an end of sin, and brought in everlasting
   righteousness."

   His heart had not only meditated, but had been mightily set upon his
   work. He had bound his people's names upon his breast; he had graven
   them upon the pylons of his hands. His ears were bored, for he intended
   to serve even until death. What if I say that, from before all worlds,
   he thirsted and panted that he might do the Father's will, and redeem
   his people from their ruin! Now, brethren, that desire which had been
   in him like coals of juniper, unquenchable, is now fulfilled to the
   uttermost; how can he be otherwise than anointed with the oil of
   gladness above his fellows, since none other ever purposed so firmly or
   succeeded so perfectly.

   Consider, too, how great the pains which he endured, and we must
   believe the joy to be commensurate with the pain. In the accomplishing
   of his great iife-purpose, he descended to the cross of deepest woe.
   Have I not tried to paint in my poor way the mysterious agonies of our
   blessed Savior? but I feel that I have failed. Now when all this had
   been suffered, what joy to look back upon it! Never day so bright as
   that which follows black darkness; never calm so sweet as that which
   succeeds hurricane and tempest; never native place so delightful as to
   the long exiled pilgrim. So deep the sorrow, so high the joy; so
   unspeakable the grief, so unutterable the bliss.

   Remember, beloved brethren, the enemies he had overcome, and you will
   not marvel that his joy was matchless. Had he not worsted Death--grim
   tyrant--vanquisher of all mankind? Had he not broken the head of the
   old serpent, who in his crushing coils had bound and pressed a universe
   of souls? Did he not defeat in battle all the fiends in hell? Was not
   evil for ever dethroned? Did not goodness sit upon a glorious high
   throne? Was not virtue exalted to the highest heaven, and sin cast down
   to the lowest hell in that day of the judgment of this world, when the
   Prince of Darkness was cast out? "Behold," he might have said, "I see
   Satan falling like lightning from heaven; the dragon bound with a great
   chain. Lo, hell's gates are shut upon the saints, the grave is rifled
   of its spoils, heaven is crowded with the saved, and earth purified
   from sin." O Jesus, thou mighty conqueror, thy glorious victories must
   surely give to thee, as they do to us, a blessed anointing with the oil
   of gladness!

   Our Lord possesses in heaven now, as perfect man, the joy of looking
   back upon a life without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; the
   satisfaction of seeing this perfect obedience covering all his people,
   till they stand lovely in his loveliness; the equal delight of
   observing the efficacy of his blood to wash the foulest, and make them
   whiter than snow, while his intercession scatters mercy in one
   everlasting shower upon the sons of men. Since his heart was love his
   joy must be in deeds of love, and as he has become a fountain always
   welling up with loving gifts towards the chosen sons of men, his
   delight must be unchanging like his nature, and unbounded like his
   divinity. "God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness
   above thy fellows."

   We pause a moment, having tried to dwell upon the joy, to notice the
   cause of it. "Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness,
   therefore God hath anointed thee." It seems, then, that the first cause
   why Jesus Christ has received fullness of joy lies in his having loved
   righteousness. This he did necessarily because of the spotless purity
   of his nature; this he did practically in the hallowed sincerity and
   integrity of his life. Of whom could it be said so truly as of our
   Lord, that the law of God was in his heart. How abundantly did he prove
   his love to righteousness, by vindicating it in his death, fulfilling
   in his own person all the sentence of divine wrath taking upon himself
   all the curses which fell upon offenders. You cannot suppose
   righteousness to be more clearly manifested than in the living works of
   Jesus, nor more completely avenged than in the dying throes. How
   sovereign is that righteousness to which even the Son of God bowed his
   head and gave up the ghost. The world deluged with water, the plains of
   Sodom smoking with brimstone, the land of Egypt vexed with plagues, all
   these terrible things in righteousness manifest the justice of God, but
   none of them so solemnly as the voluntary sacrifice of Jesus. Our
   Beloved loved righteousness indeed when he emptied out all his
   heart-floods that he might make us righteous. Moreover, as in his life
   and death we see that he loved righteousness, we discern it too in the
   constant effect of his work. His gospel makes men righteous. Does it
   not give them a legal righteousness by imputation, a real righteousness
   by infusion, a righteousness which covers them with fine linen without
   and makes them all glorious within. The spirit of the gospel which we
   preach is to magnify that which is pure and lovely and of good repute.
   Wherever the Lord Jesus displays his gracious power, sins yields the
   throne, purity wins the scepter, grace reigns through righteousness
   unto eternal life through the perfect sacrifice, the living power of
   Jesus.

   The text adds, "Thou hatest wickedness." A man's character is not
   complete without a perfect hatred of sin. "Be ye angry, and sin not."
   There can hardly be goodness in a man if he be not angry at sin; he who
   loves truth must hate every false way. How our Lord Jesus hated it when
   the temptation came! Thrice it assailed him in different forms, but
   ever it was, "Get thee behind me, Satan." How he hated it when he saw
   it in others; none the less fervently because he showed his hate
   oftener in tears of pity than in words of rebuke; yet what language
   could be more stern, more Elijah-like, than the words, "Woe unto you,
   scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye devour widows' houses, and
   for a pretense make long prayer." He hated wickedness so much that he
   bled that he might wound it to the heart; he died that it might die; he
   was buried that he might bury in his tomb; and he rose that he might
   for ever trample it beneath his feet. Christ is in the Gospel, my
   brethren, and you all know low utterly that Gospel is opposed to
   wickedness in every shape. No matter how wickedness may array itself in
   fair garments, and imitate the language of holiness, the precepts of
   Jesus, like his famous scourge of small cords, chase wickedness out of
   the temple, and will not let it have peaceful lodging in the Church. So
   too, in the heart where Jesus reigns, what war there is between Christ
   and Belial? And when our Redeemer shall come to be our judge, in those
   thundering words, "Depart, ye cursed," which are, indeed, but al
   prolongation of his life-teaching concerning sin, then shall it be
   seen, I say, that he hated wickedness. As warm as is his love to
   sinners, so hot is his hatred of sin; as perfect as is the
   righteousness which he completed, so perfect shall be the destruction
   of every form of wickedness. Oh thou glorious champion of right, and
   destroyer of wrong, for this cause hath God, even thy God, anointed
   thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.

   But, beloved, we must dwell for one moment upon another thought
   supplied by the text. The character of this joy is hinted at by way of
   comparison--"God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of
   gladness above thy fellows." And who are his fellows? Suppose his
   fellows to be the kings and princes of this world, for the psalm is
   descriptive of Christ in his royalty. Well, is he not anointed with
   gladness above them all? Kings rejoice in their dominions, their extent
   and population: our King looks from shore to shore, and from the river
   even to the ends of the earth, and of his dominion there is no end.
   Princes delight in the fame and honor which their office and deeds may
   bring them; but before the Lord Jesus Christ the fame of monarchs
   dwindles into nothing. His name shall endure for ever; throughout all
   generations the people shall praise him. Monarchs delight in the riches
   and treasure which their dominions yield; Christ receiveth a wealth of
   love and homage from his people, before which the riches of Croesus
   become poverty itself. "The daughter of Tyre shall be there with a
   gift; even the rich among the people shall entreat thy favor." Kings
   are wont to rejoice in the victories they have achieved. He that cometh
   from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah, travelling in the greatness
   of his strength, hath more joy than they. They boast the sureness of
   their throne; but "thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever." The inward
   thought of some kings may be that they are invincible in power, and
   that their will is law; but at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow,
   and his enemies shall become as the fat of rams; into smoke shall they
   consume, yea, into smoke shall they consume away. Good kings rejoice in
   the beneficence of their rule, and the happiness of their subjects; our
   King may surely glory in the favors which he has scattered from his
   scepter. But time would hail us if we were to complete the contrast
   here. Kings of the earth, ye may take off your crowns, and remain
   uncrowned in the presence of lying Jesus, for on his head are many
   crowns. O ye lords and mighty men, ye may lay down your dignities and
   honors, for ye are unhonoured and undignified in the presence of him
   who is above his fellows!

   My brethren, where shall his fellows be found? Search ye among the
   wise, and who shall match the gladness of incarnate wisdom, for man's
   wisdom bringeth sorrow. Go ye, and travel among the famous, and who
   shall be compared with his illustrious name, where else is there a name
   so full of joy? Search out the mighty, who hath an arm like his? Go ye,
   and search among the good and excellent, who have blessed their kind by
   philanthropy; who among them is so anointed as the Man of Nazareth? As
   the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the
   sons. Standing as high above all the rest of men as the heavens are
   above the earth; he is, indeed, anointed with the oil of gladness above
   his fellows. I find that some interpreters read it--"The oil of
   gladness for his fellows." The rendering is probably incorrect, but it
   bears a very truthful, sweet, and comfortable thought in it. If the
   saints are his fellows, and he is not ashamed to call them brethren,
   then the oil of gladness was first poured on his head, that it might
   descend even to the skirts of his garments, and that all the saints
   might be made partakers of his joy.

   We have said enough, we think, on this first point; here is the
   material for much meditation. Search, my brethren, and learn how the
   Lord, even our God, has glolified his Son Jesus.

   II. Turn we now to THE GLADNESS AFFORDED BY THE CHURCH. "All thy
   garments smell of myrrh, and cassia, and aloes, out of the ivory
   palaces, whereby they have made thee glad." His garments have been
   saturated with very precious and fragrant odours; this is the work of
   his Church. In the phrase, "ivory palaces" the allusion is to certain
   costly structures which some Oriental kings erected, plated within and
   without with ivory. We read of Ahab that he built an ivory house; and
   it was a solemn threat from the lip of Amos, "the houses of ivory shall
   perish." These ivory houses relate, I suppose, either to the courts of
   glory, or, more consistently with our interpretation this morning, to
   the hearts of believers; or, better still, to the churches, which are
   like palaces of ivory, both for glory and majesty, for richness, and
   for purity. The saints' graces, their love, their praise, their
   prayers, their faith, are like myrrh, cassia, and aloes, and the
   Savior's garments are so perfumed therewith, that when he rides in his
   triumphal chariot he scatters sweet odours all around. It is a great
   and certain truth, that Christ finds an intense satisfaction in his
   Church. "He will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love;
   he will joy over thee with singing." In his people, as the objects of
   his choice, he finds satisfaction; tis true there is nothing in them
   naturally; they are by nature heirs of wrath, even as others; but
   having set his love upon them, having determined to make them his
   people, he takes a delight in the objects of his choice because of that
   choice. Nothing in us could have been the origin of the Saviours first
   delight in us. Now, doubtless, that we are his workmanship, he takes a
   delight in the works of his own hands; but when we were like broken
   potsherds, thrown away upon the dunghill of the fall, if he saw
   anything in us it must have been in his own eyes.

   But, dear friends, as men always take a deep interest in that which has
   cost them dearly, so since that triumphant day when Jesus stretched out
   his hands upon the tree and paid the price for his people, he has found
   an infinite solace and delight in them. He sees in every believer's
   face a memento of his groans; he looks into the eye of every penitent,
   and sees his own tears there; he hears the cry of every mourner, and
   there hears his own groans over again; he beholds the reward of his
   soul's travail in every regenerate heart, and hence, as the purchase of
   his blood, we make him glad.

   Again, as his workmanship, as he sees us day by day more conformed to
   his image, he rejoices in us. Just as you see the sculptor with his
   chisel fetching out the statue which lies hidden in the block of
   marble, taking off a corner here, and a chip there, and a piece
   here--see how he smiles when he brings out the features of the form
   divine--so our Savior, as he proceeds with his graving tool, working
   through the operation of the Spirit, and making us like unto himself,
   finds much delight in us. The painter makes rough drafts at first, and
   lays on the colors roughly; some do not understand what he is doing,
   and for three or four sittings the portrait is much unlike the man it
   aims at representing; but the painter can discern the features in the
   canvass; he sees it looming through that mist and haze of color; he
   knows that beauty will yet beam forth from yonder daubs and blotches.
   So Jesus, though we are yet but mere outlines of his image, can
   discover his own perfection in us where no eye but his own, as the
   Mighty Artist, can perceive it. Dear friends, it is for this reason,
   because we are the work of his hands, that he taketh delight in us.

   Know ye not that we are his brethren--and brothers should delight in
   brothers. Nay, we are his spouse--and where should the husband find his
   comfort but in his bride? We are his body--shall not the head be
   content with the members? We are one with him, vitally, personally,
   everlastingly one; and it is little marvel, therefore, if we have a
   mutual joy in each other, so that his garments smell of myrrh, aloes,
   and cassia, out of the ivory palaces of his Church, wherein he hath
   been made glad.

   Let us think how we can make him glad. Brethren, our love to
   Christ--oh! we think it so cold, so little, and so, indeed, we must
   sorrowfully confess it to be, but it is very sweet to Christ. We can
   never compare our love to Christ with his love to us, and yet he does
   not despise it. Hear his own eulogy of his Church in the Song, "Thou
   hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my
   heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. How fair is
   thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine!
   and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!" "Thou art beautiful,
   O my love, as Tirza, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with
   banners. Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me." See,
   see, my brethren, his delight in you. When you lean your head on his
   bosom, you not only receive, but you give him joy; when you gaze with
   love upon his beauteous face, you not only receive comfort, but give
   delight. Our praise, too, gives him joy, when from our hearts we sing
   his name, and when gratefully, though silently, we breathe a song up to
   his throne. As princes are delighted with incense, so is Christ
   delighted with the praise of his people. And our gifts, too, delight
   him. As the son of our good Queen accepts rich tokens of kindness from
   the people of his land, so our Lord Jesus is charmed with the offerings
   of his people. He loves to see us lay our time, our talents, our
   substance upon his altar, not for the value of what we give, but for
   the sake of the motive from which the gift springs. He takes far more
   delight in what we do for him than our Queen's son could take in
   splendid arches, or in the glorious pageantry of yesterday. To Christ
   the shouts of his people are better than the cheers of the most
   enthusiastic populace, and to him the lowly offerings of his saints are
   more acceptable than thousands of gold and silver. Forgive your enemy,
   and you make Christ glad; distribute of your substance to the poor, and
   he rejoices; be the means of saving souls, and you give him to see of
   the travail of his soul; preach his gospel, and you are a sweet savor
   unto him; go among the ignorant and among the hopeless, and try to lift
   them up, and you have given him satisfaction. I tell you, brother, it
   is in your power this very day to break the alabaster box and pour the
   precious ointment on his head, as did the woman of old, whose memorial
   is to this day set forth. You can anoint him above all his fellows with
   the oil of gladness.

   I think I see a great procession. It is Jesus Christ riding alone
   through the tens of thousands of souls whom he has redeemed with his
   own blood. I think I see him looking to the right hand and to the left
   as he rides along the centuries. See how every windows of every age are
   crowded! Glorified spirits look down from the housetops of heaven: the
   Church militant looks up from the streets of earth, multitudes upon
   multitudes of souls that love him, and call him King, salute him as
   their Redeemer. I notice that, as he goes along in this great
   procession, his eyes are bright with joy. We liked to see the Prince
   and Princess happy yesterday but their joy could be nothing compared
   with that of Christ as he rides along in triumph. How the multitudes
   delight him; the ten thousand times ten thousand--who shall tell how
   many Christ has redeemed? Their number is beyond all human count; so
   many are they that, as they clap their hands and shout to his name, I
   hear a voice like many waters, or like great thunders, while they cry
   "Hallelujah, Sweet Prince! ride on triumphantly! and reign for ever and
   ever!" There is one thing Christ feels as he looks upon the crowd
   around him, which our Prince could not feel yesterday. He knows that
   everyone of these would lay down their lives for him. Of all those whom
   Jesus bought with blood; among those who are renewed in heart; there is
   not one who would not bleed for him. To the stake they walk, and sing
   amidst the flames. To the dungeon they go, and praise him while they
   rot in darkness. They are dragged at the heels of horses, they are
   stoned, they are sawn in sunder, they wander about in sheep-skins and
   in goat-skins, and they glory in all these things that they may show
   their love to Christ. Every eye in the vast throng which gathers about
   the triumphal chariot of Christ beams with intense love to him; and
   when they shout, each one shouts louder than his fellow; each one in
   the whole throng feels he owes more to the great King than anyone else;
   there is something special about each face the King looks on, and as he
   remembers the special circumstances, he perceives the reason for that
   special love. Either it is much forgiven, or else it is much trial
   averted, or much strength conferred by which to perform labor. I am
   sure that when you and I are in that throng loolking upon him, we may
   truly say--

   "Then loudest of the crowd I'll sing,

   While heaven's resounding mansions ring

   With shouts of sovereign grace."

   Ye did well to applaud your Prince yesterday, but what had he ever done
   for you? What debt did you owe to him? Owed he not far more to you? But
   our King as he rides along in the midst of the joyful hosts of the
   blood-bought, has this upon his mind--"I bought all these souls with my
   blood." He recollects, as he looks upon them, where they would have
   been but for his grace, and the very pangs of hell must add joy to his
   soul, when he remembers that he saved them from passing into the pit.
   He recollects, too, what they once were--how full of sin, what enemies
   to God, how they crucified him, how they trampled on his precious
   blood, and now he sees them bowing, before him, too glad to catch but a
   glimpse of him as he rides by, too happy to be as the dust of his feet
   if he will but honor them by treading upon them that he might be lifted
   the higher. O my brethren, we love the Lord Jesus Christ, and our
   hearts give him a reception such as never was accorded to earthly
   Prince. Pile the arches! pile the arches! Let hearts pour forth their
   life-blood, if in no other way the banners can be dyed red! Strew the
   streets; strip off your garments if in no other way the pageant can be
   made illustrious! bring forth the royal diadem, and let every saint
   renounce wealth and comfort if by no other means Jesus can be crowned!
   Empty heaven, if by no other way Jesus can be attended with guards of
   honor. Come, all ye sons and daughters of his great family, and offer
   yourselves a living sacrifice, if there can be no other incense! We are
   all prepared--I speak for the sacramental host of God's elect--we are
   all prepared by his grace to follow him through floods and through
   flames! We are prepared to give him all the honor that heart can
   conceive. We are prepared to kiss his feet as well as to crown his
   head. Bring forth the royal diadem to-day and crown him Lord of all;
   and each day as he rides along, till he shall deliver up the kingdom to
   God, even the Father, let him be crowned King of kings and Lord of
   lords.

   III. Now for another text, but not another sermon. It is in the fourth
   verse of the first chapter of the Song of Solomon:--"WE WILL BE GLAD
   AND REJOICE IN THEE."

   God has made the king glad, and his saints make him glad; let us be
   glad too. But let us mind that our gladness is of the right sort. "We
   will rejoice and be glad in thee." That man is glad in his farm; that
   other in his merchandise; that one yonder in his wealth; that woman in
   her jewels; that other in her beauty; "We will rejoice and be glad in
   thee." But in what? We will rejoice, more especially, in his love to
   us. You remember Jesus Christ said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of
   Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?" Interpreters read that two
   ways. Some think he meant, "Lovest thou me more that thou lovest these
   nets, and this fishery, and this thine earthly calling and these thy
   friends?" I think I hear Jesus Christ speaking this morning, and he
   says, "My people, I love you more than these." He points to spirits
   that once stood around his throne, angels that have sinned; they fell
   like lightning from heaven, and there they lie in flames, and Christ
   says, "I loved you more than these; I let these perish, but I saved
   you." Pointing to the kings and princes of this world, the great, the
   mighty, and the learned men, and to all the nations that sit in
   darkness, he says, "I love you more than these; I gave Ethiopia and
   Seba for you." Then taking a higher range he joints to heaven. There
   sit the angels before the throne, and he says, "I loved you more than
   these; I left their company for yours." He bids you listen to their
   harps and to their songs, and he says, "I loved you more than these; I
   left all these melodies that I might be able to meet your groans." Yea,
   he points to his own throne, so bright with glory that mortal eyes
   scarce dare to rest upon it, and he says, "I loved you more than these,
   for I left the glory of my throne that I might redeem you with my
   blood." Saint, will you not join with me? Shall we not both say,
   "Savior, blessed be thine unexampled love! We rill rejoice and be glad
   in thee!"

   But some interpreters read the text--"Lovest thou me more than
   these?"--"Lovest thou me more than these others love me?" Jesus speaks
   to-day to us, "I have loved thee more than these; thy mother loved
   thee; strong were her pangs when thou wast born, and anxious her cares
   when she nursed thee at her bosom; but I have loved thee more than
   these, and thy brethren loved thee, and thy sisters; born of the same
   parents they watched over thee with delight, and they have been ready
   to help thee in thy time of need, but I have loved thee more than
   these: and thy husband loved thee, loved thee as his own soul, he has
   cherished thee, and has been ready to lay down his life to give thee
   back health when thou hast been sick; but I have loved thee more than
   these: thy children, too, have loved thee; they have climbed thy knee
   and smiled upon thee for all thy kindness to them, and they have
   strengthened thine old age, and thou hast leaned upon them, as upon a
   staff, when thou hast been tottering with weakness; but I have loved
   thee more than these: and thou hast had a joyous companion, a dear
   friend who has been with thee from thy youth up, and has never lifted
   his heel against thee; and thou hast had thine intimates and thy
   familars who went up to the house of God with thee, and talked
   cheerfully by the way, but I have loved thee more than these," I think
   I hear him say to me--"There are some in this congregation who would
   pluck out their own eyes to give them to thee; they love thee, for thou
   art their spiritual father, but I have loved thee more than theses."
   And he points to all the good men that have ever tried to teach you, to
   all the comforters who have given you joy, to all the helpers that have
   aided you on the road to immortality; and he says, "I have loved you
   more than these." Well, if his love be matchless like this, we will
   rejoice and be glad in him. I have nothing, else to rejoice in, the
   Lord knoweth. I cannot rejoice in myself, there are so many sins and so
   many doubts; but I will rejoice and be glad in him if he loves me like
   this. He has finished the work for me, given me a perfect
   righteousness, washed me in his blood, taken off his robe to clothe me,
   given his life that he may make me live, entered the grave to bring me
   out of it, and said that I shall shortly be enthroned with him above
   the sky. I will rejoice and be glad in him. When King Solomon was
   crowned, all the people rejoiced; and shall we be mourners when Christ
   sits upon his throne? Let the heaviest heart begin to leap; and if you
   have to bear your burdens to-morrow, yet do throw them off to-day. "We
   will rejoice and be glad in thee." I should not like one Christian to
   go down these aisles this morning without some light of heaven's
   brightness on his cheek--without some note of heaven's music in his
   ear. "Oh!" says the Christian, "Yes. I will; the cross is heavy, but I
   will hope beneath it; the furnace is hot, but I will sing in it; the
   way is rough, but I will tread it with light footsteps, for I will
   rejoice and be glad in him who has loved me and given himself for me."
   Well, you see, there is a glad Christ in heaven, and here is a glad
   Church on earth; there is Christ anointed by his Father, here are his
   people sharing that anointing; here is Christ giving you joy, and you
   giving Christ joy. Belt the world with happiness; fire zodiac with joy.
   Lift up the ladder of your songs; while the bottom rests on earth, let
   the top reach to heaven; and ye angels of God, hold fellowship to-day
   with God and with us through the joy and peace which God the Father
   gives us, while we rejoice and are glad in him.

   I would you all understood this subject, but some of you are strangers
   to it altogether! Remember, there is no joy anywhere but in Christ. It
   is all poor mockery which you get elsewhere. Jesus Christ is to be had,
   and whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting
   life.

   The Lord give you his benediction, for Jesus' sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                           The Clean and the Unclean

   A Sermon

   (No. 499)

   By the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Speak unto the children of Israel, saying, These are the beasts which
   ye shall eat among all the beasts that are on the earth. Whatsoever
   parteth the hoof, and is clovenfooted, and cheweth the cud, among the
   beasts, that shall ye eat."--Leviticus 11:2, 3.

   THE MOSAIC LAW ATTACHED great importance to meats and drinks: the
   Christian religion attaches none. The apostle Peter was shown by the
   vision of a sheet let down from heaven, not only that all nations were
   now to receive the gospel message, but that all kinds of food were now
   clean, and that all the prohibitions which had formerly been laid upon
   them for legal purposes were now once for all withdrawn. A Christian
   may, if he pleases, put himself under restrictions as to these matters.
   You will remember that the apostle Paul says, "I know and am persuaded
   of the Lord Jesus that there is nothing unclean of itself, but to him
   that esteemeth anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean." I wot our
   apostle was tender of weak consciences; but he could expostulate with
   the brethren somewhat thus, "If ye be dead with Christ from the
   rudiments of the world, why, as though living in the world, do ye
   dogmatize--touch not this, taste not that, handle not the other--and
   all about things which perish with the using?" The doctrine of the New
   Testament is expressly laid down, "Every creature of God is good and
   nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving." And as for
   the practice enjoined upon believers, "All things are lawful, but all
   things are not expedient." In the example of Paul we have full liberty;
   he would put no embargo upon the conscience. But in his example we have
   also fervent charity; he would put no stumbling-block in his brother's
   way. "If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the
   world standeth." The levitical law enjoined many precepts as to meats
   and drinks; but those carnal ordinances were imposed until the time of
   reformation. Since then, this Mosaic institution was not designed to be
   perpetual, we feel certain that it must have had some use at the time
   when it was first established, and during the time in which it was
   sustained. As that was pecuharly a typical dispensation, we feel
   persuaded that we shall not exaggerate the uses of the text if we show
   that there was something instructive to us and something typical of the
   better covenant in the command that the people were to eat no creatures
   but those which divided the hoof and those which chewed the cud.

   I. It is our firm belief that these distinctions of meats were laid
   down on purpose TO KEEP THE JEWS AS A DISTINCT PEOPLE, and that herein
   they might be a type of the people of God, who are also, throughout all
   ages, to be a distinct and separate people--not of the world, even as
   Christ was not of the world.

   You that are conversant with the old Levitical rule, well know that it
   was quite impossible for the Hebrews to mix with any other nation,
   without violating the statutes they were commanded to keep. Their food
   was so restricted that they could not possibly enter into social
   intercourse with any of the neighboring peoples. The Canaanites, for
   instance, ate everything, even the flesh that had been torn by dogs,
   and the dogs themselves. Now, a Jew could never sit at a Canaanites
   table, because he could never be sure that there would not be the flesh
   of some unclean and accursed thing upon it. The Jews could not even eat
   with the Arabs, who were near akin to them, for they frequently partook
   of the flesh of the camels, the hare, and the coney, all which, as we
   shall see presently, were forbidden to the Jew. The Arabs on the south,
   and the Canaanitish nations all round Palestine, were the most likely
   people with whom the Jews would associate, and this command about what
   they should and should not eat prevented them for ever from mingling
   with these people, and made them a distinct and isolated republic so
   long as they were obedient to the law. We are told by Eastern travelers
   that the Mohammedan regulations, which are far less strict than those
   of the Jew, prevent their becoming socially intermingled either with
   the idolaters or with Christians. It is a well-known fact that no
   people that have prescriptions about meats and drinks have ever changed
   their religion to that of another people, because the famiharity which
   seems necessary in order to proselyte is quite prevented by the barrier
   that precludes from intercourse at the table. It is at the social table
   men enjoy the most genial intercourse; it is there they pour out their
   souls with the least reserve, and mix their thoughts one with another
   in the greatest freedom of conversation. Check them there; prevent
   their sitting at the same board, and there is no likehhood that they
   will ever blend or intermingle in any kind of affinity, the races must
   be distinct. I believe, dear fiiends, though I have been somewhat prosy
   in explaining myself, that it was God's real intention, to keep the
   children of Israel, until the coming of Christ, separate from all the
   nations that were upon the face of the earth. They could not join in
   the worship of other nations, for other nations sacrificed to their
   gods the very animals which to the Jew were unclean. They could not
   join in social intercourse, as we have already seen; and hence marriage
   with any other nation would be, not only, as it was, prohibited by the
   law, but would be actually prevented by the possibilities of the case.
   It must in each instance put the transgressor beyond the pale of his
   own tribe. They would remain as much a distinct people, as if a great
   wall of brass had been built all around them, or as if they had been
   transported to some island, and an impassable gulf had been put between
   them and any other kindred upon earth. They were separated for ever.
   Now friends, you will say, "What is the use of this to us?" I answer,
   it is the earthly type of a heavenly mystery. When the Jews were put
   away as the people of God for a time, then the Gentiles were grafted
   into their olive, and though we did not inherit the ceremonies, we did
   inherit all the privileges to which those ceremonies point. Thus all of
   you who name the name of Christ and are truly what you profess to be,
   are solemnly bound to be for ever separated from the world. Not that
   you are to leave off your daily intercourse with men. Our Savior did
   not do so. He was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners.
   Yet, you know, he was always in the company of sinners, sitting at
   their table, seeking their good, and hunting after their souls. He was
   with them, but he was never of them; he was among them, but always
   distinct and separate from them; not conforming himself to them, but
   transforming them to himself. He hath set us an example. It is not the
   seclusion of a hermit, nor the exclusion of yourselves in a monastery,
   where you would be of no service to your fellow-men, but it is a higher
   and more spiritual separation which I claim of Christians to-night. You
   are to be in the world, and among the world, you are to mingle with all
   sorts and conditions of men, but still to maintain the dignity of your
   newborn character, and to let men see that you are among them as a
   speckled bird, as a light in the midst of darkness, as salt scattered
   over putridity, as heavenly angels in the midst of fallen men. So are
   ye to be a distinct people, a chosen generation.

   But you will ask of me in what respects are you to be distinguished? In
   a pure consistency always, in a vain eccentricity never. This shall be
   my first reply. Not in your garments, my brethren. All those inventions
   of broad-brimmed hats, and coats without collars, perish in the using.
   Let your dress be, nevertheless, so distinguished from that of some
   other men, that there shall be none of the pride and foppery in which
   they delight. The Apostle Peter has well laid down the regulations by
   which our sisters in Christ are to adorn themselves, but I need not
   mention what you know so well and practice so little--that chaste and
   becoming neatness which is always right in the sight of God, and
   beautiful in the assembly of Christians. Not by my pecuhar Jargon in
   your speech are you to be known. For my part I abhor in any man that
   sanctimonious tone and sacred whine which many affect; even in the
   pulpit I despise it. I believe that the reason why the pulpit has lost
   so much of its former power is because men must needs mouth our blessed
   Saxon tongue, and talk as if everything natural were to be eschewed
   there, and men, metamorphosed into ministers, were to be as unnatural
   and grotesque in their modes of speech as possible. No, not these, not
   these; all such artificial separations we leave to the people whose
   vanity feeds on its own conceit. Nor need you make any straining effort
   to be distinguished by any stiff buckram of your own; do not try to
   make yourself look like a Christian. True Christians can do a great
   many things that sham Christians must not do. As for me, I am never
   afraid to laugh, for I shall never crack the paint on my face, laugh as
   I may. A sincere man may do a great many things that a hypocrite dare
   not do, for he will spht the garments of his hypocrisy if he ventures
   to run as a Christian may. Heavenly realities within do not always need
   to be plastered up and labelled outside, so that everybody may see and
   recognize you, and say, "There goes a saint." There are other modes of
   being distinguished from the world than any of these.

   What are they then? Well, brethren, we ought ever to be distinguished
   from the world in the great object of our life. As for worldly men,
   some of them are seeking wealth, others of them fame; some seek after
   comfort, others after pleasure. Subordinately you may seek after any of
   these, but your main and principal motive as a Christian should always
   be to live for Christ. To live for glory? Yes, but for his glory. To
   live for comfort? Yes, but be all your consolation in him. To live for
   pleasure? Yes, but when you are merry, sing psalms, and make melody in
   your hearts to the Lord. To live for wealth? Yes, but to be rich in
   faith. You may lay up treasure; but lay it up in heaven, where neither
   moth nor rust doth corrupt, where thieves break not through nor steal.
   It is thought, you know, that ministers do live for God; merchants
   should do the same. I would, my brethren, that you would trade, and do
   your merchandise for his service; or do ye plough, and sow, and reap,
   and mow, do it for Christ! Would God you could do this quite as much in
   his service, as we do ours, when we preach for Christ! You can make the
   commonest calling become really sacred. You may take the highest orders
   by dedicating your daily life wholly to the service of Jesus. There is
   such a thing--and let those that deny the possibility stand
   self-convicted that they obey not the precept--"Whether ye eat or
   drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God."

   By your spirit as well as your aim you should likewise be
   distinguished. The spirit of this world is often selfish; it is always
   a spirit that forgets God, that ignores the existence of a Creator in
   his own world, the land which he makes fat by his own bounty. Men with
   God's breath in their nostrils forget him who makes them live. Now,
   your spirit should be one of unselfish devotion, a spirit always
   conscious of his presence, bowed down with the weight, or raised up
   with the cheer of Hagar's exclamation--"Thou God seeest me;" a spirit
   which watcheth humbly before God, and seeketh to know his will and to
   do it through the grace of God given to you. Such a spirit as this,
   without the drab of one sect, or the phylacteries of another, will soon
   make you quite as distinct from your fellow men as ever meats and
   drinks could make the Jews a separate people.

   Your maxims too, and the rules which regulate you, should be very
   different from those of others. The world says "Well, it is usual in
   the trade; there is no use in being over scrupulous; we must not be too
   Puritanic, or too severe; we shall never get on if we are picking at
   this and frowning at that." A Christian never considers what is usual,
   but what is right; he does not estimate a wrong by its commonness; he
   counts that a fraud, and a falsehood will be as much fraud and
   falsehood, though all the world shall agree to practice it, as though
   but one man should do it in the dark. The believer reads things, not in
   man's light, in the obscurity of which so many blind bats are willing
   to fly, but he reads things in the sunlight of heaven. If a thing be
   right though he lose by it, it is done; if it be wrong, though he
   should become as rich as Croesus by allowing it, he scorns the sin for
   his Master's sake. We want our merchants on the Exchange, our traders
   in their shops, and our artisans in their factories; yea, and we want
   all masters, employers, and overseers too, to be distinguished, as the
   clean from the unclean, in the maxims that govern their daily life, and
   thus manifestly separate from the world.

   This will naturally lead to the next point--the Christian should be
   separate in his actions. I would not give much for your religion unless
   it can be seen. I know some people's religion is heard of, but give me
   the man whose religion is seen. Lamps do not talk, but shine; a
   lighthouse sounds no drum, it beats no gong, and yet far over the
   waters its friendly spark is seen by the mariner. So let your actions
   shine out your religion. Let your conduct talk out your soul. Let the
   main sermon of your life be illustrated by all your conduct, and it
   shall not fail to be illustrious. Have I not told you before that the
   only bit of ecclesiastical history we have in the whole New Testament
   is--what? The sermons of the Apostles? No, no, the "Acts of the
   Apostles." So let your history be written, so that it may have this
   title--"The acts of such-and-such a man." This will furnish the best
   proof that you have been with Jesus.

   A Christian is distinguished by his conversation. He will often trim a
   sentence where others would have made it far more luxuriant by a jest
   which was not altogether clean. Following Herbert's advice--"He pares
   his apple--he would cleanly feed." If he would have a jest, he picks
   the mirth but leaves the sin; his conversation is not used to levity;
   it is not mere froth, but it ministereth grace unto the hearers. He has
   learned where the salt-box is kept in God's great house, and so his
   speech is always seasoned with it, so that it may do no hurt but much
   good. Oh! commend me to the man who talks like Jesus, who will not for
   the world suffer corrupt communications to come out of his mouth. I
   know what people will say of you if you are like this: they will say
   you are straight-laced, and that you will not throw much life into
   company. Others will call you mean-spirited. Oh, my brethren!
   bold-hearted men are always called mean-spirited by cowards. They will
   admonish you not to be singular, but you can tell them that it is no
   folly to be singular, when to be singular is to be right. I know they
   will say you deny yourselves a great deal, but you will remind them
   that it is no denial to you. Sheep do not eat carrion, but I do not
   know that sheep think it a hardship to turn away from the foul feast.
   Eagles do not prefer to float on the sea, but I do not read that eagles
   think it a denial when they can soar in higher atmosphere. Do not talk
   of self-denial. You have other ends and other aims; you have welds of
   comfort that such men know not of. It would be a shame for you to be
   eating husks with swine, when your Father's table is loaded with
   dainties. I trust, my dear brethren, that you know the value of the
   gold of heaven too well to pawn it away for the counterfeits of earth.
   "Come ye out from among them; be ye separate, and touch not the unclean
   thing." By a holiness which merely moral men cannot equal, stand as on
   a pedestal aloft above the world. Thus men may know you to be of the
   seed of Jesus, even as they knew the Jew to be the seed of Israel.

   How shall I urge you to give more earnest heed to this holy separation?
   Let me add the voice of warning to that of entreaty. If we do not see
   to this matter we shall bring sorrow on our own souls; we shall lose
   all hope of honoring Christ, and we shall sooner or later bring a great
   disaster on the world. You know the world is always trying to
   nationalize the Church. What a mercy it is that there are some who will
   not have it! If you could once make the Church and the nation one, what
   would follow? It must be destroyed; it must fall. It was when the
   church and the world became one in Noah's day that the Lord sent the
   flood to destroy all people. No, the proper position of a Christian is
   not with the world, even in its best state and its most exalted
   condition. We are to be separated from this present evil world
   according to the will of God. Our position to-day is as much as in
   Christ's day, outside the camp, not in it; we are still to be
   protesters, still to be testifiers against the world. "Ye are of God,
   little children, and the whole world lieth in the wicked one."
   Scripture never supposes that the world will get better till the coming
   of Christ. It does not propose to lift the world up and marry it with
   the Church. It always supposes the Church to be as an alien and a
   stranger here until Christ, her husband shall come. On which side will
   you rank? Truce there cannot be, links between the two there must not
   be. God and mammon cannot go together. For which will you be--for
   God--for truth--for right? Or for Satan--for the he--for the wrong?
   Which shall it be? May the Spirit of God whisper in your heart
   to-night, and say, "Believe thou in Christ Jesus; take up thy cross and
   follow him, and be enlisted on his side henceforth and for ever."

   II. We have now a second and an important matter to bring forward. The
   distinction drawn between clean and unclean animals was, we think,
   intended by God TO KEEP HIS PEOPLE ALWAYS CONSCIOUS THAT THEY WERE IN
   THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF SIN.

   Just let me picture it. I have caught the idea from Mr. Bonar, though I
   fear I cannot paint it in words so well as he has done. An oriental
   Jew, sensible and intelligent, walks out in the fields. He walks along
   close by the side of the high-road, and what should he see but a string
   of camels going along? "Ah!" he says to himself "those are unclean
   animals." Sin, you see, is brought at once before his mind's eye. He
   turns away from the road and walks down one of his own fields, and as
   he goes along a hare starts across his path. "Ah!" says he, "an unclean
   animal again; there is sin in my path." He gets into a more retired
   place, he walks on the mountains; surely he shall be alone there. But
   he sees a coney burrowing among the rocks; "Ah!" says he, "unclean;
   there is sin there!" He lifts his eye up to heaven; he sees the osprey,
   the bald eagle, flying along through the air, and he says, "Ah! there
   is an emblem of sin there!" A dragon-fly has just flitted by him--there
   is sin there. There are insects among the flowers; now every creeping
   thing, and every insect, except the locust, was unclean to the Jew.
   Everywhere he would come in contact with some creature that would
   render him ceremonially unclean, and it were impossible for him, unless
   he were brutish, to remain even for ten minutes abroad without being
   reminded that this world, however beautiful it is, still has sin in it.
   Even the fish, in sea, or river, or inland lake, had their divisions;
   those that had no scales or fins were unclean to the Jew, so the little
   Hebrew boys could not even fish for minnows in the brook but they would
   know that the minnow was unclean, and so their young hearts were made
   to dread little wrongs and little sins, for there were little sins in
   the little pools even as there were leviathan sins floating in the deep
   and nude sea. Ah! friends, we want to have this more before our minds.
   Look at the fairest landscape that your eye has ever beheld; see the
   towering Alp, the green valley, and the silver stream

   "These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,

   Almighty,"

   but the slime of the serpent is on them all,

   "Keep me, O, keep me King of kings,

   Beneath the shadow of thy wings."

   When I walk abroad in this temple of nature, and seek to behold
   nature's God, I may not light upon a spot in the universe where the
   curse of sin has never inflicted a blight, or where the hope of
   redemption should not inspire a prayer. Sometimes, brethren you get all
   alone and quiet, but do not imagine that you are even there free from
   sin. As the most beautiful landscape, so the sweetest retirement cannot
   shut out uncleanness. As the fly or the insect would intrude into the
   arbour where the Jew would worship, so sin will haunt and molest us
   even in the closet of devotion. Get up Christians, and be upon your
   watch-towers. You may sleep, but your enemies never will; you may
   suppose yourselves safe, but then are you most in danger. See that you
   put on the whole panoply of God, and are armed from head to foot, and
   having done all, watch and pray lest ye enter into temptation. Every
   morning we ought to ask the Lord to keep us from unknown sins, to
   preserve us from temptations that we cannot foresee, to check us in
   every part of life if we are about to go wrong, and to hold us up every
   hour that we sin not. You will say it must have been an unpleasant
   thing for the Jew always to have sin before his eye, nor would you wish
   every aspect of life to be thus fouled before your eye; but it will not
   be so unpleasant for you, my brother, because you know there is a
   redemption, and your faith can realize the end of the curse by sin
   being put away. Shut not your eyes to sin, but keep Christ always
   before you, and you will walk aright. I wish that some of my hearers
   had sin before their eyes now. Oh! you that trifle with it, you do not
   know what it is! Fools make a mock of sin. You laugh at it now; you do
   not understand what a fire it is that you have kindled to consume your
   soul! Oh! you that think it is such a little thing, its deadly poison
   will soon envenom all your blood, and then you will discover that he
   that plays with sin plays with damnation. May the Lord set sin straight
   before your eyes, and then set the cross of Christ there too, and so
   you will be saved. Two prayers I ask all my hearers to pray--they are
   very brief--"Lord show me myself." If there is any man here who says he
   would pray but he does not know what to pray, for; pray that every
   night and morning--"Lord show me myself;" and if God hear you, you will
   soon be in such a wretched state that you will want another prayer, and
   then I give you this--"Lord show me thyself;" and then if he shall show
   you himself hanging on the tree, the expiation for guilt, the Great God
   become man that he might put away sin, your salvation will be
   accomplished. Tis all the prayer that is wanted--"Lord show me myself;
   Lord show me thyself; reveal sin and reveal a Savior." Lord, do this
   for all of us for thy name's sake.

   III. And now, I come to show you a third teaching of my text. As this
   injunction was meant to separate the Jews from other nations, and to
   keep the pious Israelite in constant remembrance of his danger of
   falling into sin, so it was also intended to be A RULE OF
   DISCRIMINATION BY WHICH WE MAY JUDGE WHO ARE CLEAN AND WHO ARE UNCLEAN,
   THAT IS, WHO ARE SAINTS AND WHO ARE NOT.

   There are two tests, but they must both be united. The beast that was
   clean was to chew the cud: here is the inner-life; every truehearted
   man must know how to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the sacred
   Word. The man who does not feed upon Gospel truth, and so feed upon it,
   too, that he knows the sweetness and relish of it, and seeks out its
   marrow and fatness, that man is no heir of heaven. You must know a
   Christian by his inwards, by that which supports his life and sustains
   his frame. But then the clean creatures were also known by their walk.
   The Jew at once discovered the unclean animal by its having an
   undivided hoof; but if the hoof was thoroughly divided, then it was
   clean, provided that it also chewed the cud. So there must be in the
   true Christian a pecuhar walk such as God requires. You cannot tell a
   man by either of these tests alone; you must have them both. But while
   you use them upon others apply them to yourselves. What do you feed on?
   What is your habit of life? Do you chew the cud by meditation? When
   your soul feeds on the flesh and blood of Christ have you learned that
   his flesh is meat indeed, and that his blood is drink indeed? If so tis
   well. What about your life? Are your conversation and your daily walk
   according to the description which is given in the Word of believers in
   Christ? If not, the first test will not stand alone. You may profess
   the faith within, but if you do not walk aright without, you belong to
   the unclean. On the other hand, you may walk aright without but unless
   there is the chewing of the cud within, unless there is a real feeding
   upon precious truth in the heart, all the right walking in the world
   will not prove you to be a Christian. That holiness which is only
   outward in moral not spiritual; it does not save the soul. That
   religion, on the other hand, which is only inward is but fancy; it
   cannot save the soul either. But the two together; the inward parts
   made capable of knowing the lusciousness, the sweetness, the fatness of
   Christ's truth; and the outward parts conformed to Christ's image and
   character: these conjoined point out the true and clean Christian with
   whom it is blessed to associate here, and for whom a better portion is
   prepared hereafter.

   If you read the chapter through you will find there were some two or
   three animals about which the Jew would have some little difficulty.
   There was the camel that did chew the cud, but did not exactly divide
   the hoof. Now this animal seems to me fitly to represent--though it may
   not have been so intended--those men who seem really to feed on the
   truth and yet their walk and conversation are not aright. Their feet
   have been formed rather for the sandy desert of sin than for the sacred
   soil of godliness. Oh! I know some of you--come, let us be
   personal--there are some of you if I would always preach the doctrine
   of predestination, or some other doctrine of that kind, how sweet it
   would be to you! But your lives are not what they should be. Thank God
   there are not many of that sort who come here. They get angry with me
   very soon, and go off to other places where they can get sweet and
   savoury morsels, which exactly suit their taste, and hear no
   admonitions about their lives whatever. May the Lord deliver my
   ministry from ever being comfortable and flattering to souls that live
   in sin. I hope you will sometimes have to say, "I must either give up
   that sin or else give up my seat there." I know one who said, "Well! it
   has come to this: I cannot go there on Sunday evening and keep my shop
   open in the morning; it will not do for me to go and sit there, and
   hear the Word, and sing with those people on Sunday evening, and then
   hear songs and join in revelries on week-nights." I hope the Word of
   God here will be such a searching Word to some of you that you will
   even gnash your teeth at the preacher. He would sooner for you to do
   that than for you to say; "Peace, peace, where there is no peace,"
   sucking in sweet doctrine, and yet living in sin. God deliver us from
   Antinomianism! We do preach against Arminianism, but that is a white
   devil compared with the black devil of Antinomianism. God save us from
   that! If there is any religion that will drug conscience, stimulate
   crime, crowd jails, and turn this world into an Aceldema, it is the
   religion of the man who preaches divine sovereignty but neglects human
   responsibility. I believe it is a vicious, immoral, and corrupt manner
   of setting forth doctrine, and cannot be of God. It would undermine
   morality, and put the very life of society in peril if it were largely
   believed, or if it were preached by men of any great weight who should
   have any great numbers to follow them. Oh, dear friends! be not as the
   animal which cheweth the cud but yet divideth not the hoof. Seek not
   merely to get precious doctrine, comforting to yourselves, but see that
   your walk is such as it should be.

   Then there was another animal. It did not chew the cud, still the Jews
   thought it did. This was the coney--the nearest approach to it is the
   rabbit of our land--"The coney, because he cheweth the cud but divideth
   not the hoof; he is unclean." The coney was a very timid creature,
   which burrowed in the rocks. "The coneys be a feeble folk, but they
   make their dwellings in the rocks," says Solomon. Now, there are some
   people who seem as if they like the gospel truth, and they may be put
   down in the class in which Moses puts the coney, which appeared to chew
   the cud, though it did not really do so. There are hundreds of this
   sort we know. They like the gospel, but it must be very cheap. They
   like to hear it preached, but as to doing anything to extend it, unless
   it were to lend their tongues an hour, they would not dream of it. The
   coney, you know, lived in the earth. These people are always scraping.
   John Bunyan's muck-rake is always in their hands. Neither to dig nor to
   beg are they ashamed. They are as true misers, and as coyetous, as if
   they had no religion at all. And many of these people get into our
   Churches, and are received when thee ought not to be. Coyetousness
   ought to exclude a man from Church fellowship as well as fornication,
   for Paul says, "Coyetousness, which is idolatry." He puts the brand
   right on its forehead, and marks what it is. We would not admit an
   idolater to the Lord's table; nor ought we to admit a coyetous man;
   only we cannot always know him. St. Francis Sales, who had a great many
   people come to him to confession, makes this note, that he had many men
   and women come to him who confessed all sorts of most outrageous
   crimes, but he never had one who confessed coyetousness. It is a kind
   of sin that always comes in at the back-door, and it is always
   entertained at the back-part of the house. People do not suspect it as
   an inmate of their own hearts. Mr. Coyetousness has changed his name to
   Mr. Prudent-Thrifty; and it is quite an insult to call him other than
   by his adopted name. Old vices, like streets notorious for vice, get
   new names given them. Avaricious grasping, they call that only "the
   laws of social economy;" screwing down the poor is "the natural result
   of competition;" withholding corn until the people curse oh! that is
   "just the usual regulation of the market." People name the thing
   prettily, and then they think they have rescued it from the taint.
   These people, who are all for earth, are like the coneys, who, though
   they chew the cud, burrow in the ground. They love precious truth, and
   yet they are all for this earth. If there are any such here, despite
   their fine experience, we pronounce them unclean--they are not heirs of
   heaven.

   The next creature mentioned in the chapter is the hare--"The hare,
   because he cheweth the cud, but divideth not the hoof; he is unclean."
   See how he fhes with bounding step over the ground! A clapping of the
   hands, and how he starts and is away! The hare is such a timid
   creature; she leayeth her food, and fleeth before the passer-by. I
   would not say a hard thing, but there are some people who appear to
   chew the cud, they love to hear the gospel preached; their eyes will
   sparkle sometimes when we are talking of Christ, but they do not divide
   the hoof: Like the hare, they are too timid to be domesticated among
   the creatures whom the Lord has pronounced clean. They do not come out
   from the world, enter into the Church, and manifest themselves wholly
   on the Lord's side. Their conscience tells them they should baptized as
   believers--but they dare not; they should be united with the people of
   God, and confess Christ before men--but they are ashamed, ashamed,
   ashamed! One fears lest his wife should know it, and she might
   ridicule. Some start abashed lest their friends should know it, for the
   finger of scorn or the breath of raillery could frighten them out of
   their senses. Others of them are alarmed because the world might,
   perchance, give them an ill name. Do you know where the fearful go? Not
   the fearing, not the doubting--for there are many poor, humble doubters
   and fearers that are saved--but do you know where the fearful go? The
   fearful that are afraid of being persecuted, mocked, or even laughed at
   for Christ--do you know where they go? You will find it in the Book of
   the Revelation--"But the fearful and unbelieving shall have their part
   in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second
   death." Have you never read that sentence which says, "Whosoever shall
   be ashamed of me and of my words, of him shall the Son of man be
   ashamed when he shall come in his own glory, and in his Father's, and
   of the holy angels?" There you are, young men! you are ashamed of
   Christ. You have just come up from the country, and you did not pray to
   God the other night because there was another young man in the room,
   and you were ashamed of him! In the name of God I do entreat you, nay,
   I command you, be not ashamed of your Master, Christ, and of the
   religion which you learned at your father's knee. There are others of
   you who work in a large shop, and you do not want to be jeered at, as
   the other young fellow is who works with you, because he is a
   Christian. You keep your love as a secret do you, and will not let it
   out? What! if Christ had only loved you in secret, and had never dared
   to come here on earth to be despised and rejected of men, where would
   you have been? "No man lighteth a candle and putteth it under a
   bushel." Do you think that Christ has lit a candle in your hearts that
   you may hide it? Oh! I pray you, be not like the hare. Let your hoof be
   so divided from the rest of mankind that they may say, "There is a
   man--he is not as bold as a hon, mayhap, but he is not ashamed to be a
   follower of Jesus; he does bear the sneer and gibe for him, and counts
   it his honor to be thought evil of for Jesus' sake." Oh! be not, I pray
   you, like the timid hare, lest you be found among the unclean!

   There is one other creature mentioned--"The swine, though he divide the
   hoof, and be cloven-footed, yet he cheweth not the cud; he is unclean
   to you." Now, the swine is the emblem of those who do act rightly. They
   make a profession; before men they are the most upright and the most
   devout; but then the inner part is not right; they do not chew the cud.
   The foot is right, but not the inward part. There is no chewing, no
   masticating, no digesting the Word of Life. "But," says one, "why pick
   out a swine, because that does not seem to be a fair comparison." Yes
   it is, for there are no people in the world more like swine than those
   Pharisees who make clean the outside of the cup and the platter; whose
   hoof is divided enough, but whose inward part is very wickedness. I do
   not know an animal that might more filly picture out those vile,
   unclean Pharisees. You may say you think it is too hard a picture for
   you. You are put down thus in the catalogue, and I have no other place
   in which to put you. You are like swine, unless the grace of God be in
   you. What good does the swine do? Of what concern is life to him but to
   feed grossly and slumber heavily? And so your life, since the inward
   part is wrong, you bring no glory to God, you bring no good to your
   fellow-men. Oh! that the Lord would show you that dead morality,
   unattended by the love of God in the soul, will most certainly be of no
   avail! "You must be born again." "Except ye be converted, and become as
   little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven."

   My text seems to be a dividing one; it divides the house in two.
   Remember, dear friends, the day is coming when a greater division than
   that which description can give will occur to all of us. But the same
   rule will be enforced. We shall be assembled in one crowd, a mightier
   crowd than language can picture, or imagination grasp. The books shall
   be opened--books more terrible than this Book of Mercy. The Book of
   Life shall be unfolded and read, in which those washed in Jesu's blood,
   and so made clean, shall find their names recorded. They are borne to
   heaven. Listen to the music of the angels as they bear them up to God's
   right hand! Where will you be? Will you be with those who mount to
   heaven, or with yonder trembling, shrieking, screaming souls, who, as
   hell opens her mouth, descend alive into the pit? God help you if you
   are not on the righthand side! It is not too late. Jesus Christ is
   still preached to you. The way of salvation is very plain. It is
   this--Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved. Believe
   thou in Jesus. Then make a profession of thy faith in God's own
   ordained way and method, and you have his promise for it that you will
   be saved. God help you to believe, and you shall be saved through
   Jesus, and unto him shall be the glory for ever and ever. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                   Ebenezer!

   A Sermon

   (No. 500)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 15th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Then Samuel took a stone, and set it between Mizpeh and Shen, and
   called the name of it Eben-ezer, saying, Hitherto hath the Lord helped
   us."--1 Samuel 7:12.

   IT IS CERTAINLY A VERY DELIGHTFUL THING to mark the hand of God in the
   lives of ancient saints. How profitable an occupation to observe God's
   goodness in delivering David out of the jaw of the hon and the paw of
   the bear; his mercy in passing by the transgression, iniquity, and sin
   of Manasseh; his faithfulness in keeping the covenant made with
   Abraham; or his interposition on the behalf of the dying Hezekiah. But,
   beloved, would it not be even more interesting and profitable for us to
   remark the hand of God in our own lives? Ought we not to look upon our
   own history as being at least as full of God, as full of his goodness
   and of his truth, as much a proof of his faithfulness and veracity as
   the lives of any of the saints who have gone before? I think we do our
   Lord an injustice when we suppose that he wrought all his mighty acts
   in days of yore, and showed himself strong for those in the early time,
   but doth not perform wonders or lay bare his arm for the saints that
   are now upon the earth. Let us review, I say, our own diaries. Surely
   in these modern pages we may discover some happy incidents, refreshing
   to ourselves and glorifying to our God. Have you had no deliverances?
   Have you passed through no rivers, supported by the Divine presence?
   Have you walked through no fires unharmed? Have you not been saved in
   six troubles? yea, in seven hath not Jehovah helped you? Have you had
   no manifestations? The God that spoke to Abraham at Mamre, hath he
   never spoken to you? The angel that wrestled with Jacob at Peniel, hath
   he never wrestled with you? He that stood in the fiery furnace with the
   three holy children, hath he never trodden the coals at your side? O
   beloved, he has manifested himself unto us as he doth not unto the
   world. Forget not these manifestations; fail not to rejoice in them.
   Have you had no choice favors? The God that gave Solomon the desire of
   his heart, hath he never listened to you and answered your requests?
   That God of lavish bounty, of whom David sang, "Who satisfieth thy
   mouth with good things, so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's,"
   hath he never satiated you with fatness? Have you never been made to he
   down in green pastures? Have you never been led by the still waters?
   Surely, beloved, the goodness of God of old has been repeated unto us.
   The manifestations of his grace to those gone to glory has been renewed
   to us, and delivering mercies as experienced by them are not unknown
   even to us, upon whom the ends of the world are come.

   I beg you, therefore, dear friends, for a little time this morning, to
   fix your thoughts upon your God in connection with yourselves; and,
   while we think of Samuel piling the stones and saying, "Hitherto hath
   the Lord helped us," let us lay the emphasis upon the last word and
   say, "Hitherto hath the Lord helped US," and if you can put it in the
   singular, and say, "Hitherto hath the Lord helped ME," so much the
   better.

   Again, it is a very delightful exercise to remember the various ways in
   which the grateful saints recorded their thankfulness. Who can look
   without pleasure upon the altar which Noah reared after his
   preservation from the universal deluge? Have not our eyes often
   sparkled as we have thought of Abraham building the altar and calling
   it "Jehovah-jireh, In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen?" Have we
   not read with intense satisfaction, of Jacob setting up the stone which
   had been his pillow, and pouring oil upon it, and calling upon the name
   of the Lord, naming the place Bethel, though the name thereof was Luz
   at the first? Who has failed to rejoice in the martial music of
   Miriam's timbrel, and the glorious notes of Moses' song at the Red Sea?
   And have we not paused and looked at the twelve stones set up in the
   midst of Jordan by good old Joshua when Jordan was driven back, that
   the hosts of Israel might go through dryshod? Surely, brethren, we have
   rejoiced in this stone which Samuel set up and called Ebenezer? And, in
   looking upon all the various ways in which the saints of God have
   recorded his lovingkindness of old, we have felt a satisfaction in
   beholding the perpetuity of God's glory, since one generation showeth
   forth to another all his mighty acts. Oh, would it not be quite as
   pleasant, and more profitable for us to record the mighty acts of the
   Lord as we have seen them? Should not we set up the altar unto his
   name, or weave his mercies into a song? Should we not take the pure
   gold of thankfulness, and the jewels of praise, and make them into
   another crown for the head of Jesus? Ought not our souls to give forth
   musics as sweet and exhilarating as ever came from David's harp? Ought
   not the feet of our gratitude to trip as lightly as Miriam's when she
   led the daughters of Israel? Have we not some means of praising God?
   Are there no methods by which we may set forth the gratitude we feel
   within? I trust we can make an offering unto our Lord. We can entertain
   our beloved with the spiced wine of our pomegranate, and the choice
   drops of our honeycomb. I hope that this day our souls may suggest unto
   themselves some way in which we may record the Lord's mighty deeds, and
   hand down to coming generations our testimony of his faithfulness and
   of his truth.

   In the spirit of these two observations then, looking at God's hand in
   our own life, and acknowledging that hand with some record of
   thankfulness, I, your minister, brought by divine grace to preach this
   morning the five hundredth of my printed sermons, consecutively
   published week by week, set up my stone of Ebenezer to God. I thank
   Him, thank Him humbly, but yet most joyfully for all the help and
   assistance given in studying and preaching the word to these mighty
   congregations by the voice, and afterwards to so many nations through
   the press. I set up my pillar in the form of this sermon. My motto this
   day shall be the same as Samuel's, "Hitherto, the Lord hath helped me."
   And as the stone of my praise is much too heavy for me to set it
   upright alone, I ask you, my comrades in the day of battle, my
   fellow-laborers in the vineyard of Christ, to join with me in
   expressing gratitude, while together we set up the stone of memorial
   and say, "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us."

   This morning there are three things I want to talk about--three yet
   only one. This stone of help was suggestive as to the place of its
   erection, as to the occasion of its setting up, and as to the
   inscription which it bore.

   I. First, then, much valuable instruction, much excitement to devout
   thankfulness may be found in THE SPOT WHERE THE STONE OF EBENEZER WAS
   SET UP.

   Twenty years before on that field Israel was routed. Twenty years
   before, Hoplini and Phineas, the priests of the Lord, were slain upon
   that ground, and the ark of the Lord was taken, and the Philistines
   triumphed. It was well that they should remember the defeat they had
   sustained, and that amidst the joyous victory they should recollect
   that the battle had been turned into a defeat unless the Lord had been
   upon their side. Brethren, let us remember our defeats. Have we
   forgotten when we went out in our own strength determined to subdue our
   corruptions, and found ourselves weak as water? Have you forgotten when
   you reposed in the ark of the Lord, when you rested in ceremonies and
   ordinances, and not in the rock of your salvation? Have you forgotten,
   I say, how you were discomfited before your sins and found no place of
   refuge from your adversaries? Have we forgotten our pitiful failures in
   preaching and prayer when we waited not upon God for strength? O those
   times of groaning, when none have believed our report because the
   Lord's arm was not revealed. I call to remembrance all my failures as I
   stand on this hill of joy. I doubt not, that on the field of Ebenezer
   there were the graves of thousands who had been slain in fight. Let the
   graves of our past proud notions, the graves of our self-confidence,
   the graves of our creature-strength and boasting, stir us up to praise
   the Lord who hath hitherto helped us. Perhaps on that spot there stood
   a trophy raised by the insulting Philistines. Oh, let the remembrance
   of the boasting of the adversary, when he said, "Aha! aha!" let that
   come into our ears to sweeten the shout of triumph while we glorify the
   God of Israel. Have you done anything for God? You would have done
   nothing without him. Look to your former defeats. Do you return
   victorious? You would have returned with your garments trailed in the
   mire, and your shield dishonored, if God had not been upon your side.
   Oh, ye that have proven your weakness, perhaps by some terrible fall,
   or in some sad disappointment, let the recollection of the spot where
   you were vanquished constrain you the more to praise the Lord who hath
   helped you even to this day to triumph over your adversaries.

   The field between Mizpeh and Shen would also refresh their memories
   concerning their sins, for it was sin that conquered them. Had not
   their hearts been captured by sin, their land had never been captured
   by Philistia. Had they not turned their backs upon their God, they
   would not have turned their backs in the day of conflict. Brethren, let
   us recollect our sins; they will serve as a black foil on which the
   mercy of God shall glisten the more brightly. Egypt's fertility is the
   more wonderful because of its nearness to the Lybian sands, which would
   cover it altogether if it were not for the Nile. That God should be so
   good is marvellous, but that he should be so good to you and to me, who
   are so rebelhous, is a miracle of miracles. I know not a word which can
   express the surprise and wonder our souls ought to feel at God's
   goodness to us. Our hearts playing the harlot; our lives far from
   perfect; our faith almost blown out; our unbelief often prevailing; our
   pride lifting up its accursed head; our patience a poor sickly plant,
   almost nipped by one night's frost; our courage little better than
   cowardice; our love lukewarmness; our ardor but as ice--oh, my dear
   brethren, if we will but think any one of us what a mass of sin we are,
   if we will but reflect that we are after all, as one of the fathers
   writes, "walking dunghills," we should indeed be surprised that the sun
   of divine grace should continue so perpetually to shine upon us, and
   that the abundance of heaven's mercy should be revealed in us. Oh,
   Lord, when we recollect what we might have been, and what we really
   have been, we must say, "Glory be unto the gracious and merciful God
   who hitherto hath helped us."

   Again, that spot would remind them of their sorrows. What a mournful
   chapter in Israel's history is that which follows their defeat by the
   Philistines. Good old Eli, you remember, fell backward and broke his
   neck; and his daughter-in-law in the pangs of her travail cried,
   concerning her child, "Call him Ichabod, for the glory has departed,
   because the ark of the Lord is taken." Their harvests were snatched
   away by the robbers; their vintage was gleaned for them by alien hands.
   Israel had twenty years of deep and bitter sorrow. They might have said
   with David, "We went through fire and through water; men did ride over
   our heads." Well, friends, let the remembrance of our sorrows also
   inspire us with a profounder thankfulness while we erect the stone of
   Ebenezer. We have had our sorrows as a Church. Shall I remind you of
   our black and dark day? Never erased from our memory can be the time of
   our affliction and trial. Death came into our windows, and dismay into
   our hearts. Did not all men speak ill of us? Who would give us a good
   word? The Lord himself afflicted us, and broke us as in the day of his
   anger--so it seemed to us, then. Ah, God thou knowest how great have
   been the results which flowed from that terrible calamity, but from our
   souls the memory never can be taken, not even in heaven itself. In the
   recollection of that night of confusion, and those long weeks of
   slander and abuse, let us roll a great stone before the Lord, and let
   us write thereon, "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us." Little I ween did
   the devil get by that master-stroke; small was the triumph which he
   earned by that piece of malice. Greater multitudes than ever flocked to
   listen to the word, and some here who otherwise might never have
   attended the preaching of the gospel, remain as living monuments of
   God's power to save. Of all evil things out of which good has arisen,
   we can always point to the Surrey Hall catastrophe as one of the
   greatest goods which ever befel this neighborhood, notwithstanding the
   sorrows which it brought. This one fact is but a sample of others; for
   it is the Lord's rule to bring good out of evil, and so to prove his
   wisdom and magnify his grace. O ye that have come from beds of
   languishing, ye that have been bowed down with doubt and fear, and ye
   that have been poverty-stricken, or slandered, or apparently deserted
   by your God, if this day the glory of God's grace resteth upon you,
   pile the stone, and anoint the pillar, and write thereon, "Ebenezer,
   hitherto the Lord hath helped us."

   While dwelling upon the pecuharity of the locality, we must remark,
   that, as it had been the spot of their defeat, their sin, their sorrow,
   so now before the victory, it was the place of their repentance. You
   see, beloved, they came together to repent, to confess their sins, to
   put away their false gods, to cast Ashtaroth from their houses and from
   their hearts. It was there that they saw God's hand and were led to
   say, "Hitherto hath the Lord helped us." When you and I are most
   diligent in hunting sin, then God will be most vahant in routing our
   foes. You look to the work within and overcome sin, and God will look
   to the work without and overcome your troubles and your trials for you.
   Ah, dear friends, as we pile that stone thinking how God has helped us,
   let us shed tears of sorrow to think how ungrateful we have been. On
   earth penitence and praise must always sing together. Just as in some
   of our tunes there are two or three parts, we shall always need
   repentance to take the bass notes while we are here, while faith in
   praise can mount up to the very highest notes of the divine gamut of
   gratitude. Yes, with our joy for pardoned guilt we mourn that we
   pierced the Lord, and with our joy for strengthened graces and ripening
   experience, we must mourn over ingratitude and unbelief. Hitherto the
   Lord hath helped thee, and yet thou didst once say, "My God has
   forgotten me." Hitherto the Lord hath helped thee, and yet thou didst
   murmur and complain against him. Hitherto the Lord hath helped thee,
   and yet thou didst once deny him like Peter. Hitherto the Lord hath
   helped thee, and yet thine eye hath gone astray after vanity, and thy
   hand hath touched sin, and thy heart hath played the wanton. Let us
   repent, my brethren, for it is through our tears, that we shall best
   perceive the beauty of these grateful words, "Hitherto hath the Lord
   helped us."

   You must remember, too, that Ebenezer was the place of lamentation
   after the Lord. They came together to pray God to return to them. We
   shall surely see God when we long after him. How delightful it is to
   see a Church earnest after revivals, crying, pleading for God to come
   into her midst. When you know, brethren, that without God your
   ordinances are nothing, when you cannot rest satisfied with the dead,
   dry letter, but really want to have the power and the presence of God,
   then it will not be long before you have it. So while you and I express
   gratitude for the past, let us breathe another prayer to God for
   renewed grace. If you personally have lost the light of his face, pray
   this morning--

   "Return, O holy Dove! return,

   Sweet messenger of rest!

   I hate the sins that made thee mourn,

   And drove thee from my breast."

   And if it be the entire Church, and in any measure our love has grown
   cold, and the converting and sanctifying spirit has departed, let us
   pray also the same prayer.

   "Savior, visit thy plantation;

   Grant us, Lord, a gracious rain!

   All will come to desolation,

   Unless thou return again;

   Lord, revive us,

   All our help must come from thee!"

   The place of revival should be the place of gracious thankfulness.

   On that day, too, Mizpeh was the place of renewed covenant, and its
   name signifies the watch-tower. These people, I say, came together to
   renew their covenant with God, and wait for him as upon a watch-tower.
   Whenever God's people look back upon the past they should renew their
   covenant with God. Put your hand into the hand of Christ anew, thou
   saint of the Most High, and give thyself to him again. Climb thy
   watch-tower and watch for the coming of thy Lord. See whether there be
   sin within thee, temptation without thee,--duty neglected or lethargy
   creeping over thee. Come to Mizpeh, the watch-tower; come to Mizpeh the
   place of the renewal of the covenant, and then set up your stone and
   say, "Hitherto, the Lord hath helped us."

   It seems to me that the spot where Samuel said "Ebenezer," was
   exceedingly similar in many respects to the position occupied by us
   this day. I do not think the children of Israel could with heartier joy
   say "Ebenezer!" than we can. We have had many sins, a share of sorrows,
   and some defeats by reason of our own folly. I hope we have humbled
   ourselves before God, and lament after him, and desire to behold him,
   and to dwell very near him, and that our soul doth bless his name while
   we renew the covenant again this day, and while we come to the
   watch-tower and wait to hear what God the Lord will speak unto us.
   Come, then, in this great house which the Lord's favor has builded for
   us, let us sing together, "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us."

   II. We now change the subject to look at the OCCASION OF THE ERECTION
   OF THIS MEMORIAL.

   The tribes had assembled unarmed to worship. The Philistines, hearing
   of their gathering, suspected a revolt. A rising was not at that time
   contemplated, though no doubt there was lurking in the hearts of the
   people a hope that they would somehow or other be delivered. The
   Philistines being as a nation far inferior in numbers to the children
   of Israel, they had the natural suspiciousness of weak oppressors. If
   we must have tyrants let them be strong ones, for they are never so
   jealous or cruel as those little despots who are always afraid of
   rebelhon. Hearing that the people had come together, the Philistines
   determined to attack them; to attack an unarmed company, mark you, who
   had come together for worship. The people were alarmed; naturally they
   might be. Samuel, however, the prophet of God, was equal to the
   occasion. He bade them bring a lamb. I do not know that the lamb was
   offered according to the Levitical rites, yet prophets in all ages had
   a right to dispense with ordinary laws. This was to show that the legal
   dispensation was not permanent, that there was something higher than
   the Aaronic priesthood, so that Samuel and Elijah, men in whom God
   expressly dwelt, were mightier than the ordinary officiating priests of
   the sanctuary. He takes the lamb, puts it on the altar, offers it, and
   as it smokes to heaven he offers prayer. The voice of man is answered
   by the voice of God; a great thunder dismays the Philistines, and they
   are put to rout.

   We, I think, have been in similar circumstances. Hear the parallel. The
   victory obtained was by the lamb. As soon as the lamb was slaughtered,
   and the smoke went up to heaven, the blessing began to descend upon the
   Israelites, and the curse upon the foes. "They smote them"--note the
   words--they "smote them until they came under Betlicar," which, being
   interpreted, signifies "the house of the Lamb." At the offering of the
   lamb the Israelites began to fight the Philistines, and slew them even
   to the house of the lamb. Brethren, if we have done anything for
   Christ, if we have achieved any victories, if in this house any souls
   have been converted, any hearts sanctified, any drooping spirits
   comforted, bear witness that it has been all through the Lamb. When we
   have pictured Christ slaughtered, have described the agonies which he
   endured upon the cross, when we have tried to preach fully though
   feebly the great doctrine of his substitutionary sacrifice, have set
   him forth as the propitiation for sins, then it is that the victories
   have begun. And when we have preached Christ ascending up on high,
   leading captivity captive, and when we have glorified in the fact that
   he ever liveth to make intercession for us, and that he shall come to
   judge the quick and dead, if any good has been accomplished it has been
   through the Lamb--the Lamb slain, or else the Lamb exalted. Hark you,
   dear friends, as we pile our Ebenezer this morning, we do it honoring
   him. "Unto the Lamb once slain be glory for ever and ever." You have
   overcome your foes, you have slaughtered your sins, you have mastered
   your troubles. How has it been? From the altar of that bleeding lamb,
   onward to the throne of him who is to reign for ever and ever, the
   whole road has been stained with the crimson blood of your enemies: you
   have overcome through the blood of the Lamb. The Lamb shall overcome
   thee. He that rides on the white horse goeth before us; his name is the
   Lamb. And all the saints shall follow him on the white horses, going
   forth conquering and to conquer. "Ebenezer; hitherto the Lord hath
   helped us." But the help has always been through the Lamb, the
   bleeding, the living, the reigning Lamb.

   As in this occurrence the sacrifice was exalted, so also was the power
   of prayer acknowledged. The Philistines were not routed except by
   prayer. Samuel prayed unto the Lord. They said, "Cease not to cry unto
   the Lord for us." Brethren, let us bear our witness this morning that,
   if aught of good has been accomplished here, it has been the result of
   prayer. Often have I solaced my heart by the recollection of the
   prayers offered in our former house of meeting at New Park-street. What
   supplications have I heard there; what groans of wrestling spirits;
   times we have known when the minister has not had the heart to say a
   word, because your prayers to God have melted him--stopped his
   utterance, and he has been fain to pronounce a benediction and send you
   away, because the Spirit of God has been so present that it was hardly
   the time to speak to man, but only to speak to God. I do not think we
   always have the same spirit of prayer here, and yet in this I must and
   will rejoice--I know not where the spirit of prayer is to be found more
   in exercise than in this place. I know you hold up my hands, you that
   are like Aaron and Hur upon the mountains. I know that you intercede
   with God for the conversion of this neighborhood, and the
   evangelization of this great city. Young and old, you do strive
   together that the kingdom may come, and the Lord's will may be done.
   But, oh, we must not forget as we look upon this vast Church--two
   thousand and more members walking in the fear of God--we must not
   forget that this increase came as the result of prayer, and that it is
   in prayer still that our strength must he. I charge you before the Most
   High, never depend upon my ministy. What am I? What is there in me? I
   speak, and when God speaks through me I speak with a power unknown to
   men in whom the Spirit dwells not; but if He leave me, I am not only as
   weak as other men, but less than they, for I have no wisdom of years, I
   have no human learning, I have taken no degree in the university, and
   wear no titles of learned honor. If God speak by me, he must have all
   the glory; if he saves souls by such a frail being, he must have all
   the glory. Give unto the Lord glory and strength; lay every particle of
   the honor at his feet. But do continue to pray, do plead with God for
   me that his power may still be seen, his arm still put mightily to his
   work. Prayer honored must be recollected when we set up the Ebenezer
   and say, "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us."

   Again, as there was prayer and sacrifice, you must remember that in
   answer to the sweet savor of the lamb and the sweet perfume of Samuel's
   intercession, Jehovah came forth to rout his foes. I read not that
   Israel shouted a war-cry. No, their shouts would not have been heard
   amid those great thunders. I find that they dashed to battle; but it
   was not their bow, their spear, their sword, that gained the viotory.
   Hearken, my brethren, the voice of God is heard! Crash--crash! Where
   are you now, ye sons of Anak! The heavens shake, the earth rocks, the
   everlasting hills do bow, the birds of the air fly to the coverts of
   the forest to hide themselves, the timid goats upon the mountains seek
   the clefts of the rocks. Peal on peal the thunders roll till mountain
   answers mountain in loud uproar of affright. From crag to crag leaps
   the live lightning, and the Philistines are all but blinded by it, and
   stand aghast, and then take to their heels and fly. Quit yourselves
   like men, O Philistines, that ye be not servants to the Hebrews. Quit
   yourselves like men, but unless ye be gods ye must tremble now. Where
   are your bucklers and the bosses thereof? Where are your spears and the
   sheen thereof? Now let your swords flash from their scabbards; now send
   out your giants and their armor-bearers! Now let your Gohaths defy the
   Lord God of hosts! Aha! Aha! Ye become like women, ye quake! ye faint!
   See, see! they turn their backs and fly before the men of Israel, whom
   they counted but as slaves. They flee. The warrior fhes and the stout
   heart quails, and the mighty man fhes like a timid dove to his
   hiding-place. "Glory be unto the Lord God of Israel: his own right hand
   and his holy arm hath gotten him the victory."

   Beloved, if aught of good has been accomplished, or if you and I have
   routed sin, how hath it been? Not by our strength, not by our power,
   but by the glorious voice of God. When the gospel is truly preached it
   is God thundering. It may sound as feebly as a child's voice when we
   tell of Jesus crucified, but it is God thundering, and I tell you,
   sirs, the thunders of God never so smote the heart of the Philistines
   as the gospel of Christ does the heart of convinced sinners. When we
   preach and God blesses it, it is God's lightnings, it is God's flashes
   of divine fire, the glittering of his spear; for never were Philistines
   so smitten with the blaze of lightning in their faces as sinners are
   when God's law and gospel flash into their dark eyes. But to God be the
   glory--to God--to God--to God alone! Not a word for man, not a syllable
   for the son of man. "Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our
   sins in his blood, unto him be glory." This is the song of perfect
   saints above; shall it not be the song of imperfect ones below? "Not
   unto us--not unto us," the seraphs cry as they veil their faces with
   their wings, and cast their crowns at Jehovah's feet. "Not unto us, not
   unto us," must we say while we exult in his power and magnify the God
   of our salvation.

   III. This was the occasion then. I need not tarry longer, but turn at
   once to THE INSCRIPTION UPON THE MEMORIAL, "Ebenezer, hitherto the Lord
   hath helped us." The inscription may be read in three ways.

   You must read first of all its central word, the word on which all the
   sense depends, where the fullness of it gathers. "Hitherto the LORD
   hath helped us." Note, beloved, that they did not stand still and
   refuse to use their weapons, but while God was thundering they were
   fighting, and while the lightnings were dashing in the foeman's eyes
   they were making them feel the potency of their steel. So that while we
   glorify God we are not to deny or to discard human agency. We must
   fight because God fighteth for us. We must strike, but the power to
   strike and the result of striking must all come from him. You see they
   did not say, "Hitherto our sword hath helped us, hitherto Samuel has
   encouraged us." No, no--"hitherto the Lord has helped us." Now you must
   admit that everything truly great must be of the Lord. You cannot
   suppose a thing so great as the conversion of sinners, the revival of a
   Church can ever be man's work. You see the Thames when the tide is
   ebbing what a long reach of foul, putrid mud, but the tide returns.
   Poor unbeliever, you who thought the river would run out till it was
   all dry and the ships be left aground, see, the flood comes back again,
   joyfully filling up the stream once more. But you are quite certain
   that so large a river as the Thames is not to be flooded except by
   ocean's tides. So you cannot see great results and ascribe them to man.
   Where there is little worlk done men often take the credit themselves,
   but where there is great work done, they dare not. If Simon Peter had
   been angling over the side of his ship and had caught a fine fish, he
   might have said, "Well done fisherman!" But when the boat was full of
   fish, so that it began to sink, he could not think of himself then. No,
   down he goes with "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." The
   greatness of our work compels us to confess that it must be of God, it
   must be of the Lord alone. And, dear friends, it must be so if we
   consider the little with which we began. Jacob said as he came over
   Jordan, "With my staff I crossed this Jordan, but now am I become two
   bands." Surely his becoming two bands must be of God, for he had
   nothing but his staff. And do you not remember some few of you here
   present one morning when we crossed this Jordan with a staff? Were we a
   hundred when first I addressed you? What hosts of empty pews, what a
   miserable handful of hearers. With the staff we crossed that Jordan.
   But God has multiphed the people and multiphed the joy, till we have
   become not only two bands but many bands; and many this day are
   gathering to hear the gospel preached by the sons of this church,
   begotten of us, and sent forth by us to minister the word of life in
   many towns and villages throughout these three kingdoms. Glory be unto
   God, this cannot be man's work. What effort made by the unaided
   strength of man will equal this which has been accomplished by God. Let
   the name of the Lord, therefore, be inscribed upon the pillar of the
   memorial. I am always very jealous about this matter. If we do not as a
   Church and a congregation, if we do not as individuals, always give God
   the glory, it is utterly impossible that God should work by us. Many
   wonders I have seen, but I never saw yet a man who arrogated the honor
   of his work to himself, whom God did not leave sooner or later.
   Nebuchadnezzar said, "Behold this great Babylon that I have builded."
   Behold that poor lunatic whose hair has grown like eagle's feathers,
   and his nails like bird's claws--that is Nebuchadnezzar. And that must
   be you, and that must be me, each in our own way, unless we are content
   always to give all the glory unto God. Surely, brethren, we shall be a
   stench in the nostrils of the Most High, an offense, even like carrion,
   before the Lord of Hosts, if we arrogate to ourselves any honor. What
   doth God send his saints for? That they may be demigods? Did God make
   men strong that they may exalt themselves into his throne? What, doth
   the King of kings crown you with mercies that you may pretend to lord
   it over him? What, doth he dignify you that you may usurp the
   prerogatives of his throne? No; you must come with all the favors and
   honors that God has put upon you, and creep to the foot of his throne
   and say, What am I, and what is my father's house that thou hast
   remembered me. "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us."

   I said this text might be read three ways. We have read it once by
   laying stress upon the center word. Now it ought to be read looking
   backward. The word "hitherto" seems like a hand pointing in that
   direction. Look back, look back. Twenty
   years--thirty--forty--fifty--sixty--seventy--eighty--"hitherto!" say
   that each of you. Through poverty--through wealth--through
   sickness--through health--at home--abroad--on the land--on the sea--in
   honor--in dishonor--in perplexity--in joy--in trial--in triumph--in
   prayer--in temptation--hitherto. Put the whole together. I like
   sometimes to look down a long avenue of trees. It is very delightful to
   gaze from end to end of the long vista, a sort of leafy temple with its
   branching pillars and its arches of leaves. Cannot you look down the
   long aisles of your years, look at the green boughs of mercy overhead,
   and the strong pillars of lovingkindness and faithfulness which bear
   your joys? Are there no birds in yonder branches singing? Surely, there
   must be many. And the bright sunshine and the blue sky are yonder; and
   if you turn round in the far distance, you may see heaven's brightness
   and a throne of gold. "Hitherto! hitherto!"

   Then the text may be read a third way,--looking forward. For when a man
   gets up to a certain mark and writes "hitherto," he looks back upon
   much that is past, but "hitherto" is not the end, there is yet a
   distance to be traversed. More trials, more joys; more temptations,
   more triumphs; more prayers, more answers; more toils, more strength;
   more fights, more victories; more slanders, more comforts; more hons
   and bears to be fought, more tearings of the hon for God's Davids, more
   deep waters, more high mountains; more troops of devils, more hosts of
   angels yet. And then come sickness, old age, disease, death. Is it over
   now? No, no, no! We will raise one stone more when we get into the
   river, we will shout Ebenezer there: "hitherto the Lord hath helped
   us," for there is more to come. An awakening in his likeness, climbing
   of starry spheres, harps, songs, palms, white raiment, the face of
   Jesus, the society of saints, the glory of God, the fullness of
   eternity, the infinity of bliss. Yes, as sure as God has helped so far
   as to-day, he will help us to the close. "I will never leave thee, I
   will never forsake thee; I have been with thee, and I will be with thee
   to the end." Courage, brethren, then; and as we pile the stones,
   saying, "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us," let us just gird up the
   loins of our mind, and be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that
   is to be revealed in us, for as it has been, so it shall be world
   without end.

   I want some oil to pour on this pillar--I want some oil. Jacob poured
   oil upon it and called upon the name of the Lord. Where shall I get my
   oil. Grateful hearts, have ye any oil? Prayerful spirits, have ye any?
   Companions of Jesus, have ye any? Ye that commune with him day and
   night, have ye any? Pour it out, then. Break your alabaster boxes, oh
   ye Mary's. Pour out your prayers this morning with mine. Offer your
   thanksgivings with my grateful expressions of thanks. Come each of you,
   pour this oil upon the top of this Ebenezer to-day. I want some oil, I
   wonder whether I shall get it from yonder heart. Oh, says one, my heart
   is as a flinty rock. I read in scripture that the Lord brought oil out
   of the flinty rock. Oh, if there should be a soul led to believe in
   Christ this morning, if some heart would give itself up to Christ
   to-day! Why not so? why not? The Holy Ghost can melt flint and move
   mountains. Young man, how long are we to preach to you, how long to
   invite you, how long to pain you, how long to entreat you, to implore
   you? Shall this be the day that you will yield? Dost thou say, "I am
   nothing?" Then Christ is everything. Take him, trust him. I know not a
   better way of celebrating this day of Ebenezer and thanksgiving, than
   by some hearts this day accepting the marriage ring of Christ's love,
   and being affianced unto the Son of God for ever and ever. God grant it
   may be so. It shall be so if you pray for it, O true hearts.

   And unto God be glory for ever. Amen.

   "Great God, we sing that mighty hand,

   By which supported still we stand:

   The opening year thy mercy shows;

   Let mercy crown it till it close.

   By day, by night, at home, abroad,

   Still we are guarded by our God:

   By his incessant bounty fed,

   By his unerring counsel led.

   With grateful hearts the past we own;

   The future, all to us unknown,

   We to thy guardian care commit,

   And peaceful leave before thy feet.

   In scenes exalted or depress'd,

   Be thou our joy, and thou our rest;

   Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise,

   Adored through all our changing days.

   When death shall interrupt these songs,

   And seal in silence mortal tongues,

   Our helper God, in whom we trust,

   In better worlds our souls shall boast."
     __________________________________________________________________

                                Grace Abounding

   A Sermon

   (No. 501)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 22nd, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "I will love them freely."--Hosea 14:4.

   THIS SENTENCE IS A BODY of divinity in miniature. He who understands
   its meaning is a theologian, and he who can dive into its fullness is a
   true Master in divinity. "I will love them freely," is a condensation
   of the glorious message of salvation which was delivered to us in
   Christ Jesus our Redeemer. The sense hinges upon the word "freely." "I
   will love them freely." Here is the glorious, the suitable, the divine
   way by which love streams from heaven to earth. It is, indeed, the only
   way in which God can love such as we are. It may be that he can love
   angels because of their goodness; but he could not love us for that
   reason; the only manner in which love can come from God to fallen
   creatures is expressed in the word "freely." Here we have spontaneous
   love flowing forth to those who neither deserved it, purchased it, nor
   sought after it.

   Since the word "freely" is the very key-note of the text, we must
   observe its common meaning among men. We use the word "freely" for that
   which is given without money and without price. It is opposed to all
   idea of bargaining, to all acceptance of an equivalent, or that which
   might be construed into an equivalent. A man is said to give freely
   when he bestows his charity on applicants simply on the ground of their
   poverty, hoping for nothing again. A man distributes freely when,
   without asking any compensation, he finds it more blessed to give than
   to receive. Now God's love comes to men all free and unbought; without
   our having merit to deserve, or money to procure it. I know it is
   written, "Come, buy wine and milk," but is it not added "Without money
   and without price?" "I will love them freely;" that is "I will not
   accept their works in barter for my love; I will not receive their love
   as a recompense for mine; I will love them, all unworthy and sinful
   though they be."

   Men give "freely" when there is no inducement. A great many presents of
   late have been given to the Princess of Wales, and tis well and good;
   but the position of the Princess is such that we do not view it as any
   great liberality to subscribe to a diamond necklace, since those who
   give are honored by her acceptance. Now the freeness of God's love is
   shown in this, that the objects of it are utterly unworthy, can confer
   no honor, and have no position to be an inducement to bless them. The
   Lord loves them freely. Some persons are very generous to their own
   relations, but here, again, they can hardly be said to be free, because
   the tie of blood constrains them. Their own children, their own
   brother, their own sister--if men will not be generous here, they must
   be mean through and through. But the generosity of our God is commended
   to us in that he loved his enemies, and while we were yet sinners in
   due time Christ died for us. The word "freely" is "exceeding broad"
   when used in reference to God's love to men. He selects those who have
   not the shadow of a claim upon him, and sets them among the children of
   his heart.

   We use the word "freely," when a favor is conferred without its being
   sought. It can hardly be said that our King in the old histories
   pardoned the citizens of Calais freely when his Queen had first to
   prostrate herself before him, and with many tears to induce him to be
   merciful. He was gracious, but he was not free in his grace. When a
   person has been long dogged by a beggar in the streets, though he may
   turn round and give liberally to be rid of the clamorous applicant, he
   does not give "freely." Remember, with regard to God, that his grace to
   man was utterly unsought. He does give grace to those who seek it, but
   none would ever seek that grace unless unsought grace had first been
   bestowed. Sovereign grace waiteth not for man, neither tarrieth for the
   sons of men. The love of God goes forth to men when they have no
   thought after him; when they are hastening after all manner of sin and
   wantonness. He loves them freely, and as the effect of that love, they
   then begin to seek his face. But it is not our seeking, our prayers,
   our tears, which incline the Lord to love us. God loves us at first
   most freely, without any entreaties or beseechings, and then we come
   both to entreat and to beseech his favor.

   That which comes without any exertion on our part comes to us "freely."
   The rulers digged the well, and as they digged it they sang "Spring up,
   O well!" In such a case, where a well must be digged with much labor,
   the water can hardly be described as rising freely. But yonder, in the
   laughing valley, the spring gushes from the hill-side, and lavishes its
   crystal torrent among the shining pebbles. Man pierced not the
   fountain, he bored not the channel, for, long ere he was born, or ever
   the weary pilgrim bowed himself to its cooling stream, it had leaped on
   its joyous way right freely, and it will do so, as long as the moon
   endureth, freely, freely, freely. Such is the grace of God. No labor of
   man procures it; no effort of man can add to it. God is good from the
   simple necessity of his nature; God is love, simply because it is his
   essence to be so, and he pours forth his love in plenteous streams to
   undeserving, ill-deserving, hell-deserving objects, simply because he
   "will have mercy on whom he will have mercy, and he will have
   compassion on whom will have compassion," for it is not of him that
   willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy.

   If you ask an illustration of the word "freely," I point to yonder sun.
   How freely he scattereth his life-giving beams. Precious as gold are
   his rays, but he scattereth them like the dust; he sows the earth with
   orient pearl, and bejewels it with emerald and ruby and sapphire, and
   all most freely. You and I forget to pray for the sun's light, but it
   comes at its appointed season; yea, on that blasphemer who curses God,
   the day ariseth, and the sunlight warms him as much as the most
   obedient child of the heavenly Father. That sunbeam falls upon the farm
   of the miser, and upon the field of the churl, and bids the grain of
   the wicked expand in its genial warmth and produce its harvest. That
   sun shines into the house of the adulterer, into the face of the
   murderer, and the cell of the thief. No matter how sinful man may be,
   yet the light of day descends upon him unasked for and unsought. Such
   is the grace of God; where it comes it comes not because sought, or
   deserved, but simply from the goodness of the heart of God, which, like
   the sun, blesseth as it wills. Mark you the gentle winds of heaven, the
   breath of God to revive the languishing, the soft breezes. See the sick
   man at the sea-side, drinking in health from the breezes of the salt
   sea. Those lungs may heave to utter the lascivious song, but the
   healing wind is not restrained, and whether it be breast of saint or
   sinner, yet that wind ceaseth not from any. So in gracious visitations,
   God waiteth not till man is good before he sends the heavenly wind,
   with healing beneath its wings; even as he pleaseth so it bloweth, and
   to the most undeserving it cometh. Observe the rain which drops from
   heaven. It falls upon the desert as well as upon the fertile field; it
   drops upon the rock that will refuse its fertilizing moisture as well
   as upon the soil that opens its gaping mouth to drink it in with
   gratitude. See, it falls upon the hard-trodden streets of the populous
   city, where it is not required, and where men will even curse it for
   coming, and it falls not more freely where the sweet flowers have been
   panting for it, and the withering leaves have been rustling forth their
   prayers. Such is the grace of God. It does not visit us because we ask
   it, much less, because we deserve it; but as God wills it, and the
   bottles of heaven are unstopped, so God wills it, and grace descends.
   No matter how vile, and black, and foul, and godless, men may be, he
   will have mercy on whom he will have mercy, and that free, rich,
   overflowing goodness of his can make the very worst and least deserving
   the objects of his best and choicest love.

   Do understand me. Let me not leave this point till I have well defined
   its meaning. I mean this, dear friends: when God says, "I will love
   them freely," he means that no prayers, no tears, no good works, no
   almsgivings are an inducement to him to love men, nay, that not only
   nothing, in themselves, but nothing anywhere else was the cause of his
   love to them; not even the blood of Christ; not even the groans and
   tears of his beloved Son. These are the fruits of his love, not the
   cause of it. He does not love because Christ died, but Christ died
   because the Father loved. Do remember that this fountain of love has
   its spring in itself, not in you, nor in me, but only in the Father's
   own gracious, infinite heart of goodness. "I will love them freely,"
   spontaneously, without any motive ab extra, but entirely because I
   choose to do it.

   In the text we have two great doctrines. I will announce the first one;
   establish it; and then endeavor to apply it.

   I. The first great doctrine is this, that THERE IS NOTHING IN MAN TO
   ATTRACT THE LOVE OF GOD TO HIM.

   We have to establish this doctrine, and our first argument is found in
   the origin of that love. The love of God to man existed before there
   was any man. He loved his chosen people before any one of them had been
   created; nay, before the world had been made upon which man dwells he
   had set his heart upon his beloved and ordained them unto eternal life.
   The love of God therefore existed before there was any good thing in
   man, and if you tell me that God loved men because of the foresight of
   some good thing in them, I again reply to that, that the same thing
   cannot be both cause and effect. Now it is quite certain that any
   virtue which there may be in any man is the result of God's grace. Now
   if it be the result of grace it cannot be the cause of grace. It is
   utterly impossible that an effect should have existed before a cause;
   but God's love existed before man's goodness, therefore that goodness
   cannot be a cause. Brethren, the doctrine of the antiquity of divine
   love is graven as with the point of a diamond upon the very forehead of
   revelation; when the children were not yet born, neither having done
   good nor evil, the purpose of election still stood; while we were yet
   like clay in the mass of creatureship, and God had power to make of the
   same dump a vessel to honor or a vessel to dishonor, he chose to make
   his people vessels unto honor; this could not possibly have been
   because of any good thing in them, for they themselves were not, much
   less their goodness. Our Savior's words--"Even so, Father, for so it
   seemed good in thy sight," reveal not only the sovereignty but the
   freeness of divine affection.

   Do you not know, dear friends, in the second place, that the whole plan
   of divine goodness is entirely opposed to the old covenant of works.
   Paul is very strong on this point, where he expressly tells us that if
   it be of grace it cannot be of works, and if it be of works it cannot
   be of grace, the two having no possibility of commingling. Our God,
   speaking by the prophet, says, "Not according to the covenant that I
   made with their fathers in the day that I took them by the hand to
   bring them out of the land of Egypt; which my covenant they brake,
   although I was an husband unto them." The covenant of grace is as wide
   as the poles asunder from the covenant of works. Now the tenour of the
   covenant of works is this--"This do and thou shalt live;" if, then, we
   do the thing which the covenant of works requires of us we live, and we
   live as the result of our own doing. But the very opposite must be the
   case in the covenant of grace. It can never be as the result of
   anything we do that we are saved under that covenant, or else the two
   are the same, or at least similar, whereas, the whole Bible through
   they are set in contradistinction the one against the other, as
   arranged upon opposite principles, and acting from different springs.
   Oh! you who think that anything in you can make God love you, stand at
   the foot of Sinai and learn the only thing that can lead God to accept
   man on the ground of law, and that is perfect obedience. Read the ten
   commandments through and see if you can keep one of them in the
   fullness of its spirit; and I am sure you will be compelled to cry
   out--"Thy commandment is exceeding broad. Great God, I have sinned."
   And yet if you would stand on the footing of what you are, you must
   take the whole ten, and you must keep them throughout an entire life,
   and never fail in the slightest point, or else abhorred of God you must
   certainly be. The covenant of grace does not speak on that wise at all.
   It views man as guilty, and having nothing to merit; and it says, "I
   will, I will, I will;" it says not "If they will," but "I will and they
   shall. I will sprinkle pure water upon them and they shall be clean,
   and from all their iniquities I will cleanse them." That covenant does
   not look upon man as innocent, but as guilty. "When I passed by I saw
   them in their blood, and I said live; yea, when I saw them in their
   blood I said, live." The first covenant was a contract: "Do this and I
   will do that;" but the next has not the shadow of a bargain in it; it
   is--"I will bless you, and I will continue to bless you; though you
   abound in transgressions, yet I will continue to bless till I make you
   perfect and bring you to my glory at the last." It cannot be, then,
   that there is anything in man that makes God love him, because the
   whole plan of the covenant is opposed to that of works.

   Thirdly, the substance of Gods love--the substance of the covenant
   which springs from God's love--clearly proves that it cannot be man's
   goodness which makes God love him. If you should tell me that there was
   something so good in man that therefore God gave him bread to eat and
   raiment to put on, I might believe you. If you tell me that man's
   excellence constrained the Lord to put the breath into his nostrils,
   and to give him the comforts of this life, I might yield to you. But I
   see yonder, God himself made man; I see that God, that man, at last
   fastened to the tree; I see him on the tree expiring in agonies
   unknown, I hear his awful sliviek,--"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani; "I
   see the dreadful sacrifice of God's only-begotten Son, who was not
   spared but freely delivered up for us all, and I feel certain that it
   would be nothing short of blasphemy if I should admit that man could
   ever deserve such a gift as the death of Christ. The very angels in
   heaven with an eternity of obedience, could never have deserved so
   great a gift as Christ in the flesh dying for them; and oh! shall we
   who are all over foul and defiled, shall we look to that dear cross,
   and say, "I deserved that Savior?" Brethren, this were the height of
   infernal arrogance; let it be far from us; let us rather feel that we
   could not deserve such love as this, and that if God loves us so as to
   give his Son for us, it must be from some hidden motive in his own
   will, it cannot be because of any good thing in us.

   Further, if you will remember the objects of God's love as well as the
   substance of it, you will soon see that it could not be anything in
   them which constrains God to love them. Who are the objects of God's
   love? Are they Pharisees, the men who fast twice in the week and pay
   tithes of all they possess? No, no, no. Are they the moralists who
   touching the law are blameless, and who walk in all the observances of
   their religion without a slip? No; the publicans and harlots enter the
   kingdom of heaven before them. Who are they who are the chosen of God?
   Let the whole tribe now in heaven speak for themselves, and they will
   say, "We have washed our roses; (they needed it; they were black,) and
   we have made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Appeal to any of the
   saints on earth, and they will tell you that they never could perceive
   any good thing in themselves. I have searched my own heart I hope with
   some degree of earnestness, and so far from finding any reason in
   myself why God should love me, I can find a thousand reasons why he
   should destroy me, and drive me for ever from his presence. The best
   thoughts we have are defiled with sin, our very faith is mixed with
   unbelief; the noblest devotion which we ever paid to God is far
   inferior to his deserts, and is marred with infirmity and fault.
   Remember that many of those who are the true servants of God were once
   the very worst servants of Satan. Does it not surprise you that men who
   were the companions of the harlot are now saints of the Most high? The
   drunkard, the blasphemer, the man who defied man's laws as well as
   God's--such were some of us, but we are washed, but we are cleansed,
   but we are sanctified. I never did meet, and I never expect to meet
   with any saved soul that would ever for a moment tolerate the thought
   of there being any goodness in itself to merit God's esteem. No; vile
   and full of sin I am, and if thou hast mercy on me, O God, it is
   because thou wilt, for I merit none.

   Further, constantly are we informed in Scripture that the love of God
   and the fruit of the love of God are a gift. "The wages of sin is
   death, but the gift of God is eternal life." Now, if the Lord stands
   bargaining with you and with me, and says, "I will give you this
   if--if--if--" then he does not love freely; but if, on the other hand,
   it is simply, and purely, and only a gift bestowed as such, not for any
   recompence afterwards to be given, then the gift is a pure and true
   gift, and so the text is warranted in saying, "I will love them
   freely." Now, the gift of God is eternal life, and dear friends, if you
   and I ever get it, we must obtain it as a free gift from God, but by no
   means as wages which we have earned, for our poor earnings will bring
   us death; only God's gift can yield us life.

   Everywhere throughout the Word the Lord's love is greatly and
   wonderfully commended. We are told that as high as the heavens are
   above the earth so high are his ways above our ways. Now, if the Lord
   loved men for some loveliness in them, there would be nothing wonderful
   in it; you and I can do the same. I hope I can love a man who possesses
   moral excellence. You feel, each of you, that if a man's conduct
   towards you is grateful and good, you cannot but love him, or if you do
   not, it becomes a fault on your part. With reverence let me say it, if
   there be something good in man it is no wonder that God should love
   him; it would be unjust if he did not. If naturally in man there be any
   virtue, if there be any praise, if there be any commendable repentance,
   or any acceptable faith, man ought to be loved; this is not a thing to
   amaze the ages, nor to set the angels singing, nor to move the
   mountains and hills in astonisliment; but for God to love a man who is
   bad all over; to love him when there is every reason for hating him,
   when there is not a trace of goodness in him, oh! this is enough to
   make the rocks break their silence and the hills burst forth into
   music.

   This is the first doctrine. I cannot preach upon it as I would this
   morning, for my voice is very weak, and the pain of speaking distracts
   my mind; but it matters not how I preach upon it, for the subject
   itself is so exceedingly full of comfort to a really awakened soul,
   that it needs no garnishing of mine: choice dainties need no skill in
   the carver--their own lusciousness secures them rich acceptance.

   But what is the practical use of it? To you who are going about to
   establish your own righteousness, here is a death-blow to your works,
   and carnal trustings. God will not love you meritoriously. God will
   love you freely. Wherefore go ye about, then, spending your money for
   that which is not bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not.
   You may boast as you will, but you will have to come to God on a par
   with the worst of the worst; when you do come you will have to be
   accepted, you that are the best of men, just on the same terms as if
   you had been the foulest of the foul. Therefore go not about, busy not
   yourselves with all this fancied righteousness, but come to Jesus as
   you are, come now, without any works of yours, for you must so come or
   not at all. God has said, "I will love them freely," and depend upon it
   he will never love you in any other way. You may think you are toiling
   to heaven, when you shall be only tunnelling your way through mountains
   of self-righteousness down to the depths of hell.

   This doctrine offers comfort to those who do not feel fit to come to
   Christ. Do you not perceive that the text is a death-blow to all sorts
   of fitness? "I will love them freely." Now if there be any fitness
   necessary in you before God will love you then he does not love you
   freely, at least this would be a mitigation and a drawback to the
   freeness of it. But it is "I will love you freely." You say "Lord, but
   my heart is so hard." "I will love you freely." "But I do not feel my
   need of Christ as I could wish." "I will not love you because you feel
   your need; I will love you freely." "But I do not feel that softening
   of spirit that I could desire." Remember, the softening of spirit is
   not a condition, for there are no conditions; the covenant of grace has
   no conditionality whatever. These are the unconditional, sure mercies
   of David; so that you without any fitness may come and venture upon the
   promise of God which was made to you in Christ Jesus, when he said, "He
   that beheyeth on him is not condemned." No fitness is wanted; "I will
   love them freely." Sweep all that lumber and rubbish out of the way!
   Oh! for grace in your hearts to know that the grace of God is free, is
   free to you, without preparation, without fitness, without money, and
   without price!

   Nor does the practical use of our doctrine end here. There are some of
   you who say, "I feel this morning that I am so unworthy; I can well
   believe that God will bless my mother; that Christ will pity my sister;
   I can understand how yonder souls can be saved, but I cannot understand
   how I can be; I am so unworthy." "I will love them freely." Oh! does
   not that meet your case? If you were the most unworthy of all created
   beings, if you had aggravated your sin till you had become the foulest
   and most vile of all sinners, yet "I will love them freely," puts the
   worst on an equality with the best, sets you that are the devil's
   cast-aways, on a par with the most hopeful. There is no reason for
   God's love in any man, if there is none in you, you are not worse off
   than the best of men, for there is none in them; the grace and love of
   God can come as freely to you as they can to those that have long been
   seeking them, for "I am found of them that sought me not."

   Yet once more here. I think this subject invites backsliders to return;
   indeed, the text was specially written for such--"I will heal their
   backsliding; I will love them freely." Here is a son who ran away from
   home. He enlisted for a soldier. He behaved so badly in his regiment
   that he had to be drummed out of it. He has been living in a foreign
   country in so vicious a way that he has reduced his body by disease.
   His back is covered with rags; his character is that of the vagrant and
   felon. When he went away he did it on purpose to vex his father's
   heart, and he has brought his mother's grey hairs with sorrow to the
   grave. One day the young lad receives a letter full of love. His father
   writes--"Return to me, my child; I will forgive you all; I will love
   you freely." Now if this letter had said--"If you will humble yourself
   so much, I will love you; if you will come back and make me
   such-and-such promises, I will love you;" if it had said, "If you will
   behave yourself for the future, I will love you,"--I can suppose the
   young man's proud nature rising; but surely this kindness will melt
   him. Methinks the generosity of the invitation will at once break his
   heart, and he will say, "I will offend no longer, I will return at
   once." Backslider! without any condition you are invited to return. "I
   am married unto you," saith the Lord. If Jesus ever did love you he has
   never left off loving you. You may have left off attending to the means
   of grace; you may have been very slack at private prayer, but if you
   ever were a child of God you are a child of God still, and he cries
   "How can I give thee up? How can I set thee as Admah? How can I make
   thee as Zeboim? My repentings are kindled together; I am God, and not
   man; I will return unto him in mercy. Return, backslider, and seek
   thine injured Father's face. I think I hear a murmur somewhere--"Well,
   this is very, very, very Antinomian doctrine." Ay, objector, it is such
   doctrine as you will want one day; it is the only doctrine which can
   meet the case of really awakened sinners. "God commendeth his love
   toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, in due time, Christ died
   for the ungodly."

   II. Since it is written. "I will love them freely," we believe that
   NOTHING IN MAN CAN BE AN EFFECTUAL BAR TO GOD'S LOVE.

   This is the same doctrine put in another shape. Nothing in man can be
   the cause of God's love, so nothing in man can be an effectual
   hindrance to God's love--I mean such an effectual hindrance as to
   prevent God from loving man. How shall I prove it? If there be anything
   in any man which can be a bar to God's grace, then this would have been
   an effectual hindrance to its coming to any of the human race. All men
   were in the loins of Adam, and if there were a bar in you to God's
   love, that would have been in Adam; consequently, being in Adam, it
   would have been a block to God's love to the race altogether. If there
   be some sin in you, I say, which can effectually prevent God from
   showing grace to you, then that was in Adam, seeing you were in the
   loins of Adam, and it would therefore have been an effectual hindrance
   to God's grace from the race in any one of its members. Seeing God's
   grace found no barriers over which it could not leap, no floodgates
   which it could not burst, no mountains it could not overtop, I am
   persuaded there is nothing in you why God should not show his grace to
   you.

   Besides, one would think that if there be a bar in any it would have
   prevented the salvation of those who are undoubtedly saved. Mention any
   sin you like, and I will assure you upon divine authority that men have
   committed such sins and have yet been saved. Talk of a deed that has
   blackened the man's character for ever, that deed of foul adultery and
   murder; yet that did not stop God's love from flowing to David; and
   even if you have gone that length, and I suppose there is no person
   here who has gone farther, even that cannot prevent divine love from
   lighting upon you. As God does not love because there is excellence, so
   he does not refuse to love because there is sin. Let me select the case
   of Manasseh; he shed innocent blood very much; he bowed before idols;
   what was worse, he made his children to pass through the fire to the
   son of Hinnom, put his own child to death as a sacrifice to the false
   god, and yet for all that God's love laid hold upon him, and Manasseh
   became a bright star in heaven, though once as vile as the lost in
   hell. If there be anything in you, then, that makes you think God
   cannot love you, I reply, Impossible, for surely your sins do not
   exceed those of the chief of sinners. Paul says he was the chief of
   sinners, and he meant it; he spoke by inspiration, and there is no
   doubt he was. Now if the biggest of sinners has passed through the
   strait gate, there must be room for the next biggest; if the greatest
   sinner in the world has been saved, then there is a possibility for you
   and for me, for we cannot be such great sinners as the very chief of
   sinners. But I will dare to say that even if we were, even if we could
   exceed Paul, yet even that could be no barrier; for man's sin, to say
   the most of it, is but the act of a finite creature, but God's grace is
   the act of infinite goodness. God forbid that I should depreciate your
   offenses, they are loathsome, they are hellish in themselves; still
   they are only a creature's deeds, the deeds of a worm that to-day is
   and to-morrow is crushed; but the grace, the love, and the pity of God,
   oh! these are infinite, eternal, everlasting, boundless, matchless,
   quenchless, unconquerable, and therefore the grace of God can overcome
   and prove itself mightier than your guilt and sin. There is no bar,
   then, or else there would have been a bar in the case of others.

   Would it not mar the sovereignty of God if there should be a man in
   whom there was something that would effectually prevent God's love from
   flowing to him? Then it would not be, "I will have mercy on whom I will
   have mercy;" no, it would be "I will have mercy on those I can have
   mercy on; but there is such-and-such a man, I cannot have mercy on him,
   for he is gone too far." No, glory be to God for that sentence--"I will
   have mercy upon whom I will have mercy." The devil may say, "What, on
   that man, on that man! He has gone too far." "Ah!" but says God, "if I
   will it, he has not gone too far; I will have mercy on him." I do not
   know that I ever felt more the boundless sovereignty of the grace of
   God than when I looked that text in the face and saw it--not "I will
   have mercy on those that are vialing to have it;" or, "I will have
   mercy on penitents," no--"I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy."
   And so, if God wills to save you, there can be no bar to it, or else
   that would be a marring and a limiting of the sovereignty of God.

   Would not this be a great slur cast upon the grace of God? Suppose I
   could find out a sinner so vile that Jesus Christ could not reach him;
   why then the devils in hell would take him through their streets as a
   trophy; they would say, "This man was more than a match for God; his
   sin was too great for God's grace." What says the Apostle? "Where sin
   abounded"--that is you, poor sinner;--"where sin abounded"--what sins
   you plunged into last night, and on other black occasions,--"where sin
   abounded"--what? Condemnation? Hopeless despair? No, "Where sin
   abounded grace did much more abound." I think I see the conflict in the
   great arena of the universe. Man piles a mountain of sin, but God will
   match it, and he upheaves a loftier mountain of grace; man heaps up a
   still huger hill of sin, but the Lord overtops it with ten times more
   grace; and so the contest continues till at last the mighty God plucks
   up the mountains by the roots and buries man's sin beneath them as a
   fly might be buried beneath an Alp. Abundant sin is no barrier to the
   superabundant grace of God.

   And then, dear friends, would it not detract glory from the gospel, if
   it could be proved that there was some man in whom the gospel could not
   work its way? Suppose that the gospel which is "worthy of all
   acceptation" could not meet certain cases. Suppose I picked out twelve
   men who were so diseased that the gospel remedy could not meet their
   case; oh! then I think I should stop my mouth from all glorying in the
   cross. I could no more say with the apostle, "God forbid that I should
   glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ," for then it would
   not be the power of God unto salvation to every one that beheyeth. No,
   it would be the power of God to all except that dozen. But oh! as often
   as I come into this pulpit, it gives me joy to know that I have a
   gospel to preach which is suitable to every case. A friend told me the
   other day that many notorious characters stole in at times. Thank God
   for that. "Ah!" said some, "but they come only to laugh." Never mind;
   thank God if they come. "Oh! but they will make mockery of it." Nay,
   the Lord knows how to turn mockers into weepers. Let us hope for the
   worst, and labor for the most hopeless.

   The love of God has provided means to meet the extremest case. They are
   twofold; the power of Christ, and the power of the Spirit. Do you tell
   me that sin is a barrier? I answer, "All manner of sin and of blasphemy
   shall be forgiven unto men." "The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son,
   cleanseth from all sin." The atonement of Christ is capable of removing
   from men, all sorts, sizes, and dyes of iniquity. "Though your sins be
   as scarlet they shall be as wool; though they be red like crimson they
   shall be whiter than snow." "Ah," cries one, "man's hard-heartedness
   stands in the way of God's love." Beloved, the Holy Spirit is ready to
   meet the case of the hard heart. "Limit not the Holy One of Israel." Is
   anything too hard for the Lord? You tell me that unbelief is a bar. I
   answer "No," for cannot the Holy Spirit make the unbelieving believe,
   yea, if the Holy Spirit once comes into effectual contact with the most
   unbelieving and obstinate spirit it must believe at once. Look at the
   jailer, a few minutes ago he had been putting Paul in the stocks. What,
   what, what, what is this that comes over him? "What must I do to be
   saved?" "Believe," says the Apostle, and he does believe, and becomes
   as phant as a child. Out on the men who think that man is master over
   God! If he willed to stop at this moment the most bloody persecutor,
   the most filthy and licentious man, if he willed to turn the
   blackest-hearted atheist into one of the most brilhant of saints, there
   is nothing in his way to stop him; in a moment omnipotent love can do
   it; the means are provided, both in the blood of Christ for cleansing,
   and in the power of the Spirit for renewing the inner man. Therefore, I
   say it is established beyond doubt, that there is nothing in man which
   can conquer divine love.

   "What is the practical use of this," says one. The practical use of
   this is to set the gate of mercy wide open. I like always to preach
   sermons which leave the door of mercy on the jar for the worst of
   sinners, but this morning I set it wide open. A man has dropped in here
   who has been thinking for years, "I gave myself up to sin in my youth,
   and I have gone astray ever since--there is no hope for me." I tell
   you, soul, all that you have ever done is no bar to God's love to you,
   for he does not love you because of anything good in you, and that
   which is black in you cannot prevent his loving you if he so wills it.
   I tell thee what I would have thee do. I have seen those like unto thee
   come to the foot of the cross, and they have said--

   "Just as I am, and waiting not

   To rid my soul of one dark blot,

   To thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,

   O Lamb of God, I come."

   If thou in thy soul canst now trust the love of God in Christ, thou art
   saved; no matter whosoever thou mayest be, thou art saved this morning,
   and thou shalt go out of this house a regenerate soul, for thou hast
   believed in Jesus, therefore the love of God is come to thee, all thy
   past life is forgotten and forgiven; all thy past ingratitude, and
   blasphemy, and sin are cast into the depths of the sea; and, as far as
   the east is from the west, so far hath he removed thy transgressions
   from thee. I have known the time when, if I had heard the sermon of
   this morning, faint and feeble though it be, I should have danced for
   joy. I feel an intense inward satisfaction and delight while preaching
   it, for I believe it is the opening of the prison to them that are
   bound. Christ died not for the righteous but for sinners. He gave
   himself for our sins and not for our righteousness; this old Lutheran
   doctrine--this grand doctrine which shook old Rome to her very
   foundations, methinks must give poor sinners comfort and peace. I know
   that many will see nothing in it. Of course, none but the sick see any
   value in the healing medicine. I know there are some here who will
   think the sermon is not for them. Oh! may the Spirit of God make some
   accept of this comfort; but they will not unless the Spirit of God
   makes them. Too many of us are like foolish patients, who will not take
   the physician's medicine, and he has need to hold us, and thrust it
   down before we will take it. This is how the Lord dealeth with many,
   not against their will, but yet against their will as it used to be, he
   giveth them the medicine of his grace, and maketh them whole.

   To sum up all in one, what I mean is this: there have straggled in here
   this morning the poor working man, the struggling mechanic, the gay
   young fop, the man who leads a fast life, the wretch who leads a coarse
   life, the woman, perhaps, who has gone far astray; I mean to say to
   such, you are lost, but the Son of man is come to seek and to save you.
   I mean to say to you, sons and daughters of moral parents, who are not
   converted, but perhaps feel yourselves even worse than the immoral, I
   mean to say to you that you are not past hope yet. God will love you
   freely, and this is how his love is preached to you--"Whosoever
   beheyeth on the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved." Come as you are; God
   will accept you as you are. Come as you are, without any preparation or
   fitness; come as you are, and where the cross is lifted high with the
   bleeding Son of God upon it, fall flat on your face, accepting the love
   manifested there, willingly receiving this day the grace which God
   willingly and freely gives.

   As sinners, without any qualification, as sinners, as undeserving
   sinners, my Lord will receive you graciously and love you freely.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                 A Jealous God

   A Sermon

   (No. 502)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 29th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "For the Lord, whose name is jealous, is a jealous God."--Exodus 34:14.

   THE PASSION OF JEALOUSY IN MAN is usually exercised in an evil manner,
   but it is not in itself necessarily sinful. A man may be zealously
   cautious of his honor, and suspiciously vigilant over another, without
   deserving blame. All thoughtful persons will agree that there is such a
   thing as virtuous jealousy. Self-love is, no doubt, the usual
   foundation of human jealousy, and it may be that Shenstone is right in
   his definition of it as "the apprehension of superiority," the fear
   lest another should by any means supplant us; yet the word "jealous" is
   so near akin to that noble word "zealous," that I am persuaded it must
   have something good in it. Certainly we learn from Scripture that there
   is such a thing as a godly jealousy. We find the Apostle Paul declaring
   to the Corinthian Church, "I am jealous over you with a godly jealousy,
   for I have espoused you to one husband that I may present you as a
   chaste virgin to Christ." He had an earnest, cautious, anxious concern
   for their holiness, that the Lord Jesus might be honored in their
   lives. Let it be remembered then, that jealousy, like anger, is not
   evil in itself, or it could never be ascribed to God; his jealousy is
   ever a pure and holy flame. The passion of jealousy possesses an
   intense force, it fires the whole nature, its coals are juniper, which
   have a most vehement flame; it resides in the lowest depths of the
   heart, and takes so firm a hold that it remains most deeply rooted
   until the exciting cause is removed; it wells up from the inmost
   recesses of the nature, and like a torrent irresistibly sweeps all
   before it; it stops at nothing, for it is cruel as the grave (Cant.
   8:6), it provokes wrath to the utmost, for it is the rage of a man,
   therefore he will not spare in the day of vengeance (Proverbs 6:34),
   and it over throws everything in the pursuit of its enemy, for "wrath
   is cruel, and anger is outrageous; but who is able to stand before
   jealousy?" For all these reasons jealousy is selected as some faint
   picture of that tender regard which God has for His own Deity, honor,
   and supremacy, and the holy indignation which he feels towards those
   who violate his laws, offend his majesty, or impeach his character. Not
   that God is jealous so as to bring him down to the likeness of men, but
   that this is the nearest idea we can form of what the Divine Being
   feels--if it be right to use even that word toward him--when he beholds
   his throne occupied by false gods, his dignity insulted, and his glory
   usurped by others. We cannot speak of God except by using figures drawn
   from his works, or our own emotions; we ought, however, when we use the
   images, to caution ourselves and those who listen to us, against the
   idea that the Infinite mind is really to be compassed and described by
   any metaphors however lofty, or language however weighty. We might not
   have ventured to use the word, "jealousy" in connection with the Most
   High, but as we find it so many times in Scripture, let us with solemn
   awe survey this mysterious display of the Divine mind. Methinks I hear
   the thundering words of Nahum, "God is jealous and the Lord revengeth,
   the Lord revengeth and is furious, the Lord will take vengeance on his
   adversaries, and he reseryeth wrath for his enemies." My soul be thou
   humbled before the Lord and tremble at his name!

   I. Reverently, let us remember that THE LORD IS EXCEEDINGLY JEALOUS OF
   HIS DEITY.

   Our text is coupled with the command--"Thou shalt worship no other
   God." When the law was thundered from Sinai, the second commandment
   received force from the divine jealousy--"Thou shalt not make unto thee
   any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in the heaven
   above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under
   the earth; Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for
   I the Lord thy God am a jealous God." Since he is the only God, the
   Creator of heaven and earth, he cannot endure that any creature of his
   own hands, or fiction of a creature's imagination should be thrust into
   his throne, and be made to wear his crown. In Ezekiel we find the false
   god described as "the image of jealousy which provoketh to jealousy,"
   and the doom on Jerusalem for thus turning from Jehovah runs thus,
   "Mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity, but I will
   recompense their way upon their head." False gods patiently endure the
   existence of other false gods. Dagon can stand with Bel, and Bel with
   Ashtaroth; how should stone, and wood, and silver, be moved to
   indignation; but because God is the only living and true God, Dagon
   must fall before his ark; Bel must be broken, and Ashtaroth must be
   consumed with fire. Thus saith the Lord, "Ye shall destroy their
   altars, break their images, and cut down their groves;" the idols he
   shall utterly abolish. My brethren, do you marvel at this? I felt in my
   own soul while meditating upon this matter an intense sympathy with
   God. Can you put yourselves in God's place for a moment? Suppose that
   you had made the heavens and the earth, and all the creatures that
   inhabit this round globe; how would you feel if those creatures should
   set up an image of wood, or brass, or gold, and cry, "These are the
   gods that made us; these things give us life." What--a dead piece of
   earth set up in rivalry with real Deity! What must be the Lord's
   indignation against infatuated rebels when they so far despise him as
   to set up a leek, or an onion, or a beetle, or a frog, preferring to
   worship the fruit of their own gardens, or the vermin of their muddy
   rivers, rather than acknowledge the God in whose hand their breath is,
   and whose are all their ways! Oh! it is a marvel that God hath not
   dashed the world to pieces with thunderbolts, when we recollect that
   even to this day milhons of men have changed the glory of the
   incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to
   birds and four-footed beasts, and creeping things. With what
   unutterable contempt must the living God look down upon those idols
   which are the work of man's hands--"They have mouths, but they speak
   not: eyes have they, but they see not: they have ears, but they hear
   not: noses have they, but they smell not: they have hands, but they
   handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they
   through their throat." God hath longsuffering toward men, and he
   patiently endureth this madness of rebelhon; but, oh! what patience
   must it be which can restrain the fury of his jealousy, for he is a
   jealous God, and brooks no rival. It was divine jealousy which moved
   the Lord to bring all his plagues on Egypt. Careful reading will show
   you that those wonders were all aimed at the gods of Egypt. The people
   were tormented by the very things which they had made to be their
   deities, or else, as in the case of the murrain, their sacred animals
   were themselves smitten, even as the Lord had threatened--"Against all
   the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment: I am Jehovah." Was it not
   the same with ancient Israel? Why were they routed before their
   enemies? Why was their land so often invaded? Why did famine follow
   pestilence, and war succeed to famine? Only because "they provoked him
   to anger with their high places, and moved him to jealousy with their
   graven images. When God heard this, he was Froth, and greatly abhorred
   Israel." (Psalm 78:58-59.) How was it that at the last the Lord gave up
   Jerusalem to the flames, and bade the Chaldeans carry into captivity
   the remnant of his people? How was it that he abhorred his heritage,
   and gave up Mount Zion to be trodden under foot by the Gentiles? Did
   not Jeremiah tell them plainly that because they had walked after other
   gods and forsaken Jehovah, therefore he would cast them out into a land
   which they knew not?

   Brethren, the whole history of the human race is a record of the wars
   of the Lord against idolatry. The right hand of the Lord hath dashed in
   pieces the enemy and cast the ancient idols to the ground. Behold the
   heaps of Nineveh! Search for the desolations of Babylon! Look upon the
   broken temples of Greece! See the ruins of Pagan Rome! Journey where
   you will, you behold the dilapidated temples of the gods and the ruined
   empires of their foolish votaries. The moles and the bats have covered
   with forgetfulness the once famous deities of Chaldea and Assyria. The
   Lord hath made bare his arm and eased him of his adversaries, for
   Jehovah, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.

   With what indignation, then, must the Lord look down upon that apostate
   harlot, called the Romish Church, when, in all her sanctuaries, there
   are pictures and images, relics and slivines, and poor infatuated
   beings are even taught to bow before a piece of bread. In this country,
   Popish idolatry is not so barefaced and naked as it is in other lands;
   but I have seen it, and my soul has been moved with indignation like
   that of Paul on Mars' Hill, when he saw the city wholly to idolatry; I
   have seen thousands adore the wafer, hundreds bow before the image of
   the Virgin, scores at prayer before a crucifix, and companies of men
   and women adoring a rotten bone or a rusty nail, because said to be the
   relic of a saint. It is vain for the Romanist to assert that he
   worships not the things themselves, but only the Lord through them, for
   this the second commandment expressly forbids, and it is upon this
   point that the Lord calls himself a jealous God. How full is that cup
   which Babylon must drink; the day is hastening when the Lord shall
   avenge himself upon her, because her iniquities have reached unto
   heaven, and she hath blasphemously exalted her Pope into the throne of
   the Host High, and thrust her priests into the office of the Lamb.
   Purge yourselves, purge yourselves of this leaven. I charge you before
   God, the Judge of quick and dead, if ye would not be partakers of her
   plagues, come out from her more and more, and let your protest be
   increasingly vehement against this which exalteth itself above all that
   is called God. Let our Protestant Churches, which have too great a
   savoar of Popery in them, cleanse themselves of her fornications, lest
   the Lord visit them with fire and pour the plagues of Babylon upon
   them. Renounce, my brethren, every ceremony which has not Scripture for
   its warrant, and every doctrine which is not established by the plain
   testimony of the Word of God. Let us, above all, never by any sign, or
   word, or deed, have any complicity with this communion of devils, this
   gathering together of the sons of Behal: and since our God is a jealous
   God, let us not provoke him by any affinity, gentleness, fellowship, or
   amity with this Mother of Harlots and abominations of the earth.

   With what jealousy must the Lord regard the great mass of the people of
   this country, who have another God beside himself! With what
   indignation doth he look upon many of you who are subject to the prince
   of the power of the air, the god of this world! To you Jehovah is
   nothing. God is not in all your thoughts; you have no fear of Him
   before your eyes. Like the men of Israel, you have set up your idols in
   your heart. Your god is custom, fashion, business, pleasure, ambition,
   honor. You have made unto yourselves gods of these things; you have
   said, "These be thy gods, O Israel." Ye follow after the things which
   perish, the things of this world, which are vanity. O ye sons of men,
   think not that God is blind. He can perceive the idols in your hearts;
   he understandeth what be the secret things that your souls lust after;
   he searcheth your heart, he trieth your reins; beware lest he find you
   sacrificing to strange gods, for his anger will smoke against you, and
   his jealousy will be stirred. O ye that worship not God, the God of
   Israel, who give him not dominion over your whole soul, and live not to
   his honor, repent ye of your idolatry, seek mercy through the blood of
   Jesus, and provoke not the Lord to jealousy any more.

   Even believers may be reproved on this subject. God is very jealous of
   his deity in the hearts of his own people. Mother, what will he say of
   you, if that darling child occupies a more prominent place in your love
   than your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ? Husband, what shall he say to
   you, and with what stripes shall he smite you, when your wife reigns as
   a goddess in your spirit? And wife, thou shouldest love thy
   husband--thou doest well in so doing; but if thou exaltest him above
   God, if thou makest him to have dominion over thy conscience, and art
   willing to forsake thy Lord to please him, then thou hast made to
   thyself another god, and God is jealous with thee. Ay, and we may thus
   provoke him with the dead as well as with the living. A grief carried
   to excess, a grief nurtured until it prevents our attention to duty, a
   grief which makes us murmur and repine against the will of Providence
   is sheer rebelhon; it hath in it the very spirit of idolatry; it will
   provoke the Lord to anger, and he will surely chasten yet again, until
   our spirit becomes resigned to his rod. "Hast thou not forgiven God
   yet?" was the language of an old Quaker when he saw a widow who for
   years had worn her weeds, and was inconsolable in her grief--"Hast thou
   not forgiven God yet?" We may weep under bereavements, for Jesus wept;
   but we must not sorrow so as to provoke the Lord to anger, we must not
   act as if our friends were more precious to us than our God. We are
   permitted to take solace in each other, but when we carry love to
   idolatry, and put the creature into the Creator's place, and rebel, and
   fret, and bitterly repine, then the Lord hath a rod in his hand, and he
   will make us feel its weight, for he is a jealous God. I fear there are
   some professors who put their house, their garden, their business,
   their skill, I know not what, at seasons into the place of God. It were
   not consistent with the life of godliness for a man to be perpetually
   an idolater, but even true believers will sometimes be overcome with
   this sin, and will have to mourn over it. Brethren, set up no images of
   jealousy, but like Jacob of old cry to yourselves and to your famihes,
   "Put away the strange gods that are among you, and be clean." Let me
   warn those of you who neglect this that if you be the Lord's people you
   shall soon smart for it, and the sooner the better for your own
   salvation; while, on the other hand, to those ungodly persons who
   continue to live for objects other than divine, let me say, you not
   only smart in this life by bitter disappointments, but you shall also
   suffer eternal wrath in the life to come.

   Come, let me push this matter home upon your consciences; let me carry
   this as at point of bayonet. Why, my hearers, there are some of you who
   never worship God. I know you go up to his house, but then it is only
   to be seen, or to quiet your conscience by having done your duty. How
   many of you merchants aim only to accumulate a fortune! How many of you
   tradesmen are living only for your famihes! How many young men breathe
   only for pleasure! How many young women exist only for amusement and
   vanity. I fear that some among you make your belly your god, and bow
   down to your own personal charms or comforts. Talk of idolaters! They
   are here to-day! If we desire to preach to those who break the first
   and second commandments we have no need to go to Hindostan, or traverse
   the plains of Africa. They are here. Unto you who bow not before the
   Lord let these words be given, and let them ring in your ears--"The
   Lord whose name is jealous, is a jealous God." Who shall stand before
   him when once he is angry? When his jealousy burneth like fire and
   smoketh like a furnace, who shall endure the day of his wrath. Beware,
   lest he tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver. Dreadful
   shall it be for you, if at the last you shall behold an angry God
   sitting in judgment. Pause now and meditate upon your doom, and think
   you see the Almighty robed in tempest and whirlwind.

   "His throne a seat of dreadful wrath,

   Girt with devouring flame;

   The Lord appears consuming fire,

   And Jealous is his name."

   God save you for Jesus' sake.

   II. The Lord IS JEALOUS OF HIS SOVEREIGNTY.

   He that made heaven and earth has a right to rule his creatures as he
   wills. The potter hath power over the clay to fashion it according to
   his own good pleasure, and the creatures being made are bound to be
   obedient to their Lord. He has a right to issue commands, he has done
   so--they are holy, and just, and wise; men are bound to obey, but,
   alas, they continually revolt against his sovereignty, and will not
   obey him; nay, there be men who deny altogether that he is lying of
   kings, and others who take counsel together saying, "Let us break his
   bands in sunder, and cast away his cords from us." He that sitteth in
   the heavens is moved to jealousy by these sins, and will defend the
   rights of his crown against all comers, for the Lord is a great God,
   and a great King above all gods.

   This reminds us of the Lord's hatred of sin. Every time we sin, we do
   as much as say, "I do not acknowledge God to be my sovereign; I will do
   as I please." Each time we speak an ill-word we really say, "My tongue
   is my own, he is not Lord over my lips." Yea, and everytime the human
   heart wandereth after evil, and lusteth for that which is forbidden, it
   attempts to dethrone God, and to set up the Evil One in his place. The
   language of sin is "Who is the Lord that I should obey his voice; I
   will not have God to reign over me." Sin is a deliberate treason
   against the majesty of God, an assault upon his crown, an insult
   offered to his throne. Some sins, especially, have rebelhon written on
   their forehead--presumptuous sins, when a man's conscience has been
   enlightened, and he knows better, and yet still forsakes the good and
   follows after evil; when a man's conscience has been aroused through
   some judgment, or sickness, or under a faithful ministry; if that man
   returns, like a dog to his vomit, he has, indeed, insulted the
   sovereignty of God. But have we not all done this, and are there not
   some here in particular of whom we once had good hope, but who have
   turned back again to crooked ways? Are there not some of you who,
   Sabbath after Sabbath, get your consciences so quickened that you
   cannot be easy in sin as others are and though you may, perhaps,
   indulge in sin, yet it costs you very dearly, for you know better? Did
   I not hear of one who sits in these seats often, but is as often on the
   ale bench? Did I not hear of another who can sing with us the hymns of
   Zion, but is equally at home with the lascivious music of the drunkard?
   Do we not know of some who in their business are anything but what they
   should be, yet for a show can come up to the house of God? Oh, sirs,
   oh, sirs, ye do provoke the Lord to jealousy! Take heed, for when he
   cometh out of his resting-place, and taketh to himself his sword and
   buckler, who are you that you should stand before the dread majesty of
   His presence! Tremble and be still! Humble yourselves, and repent of
   this your sin.

   Surely, if sin attacks the sovereignty of God, self-righteousness is
   equally guilty of treason: for as sin boasts, "I will not keep God's
   law," self-righteousness exclaims, "I will not be saved in God's way; I
   will make a new road to heaven; I will not bow before God's grace; I
   will not accept the atonement which God has wrought out in the person
   of Jesus; I will be my own redeemer; I will enter heaven by my own
   strength, and glorify my own merits." The Lord is very wroth against
   self-righteousness. I do not know of anything against which his fury
   burneth more than against this, because this touches him in a very
   tender point, it insults the glory and honor of his Son Jesus Christ.
   Joshua said to the children of Israel when they promised to keep the
   law--"Ye cannot serve the Lord, for he is an holy God; he is a jealous
   God; and he will not forgive your transgressions nor your sins." So I
   may well say to every self-righteous person, "You cannot keep the law,
   for God is a jealous God," carefully marking every fault, and just to
   mark your iniquities; nor will he forgive your iniquities so long as
   you attempt to win his favor by works of law. Throw away thy
   self-righteousness, thou proud one; cast it with all other idols to the
   moles and to the bats, for there is no hope for thee so long as thou
   dost cling to it. Self-righteousness is in itself the very height and
   crowning-point of rebelhon against God. For a man to say, "Lord, I have
   not sinned," is the gathering-up, the emphasis, the climax of iniquity,
   and God's jealousy is hot against it.

   Let me add, dear friends, I feel persuaded that false doctrine,
   inasmuch as it touches God's sovereignty, is always an object of divine
   jealousy. Let me indicate especially the doctrines of free-will. I know
   there are some good men who hold and preach them, but I am persuaded
   that the Lord must be grieved with their doctrine though he forgives
   them their sin of ignorance. Free-will doctrine--what does it? It
   magnifies man into God; it declares God's purposes a nullity, since
   they cannot be carried out unless men are willing. It makes God's will
   a waiting servant to the will of man, and the whole covenant of grace
   dependent upon human action. Denying election on the ground of
   injustice it holds God to be a debtor to sinners, so that if he gives
   grace to one he is bound to do so to all. It teaches that the blood of
   Christ was shed equally for all men and since some are lost, this
   doctrine ascribes the difference to man's own will, thus making the
   atonement itself a powerless thing until the will of man gives it
   efficacy. Those sentiments dilute the scriptural description of man's
   depravity, and by imputing strength to fallen humanity, rob the Spirit
   of the glory of his effectual grace: this theory says in effect that it
   is of him that willeth, and of him that runneth, and not of God that
   showeth mercy. Any doctrine, my brethren, which stands in opposition to
   this truth--"I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy," provokes
   God's jealousy. I often tremble in this pulpit lest I should utter
   anything which should oppose the sovereignty of my God; and though you
   know I am not ashamed to preach the responsibility of man to God--if
   God be a sovereign, man must be bound to obey him--on the other hand, I
   am equally bold to preach that God has a right to do what he wills with
   his own, that he giveth no account of his matters and none may stay his
   hand, or say unto him, "What doest thou?" I believe that the free-will
   heresy assails the sovereignty of God, and mars the glory of his
   dominion. In all faithfulness, mingled with sorrow, I persuade you who
   have been deluded by it, to see well to your ways and receive the truth
   which sets God on high, and lays the creature in the dust. "The Lord
   reigneth," be this our joy. The Lord is our King, let us obey him and
   defend to the death the crown rights of the lying of kings, for he is a
   jealous God.

   While tarrying upon this subject, I ought also to remark that all the
   boastings of ungodly men, whenever they exalt themselves, seeing that
   they are a sort of claim of sovereignty, must be very vexatious to God,
   the Judge of all. When you glory in your own power, you forget that
   power belongeth only unto God, and you provoke his jealousy. When
   kings, parhaments, or synods, trespass upon the sacred domains of
   conscience, and say to men, "Bow down, that we may go over you"--when
   we make attempts to lord over another man's judgment, and to make our
   own opinions supreme, the Lord is moved to jealousy, for he retains the
   court of conscience for himself alone to reign in. Let us humbly bow
   before the dignity of the Most High, and pay our homage at his feet.

   "Glory to th' eternal King,

   Clad in majesty supreme!

   Let all heaven his praises sing,

   Let all worlds his power proclaim.

   O let my transported soul

   Ever on his glories gaze!

   Ever yield to his control,

   Ever sound his lofty praise!"

   Let us crown him every day! Let our holy obedience, let our devout
   lives, let our hearty acquiescence in all his will, let our reverent
   adoration before the greatness of his majesty, all prove that we
   acknowledge him to be King of kings, and Lord of lords, lest we provoke
   a jealous God to anger.

   III. THE LORD IS JEALOUS OF HIS GLORY.

   God's glory is the result of his nature and acts. He is glorious in his
   character, for there is such a store of everything that is holy, and
   good, and lovely in God, that he must be glorious. The actions which
   flow from his character, the deeds which are the outgoings of his inner
   nature, these are glorious too; and the Lord is very careful that all
   flesh should see that he is a good, and gracious, and just God; and he
   is mindfill, too, that his great and mighty acts should not give glory
   to others, but only to himself.

   How, careful, then, should we be when we do anything for God, and God
   is pleased to accept of our doings, that we never congratulate
   ourselves. The minister of Christ should unrobe himself of every rag of
   praise. "You preached well," said a friend to Jolin Bunyan one morning.
   "You are too late," said honest Jolin, "the devil told me that before I
   left the pulpit." The devil often tells God's servants a great many
   things which they should be sorry to hear. Why, you can hardly be
   useful in a Sunday School but he will say to you--"How well you have
   done it!" You can scarcely resist a temptation, or set a good example,
   but he will be whispering to you--"What an excellent person you must
   be!" It is, perhaps, one of the hardest struggles of the Christian life
   to learn this sentence--"Not unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name be
   glory." Now God is so jealous on this point that, while he will forgive
   his own servants a thousand things, this is an offense for which he is
   sure to chasten us. Let a believer once say, "I am," and God will soon
   make him say "I am not." Let a Christian begin to boast, "I can do all
   things," without adding "through Christ which strengtheneth me," and
   before long he will have to groan, "I can do nothing," and bemoan
   himself in the dust. Many of the sins of true Christians, I do not
   doubt, have been the result of their glorifying themselves. Many a man
   has been permitted by God to stain a noble character and to ruin an
   admirable reputation, because the character and the reputation had come
   to be the man's own, instead of being laid, as all our crowns must be
   laid, at the feet of Christ. Thou mayest build the city, but if thou
   sayest with Nebuchadnezzar, "Behold this great Babylon which I have
   builded!" thou shalt be smitten to the earth. The worms which ate Herod
   when he gave not God the glory are ready for another meal; beware of
   vain glory!

   How careful ought we to be to walk humbly before the Lord. The moment
   we glorify ourselves, since there is room for one glory only in the
   universe, we set ourselves up as rivals to the Most High. Penitent
   souls are always accepted, because they are not in God's way; proud
   souls are always rejected, because they are in God's way. Shall the
   insect of an hour glorify itself against the Sun which warmed it into
   life? Shall the potsherd exalt itself above the man that fashioned it
   upon the wheel? Shall the dust of the desert strive with the whirlwind?
   Or the drops of the ocean struggle with the tempest? O thou nothingness
   and vanity, thou puny mortal called man, humble thyself and reverence
   thy Great Creator.

   Let us see to it that we never misrepresent God, so as to rob him of
   his honour. If any minister shall preach of God so as to dishonor him,
   God will be jealous against that man. I fear that the Lord hath heavy
   wrath against those who lay the damnation of man at God's door, for
   they dishonor God, and he is very jealous of his name. And those, on
   the other hand, who ascribe salvation to man must also be heavily
   beneath God's displeasure, for they take from him his glory. Ah,
   thieves! ah, thieves! will ye dare to steal the crown-jewels of the
   universe! Whither go ye, whither bear ye the bright pearls which ought
   to shine upon the brow of Christ? To put them on the brow of man? Stop!
   stop! for the Lord will not give his glory to another! Give unto the
   Lord, all ye righteous, give unto the Lord glory and strength; give
   unto him the honor that is due unto his name! Any doctrine which does
   not give all the honor to God must provoke him to jealousy.

   Be careful, dear friends, that you do not misrepresent God yourselves.
   You who murmur; you who say that God deals hardly with you, you give
   God an ill character; when you look so melancholy, worldlings say, "The
   religion of Jesus is intolerable;" and so you stain the honor of God.
   Oh, do not do this, for he is a jealous God, and he will surely use the
   rod upon you if you do.

   A flash of holy pleasure crosses my mind. I am glad that he is a
   jealous God. It is enough to make us walk very carefully, but, at the
   same time, it should make us very joyful to think that the Lord is very
   jealous of his own honor. Then, brethren, if we believe in Christ, you
   and I are safe, because it would dishonor him if we were not; for his
   own name's sake and for his faithfulness' sake, he will never leave one
   of his people; since "His honor is engaged to save the meanest of his
   sheep." Now, if Christ could trifle with his own honor, if he had no
   jealousy, you and I might be afraid that he would suffer us to perish;
   but it never shall be. It shall be said on earth and sung in heaven at
   the last, that God has suffered no dishonorable defeats from the hands
   of either men or devils. "I chose my people," saith the Eternal Father,
   "and they are mine now that I make up my jewels." "I bought my people,"
   saith the eternal Son, "I became a surety for them before the Most
   High, and the infernal hon could not rend the meanest of the sheep." "I
   quickened my people," saith the Holy Spirit; the temptations of hell
   could not throw them down; their own corruptions could not overpower
   them; I have gotten the victory in every one of them, not one of them
   is lost; they are all brought safely to my right hand." Hide
   yourselves, then, under the banner of Jehovah's jealousy. It is bloody
   red, I know; its ensign bears a thunderbolt and a flame of fire; but
   hide yourselves, hide yourselves under it, for what enemy shall reach
   you there? If it be to God's glory to save me, I am entrenched behind
   munitions of stupendous rock. If it would render God inglorious to let
   me, a poor sinner, descend into hell; if it would open the mouths of
   devils and make men say that God is not faithful to his promise, then
   am I secure, for God's glory is wrapped up with my salvation, and the
   one cannot fail because the other cannot be tarnished. Beloved, let us
   mind that we be very jealous of God's glory ourselves since he is
   jealous of it. Let us say with Elijah--"I am very jealous for the Lord
   God of hosts." May our lives, and conduct, and conversation prove that
   we are jealous of our hearts lest they should once depart from him; and
   may we smite with stern and unrelenting hand every sin and every
   thought of pride that might touch the glory of our gracious God; living
   to him as living before a jealous God.

   IV. In the highest sense, THE LORD IS JEALOUS OVER HIS OWN PEOPLE.

   Let me only hint, that human jealousy, although it will exercise itself
   over man's reputation, rights, and honor, hath one particularly tender
   place: jealousy guardeth, like an armed man, the marriage-covenant. A
   suspicion here is horrible. Even good old Jacob, when he came to die,
   could not look upon his son Reuben without remembering his offense. "He
   went up to my couch," said the old man--and, as if the remembrance was
   too painful for him, he hurried on from Reuben to the next. The Lord
   has been graciously pleased to say of his people, "I am married unto
   you." The covenant of grace is a marriage-covenant, and Christ's Church
   has become his spouse. It is here that God's jealousy is peculiarly
   liable to take fire. Men cannot be God's favourites without being the
   subjects of his watchfulness and jealousy: that which might be looked
   over in another will be chastened in a member of Christ. As a husband
   is jealous of his honor, so is the Lord Jesus much concerned for the
   purity of his Church.

   The Lord Jesus Christ, of whom I now speak, is very jealous of your
   love, O believer. Did he not choose you? He cannot hear that you should
   choose another. Did he not buy you with his own blood? He cannot endure
   that you should think you are your own, or that you belong to this
   world. He loved you with such a love that he could not stop in heaven
   without you; he would sooner die than that you should perish; he
   stripped himself to nakedness that he might clothe you with beauty; he
   bowed his face to shame and spitting that he might lift you up to honor
   and glory, and he cannot endure that you should love the world, and the
   things of the world. His love is strong as death towards you, and
   therefore will be cruel as the grave. He will be as a cruel one towards
   you if you do not love him with a perfect heart. He will take away that
   husband; he will smite that child; he will bring you from riches to
   poverty, from health to sickness, even to the gates of the grave,
   because he loves you so much that he cannot endure that anything should
   stand between your heart's love and him. Be careful Christians, you
   that are married to Christ; remember, you are married to a jealous
   husband.

   He is very jealous of your trust. He will not permit you to trust in an
   arm of flesh. He will not endure that you should hew out broken
   cisterns, when the overflowing fountain is always free to you. When we
   come up from the wilderness leaning upon our Beloved, then is our
   Beloved glad, but when we go down to the wilderness leaning on some
   other arm; when we trust in our own wisdom or the wisdom of a
   friend--worst of all, when we trust in any works of our own, he is
   angry, and will smite us with heavy blows that he may bring us to
   himself.

   He is also very jealous of our company. It were well if a Christian
   could see nothing but Christ. When the wife of a Persian noble had been
   invited to the coronation of Darius, the question was asked of her by
   her husband--"Did you not think the king a most beautiful man?" and her
   answer was--"I cared not to look at the king; my eyes are for my
   husband only, for my heart is his." The Christian should say the same.
   There is nothing beneath the spacious arch of heaven comparable to
   Christ: there should be no one with whom we converse so much as with
   Jesus. To abide in him only, this is true love; but to commune with the
   world, to find solace in our comforts, to be loving this evil world,
   this is vexing to our jealous Lord. Do you not believe that nine out of
   ten of the troubles and pains of believers are the result of their love
   to some other person than Christ? Nail me to thy cross, thou bleeding
   Savior! Put thy thorn-crown upon my head to be a hedge to keep my
   thoughts within its bound! O for a fire to burn up all my wandering
   loves. O for a seal to stamp the name of my Beloved indelibly upon my
   heart! O love divine expel from me all carnal worldly loves, and fill
   me with thyself!

   Dear friends, let this jealousy which should keep us near to Christ be
   also a comfort to us, for if we be married to Christ, and he be jealous
   of us, depend upon it this jealous husband will let none touch his
   spouse. Joel tells us that the Lord is jealous for his land, and
   Zechariah utters the word of the Lord, "I am jealous for Jerusalem, and
   for Zion with a great jealousy;" and then he declares that he will
   punish the heathen. And will he not avenge his own elect who cry unto
   him day and night? There is not a hard word spoken but the Lord shall
   avenge it! There is not a single deed done against us, but the strong
   hand of him who once died but now lives for us, shall take terrible
   vengeance upon all his adversaries. I am not afraid for the Church of
   God! I tremble not for the cause of God! Our jealous Husband will never
   let his Church be in danger, and if any smite her he will give them
   double for every blow. The gates of hell shall not prevail against his
   Church, but she shall prevail against the gates of hell. Her jealous
   Husband shall roll away her shame; her reproach shall be forgotten; her
   glory shall be fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an
   army with banners, for he that is jealous of himself is jealous for her
   fair fame. The subject is large and deep; let us prove that we
   understand it, by henceforth walking very carefully; and if any say
   "Why are you so precise?" let this be our answer--"I serve a jealous
   God."
     __________________________________________________________________

                            Death and Life in Christ

   A Sermon

   (No. 503)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, April 5th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "Now if we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with
   him: knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more;
   death hath no more dominion over him. For in that he died, he died unto
   sin once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God. Likewise reckon ye
   also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through
   Jesus Christ our Lord."--Romans 6:8-11.

   THE apostles never traveled far from the simple facts of Christ's life,
   death, resurrection, ascension, exaltation, and second advent. These
   things, of which they were the witnesses, constituted the staple of all
   their discourses. Newton has very properly said that the two pillars of
   our religion are, the work of Christ for us, and his work in us by the
   Holy Spirit. If you want to find the apostles, you will surely discover
   them standing between these two pillars; they are either discoursing
   upon the effect of the passion in our justification, or its equally
   delightful consequence in our death to the world and our newness of
   life. What a rebuke this should be to those in modern times who are
   ever straining after novelties. There may be much of the Athenian
   spirit among congregations, but that should be no excuse for its being
   tolerated among ministers; we, of all men, should be the last to spend
   our time in seeking something new. Our business, my brethren, is the
   old labor of apostolic tongues, to declare that Jesus, who is the same
   yesterday to-day and for ever. We are mirrors reflecting the
   transactions of Calvary, telex scopes manifesting the distant glories
   of an exalted Redeemer. The nearer we keep to the cross, the nearer, I
   think, we keep to our true vocation. When the Lord shall be pleased to
   restore to his Church once more a fervent love to Christ, and when once
   again we shall have a ministry that is not only flavoured with Christ,
   but of which Jesus constitutes the sum and substance, then shall the
   Churches revive--then shall the set time to favor Zion come. The goodly
   cedar which was planted by the rivers of old, and stretched out her
   branches far and wide, has become in these modern days like a tree
   dwarfed by Chinese art; it is planted by the rivers as aforetime, but
   it does not flourish, only let God the Holy Spirit give to us once
   again the bold and clear preaching of Christ crucified in all
   simplicity and earnestness, and the dwarf shall swell into a forest
   giant, each expanding bud shall burst into foliage, and the cedar shall
   tower aloft again, until the birds of the air shall lodge in the
   branches thereof. I need offer you no apology, then, for preaching on
   those matters which engrossed all the time of the apostles, and which
   shall shower unnumbered blessings on generations yet to come.

   I. THE FACTS REFERRED TO IN THESE FOUR VERSES CONSTITUE THE GLORIOUS
   GOSPEL WHICH WE PREACH.

   1. The first fact here very clearly indicated is that Jesus died. He
   who was divine, and therefore immortal, bowed his head to death. He
   whose human nature was alhed to the omnipotence of his divine nature,
   was pleased voluntarily to submit himself to the sword of death. He who
   was pure and perfect, and therefore deserved not death, which is the
   wages of sin, nevertheless condescended for our sake to yield himself
   up to die. This is the second note in the Gospel scale. The first note
   is incarnation, Jesus Christ became a man; angels thought this worthy
   of their songs, and made the heavens ring with midnight melodies. The
   second note is this, I say, that, being found in fashion as a man, he
   humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the
   cross. He died as a sacrifice. Methinks, after many lambs from the
   flocks of men had poured out their blood at the foot of the altar, it
   was a strange spectacle-to see God's Lamb brought to that same altar to
   be sacrificed. He is without spot or blemish, or any such thing. He is
   the firstling of the flock; he is the only one of the Great Master; a
   right royal, heavenly lamb. Such a Lamb had never been seen before. He
   is the Lamb who is worshipped in heaven, and who is to be adored world
   without end. Will that sacred head condescend to feel the axe? Will
   that glorious victim really be slain? Is it possible that God's Lamb
   will actually submit to die? He does so without a struggle; he is dumb
   in the shambles before the slaughterers; he gives up the warm blood of
   his heart to the hand of the executioner, that he might expiate the
   wrath of God. Tell it. Let heaven ring with music, and let hell be
   filled with confusion! Jesus, the Eternal Son of God, the Lamb of
   Jehovah's Passover, died. His hands were pierced; and his heart was
   broken; to prove how surely the spear had struck the mark, the vital
   fluid flowed in a double flood, even to the ground:--Jesus died. If
   there were any doubt about this, there were doubt about your salvation
   and mine. If there were any reason to question this fact, then we might
   question the possibility of salvation. But Jesus died, and sin is put
   away. The sacrifice smokes to heaven; Jehovah smelleth a sweet savor,
   and is pleased through Christ the victim to accept the prayers, the
   offerings, and the persons of his people. Nor did he die as a victim
   only. He died as a substitute. We were drawn as soldiers for the great
   warfare, and we could not go, for we were feeble, and should have
   fallen in the battle, and have left our bones to be devoured of the
   dogs of hell. But he, the mighty Son of God, became the substitute for
   us; entered the battle-field; sustained the first charge of the
   adversary in the wilderness; three times he repulsed the grim fiend and
   all his host, smiting his assailants with the sword of the Spirit,
   until the enemy fled, and angels waited upon the weary Victor. The
   conflict was not over, the enemy had but retired to forge fresh
   artillery and recruit his scattered forces for a yet more terrible
   affray. For three years the great Substitute kept the field against
   continual onslaughts from the advance guard of the enemy, remaining
   conqueror in every skirmish. No adversary dared to show his face, or if
   he shot an arrow at him from a distance, our substitute caught the
   arrow on his shield, and laughed his foes to scorn. Devils were cast
   out of many that were possessed; whole legions of them were compelled
   to find refuge in a herd of swine; and Lucifer himself fell like
   lightning from the heaven of his power. At last the time came when hell
   had gathered up all its forces, and now was also come the hour when
   Christ, as our substitute, must carry his obedience to the utmost
   length; he must be obedient unto death. He has been a substitute up
   till now; will he now throw down his vicarious character? Will he now
   renounce our responsibilities, and declare that we may stand for
   ourselves? Not he. He undertook, and must go through. Sweating great
   drops of blood, he nevertheless flinches not from the dread assault.
   Wounded in hands and in feet he still maintained his ground, and
   though, for obedience sake, he bowed his head to die, yet in that dying
   he slew death, put his foot upon the dragons' neck, crushed the head of
   the old serpent, and beat our adversaries as small as the dust of the
   threshing-floor. Yes, the blessed Substitute has died. I say if there
   were a question about this, then we might have to die, but inasmuch as
   he died for us, the believer shall not die. The debt is discharged to
   the utmost farthing; the account is cleared; the balance is struck; the
   scales of justice turn in our favor; God's sword is sheathed for ever,
   and the blood of Christ has sealed it in its scabbard. We are free, for
   Christ was bound; we live, for Jesus died. Dying thus as a sacrifice
   and as a substitute, it is a comfort to us to know that he also died as
   Mediator between God and man. There was a great gulf fixed, so that if
   we would pass to God we could not, neither could he pass to us if he
   would condescend to do so. There was no way of filling up this gulf,
   unless there should be found one who, like the old Roman, Curtius,
   would leap into it. Jesus comes, arrayed in his pontifical garments,
   wearing the breast-plate, bearing the ephod, a priest for ever after
   the order of Melchisidec: his kingly character is not forgotten, for
   his head is adorned with a glittering crown, and o'er his shoulders he
   bears the prophet's mantle. How shall I describe the matchless glories
   of the prophet-king, the royal priest? Will he throw himself into the
   chasm? He will. Into the grave he plunges, the abyss is closed! The
   gulf is bridged, and God can have communion with man! I see before me
   the heavy veil which shields from mortal eyes the place where God's
   glory shineth. No man may touch that veil or he must die. Is there any
   man found who can rend it?--that man may approach the mercy-seat. O
   that the veil which parts our souls from him that dwelleth between the
   cherubims could be torn throughout its utmost length! Strong archangel,
   wouldest thou dare to rend it? Shouldest thou attempt the work, thine
   immortality were forfeited, and thou must expire. But Jesus comes, the
   King Immortal, Invisible, with his strong hands he rends the veil from
   top to bottom, and now men draw nigh with confidence, for when Jesus
   died a living way was opened. Sing, O heavens, and rejoice O earth!
   There is now no wall of partition, for Christ has dashed it down!
   Christ has taken away the gates of death, posts and bars, and all, and
   like another Samson carried them upon his shoulders far away. This,
   then, is one of the great notes of the Gospel, the fact that Jesus
   died. Oh! ye who would be save'd, believe that Jesus died; believe that
   the Son of God expired; trust that death to save you, and you are
   saved. Tis no great mystery; it needs no learned words, no polished
   plivases; Jesus died; the sacrifice smokes; the substitute bleeds; the
   Mediator fills up the gap; Jesus dies; believe and live.

   2. But Jesus rises: this is no mean part of the Gospel. He dies; they
   lay him in the new sepulclive; they embalm his body in spices; his
   adversaries are careful that his body shall not be stolen away; the
   stone, the seal, the watch, all prove their vigilance. Aha! Aha! What
   do ye, men? Can ye imprison immortality in the tomb! The fiends of
   hell, too, I doubt not, watched the sepulclive, wondering what it all
   could mean. But the third day comes, and with it the messenger from
   heaven. He touches the stone; it rolls away; he sits upon it, as if he
   would defy the whole universe to roll that stone back again. Jesus
   awakes, as a mighty man from his slumber; unwraps the napkin from his
   head and lays it by itself; unwinds the cerements in which love had
   wrapped him, and puts them by themselves; for he had abundant leisure;
   he was in no haste; he was not about to escape like a felon who bursts
   the prison, but like one whose time of jail-deliverance has come, and
   lawfully and leisurely leaves his cell; he steps to the upper air,
   bright, shining, glorious, and fair. He lives. He died once, but he
   rose again from the dead. There is no need for us to enlarge here. We
   only pause to remark that this is one of the most jubilant notes in the
   whole gospel scale; for see, brethren, the rich mysteries, which, like
   the many seeds of the pomegranate, are all enclosed in the golden apple
   of resurrection. Death is overcome. There is found a man who by his own
   power was able to struggle with death, and hurl him down. The grave is
   opened; there is found a man able to dash back its bolts and to rifle
   its treasures; and thus, brethren, having delivered himself, he is able
   also to deliver others. Sin, too, was manifestly forgiven. Christ was
   in prison as a hostage, kept there as a surety; now that he is suffered
   to go free, it is a declaration on God's behalf that he has nothing
   against us; our substitute is discharged; we are discharged. He who
   undertook to pay our debt is suffered to go free; we go free in him.
   "He rose again for our justification." Nay more, inasmuch as he rises
   from the dead, he gives us a pledge that hell is conquered. This was
   the great aim of hell to keep Christ beneath its heel. "Thou shalt
   bruise his heel." They had gotten the heel of Christ, his mortal flesh
   beneath their power, but that bruised heel came forth unwounded; Christ
   sustained no injury by his dying; he was as glorious, even in his human
   nature, as he was before he expired. "Thou wilt not leave my soul in
   hell, neither wilt thou suffer thy holy One to see corruption."
   Beloved, in this will we triumph, that hell is worsted; Satan is put to
   confusion, and all his hosts are fallen before Immanuel. Sinner,
   believe this; it is the Gospel of thy salvation. Believe that Jesus of
   Nazareth rose again from the dead, and trust him, trust him to save thy
   soul. Because he burst the gates of the grave, trust him to bear thy
   sins, to justify thy person, to quicken thy spirit, and to raise thy
   dead body, and verily, verily, I say unto thee, thou shalt be saved.

   3. We now strike a third note, without which the gospel were not
   complete. Inasmuch as Jesus died, he is now living. He does not, after
   forty days, return to the grave; he departs from earth, but it is by
   another way. From the top of Olivet he ascends until a cloud receives
   him out of their sight. And now at this very day he lives. There at his
   Father's right hand he sits, bright like a sun; clothed in majesty; the
   joy of all the glorified spirits; his Father's intense delight. There
   he sits, Lord of Providence; at his girdle swing the keys of heaven,
   and earth, and hell. There he sits, expecting the hour when his enemies
   shall be made his footstool. Methinks I see him, too, as he lives to
   intercede. He stretches his wounded hands, points to his breastplate
   bearing the names of his people, and for Zion's sake he doth not hold
   his peace, and for Jerusalem's sake he doth not rest day nor night, but
   ever pleadeth--"Oh God! bless thy heritage; gather together thy
   scattered ones; I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me
   where I am." Believer, this it a cluster of camphire to thee, a bundle
   of myrrh--be thou comforted exceedingly.

   "He lives! the great Redeemer lives!

   What joy the blest assurance gives!"

   Trembling penitent, let a living Savior cheer thee. Exercise faith in
   him who only hath immortality. He lives to hear thy prayer; cry to him,
   he lives to present that prayer before his Father's face. Put yourself
   in his hands; he lives to gather together those whom he bought with his
   blood, to make those the people of his flock who were once the people
   of his purchase. Sinner, dost thou believe this as a matter of fact? If
   so, rest thy soul on it, and make it shine as a matter of confidence,
   and then thou art saved.

   4. One more note, and our gospel-song need not rise higher. Jesus died;
   he rose; he lives; and he lives for ever. He lives for ever. He shall
   not die again. "Death hath no more dominion over him." Ages shall
   follow ages, but his raven locks shall never be blanched with years.
   "Thou hast the dew of thy youth." Disease may visit the world and fill
   the graves, but no disease or plague can touch the immortal Savior. The
   shock of the last catastrophe shall shake both heaven and earth, until
   the stars shall fall like withered fig-leaves from the tree, but
   nothing shall move the unchanging Savior. He lives for ever. There is
   no possibility that he should be overcome by a new death.

   "No more the bloody spear,

   The cross and nails no more;

   For hell itself shakes at his name,

   And all the heavens adore."

   Would it not be a strange doctrine indeed if any man should dream that
   the Son of God would again offer his life a sacrifice. He dieth no
   more. This, too, reveals another part of our precious gospel, for now
   it is certain, since he lives for ever, that no foes can overcome him.
   He has so routed his enemies and driven his foes off the battle-field,
   that they will never venture to attack him again. This proves, too,
   that his people's eternal life is sure. Let Jesus die, and his people
   die. Let Christ leave heaven, and, O ye glorified ones! ye must all
   vacate your thrones, and leave your crowns without heads to wear them,
   and your harps untouched by fingers that shall wake them to harmony. He
   lives for ever. Oh! seed of Abraham, ye are saved with an everlasting
   salvation by the sure mercies of David. Your standing in earth and
   heaven has been confirmed eternally. God is honored, saints are
   comforted, and sinners are cheered, for "he is able also to save them
   to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to
   make intercession for them."

   Now I would to God that on one of these four anchor-holds your faith
   might be able to get rest. Jesus died, poor trembler; if he died and
   took thy griefs, will not his atonement save thee? Rest here. Milhons
   of souls have rested on nothing but Jesus' death, and this is a granite
   foundation; no storms of hell can shake it. Get a good handhold on his
   cross; hold it, and it will hold you. You cannot depend on his death
   and be deceived. Try it; taste and see, and you shall find that the
   Lord is good, and that none can trust a dying Savior without being with
   him in Paradise. But if this suffice you not, he rose again. Fasten
   upon this. He is proved to be victor over your sin and over your
   adversary; can you not, therefore, depend upon him? Doubtless there
   have been thousands of saints who have found the richest consolation
   from the fact that Jesus rose again from the dead. He rose again for
   our justification. Sinner, hang on that. Having risen he lives. He is
   not a dead Savior, a dead sacrifice. He must be able to hear our plea
   and to present his own. Depend on a living Savior; depend on him now.
   He lives for ever, and therefore it is not too late for him to save
   you. If thou criest to him he will hear thy prayer, even though it be
   in life's last moment, for he lives for ever. Though the ends of the
   earth were come, and you were the last man, yet he ever lives to
   intercede before his Father's face. Oh! gad not about to find any other
   hope! Here are four great stones for you; build your hope on these; you
   cannot want surer foundations--he dies, he rises, he lives, he lives
   for ever. I tell thee, Soul, this is my only hope, and though I lean
   thereon with all my weight it bends not. This is the hope of all God's
   people, and they abide contented in it. Do thou, I pray thee, now come
   and rest on it. May the Spirit of God bring many of you to Christ. We
   have no other gospel. You thought it a hard thing, a scholarly thing, a
   matter that the college must teach you, that the university must give
   you. It is no such matter for learning and scholarship. Your little
   child knows it, and your child may be saved by it. You without
   education, you that can scarce read in the book, you can comprehend
   this. He dies; there is the cross. He rises; there is the open tomb. He
   lives; there is the pleading Savior. He lives for ever; there is the
   perpetual merit. Depend on him! Put your soul in his hand and you are
   saved.

   If I have brought you under the first head of my discourse to a
   sufficient height; you can now take another step, and mount to
   something higher; I do not mean higher as to real value, but higher as
   a matter of knowledge, because it follows upon the fact as a matter of
   experience.

   II. The great facts mentioned in our text represent THE GLORIOUS WORK
   WHICH EVERY BELIEVER FEELS WITHIN HIM.

   In the text we see death, resurrection, life, and life eternal. You
   observe that the Apostle only mentions these to show our share in them.
   I will read the text again--"Now if we be dead with Christ, we believe
   that we shall also live with him: knowing that Christ being raised from
   the dead dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him. For in
   that he died, he died unto sin once; but in that he liveth, he liveth
   unto God. Likewise reckon ye yourselves also to be dead indeed unto
   sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord."

   Well, then, it seems that as Christ was, so we also are dead. We are
   dead to sin because sin can no more condemn us. All the sins which
   God's people have ever committed dare not accuse, much less can they
   condemn those for whom Jesus died. Sin can curse an unbeliever, but it
   has no power so much as to mutter half a curse against a man in Christ.
   I cannot claim a debt of a dead debtor, and although I be a debtor to
   the law, yet since I am dead, the law cannot claim anything of me, nor
   can sin infiict any punisliment upon me. He that is dead, as says the
   preceding verse, is freed from sin; being dead to sin we are free from
   all its jurisdiction; we fear not its curse; we defy its power. The
   true believer in the day when he first came to Christ died to sin as to
   its power. Sin had been sitting on a high throne in his heart, but
   faith pulled the tyrant down and rolled him in the dust, and though it
   still survives to vex us, yet its reigning power is destroyed. From the
   day of our new birth, if we be indeed true Christians, we have been
   dead to all sin's pleasures. Madame Bubble can no longer bewitch us.
   The varnish and gilt have been worn off from the palaces of sin. We
   defy sin's most skillful enchantments; it might warble sweetest music,
   but the dead ear is not to be moved by melodies. Keep thy bitter
   sweets, O earth, for those who know no better delicacies; our mouths
   find no flavour in your dainties. We are dead to sin's bribes. We curse
   the gold that would have bought us to be untrutliful, and abhor the
   comforts which might have been the reward of iniquity. We are dead to
   its threatenings, too. When sin curses us, we are as little moved by
   its curses as by its promises. A believer is mortified and dead to the
   world. He can sing with Cowper--

   "I thirst, but not as once I did

   The vain delights of earth to share;

   Thy wounds, Emmanuel all forbid

   That I should seek my pleasures there.

   It was the sight of thy dear cross

   First wean'd my soul from earthly things;

   And taught me to esteem as dross

   The mirth of fools and pomp of kings."

   I am compelled, however, to say that this mortification is not
   complete. We are not so dead to the world as we should be. Instead of
   saying here what the Christian is, I think I may rather say what he
   should be, for where am I to look for men that are dead to the world
   now-a-days? I see professing Christians quite as fond of riches; I see
   them almost as fond of gaiety and vanity. Do I not see those who wear
   the name of Jesus whose dress is as full of vanity as that of the
   worldling; whose conversation has no more savor of Christ in it than
   that of the open sinner? I find many who are conformed to this world,
   and who show but little renewing of their minds. Oh! how slight is the
   difference now-a-days between the Church and the world! We ought to be,
   in a spiritual sense, evermore Dissenters--dissenting from the world,
   standing out and protesting against it. We must be to the world's final
   day Nonconformists, not conforming to its ways and vanities, but
   walking without the camp, bearing Christ's reproach. Do some of you
   recollect the day when you died to the world? Your friends thought you
   were mad. They said you knew nothing of life, so your ungodly friends
   put you in the sepulclive, and others of them rolled a great stone
   against you. They from that day put a ban upon you. You are not asked
   out now where you once were everybody. The seal is put upon you; they
   call you by some opprobrious epithet, and so far as the world is
   concerned, you are like the dead Christ; you are put into your grave,
   and shut out from the world's life. They do not want you any more at
   their merry-makings, you would spoil the party; you have now become
   such a Methodist, such a mean hypocrite, as they put it, that they have
   buried you out of sight, and rolled back the stone, and sealed it, and
   set watchers at the door to keep you there. Well, and what a blessed
   thing that is, for if you be dead with Christ you shall also live with
   him.

   If we be thus dead with Christ, let us see that we live with him. It is
   a poor thing to be dead to the world unless we are alive unto God.
   Death is a negative, and a negative in the world is of no great use by
   itself. A Protestant is less than a nobody if he only protests against
   a wrong; we want a proclaimer, one who proclaims the truth as well as
   protests against error. And so, if we be dead to sin we must have,
   also, the life of Christ, and I trust, beloved, we know, and it is not
   a matter of theory to us--I trust we know that in us there is a new
   life to which we were strangers once. To our body and our soul there
   has been superadded a spirit, a spark of spiritual life. Just as Jesus
   had a new life after death, so have we a new life after death,
   wherewith I trust we rise from the grave. But we must prove it. Jesus
   proved his resurrection by infallible signs. You and I, too, must prove
   to all men that we have risen out of the grave of sin. Perhaps our
   friends did not know us when we first rose from the dead. Like Mary,
   they mistook us for somebody else. They said, "What! Is this Wilham who
   used to be such a hectoring, proud, ill-humoured, domineering fellow?
   Can he put up with our jokes and jeers so patiently?" They supposed us
   to he somebody else, and they were not far from the mark, for we were
   new creatures in Christ Jesus. We talked with some of our friends, and
   they found our conversation so different from what it used to be that
   it made their hearts burn within them, just as Jesus Christ's disciples
   when they went to Emmaus. But they did not know our secret; they were
   strangers to our new life. Do you recollect, Christians, how you first
   revealed yourselves unto your brethren, the Church? In the breaking of
   bread they first knew you. That night when the right-hand of fellowship
   was given to you the new life was openly recognized, and they
   said--"Come in thou blessed of the Lord, wherefore standest thou
   without?" I trust, in resurrection-life you desire to prove to all men
   that this is not the common life you lived before, a life which made
   you serve the flesh and the lusts thereof; but that you are living now
   with higher aims, and purer intentions, by a more heavenly rule, and
   with the prospect of a diviner result. As we have been dead with
   Christ, dear brethren, I hope we have also, in our measure, learned to
   live with him.

   But now, remember, Christ lives for ever, and so do we. Christ being
   raised from the dead, dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over
   him. The fourteenth verse is wonderfully similar--"Sin shall not have
   dominion over you, for ye are not under the law, but under grace." Sin
   made us die once in Adam, but we are not to be slain by it again. If
   Christ could die now, we could die, but since Christ can never die
   again, so the believer can never again go back to his old sin. He dies
   to sin no more; he lives, and sin hath no more dominion over him. Oh!
   this is a delightful theme! I know not how to express the joy my own
   heart feels at the sense of security arising from the fact that Christ
   dies no more. Death hath no more dominion over him; and sin hath no
   more dominion over me, if I be in Christ. Suppose, my brethren, suppose
   for a moment that Christ could die again. Bring out your funeral music!
   Let the muffled drums beat the Dead march! Let the heavens be clothed
   in sackcloth, and let the verdant earth be robed in blackness, for the
   atonement, earth's great hope, is incomplete! Christ must die again.
   The adversaries we thought were routed have gathered their strength
   again. Death is not dead; the grave is not open; there will be no
   resurrection! The saints tremble; even in heaven they fear and quake;
   the crowns upon glorified heads are trembling; the hearts that have
   been overflowing with eternal bliss are filled with anxiety, for the
   throne of Christ is empty; angels suspend their songs; the howlings of
   hell have silenced the shouts of heaven: the fiends are holding high
   holiday, and they sliviek for very joy--"Jesus dies again! Jesus dies
   again! Prepare your arrows! Empty your Quivers! Come up, Ye legions of
   hell! The famous conqueror must fight, and bleed, and die again, and we
   shall overcome him yet!" God is dishonored, the foundations of heaven
   are removed, and the eternal throne quivers with the shock of Christ
   subjected to a second death! Is it blasphemy to suppose the case? Yet,
   my brethren, it were equal blasphemy to suppose a true believer going
   back again to his old lusts and dying again by sin, for that were to
   suppose that the atonement were incomplete. I can prove that it
   involves the very same things; it supposes an unfinished sacrifice, for
   if the sacrifice be finished, then those for whom it was offered must
   be saved. It supposes hell triumphant--Christ had bought the soul, and
   the spirit had renewed it, but the devil wipes away the blood of
   Christ, expels the spirit of the living God, and gets to himself the
   victory. A saint perish! Then God's promise is not true, and Christ's
   word is false--"I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never
   perish;" then the foundations are removed; eternal justice is a name,
   and the divine honesty is suspected; the purposes of God are
   frustrated, and the crown of sovereignty rolls in the mire. Weep
   angels! Be astonished, O heavens! Rock, O ye hills with earthquake! and
   hell come up and hold riot! for God himself has ceased to be God, since
   his people perish! "Because I live ye shall live also" is a divine
   necessity, and if dominion can ever be had by sin over a believer
   again, then, mark you, death can again have dominion over Christ; but
   that is impossible; therefore rejoice and be glad, ye servants of God.

   You will notice, that as they live, so, like Jesus Christ, they live
   unto God. This completes the parallel. "In that he liveth he liveth
   unto God." So do we. The forty days which Christ spent on earth he
   lived unto God, comforting his saints, manifesting his person, giving
   forth gospel precepts. For the few days we have to live here on earth
   we must live to comfort the saints, to set forth Christ, and to preach
   the gospel to every creature. And now that Christ has ascended he lives
   unto God; what does that mean? He lives, my brethren, to manifest the
   divine character. Christ is the permanent revelation of an invisible
   God. We look at Christ and we see justice, truth, power, love; we see
   the whole of the divine attributes in him. Christian, you are to live
   unto God; God is to be seen in you; you are to show forth the divine
   bowels of compassion, longsuffering, tenderness, kindness, patience;
   you are to manifest God; living unto God. Christ lives unto God, for he
   completes the divine purpose by pleading for his people, by carrying on
   his people's work above. You are to live for the same, by preaching,
   that sinners may hear and that the elect may live; by teaching that the
   chosen may be saved; teaching by your life, by your actions, that God's
   glory may be known, and that his decrees may be fulfilled. Jesus lives
   unto God, delighting himself in God. The immeasurable joy of Christ in
   his Father no tongue can tell. Live in the same way, Christian. Delight
   thyself in the Lord! Be blessed; be happy; rejoice in the Lord always,
   and again I say rejoice. Our Redeemer lives unto God, that is he lives
   in constant fellowship with God. Cannot you do so too by the Holy
   Spirit? You are dead to sin; see to it that you live for ever in
   fellowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.

   Now I have been talking riddles to some of you. How many of you
   understand these things? If any are troubled because they understood
   the first part and they do trust in Christ's death, but they do not
   understand the second part--ah! beloved, you shall comprehend one of
   these days; if you are resting on Christ's death, that death shall yet
   be made mighty in you. But you that have known something of this, I
   pray you struggle after more. Ask the Lord to mortify you altogether,
   to fill you with the divine life, and to help you to persevere unto the
   end. Pray that you may live unto God and unto God alone.

   III. Having brought you thus far, there is only one other step to take,
   and then we have done; let us notice that the facts of which we have
   spoken are PLEDGES OF THE GLORY WHICH IS TO BE REVEALED IN US.

   Christ died. Possibly we shall die. Perhaps we shall not; we may be
   alive and remain at the coming of the Son of man; but it may be we
   shall die. I do not think we should be so certain of death as some
   Christians are, because the Lord's coming is much more certain than our
   dying. Our dying is not certain, for he may come before we die.
   However, suppose we shall die: Christ rose, and so shall we.

   "What though our inbred sins require

   Our flesh to see the dust,

   Yet as the Lord our Savior rose,

   So all his followers must."

   Do not, my brethren, think of the cemetery with tears, nor meditate
   upon the coffin and the shroud with gloomy thoughts. You only sojourn
   there for a little season, and to you it will not appear a moment. Your
   body will sleep, and if men sleep all through a long night it only
   seems an hour to them, a very short moment. The sleeping-time is
   forgotten, and to your sleeping-body it will seem no time at all, while
   to your glorified soul it will not seem long because you will be so
   full of joy that a whole eternity of that joy would not be too long.
   But you shall rise again. I do not think we get enough joy out of our
   resurrection. It will probably be our happiest moment, or rather the
   beginning of the happiest life that we shall ever know. Heaven is not
   the happiest place. Heaven at present is happy, but it is not the
   perfection of happiness, because there is only the soul there, though
   the soul is full of pleasure; but the heaven that is to be when body
   and soul will both be there surpasses all thought. Resurrection will be
   our marriage-day. Body and soul have been separated, and they shall
   meet again to be re-married with a golden ring, no more to be divorced,
   but as one indissolubly united body to go up to the great altar of
   immortality, and there to be espoused unto Christ for ever and ever. I
   shall come again to this flesh, no longer flesh that can decay, no
   longer bones that ache--I shall come back to these eyes and these ears,
   all made channels of new delight. Say not this is a materialistic view
   of the matter. We are at least one-half material, and so long as there
   is material about us we must always expect joy that shall not only give
   spiritual but even material delight to us. This body shall rise again.
   "Can these dry bones live?" is the question of the unbeliever. "They
   must live," is the answer of faith. Oh! let us expect our end with joy,
   and our resurrection with transport. Jesus was not detained a prisoner,
   and therefore no worm can keep us back, no grave, no tomb can destroy
   our hope. Having he lives, and we shall rise to live for ever.
   Anticipate, my brethren, that happy day. No sin, no sorrow, no care, no
   decay, no approaching dissolution! Be lives for ever in God: so shall
   you and I; close to the Eternal; swallowed up in his brightness,
   glorified in his glory, overflowing with his love! I think at the very
   prospect we may well say--

   "Oh! long-expected day begin,

   Dawn on these realms of woe and sin."

   We may well cry to him to bid his chariots hasten and bring the joyous
   season! He comes, he comes, believer! Rejoice with joy unspeakable!
   Thou hast but a little time to wait, and when thou hast fallen asleep
   thou shalt leap

   "From beds of dust and silent clay,

   To realms of everlasting day;"

   and thou,

   "Far from a world of grief and sin

   With God eternally shut in,

   Shalt be for ever blest!"

   May the Lord add his blessing, for Jesu's sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                         I Know That My Redeemer Liveth

   A Sermon

   (No. 504)

   Delivered on Sunday Morning, April 12th, 1863, by the

   Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

   At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

   "For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the
   latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this
   body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and
   mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed
   within me."--Job 19:25-27.

   THE HAND OF GOD has been upon us heavily this week. An aged deacon, who
   has been for more than fifty years a member of this Church, has been
   removed from our midst; and a sister, the beloved wife of another of
   our Church-officers, a member for nearly the same term of years, has
   fallen asleep. It is not often that a Church is called to sorrow over
   the departure of two such venerable members--let not our ears be deaf
   to such a double admonition to prepare to meet our God. That they were
   preserved so long, and upheld so mercifully for so many years, was not
   only a reason for gratitude to them, but to us also. I am, however, so
   averse to the preaching of what are called funeral sermons, that I
   forbear, lest I appear to eulogize the creature, when my only aim
   should be to magnify the grace of God.

   Our text deserves our profound attention; its preface would hardly have
   been written had not the matter been of the utmost importance in the
   judgment of the patriarch who uttered it. Listen to Job's remarkable
   desire: "Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed
   in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock
   for ever!" Perhaps, hardly aware of the full meaning of the words he
   was uttering, yet his holy soul was impressed with a sense of some
   weighty revelation concealed within his words; he therefore desired
   that it might be recorded in a book; he has had his desire: the Book of
   books embalms the words of Job. He wished to have them graven on a
   rock; cut deep into it with an iron pen, and then the lines inlaid with
   lead; or he would have them engraven, according to the custom of the
   ancients, upon a sheet of metal, so that time might not be able to eat
   out the inscription. He has not had his desire in that respect, save
   only that upon many and many a sepulchre those words of Job stand
   recorded, "I know that my redeemer liveth." It is the opinion of some
   commentators that Job, in speaking of the rock here, intended his own
   rock-hewn sepulchre, and desired that this might be his epitaph; that
   it might be cut deep, so that ages should not wear it out; that when
   any asked, "Where does Job sleep?" as soon as they saw the sepulchre of
   the patriarch of Uz, they might learn that he died in hope of
   resurrection, resting upon a living Redeemer. Whether such a sentence
   adorned the portals of Job's last sleeping-place we know not; but
   certainly no words could have been more fitly chosen. Should not the
   man of patience, the mirror of endurance, the pattern of trust, bear as
   his memorial this golden line, which is as full of all the patience of
   hope, and hope of patience, as mortal language can be? Who among us
   could select a more glorious motto for his last escutcheon? I am sorry
   to say that a few of those who have written upon this passage cannot
   see Christ or the resurrection in it at all. Albert Barnes, among the
   rest, expresses his intense sorrow that he cannot find the resurrection
   here, and for my part I am sorry for him. If it had been Job's desire
   to foretell the advent of Christ and his own sure resurrection, I
   cannot see what better words he could have used; and if those truths
   are not here taught, then language must have lost its original object,
   and must have been employed to mystify and not to explain; to conceal
   and not to reveal. What I ask, does the patriarch mean, if not that he
   shall rise again when the Redeemer stands upon the earth? Brethren, no
   unsophisticated mind can fail to find here what almost all believers
   have here discovered. I feel safe in keeping to the old sense, and we
   shall this morning seek no new interpretation, but adhere to the common
   one, with or without the consent of our critics.

   In discoursing upon them I shall speak upon three things. First, let
   us, with the patriarch, descend into the grave and behold the ravages
   of death. Then, with him, let us look up on high for present
   consolation. And, still in his admirable company, let us, in the third
   place, anticipate future delights.

   I. First of all then, with the patriarch of Uz, LET US DESCEND INTO THE
   SEPULCHRE.

   The body has just been divorced from the soul. Friends who loved most
   tenderly have said--"Bury my dead out of my sight." The body is borne
   upon the bier and consigned to the silent earth; it is surrounded by
   the earthworks of death. Death has a host of troops. If the locusts and
   the caterpillars be God's army, the worms are the army of death. These
   hungry warriors begin to attack the city of man. They commence with the
   outworks; they storm the munition, and overturn the walls. The skin,
   the city wall of manhood, is utterly broken down, and the towers of its
   glory covered with confusion. How speedily the cruel invaders deface
   all beauty. The face gathers blackness; the countenance is defiled with
   corruption. Those cheeks once fair with youth, and ruddy with health,
   have fallen in, even as a bowing wall and a tottering fence; those
   eyes, the windows of the mind whence joy and sorrow looked forth by
   turns, are now filled up with the dust of death; those lips, the doors
   of the soul, the gates of Mansoul, are carried away, and the bars
   thereof are broken. Alas, ye windows of agates and gates of carbuncle,
   where are ye now? How shall I mourn for thee, O thou captive city, for
   the mighty men have utterly spoiled thee! Thy neck, once like a tower
   of ivory, has become as a fallen column; thy nose, so lately comparable
   to "the tower of Lebanon, which looketh toward Damascus," is as a
   ruined hovel; and thy head, which towered like Carmel, lies low as the
   clods of the valley. Where is beauty now? The most lovely cannot be
   known from the most deformed. The vessel so daintily wrought upon the
   potter's wheel, is cast away upon the dunghill with the vilest
   potsherds. Cruel have ye been, ye warriors of death, for though ye
   wield no axes and bear no hammers, yet have ye broken down the carved
   work; and though ye speak not with tongues, yet have ye said in your
   hearts, "We have swallowed her up, certainly this is the day that we
   have looked for; we have found, we have seen it." The skin is gone. The
   troops have entered into the town of Mansoul. And now they pursue their
   work of devastation; the pitiless marauders fall upon the body itself.
   There are those noble aqueducts, the veins through which the streams of
   life were wont to flow, these, instead of being rivers of life, have
   become blocked up with the soil and wastes of death, and now they must
   be pulled to pieces; not a single relic of them shall be spared. Mark
   the muscles and sinews, like great highways that penetrating the
   metropolis, carry the strength and wealth of manhood along--their
   curious pavement must be pulled up, and they that do traffic thereon
   must be consumed; each tunnelled bone, and curious arch, and knotted
   bond must be snapped and broken. Fair fabrics, glorious storehouses,
   costly engines, wonderful machines--all, all must be pulled down, and
   not one stone left upon another. Those nerves, which like telegraphic
   wires connected all parts of the city together, to carry thought and
   feeling and intelligence--these are cut. No matter how artistic the
   work might be,--and certainly we are fearfully and wonderfully made,
   and the anatomist stands still and marvels to see the skill which the
   eternal God has manifested in the formation of the body--but these
   ruthless worms pull everything to pieces, till like a city sacked and
   spoiled that has been given up for days to pillage and to flame,
   everything lies in a heap of ruin--ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But
   these invaders stop not here. Job says that next they consume his
   reins. We are wont to speak of the heart as the great citadel of life,
   the inner keep and donjon, where the captain of the guard holdeth out
   to the last. The Hebrews do not regard the heart, but the lower
   viscera, the reins, as the seat of the passions and of mental power.
   The worms spare not; they enter the secret palaces of the tabernacle of
   life, and the standard is plucked from the tower. Having died, the
   heart cannot preserve itself, and falls like the rest of the frame--a
   prey to worms. It is gone, it is all gone! The skin, the body, the
   vitals, all, all has departed. There is nought left. In a few years ye
   shall turn up the sod and say, "Here slept so-and-so, and where is he
   now?", and ye may search and hunt and dig, but ye shall find no relic.
   Mother Earth has devoured her own offspring.

   Dear friends, why should we wish to have it otherwise? Why should we
   desire to preserve the body when the soul has gone? What vain attempts
   men have made with coffins of lead, and wrappings of myrrh and
   frankincense. The embalming of the Egyptians, those master robbers of
   the worm, what has it done? It has served to keep some poor shrivelled
   lumps of mortality above ground to be sold for curiosities, to be
   dragged away to foreign climes, and stared upon by thoughtless eyes.
   No, let the dust go, the sooner it dissolves the better. And what
   matters it how it goes! If it be devoured of beasts, if it be swallowed
   up in the sea and become food for fishes! What, if plants with their
   roots suck up the particles! What, if the fabric passes into the
   animal, and from the animal into the earth, and from the plant into the
   animal again! What, if the winds blow it along the highway! What, if
   the rivers carry it to the waves of ocean! It is ordained that somehow
   or other it must be all separated--"dust to dust, ashes to ashes." It
   is part of the decree that it should all perish. The worms or some
   other agents of destruction must destroy this body. Do not seek to
   avoid what God has purposed; do not look upon it as a gloomy thing.
   Regard it as a necessity; nay more, view it as the platform of a
   miracle, the lofty stage of resurrection, since Jesus shall surely
   raise again from the dead the particles of this body, however divided
   from one another. We have heard of miracles, but what a miracle is the
   resurrection! All the miracles of Scripture, yea even those wrought by
   Christ, are small compared with this. The philosopher says, "How is it
   possible that God shall hunt out every particle of the human frame?" He
   can do it: he has but to speak the word, and every single atom, though
   it may have traveled thousands of leagues, though it may have been
   blown as dust across the desert, and anon have fallen upon the bosom of
   the sea, and then have descended into the depths thereof to be cast up
   on a desolate shore, sucked up by plants, fed on again by beasts, or
   passed into the fabric of another man,--I say that individual atom
   shall find its fellows, and the whole company of particles at the trump
   of the archangel shall travel to their appointed place, and the body,
   the very body which was laid in the ground, shall rise again.

   I am afraid I have been somewhat uninteresting while tarrying upon the
   exposition of the words of Job, but I think very much of the pith of
   Job's faith lay in this, that he had a clear view that the worms would
   after his skin destroy his body, and yet that in his flesh he should
   see God. You know we might regard it as a small miracle if we could
   preserve the bodies of the departed. If, by some process, with spices
   and gums we could preserve the particles, for the Lord to make those
   dry bones live, and to quicken that skin and flesh, were a miracle
   certainly, but not palpably and plainly so great a marvel as when the
   worms have destroyed the body. When the fabric has been absolutely
   broken up, the tenement all pulled down, ground to pieces, and flung in
   handfuls to the wind, so that no relic of it is left, and yet when
   Christ stands in the latter days upon the earth, all the structure
   shall be brought together, bone to his bone--then shall the might of
   Omnipotence be seen. This is the doctrine of the resurrection, and
   happy is he who finds no difficulty here, who looks at it as being an
   impossibility with man but a possibility with God, and lays hold upon
   the omnipotence of the Most High and says, "Thou sayest it, and it
   shall be done!" I comprehend thee not, great God; I marvel at thy
   purpose to raise my moldering bones: but I know that thou doest great
   wonders, and I am not surprised that thou shouldst conclude the great
   drama of thy creating works here on earth by re-creating the human
   frame by the same power by which thou didst bring from the dead the
   body of thy Son Jesus Christ, and by that same divine energy which has
   regenerated human souls in thine own image.

   II. Now, having thus descended into the grave, and seen nothing there
   but what is loathsome, LET US LOOK UP WITH THE PATRIARCH AND BEHOLD A
   SUN SHINING WITH PRESENT COMFORT.

   "I know," said he, "that my Redeemer liveth." The word "Redeemer" here
   used, is in the original "goel"--kinsman. The duty of the kinsman, or
   goel, was this: suppose an Israelite had alienated his estate, as in
   the case of Naomi and Ruth; suppose a patrimony which had belonged to a
   family, had passed away through poverty, it was the goel's business,
   the redeemer's business to pay the price as the next of kin, and to buy
   back the heritage. Boaz stood in that relation to Ruth. Now, the body
   may be looked upon as the heritage of the soul--the soul's small farm,
   that little plot of earth in which the soul has been wont to walk and
   delight, as a man walketh in his garden or dwelleth in his house. Now,
   that becomes alienated. Death, like Ahab, takes away the vineyard from
   us who are as Naboth; we lose our patrimonial estate; Death sends his
   troops to take our vineyard and to spoil the vines thereof and ruin it.
   But we turn round to Death and say, "I know that my Goel liveth, and he
   will redeem this heritage; I have lost it; thou takest it from me
   lawfully, O Death, because my sin hath forfeited my right; I have lost
   my heritage through my own offence, and through that of my first parent
   Adam; but there lives one who will buy this back." Brethren, Job could
   say this of Christ long before he had descended upon earth, "I know
   that he liveth;" and now that he has ascended up on high, and led
   captivity captive, surely we may with double emphasis say, "I know that
   my Goel, my Kinsman liveth, and that he hath paid the price, that I
   should have back my patrimony, so that in my flesh I shall see God."
   Yes, my hands, ye are redeemed with blood; bought not with corruptible
   things, as with silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ.
   Yes, heaving lungs and palpitating heart, ye have been redeemed! He
   that redeemed the soul to be his altar has also redeemed the body, that
   it may be a temple for the Holy Ghost. Not even the bones of Joseph can
   remain in the house of bondage. No smell of the fire of death may pass
   upon the garments which his holy children have worn in the furnace.

   Remember, too, that it was always considered to be the duty of the
   goel, not merely to redeem by price, but where that failed, to re- deem
   by power. Hence, when Lot was carried away captive by the four kings,
   Abraham summoned his own hired servants, and the servants of all his
   friends, and went out against the kings of the East, and brought back
   Lot and the captives of Sodom. Now, our Lord Jesus Christ, who once has
   played the kinsman's part by paying the price for us, liveth, and he
   will redeem us by power. O Death, thou tremblest at this name! Thou
   knowest the might of our Kinsman! Against his arm thou canst not stand!
   Thou didst once meet him foot to foot in stern battle, and O Death,
   thou didst indeed tread upon his heel. He voluntarily submitted to
   this, or else, O Death, thou hadst no power against him. But he slew
   thee, Death, he slew thee! He rifled all thy caskets, took from thee
   the key of thy castle, burst open the door of thy dungeon; and now,
   thou knowest, Death, thou hast no power to hold my body; thou mayst set
   thy slaves to devour it, but thou shalt give it up, and all their spoil
   must be restored. Insatiable Death, from thy greedy maw yet shall
   return the multitudes whom thou hast devoured. Thou shalt be compelled
   by the Saviour to restore thy captives to the light of day. I think I
   see Jesus coming with his Father's servants. The chariots of the Lord
   are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels. Blow ye the trumpet!
   blow ye the trumpet! Immanuel rides to battle! The Most Mighty in
   majesty girds on his sword. He comes! He comes to snatch by power, his
   people's lands from those who have invaded their portion. Oh, how
   glorious the victory! No battle shall there be. He comes, he sees, he
   conquers. The sound of the trumpet shall be enough; Death shall fly
   affrighted; and at once from beds of dust and silent clay, to realms of
   everlasting day the righteous shall arise.

   To linger here a moment, there was yet, very conspicuously in the Old
   Testament, we are informed, a third duty of the goel, which was to
   avenge the death of his friend. If a person had been slain, the Goel
   was the avenger of blood; snatching up his sword, he at once pursued
   the person who had been guilty of bloodshed. So now, let us picture
   ourselves as being smitten by Death. His arrow has just pierced us to
   the heart, but in the act of expiring, our lips are able to boast of
   vengeance, and in the face of the monster we cry, "I know that my Goel
   liveth." Thou mayst fly, O Death, as rapidly as thou wilt, but no city
   of refuge can hide thee from him; he will overtake thee; he will lay
   hold upon thee, O thou skeleton monarch, and he will avenge my blood on
   thee. I would that I had powers of eloquence to work out this
   magnificent thought. Chrysostom, or Christmas Evans could picture the
   flight of the King of Terrors, the pursuit by the Redeemer, the
   overtaking of the foe, and the slaying of the destroyer. Christ shall
   certainly avenge himself on Death for all the injury which Death hath
   done to his beloved kinsmen. Comfort thyself then, O Christian; thou
   hast ever living, even when thou diest, one who avenges thee, one who
   has paid the price for thee, and one whose strong arms shall yet set
   thee free.

   Passing on in our text to notice the next word, it seems that Job found
   consolation not only in the fact that he had a Goel, a Redeemer, but
   that this Redeemer liveth. He does not say, "I know that my Goel shall
   live, but that he lives,"--having a clear view of the self-existence of
   the Lord Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever. And you
   and I looking back do not say, "I know that he did live, but he lives
   today." This very day you that mourn and sorrow for venerated friends,
   your prop and pillar in years gone by, you may go to Christ with
   confidence, because he not only lives, but he is the source of life;
   and you therefore believe that he can give forth out of himself life to
   those whom you have committed to the tomb. He is the Lord and giver of
   life originally, and he shall be specially declared to be the
   resurrection and the life, when the legions of his redeemed shall be
   glorified with him. If I saw no fountain from which life could stream
   to the dead, I would yet believe the promise when God said that the
   dead shall live; but when I see the fountain provided, and know that it
   is full to the brim and that it runneth over, I can rejoice without
   trembling. Since there is one who can say, "I am the Resurrection and
   the Life," it is a blessed thing to see the means already before us in
   the person of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let us look up to our Goel then
   who liveth at this very time.

   Still the marrow of Job's comfort it seems to me lay in that little
   word "My." "I know that MY Redeemer liveth." Oh, to get hold of Christ!
   I know that in his offices he is precious. But, dear friends, we must
   get a property in him before we call really enjoy him. What is honey in
   the wood to me, if like the fainting Israelites, I dare not eat. It is
   honey in my hand, honey on my lip, which enlightens mine eyes like
   those of Jonathan. What is gold in the mine to me? Men are beggars in
   Peru, and beg their bread in California. It is gold in my purse which
   will satisfy my necessities, purchasing the bread I need. So, what is a
   kinsman if he be not a kinsman to me? A Redeemer that does not redeem
   me, an avenger who will never stand up for my blood, of what avail were
   such? But Job's faith was strong and firm in the conviction that the
   Redeemer was his. Dear friends, dear friends, can all of you say, "I
   know that my Redeemer liveth." The question is simple and simply put;
   but oh, what solemn things hang upon your answer, "Is it MY Redeemer?"
   I charge you rest not, be not content until by faith you can say, "Yes,
   I cast myself upon him; I am his, and therefore he is mine." I know
   that full many of you, while you look upon all else that you have as
   not being yours, yet can say, "My Redeemer is mine." He is the only
   piece of property which is really ours. We borrow all else, the house,
   the children, nay, our very body we must return to the Great Lender.
   But Jesus, we can never leave, for even when we are absent form the
   body we are present with the Lord, and I know that even death cannot
   separate us from him, so that body and soul are with Jesus truly even
   in the dark hours of death, in the long night of the sepulchre, and in
   the separate state of spiritual existence. Beloved, have you Christ? It
   may be you hold him with a feeble hand, you half think it is
   presumption to say, "He is my Redeemer;" yet remember, if you have but
   faith as a grain of mustard seed, that little faith entitles you to
   say, and say now, "I know that my Redeemer liveth."

   There is another word in this consoling sentence which no doubt served
   to give a zest to the comfort of Job. It was that he could say, "I
   KNOW"--"I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth." To say, "I hope so, I trust
   so," is comfortable; and there are thousands in the fold of Jesus who
   hardly ever get much further. But to reach the marrow of consolation
   you must say, "I KNOW." Ifs, buts, and perhapses, are sure murderers of
   peace and comfort. Doubts are dreary things in times of sorrow. Like
   wasps they sting the soul! If I have any suspicion that Christ is not
   mine, then there is vinegar mingled with the gall of death. But if I
   know that Jesus is mine, then darkness is not dark; even the night is
   light about me. Out of the lion cometh honey; out of the eater cometh
   forth sweetness. "I know that my Redeemer liveth." This is a
   brightly-burning lamp cheering the damps of the sepulchral vault, but a
   feeble hope is like a flickering smoking flax, just making darkness
   visible, but nothing more. I would not like to die with a mere hope
   mingled with suspicion. I might be safe with this but hardly happy; but
   oh, to go down into the river knowing that all is well, confident that
   as a guilty, weak, and helpless worm I have - fallen into the arms of
   Jesus, and believing that he is able to keep that which I have
   committed to him. I would have you, dear Christian friends, never look
   upon the full assurance of faith as a thing impossible to you. Say not,
   "It is too high; I cannot attain unto it." I have known one or two
   saints of God who have rarely doubted their interest at all. There are
   many of us who do not often enjoy any ravishing ecstacies, but on the
   other hand we generally maintain the even tenor of our way, simply
   hanging upon Christ, feeling that his promise is true, that his merits
   are sufficient, and that we are safe. Assurance is a jewel for worth
   but not for rarity. It is the common privilege of all the saints if
   they have but the grace to attain unto it, and this grace the Holy
   Spirit gives freely. Surely if Job in Arabia, in those dark misty ages
   when there was only the morning star and not the sun, when they saw but
   little when life and immortality had not been brought to light,--if Job
   before the coming and advent still could say, "I know," you and I
   should not speak less positively. God forbid that our positiveness
   should be presumption. Let us try ourselves, and see that our marks and
   evidences are right, lest we form an ungrounded hope; for nothing can
   be more destructive than to say, "Peace, peace, where there is no
   peace." But oh, let us build for eternity, and build solidly. Let us
   not be satisfied with the mere foundation, for it is from the upper
   rooms that we get the widest prospect. Let us pray the Lord to help us
   to pile stone on stone, until we are able to say as we look at it,
   "Yes, I know, I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth." This, then, for present
   comfort today in the prospect of departure.

   III. And now, in the third and last place, as THE ANTICIPATION OF
   FUTURE DELIGHT, let me call to your remembrance the other part of the
   text. Job not only knew that the Redeemer lived, but he anticipated the
   time when he should stand in the latter day upon the earth. No doubt
   Job referred here to our Saviour's first advent, to the time when Jesus
   Christ, "the goel," the kinsman, should stand upon the earth to pay in
   the blood of his veins the ransom price, which had, indeed, in bond and
   stipulation been paid before the foundation of the world in promise.
   But I cannot think that Job's vision stayed there; he was looking
   forward to the second advent of Christ as being the period of the
   resurrection. We cannot endorse the theory that Job arose from the dead
   when our Lord died, although certain Jewish believers held this idea
   very firmly at one time. We are persuaded that "the latter day" refers
   to the advent of glory rather than to that of shame. Our hope is that
   the Lord shall come to reign in glory where he once died in agony. The
   bright and hallowed doctrine of the second advent has been greatly
   revived in our churches in these latter days, and I look for the best
   results in consequence. There is always a danger lest it be perverted
   and turned by fanatical minds, by prophetic speculations, into an
   abuse; but the doctrine in itself is one of the most consoling, and, at
   the same time, one of the most practical, tending to keep the Christian
   awake, because the bridegroom cometh at such an hour as we think not.
   Beloved, we believe that the same Jesus who ascended from Olivet shall
   so come in like manner as he ascended up into heaven. We believe in his
   personal advent and reign. We believe and expect that when both wise
   and foolish virgins shall slumber; in the night when sleep is heavy
   upon the saints; when men shall be eating and drinking as in the days
   of Noah, that suddenly as the lightning flasheth from hea- ven, so
   Christ shall descend with a shout, and the dead in Christ shall rise
   and reign with him. We are looking forward to the literal, personal and
   actual standing of Christ upon earth as the time when creation's groans
   shall be silenced forever, and the earnest expectation of the creature
   shall be fulfilled.

   Mark, that Job describes Christ as standing. Some interpreters have
   read the passage, "he shall stand in the latter days against the
   earth;" that as the earth has covered up the slain, as the earth has
   become the charnel-house of the dead, Jesus shall arise to the contest
   and say, "Earth, I am against thee; give up thy dead! Ye clods of the
   valley cease to be custodians of my people's bodies! Silent deeps, and
   you, ye caverns of the earth, deliver, once for all, those whom ye have
   imprisoned!" Macphelah shall give up its precious treasure, cemeteries
   and graveyards shall release their captives, and all the deep places of
   the earth shall resign the bodies of the faithful. Well, whether that
   be so or no, the posture of Christ, in standing upon the earth, is
   significant. It shows his triumph. He has triumphed over sin, which
   once like a serpent in its coils had bound the earth. He has defeated
   Satan. On the very spot where Satan gained his power Christ has gained
   the victory. Earth, which was a scene of defeated goodness, whence
   mercy once was all but driven, where virtue died, where everything
   heavenly and pure, like flowers blasted by pestilential winds, hung
   down their heads, withered and blighted--on this very earth everything
   that is glorious shall blow and blossom in perfection; and Christ
   himself, once despised and rejected of men, fairest of all the sons of
   men, shall come in the midst of a crowd of courtiers, while kings and
   princes shall do him homage, and all the nations shall call him
   blessed. "He shall stand in the latter day upon the earth."

   Then, at that auspicious hour, says Job, "In my flesh I shall see God."
   Oh, blessed anticipation--"I shall see God." He does not say, "I shall
   see the saints"--doubtless we shall see them all in heaven--but, "I
   shall see God." Note he does not say, "I shall see the pearly gates, I
   shall see the walls of jasper, I shall see the crowns of gold and the
   harps of harmony," but "I shall see God;" as if that were the sum and
   substance of heaven. "In my flesh shall I see God." The pure in heart
   shall see God. It was their delight to see him in the ordinances by
   faith. They delighted to behold him in communion and in prayer. There
   in heaven they shall have a vision of another sort. We shall see God in
   heaven, and be made completely like him; the divine character shall be
   stamped upon us; and being made like to him we shall be perfectly
   satisfied and content. Likeness to God, what can we wish for more? And
   a sight of God, what can we desire better? We shall see God and so
   there shall be perfect contentment to the soul and a satisfaction of
   all the faculties. Some read the passage, "Yet, I shall see God in my
   flesh," and hence think that there is here an allusion to Christ, our
   Lord Jesus Christ, as the word made flesh. Well, be it so, or be it not
   so, it is certain that we shall see Christ, and He, as the divine
   Redeemer, shall be the subject of our eternal vision. Nor shall we ever
   want any joy beyond simply that of seeing him. Think not, dear friend,
   that this will be a narrow sphere for our mind to dwell in. It is but
   one source of delight, "I shall see God," but that source is infinite.
   His wisdom, his love, his power, all his attributes shall be subjects
   for your eternal contemplation, and as he is infinite under each aspect
   there is no fear of exhaustion. His works, his purposes, his gifts, his
   love to you, and his glory in all his purposes, and in all his deeds of
   love--why, these shall make a theme that never can be exhausted. You
   may with divine delight anticipate the time when in your flesh you
   shall see God.

   But I must have you observe how Job has expressly made us note that it
   is in the same body. "Yet, in my flesh shall I see God;" and then he
   says again, "whom I shall see for myself, and mine eye shall behold and
   not another." Yes, it is true that I, the very man standing here,
   though I must go down to die, yet I shall as the same man most
   certainly arise and shall behold my God. Not part of myself, though the
   soul alone shall have some view of God, but the whole of myself, my
   flesh, my soul, my body, my spirit shall gaze on God. We shall not
   enter heaven, dear friends, as a dismasted vessel is tugged into
   harbor; we shall not get to glory some on boards, and some on broken
   pieces of the ship, but the whole ship shall be floated safely into the
   haven, body and soul both being safe. Christ shall be able to say, "All
   that the father giveth to me shall come to me," not only all the
   persons, but all of the persons--each man in his perfection. There
   shall not be found in heaven one imperfect saint. There shall not be a
   saint without an eye, much less a saint without a body. No member of
   the body shall have perished; nor shall the body have lost any of its
   natural beauty. All the saints shall be all there, and all of all; the
   same persons precisely, only that they shall have risen from a state of
   grace to a state of glory. They shall be ripened; they shall be no more
   the green blades, but the full corn in the ear; no more buds but
   flowers; not babes but men.

   Please to notice, and then I shall conclude, how the patriarch puts it
   as being a real personal enjoyment. "Whom mine eye shall behold, and
   not another." They shall not bring me a report as they did the Queen of
   Sheba, but I shall see Solomon the King for myself. I shall be able to
   say, as they did who spake to the woman of Samaria, "Now I believe, not
   because of thy word who did bring me a report, but I have seen him for
   myself." There shall be personal intercourse with God; not through the
   Book, which is but as a glass; not through the ordinances; but
   directly, in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be able to
   commune with the Deity as a man talketh with his friend. "Not another."
   If I could be a changeling and could be altered, that would mar my
   comfort. Or if my heaven must be enjoyed by proxy, if draughts of bliss
   must be drunk for me, where were the hope? Oh, no; for myself, and not
   through another, shall I see God. Have we not told you a hundred times
   that nothing but personal religion will do, and is not this another
   argument for it, because resurrection and glory are personal things?
   "Not another." If you could have sponsors to repent for you, then,
   depend upon it, you would have sponsors to be glorified for you. But as
   there is not another to see God for you, so you must yourself see and
   yourself find an interest in the Lord Jesus Christ.

   In closing let me observe how foolish have you and I been when we have
   looked forward to death with shudders, with doubts, with loathings.
   After all, what is it? Worms! Do ye tremble at those base crawling
   things? Scattered particles! Shall we be alarmed at these? To meet the
   worms we have the angels; and to gather the scattered particles we have
   the voice of God. I am sure the gloom of death is altogether gone now
   that the lamp of resurrection burns. Disrobing is nothing now that
   better garments await us. We may long for evening to undress, that we
   may rise with God. I am sure my venerable friends now present, in
   coming so near as they do now to the time of the departure, must have
   some visions of the glory on the other side the stream. Bunyan was not
   wrong, my dear brethren, when he put the land Beulah at the close of
   the pilgrimage. Is not my text a telescope which will enable you to see
   across the Jordan; may it not be as hands of angels to bring you
   bundles of myrrh and frankincense? You can say, "I know that my
   Redeemer liveth." You cannot want more; you were not satisfied with
   less in your youth, you will not be content with less now. Those of us
   who are young, are comforted by the thought that we may soon depart. I
   say comforted, not alarmed by it; and we almost envy those whose race
   is nearly run, because we fear--and yet we must not speak thus, for the
   Lord's will be done--I was about to say, we fear that our battle may
   last long, and that mayhap our feet may slip; only he that keepeth
   Israel does not slumber nor sleep. So since we know that our Redeemer
   liveth, this shall be our comfort in life, that though we fall we shall
   not be utterly cast down; and since our Redeemer liveth, this shall be
   our comfort in death, that though worms destroy this body, yet in our
   flesh we shall see God.

   May the Lord add his blessing on the feeble words of this morning, and
   to him be glory forever. Amen.

   Grave, the guardian of our dust!

   Grave, the treasury of the skies!

   Every atom of thy trust

   Rests in hope again to rise.

   Hark! the judgment trumpet calls;

   Soul, rebuild thy house of clay,

   Immortality thy walls,

   And Eternity thy day.
     __________________________________________________________________

                             The Root Of The Matter

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY EVENING, APRIL 12, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON. AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "The root of the matter is found in me." Job 19:28.

   FOR the last three or four Lord's Day evenings I have been trying to
   fish with a net of small meshes. It has been my anxious desire to
   gather in and draw to shore the Much-Afraids, the Fearings, the
   Despondencies, and those of Little-Faith who seem to think it scarcely
   possible that they could belong to the people of God at all. I hope
   those sermons which have taken the lowest evidences of Christian life,
   and have been adapted rather to babes in Divine Grace than to those who
   are strong men in our Israel, will furnish comfort to many who
   beforetime had been bowed down with distress.
   In pursuance of the same purpose this evening, I take up the expressive
   figure of our text to address myself to those who evidently have the
   Grace of God embedded in their hearts, though they put forth little
   blossom and bear little fruit. I pray that they may be consoled, if
   there is clear evidence that at least the root of the matter is found
   in them incidentally. However, the same truth may be profitable, not
   only to the saplings in the garden of the Lord, but to the most goodly
   trees. For there are times and seasons when their branches do not put
   out much luxuriant foliage, and the hidden life furnishes the only true
   argument of their vitality.
   I. Our first aim, then, will be TO SPEAK OF THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE
   ESSENTIAL TO TRUE GODLINESS IN CONTRAST, OR, I might better say, IN
   COMPARISON WITH OTHER THINGS WHICH ARE TO BE REGARDED AS SHOOTS RATHER
   THAN AS ROOT AND GROUNDWORK.
   The tree can do without some of its branches, though the loss of them
   might be an injury. But it cannot live at all without its roots--the
   roots are essential--take those away, and the plant must wither. And
   thus, my dear Friends, there are things essential in the Christian
   religion. There are essential doctrines, essential experiences, and
   there is essential practice. With regard to essential doctrines, it is
   very desirable for us to be established in the faith. A very happy
   thing it is to have been taught from one's youth up the sound and solid
   doctrines which comforted the Puritans--which made blessed the heart of
   Luther and of Calvin, fired the zeal of Chrysostom and Augustine--and
   flashed like lightning from the lips of Paul.
   By such judicious training we are, no doubt, delivered from many doubts
   and difficulties which an evil system of theology would be sure to
   encourage. The man who is sound in the faith, and who understands the
   higher and more sublime doctrines of Divine Revelation, will have wells
   of consolation which the less instructed cannot know. But we always
   believe, and are ever ready to confess, that there are many doctrines
   which, though exceedingly precious, are not so essential. We believe a
   person may be in a state of Divine Grace, and yet not receive them.
   For instance--God forbid that we should regard a belief in the doctrine
   of election as an absolute test of a man's salvation--for no doubt
   there are many precious sons of God who have not been able to receive
   that precious Truth of God. Of course the doctrine is essential to the
   great scheme of Grace, as the foundation of God's eternal purpose--but
   it is not, therefore, necessarily the root of faith in the sinner's
   reception of the Gospel. And, perhaps, too, I may put the doctrine of
   the final perseverance of the saints in the same list. There are many
   who, no doubt, will persevere to the end, but who cannot accept the
   possibility of being assured of the fact.
   They are so occupied with the thoughts of their probation that they
   come not to the mature knowledge of their full salvation. They are
   securely kept while they credit not their security, just as there are
   thousands of the elect who cannot believe in election. Though
   Calvinistic doctrine is so dear to us--we feel ready to die in its
   defense--yet we would by no means set it up as being a test of a man's
   spiritual state. We wish all our Brothers and Sisters agreed with us,
   but a man may be almost blind, and yet he may live. A man with weak
   eyesight and imperfect vision may be able to enter into the kingdom of
   Heaven--indeed, it is better to enter there having but one eye, than,
   having two eyes and being orthodox in doctrine--to be cast into Hell
   fire.
   But there are some distinct truths of Revelation that are essential in
   such a sense that those who have not accepted them cannot be called
   Christians. And those who willfully reject them are exposed to the
   fearful anathemas which are hurled against apostasy. I shall not go
   into a detailed list. Let it suffice that I give you a few striking
   illustrations. The doctrine of the Trinity we must ever look upon as
   being one of the roots of the matter. When men go unsound here, we
   suspect that, before long, they will be wrong everywhere. The moment
   you get any suspicion of a man's wavering about the Divinity of Christ,
   you have not long to wait before you discover that on all other points
   he has gone wrong. Well did John Newton express it--
   "What think you of Christ is the test To try both your state and your
   scheme. You cannot be right in the rest, Unless you think rightly of
   Him."

   Almost all the forms of error that have sprung up since the days of Dr.
   Doddridge, when sundry gentlemen began to talk against the proper Deity
   of the Son of God--all the forms of error, I say, whatever department
   of the Christian system they may have been supposed to attack--have
   really stabbed at the Deity of our Redeemer. That is the one thing that
   they are angry at, as if their mother-wit taught them it was the true
   line of demarcation between natural and revealed religion. They cannot
   bear that the glorious Lord should be unto us a place of broad rivers
   and streams, and so they fly to do without Him.

   But their tacklings are loosed, they cannot well strengthen their mast,
   they cannot spread the sail. A Gospel without belief in the living and
   true God--Trinity in Unity, and Unity in Trinity--is a rope of sand. As
   well hope to make a pyramid stand upon its apex as to make a
   substantial Gospel when the real and Personal Deity of the Father, the
   Son, and the Holy Spirit is left as a moot or disputed point. But I
   ought to mention the strange incoherency of that discourse which sets
   forth the influences of the Spirit without a due regard to His Personal
   agency. Oh, how little is the Holy Spirit known! We get beyond the mere
   exercise of opinions when we believe in Christ, know the Father, and
   receive the Holy Spirit. This is to have a knowledge of the true God
   and eternal life.

   Likewise essential is the doctrine of the vicarious sacrifice of our
   Lord Jesus Christ. Any bell that does not ring sound on that point had
   better be melted down at once. I do not think we have many in our
   denomination--we do have some who are not very clear--still, I think we
   have but few that are unsound in the doctrine of the real Substitution
   of Christ. But there are plenty elsewhere. Perhaps I need not indicate
   the locality, for in the denomination where they seem to be tolerably
   prolific, they have one earnest tongue, and one ready pen that is
   always willing at all times to expose the miscreants who thus do damage
   to the cause of Christ by giving up the precious blood of Jesus as the
   sole cause of the remission of sins, and the only means of access to
   God.

   Why, my Brothers and Sisters, we have nothing else left after we have
   given up this choice seal of the Everlasting Covenant, on which all our
   hopes depend! Renounce the doctrine of Jesus dying in our place? Better
   for us all to be offered as one great slaughter, one mighty sacrifice
   to God on one fire, than to tolerate for a moment any doubts about that
   which is the world's hope, Heaven's joy, Hell's terror, and eternity's
   song! I marvel how men are permitted to stand in the pulpit and preach
   at all, who dare to say anything against the atonement of Christ! I
   find in the Dutch Church, in the French Church, and in the German
   Churches, that men are accepted as Christian ministers who will yet
   speak hard things against the Atonement, itself, and even against the
   Deity of Him by whom the Atonement was made!

   There is no other religion in the world that has been false to its own
   doctrines in the way that Christianity has been. Imagine a Mohammedan
   allowed to come forward in the pulpit and preach against Mohammed!
   Would it be tolerated for a single moment? Suppose a Brahmin, fed and
   paid to stand up in a temple, and speak against Brahma! Would it be
   allowed? Surely not! Nor is there an Infidel lecturer in this country
   but would find his pay stopped at once, if, while pretending to be in
   the service of Atheism, he declaimed the sentiments he was sworn to
   advocate. How is it? Why is it? In the name of everything that is
   reasonable and instinctively consistent, where can it be that men can
   be called Christian ministers after the last vestige of Christianity
   has been treacherously repudiated by them?

   How is it that they can be tolerated to minister in holy things to
   people who profess and call themselves sincere followers of Jesus, when
   they tread under foot the precious blood of Christ, and, "reduce the
   mystery of godliness to a sys- tem of ethics"? To use the words of a
   Divine of the last century: "Degrade the Christian Church into a school
   of philosophy. Deny the expiation made by our Redeemer's Sacrifice.
   Obscure the brightest manifestation of Divine mercy, and undermine the
   principal pillar of practical religion. And to make a desperate
   shipwreck of our everlasting interests, they dash themselves to death
   on the very rock of salvation."

   No. We must have the Atonement, and that not tacitly acknowledged, but
   openly set forth. Charity can go a good way, but charity cannot remove
   the altar from the door of the Tabernacle, or admit the worshipper into
   the most Holy Place without the blood of propitiation. So, again, the
   doctrine ofjustification by faith is one of the roots of the matter.
   You know Luther's saying. I need not repeat it. It is the article of a
   standing, or falling Church, "By grace are you saved through faith, and
   that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. Not of works lest any
   man should boast." Do you preach that doctrine? My hand and my heart
   are stretched out to you!

   Do you deny it? Do you stutter over it? Are you half-afraid of it? My
   back must be turned against you. I know nothing of you. You are none of
   the Lord's! What says the Apostle Paul to you? Would he have communed
   with you? He lifts his hand to Heaven and he says--"If any man preach
   any other Gospel than that you have received, let him be accursed!"
   That is Paul's saintly greeting. That is Paul's Apostolic
   malediction--an "Anathema Maranatha" upon the man that preaches not the
   Lord Jesus, and who does not vindicate the great doctrine of salvation
   by Grace and not by works.

   Well now, Friend, you may have come in here to listen to our doctrine,
   and to judge whether you can hold fellowship with us. We have been
   talking about the root of the matter. Permit me to say that if you are
   sound on these three points, the One God in Trinity, the glorious
   doctrine of the Substitution of Christ in the place of sinners, and the
   plan of salvation by simple faith in Jesus, then inasmuch as these
   roots of the matter are in you, God forbid that we should exclude you
   as heretical. If you are in other points unenlightened and groping
   about in uncertainty, doubtless the Lord will teach you--but we believe
   the root of the matter is in you so far as doctrine is concerned.

   Turning to another department of my subject. There are certain root
   matters in reference to experience. It is a very happy thing to have a
   deep experience of one's own depravity. It may seem strange, but so it
   is. A man will scarcely ever have high views of the preciousness of the
   Savior who has not also had deep views of the evil of his own heart.
   High houses, you know, need deep foundations. And when God digs deep,
   and throws out the mire of self-sufficiency. Then He puts in the great
   stone of Christ's all-sufficiency, and builds us up high in union and
   fellowship with Him.

   To read the guilt of sin in the lurid glare of Mount Sinai, to hear the
   thunder, and shrink back in wild dismay at the utter hopelessness of
   approach to God by the Law is a most profitable lesson. Yes, and to see
   the guilt of sin in the mellow light of Mount Calvary, and to feel that
   contrition, which a view of Christ Crucified alone can produce--this is
   to prepare the heart for such an ecstasy of joy in God, through whom we
   have now received the Atonement--as surpasses, I verily believe, the
   common experience of Christians. Still I dare not make a criterion of
   the profound depths of anguish with which some of us have had the
   sentence of death in ourselves.

   But it is absolutely essential that you should be brought to the end of
   all perfection in the flesh--that all your hopes of legal righteousness
   should expire--that you should be dead to the Law, in order that you
   may live unto God. This death may be with painful struggles, or it may
   be tranquil as a sleep. You may be smitten suddenly, as though an arrow
   from the Almighty were transfixed in your heart. Or you may pine away
   by a slow and tedious consumption. Yet die you must, before you can be
   made partaker of resurrection.

   This much, however, I will venture to say--you may be really a child of
   God and yet the plague of your own heart may be but very little
   understood. You must know something of it, for no man ever did or ever
   will come to Christ unless he has first learned to loathe himself and
   to see that in him, that is in his flesh, there dwells no good thing.
   You may not be able to talk, as some do, of conflicts within, and of
   the fountain of the great deep of your natural sin--and yet you may be,
   for all that--a true child of God.

   It is a happy thing, too, to have an experience which keeps close to
   Christ Jesus. To know what the word, "communion," means, without
   needing to take down another man's biography--to understand Solomon's
   Song without a commentary. To read it through and through, and say,
   "Precious Book! You did express just what I have felt, but what I never
   could have expressed." But, dear Friends, though all this is well,
   remember, it is not essential. It is not a sign that you are not
   converted because you cannot understand what it is to sit under His
   shadow with great delight. You may have been converted, and yet hardly
   have come so far as that. Always distinguish between the branches of
   the matter and the root of the matter. It is well to have branches like
   the cedars and to send up your shoots towards Heaven--but it is the
   root that is the all-important thing--the root of the matter.

   Now what is the root of the matter experimentally? Well, I think the
   real root of it is what Job has been talking about in the verses
   preceding the text--"I know," he says, "that my Redeemer lives." We
   talked of that this morning. The root of the matter in Christian
   experience is to know that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is able to
   save to the uttermost all them that come unto God by Him. And to know
   this by a personal appropriation of His power to save by a simple act
   of faith. In other words, dear Friend, you have the root of the matter
   in you if your soul can say--

   "My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus' blood and righteousness.
   I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly lean on Jesus' name. On
   Christ the solid rock I stand, All other ground is sinking sand."

   There must be in connection with this the repentance of sin, but this
   repentance may be far from perfect, and your faith in Christ may be far
   from strong. But, oh, if you hate sin, if you desire to be rid of it,
   if it is your plague, your burden, your grief. If Christ Jesus is your
   only comfort, your help, your hope, your trust--then understand--this
   is the root of the matter. I wish there were more than the root, but
   inasmuch as that is there, it is enough--you are accepted before
   God--for the root of the matter is in you. A living faith in a living
   Savior, and a real death to all creature merit and to all hope in
   creature strength--this, I take it, is that which is the root of the
   matter in spiritual experience.

   Did I not say that there was a root of the matter practically? Yes, and
   I would to God that we all practically had the branches and the fruits.
   These will come in their season, and they must come, if we are Christ's
   disciples. But nobody expects to see fruit on a tree a week after it
   has been planted. You know there are some trees that do not bring forth
   any great fruit till they have been in the ground some two or three
   years. And then at last, when the favorable season comes, they are
   white with blossoms and by-and-by are bowed to the earth with luscious
   fruit.

   It is very desirable that all Christians should be full of zeal, should
   be vehemently earnest, should go about doing good, should minister to
   the poor, should teach the ignorant, and comfort the distressed. Yet
   these things cannot be called the real root of the matter. The real
   root of the matter practically is this--"One thing I know, whereas I
   was blind, now I see. The things I once loved I now hate, the things I
   once hated I love. Now it is no more the world, but God. No more the
   flesh, but Christ, no more pleasure, but obedience. No more what I
   will, but what Jesus wills." If any of you can, from your souls, say
   that you desire the tenor of your life to be, "Lord, not as I will, but
   as You will," you have got the root of the matter practically.

   Let me guard this part of my subject with one further remark. There are
   those who do certain duties with a conscientious motive, in order to
   make themselves Christians--such as observing the Sabbath, holding
   daily worship of God with their families, and attending the public
   services of the Lord's House with regularity. But they do not
   distinguish between these external acts--which may be but the ornaments
   that clothe a graceless life, and those fruits of good living that grow
   out of a holy constitution, which is the root of genuine obedience.
   Some habits and practices of godly men may be easily counterfeited.

   Yet I think that there are certain virtues of God's children which defy
   imitation. "To bear reproach for Christ, and to suffer wrong
   patiently," is, to my mind, very much like the root in practical
   godliness. Perhaps there is a timid girl now present who has braved for
   many a month the persecution of her father and mother to serve that
   Savior whom her parents never knew. Nobody knows what rough words and
   harsh treatment she has had to encounter--all because she will come to
   Chapel. And she will steal away into her own room, sometimes, always
   with her Bible in her hand when she goes in. And she generally looks as
   if she had been crying when she comes out. Ah, poor Soul! I doubt not
   the root of the matter is in you!

   Or, see there a young man who has risked losing his employment because
   he will not conceal his attachment to Christ. Such as these, are
   sometimes brought into great straits. They do not see any precept that
   plainly says "You shall do this," or, "You shall not do that." But they
   find they must be one thing or the other. They make their choice, and
   it is against their worldly interests--it is done for the love they
   bear to the Savior's name. Their gentle courage I admire.

   Their little faith takes a strong grip. Oh, I cannot doubt the root of
   the matter is found in them! There is practical evidence of it.

   Let me pause here for a moment before leaving this first point to
   notice that you may generally ascertain whether you have got the root
   of the matter by its characteristic properties. You know a root is a
   fixing thing. Plants without roots may be thrown over the wall. They
   may be passed from hand to hand. But a root is a fixed thing. How
   firmly the oaks are rooted in the ground! You may think of those old
   oaks in the earth--ever so far off you have seen the roots coming out
   of the ground and then they go in again and you have said--"Why, what
   do these thick fibers belong to?"

   Surely they belong to one of those old oaks ever so far away. They had
   sent that root there to act a good hold, so that when the March winds
   comes through the forest and other trees are torn up--fir trees,
   perhaps--trees that have outgrown their strength at the top, while they
   have too little hold at bottom--the old oaks bow to the tempest,
   curtsey to the storm, and later they lift up their branches again in
   calm dignity. They cannot be blown down. Well now., if you have got the
   root of the matter, you are fixed. You are fixed to God, fixed to
   Christ, fixed to things Divine. If you are tempted, you are not soon
   carried away. Oh, how many professors there are that have no roots! Get
   them into godly company and they are such saints.

   But get them with other company and what if I say that they are devils?
   There you have them. Their mother is come up from the country, and she
   asked them to come tonight to hear Spurgeon. Here they are. Mother does
   not know but what John is one of the best lads anywhere while she is in
   town. Ah, but if it happens to be uncle William that comes up to London
   in a month's time, and he should ask John to go to a theater! O yes, he
   will go there, too! And you would never know that John had any
   religion, for he will put that by until mother comes back again.

   He has no roots. Give me the man that is bound hard and fast to
   Christ--lashed to the Cross by cords that even the knives of Hell
   cannot sever--lashed to the Cross forever! You have no roots unless you
   can say, "O God, my heart is fixed, my heart is fixed! By stern resolve
   and by firm covenant Yours I am! Bind the sacrifice with cords, even
   unto the horns of the altar." Again, a root is not only a fixing thing,
   but a quickening thing. What is it that first sets the sap flowing in
   the spring? Why, it is the root. Down below, beneath the earth, it
   begins to feel the genial influence of the coming spring, and it talks
   to the trunk and says, "It is time to set the sap flowing." So the sap
   begins to flow and the buds begin to burst.

   Ah, and you must have a vital principle. You must have a living
   principle. Some Christians are like those toys they import from France,
   which have sand in them. The sand runs down, and some little invention
   turns and works them as long as the sand is running. But when the sand
   is all out it stops. So on Sunday morning these people are just turned
   right, and the sand runs and they work all the Sunday. But the sand
   runs down by Sunday night and then they stand still, or else go on with
   the world's work just as they did before. Oh, this will never do! There
   must be a living principle-- something that shall be a mainspring
   within--a wheel that cannot help running on, and that does not depend
   upon external resources.

   A root, too, is a receiving thing. The botanists tell us a great many
   things about the ends of the roots. They can penetrate into the soil
   hunting after the particular food upon which the tree is fed. Ah, and
   if you have got the root of the matter in you, when you come to hear a
   sermon you will be sending out your root to look after the particular
   food which your soul wants. You will send those roots into the pages of
   Scripture--sometimes into a hymn book--often into the sermon. Even into
   a Brother's experience, and into God's Providence--seeking that
   something upon which your soul can feed.

   Therefore it follows that the root becomes a supplying thing, because
   it is a receiving thing. We must have a religion that lives upon God,
   and that supplies us with strength to live for God. Oh, how divinely
   blessed are those men in whom the root of the matter is found!

   II. Let me briefly notice, in the second place, that WHEREVER THERE IS
   THE ROOT OF THE MATTER,

   THERE IS VERY MUCH GROUND FOR COMFORT.

   Sounds there in my ears the sigh, the groan, the sad complaint?--"I do
   not grow as I could wish. I am not so holy as I want to be. I cannot
   praise and bless the Lord as I could desire. I am afraid I am not a
   fruitful bough whose branches run over the wall"? Yes, but is the root
   of the matter in you? If so, cheer up, you have cause for gratitude.
   Remember that in some things you are equal to the greatest and most
   full-grown Christian. You are as much bought with blood, O little

   Saints, as are the holy Brotherhood. He that bought the sheep, bought
   the lambs, too. You are as much an adopted child of God as any other
   Christian.

   A babe of a span long is as true a child of its parents as is the
   full-grown man. You are as truly justified, for your justification is
   not a thing of degrees. Your little faith has made you clean every
   whit. It could have done no more had it been the strongest faith in the
   world. You have as much right to the precious things of the Covenant as
   the most advanced Believers, for your right to Covenant mercies lies
   not in your growth, but in the Covenant itself. And your faith in Jesus
   may not assay to measure the extent of your inheritance in Him. So
   then, you are as rich as the richest, if not in enjoyment, yet in real
   possession.

   You are as dear to your Father's heart as the greatest among us. If
   there is a weakling in a family, the father often loves it the most, or
   at least indulges it with the most caresses. And when there is a child
   that has lost one of its senses, be it sight or hearing, you will
   notice with what assiduous care the parents watch over that one! You
   are possibly such a tender one, and Christ is very tender over you. You
   are like the smoking flax--anybody else would say, "Put out that
   smoking flax. What a smell! How it fills the room with a foul and
   offensive odor!" "But the smoking flax He will not quench."

   You are just like a bruised reed. There used to be some music in you,
   but now the reed is broken, and there is no tuneful note at all to be
   brought out from the poor, bruised, crooked and broken reed. Anyone
   else but the Chief Musician would pull you out and throw you away. You
   might think He would be sure to say, "I do not want a bruised reed. It
   is of no use at all among the pipes." But He will not break the bruised
   reed, nor quench the smoking flax. Instead of being downcast by reason
   of what you are, you should begin to triumph in Christ.

   Am I but little in Israel? Yet in Christ I am made to sit in heavenly
   places! Am I poor in faith? Still in Christ I am heir of all things! Do
   I sometimes wander? Yet Jesus Christ comes after me, and brings me
   back. Though, "less than nothing, I can boast and vanity confess." If
   the root of the matter is in me, I will rejoice in the Lord, and glory
   in the God of my salvation!

   III. This brings me to the third and closing part--WHEREVER THE ROOT OF
   THE MATTER IS, THERE WE

   SHOULD TAKE CARE THAT WE WATCH IT WITH TENDERNESS AND WITH LOVE.

   Some of you may have the notion that you are advanced in knowledge,
   that you have much skill in interpreting the Word of God, and that you
   understand the mysteries of the kingdom of Heaven. It is highly
   possible that your notion is correct. You go out into the world, and
   you meet with people who do not know quite as much as you do, and who
   have not yet learned all the doctrines of Grace as they are threaded
   together in the Divine plan of salvation. May I persuade you not to get
   into controversy, not to be continually fighting and quarrelling with
   people who do not hold to just your sentiments?

   If you discover the root of the matter in any man, say at once--"Why
   should I persecute you? Why should we fall to quarrelling with each
   other, seeing that the root of the matter is in us both?" Save your
   swords for Christ's real enemies. The way to make men learn the Truth
   of God is not to abuse them. We shall never make a Brother see a
   doctrine by smiting him in the eye. Hold your lantern up and let him
   see. I remember, when in my boyhood, I sometimes held a candle at night
   for a man sawing who was a worldling. He used to say to me--"Now, my
   lad, hold the candle so that you can see yourself, and you may depend
   upon it that I can see, too."

   And I have generally found that if you hold up the doctrines in such a
   way that you can see them yourselves, and just tell to others the way
   in which you have been led, by His Grace, to see them--and how you see
   them now--you will often give a light to other men, if they have the
   root of the matter in them. Quarrel not--fight not with them--but be
   friends and especially show yourself friendly.

   Then, again, if you meet with young professors who have the root of the
   matter in them, do not begin condemning them for lack of knowledge. I
   have heard of some old Believers, yes, and of some not very old, too,
   who had read a great deal and had, perhaps, more in the head than in
   the heart. And when young enquirers came to see them, they began to ask
   them--"Which theory do you hold, sublapsarian or supralapsarian?" I do
   not mean that they exactly said those very words, but they suggested
   some knotty points or something of that sort. And the young people have
   said--"I am sure I do not know, Sir."

   It has sometimes been the case that these young enquirers have been
   dealt very harshly with. I remember one case where a certain Brother--a
   good man, too, in his way, said--"Well, now, I am sorry to tell you
   that you are no child of God. If you die as you are, you will be
   lost"--only because the poor child did not exactly know the difference
   between two things that are amazingly alike after all. I do not think
   we ought to do this. It is not for us to go about killing all the
   lambs. For if we do this, where will the sheep come from? If we are
   always condemning those who have only begun as yet to learn their
   letters, we shall never have any readers.

   People must begin to say, "Two times two are four," before they can
   ever come to be very learned in mathematics. Should we stop them at
   once, and say--"You are no child of God, because you do not know how to
   compute the logarithms of Divine"? Why, then at once we have put out of
   the synagogue those who might have been its best ornaments! Remember,
   my dear Friends, that wherever we see the root of the matter, Christ
   has accepted the person, and therefore we ought to accept him. This is
   why I love to think that when we break bread at this table we always
   receive among us, as far as we know, all those who have got the root of
   the matter in them.

   I have heard a story of the late good Dr. Stedman, when he was tutor of
   Bradford College. It appears he was a very strict-communion Baptist,
   and carried it out conscientiously. One day he preached for some
   Independents, and in the afternoon, after the service, there was to be
   Communion. Now Mr. Stedman prayed most earnestly that the Lord would be
   pleased graciously to vouchsafe His Presence to the dear Brothers and
   Sisters when they met around His Table. After the service was over he
   was going to the vestry to put on his great coat, intending to go home.

   One of the deacons said--"Doctor, you will stop with us, will you not,
   to Communion?" "Well, my dear Brother," he said, "it is no want of
   love, but, you see, it would compromise my principles. I am a
   strict-communion Baptist, and I could not well stop and commune with
   you who have not been baptized. Do not think it is any want of love,
   now, but it is only out of respect to my principles." "Oh," said the
   deacon, "but it is not your principles, because what did you pray for,
   Doctor? You prayed your Master, the Lord Jesus, to come to His Table.
   And if according to your principles it is wrong for you to go there,
   you should not ask your Master to come where you must not go yourself.
   But if you believe that your Lord and Master will come to the table,
   surely where the Master is, it cannot be wrong for the servant to be."

   The deacon's reasoning appears to me very sound. And it is in the same
   spirit I say of any, or to any whose sincere faith I have no reason to
   doubt--if they have got the root of the matter in them, "Come and
   welcome!" We are sorry that when our friends ought to keep the feast of
   tabernacles with great branches of trees they only pull small twigs,
   and so do not get the benefit of the broader shadow. We are sorry that
   when Christ tells them to be immersed they go and sprinkle--but that is
   their own business and not ours. To their own Master they must stand or
   fall. But if the root of the matter is there, why persecute them?
   Seeing that the root of the matter is found in them, let them come. God
   has received them, and let us do the same.

   That matter about encouraging young Believers and not putting stumbling
   blocks in their path may seem to some of you decidedly unimportant. But
   I am persuaded that there are many young Christians who have been made
   to suffer for years through the roughness of some more advanced
   Believers. Christian! You that are strong--be very tender towards the
   weak--for the day may come when you will be weaker than they. Never did
   bullock push with side and shoulder the lean cattle of the herd when
   they came to drink. The Lord took away the glory from the fat bull of
   Bashan, and made him willing to associate with the very least of the
   herd.

   You cannot intimidate a child of God without making his Father angry.
   And though you are a child of God your-self--if you deal harshly with
   one of your Brothers and Sisters--you shall smart for it. The Master's
   rod is always ready, even for His own beloved children, when they are
   not tender with the sons and daughters of Zion, who are kept as the
   apple of God's eye. Remember, too, Brothers and Sisters, that the day
   may come when you will want consolation from the very friend whom you
   have treated so roughly. I have known some great people--some very
   great people--that have at last been made to sit at the feet of those
   whom before they called all sorts of ill names.

   God has His ways of taking the wind out of men's sails. While their
   sails were full, and the wind blew, they said, "No, no. We do not care
   about that little port over yonder. We do not care to put in there. It
   is only a miserable little fishing village." But when the wind came
   howling on, and the deep rolled heavily, and it seemed as if the dread
   artillery of God were all mustering for the battle, ah, how with the
   reef sail they have tried to fly, as best they could, into the little
   harbor! Do not speak ill of the little harbor. Do not be ashamed of
   little Christians. Stand up for the weaklings of the flock, and let
   this be your motto, you strong Christians--

   "There's not a lamb amidst the flock
   I would disdain to feed.
   There's not a foe before whose face
   I'd fear Your cause to plead."

   Now I ask you, by way of solemn searching investigation: Have you the
   root of the matter in you? I have spoken for your encouragement, in
   case you have the root of the matter in you. If you have not, there
   awaits you nothing but destruction--but, by His Grace, you are not
   hopelessly lost! The root of the matter is still to be had. The Holy
   Spirit can yet give you a new heart and a right spirit. Jesus Christ is
   still able and willing to save.

   Oh, look there! I see His five wounds. They flow with rivers of blood!
   Look there, Sinner! And as you look, by His Grace, you shall live!
   Whoever you may be, though you are the worst sinner out of Hell, yet--

   "While the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return."

   Look there, Sinner, look, look and live! I think I have closed my
   sermon each night lately with those words, and I will do so again
   tonight. There is life in a look at a crucified Savior. There is life
   at this moment for you. Oh, look to Him, and you shall find that life
   for yourself. God bless you, for Jesus' sake.

   May the Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God our Father,
   and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all who love Jesus, now
   and eternally. Amen. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                  Strong Meat

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL, 19, 1863, BY THE REV. C.
   H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "But strong meat belongs to them that are of full age, even those who
   by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and
   evil.'" Hebrews 5:14.

   IN most large houses we shall find humanity in all its stages. We shall
   see the infant in its cradle, children laughing in their play, young
   men working with vigor, and the old man resting in peace in such a
   mansion. If a careful Martha is in charge, provisions will be made for
   all the different ages. There will be milk provided for the babes, and
   the pantry will not be without solid meat for the full grown men.

   Now in our Father's great house, His family is always so large that you
   will always find Believers in all stages of growth. Perhaps there is
   never a moment in the year in which there is not a new birth unto God
   by the Holy Spirit. The sighing of repentance, and the crying of simple
   faith are always in our heavenly Father's ears, giving Him delight. He
   has men, babes, and for these He has abundance of nourishing food. But
   we bless His name that they are not all babes in the house. Some are
   young men, who are strong, and have overcome the Wicked One. And there
   are a few fathers who have known Him, that is, from the beginning.

   For the young men and for the hoary sires there is as plentiful and as
   fitting a provision as for the infants. He opens His hands, and
   supplies the want of every living thing. This is true, not only of the
   temporals which He gives to man and beast alike, but also of the
   spirituals which He dispenses liberally to all the new creatures in
   Christ Jesus. Now it were unfitting to give milk to the man of full
   age, and equally improper to present the strong meat to those who are
   but infants. Our Lord has, therefore, been pleased to dictate
   directions as to the persons for whom the various provisions of His
   table are intended.

   Our text talks of strong and solid meat, and it describes the persons
   who are to feed thereon. The context gives a mild rebuke to those who,
   by reason of indolence and sloth, have not attained to years of
   discernment, and cannot, therefore, feed on substantial diet.

   I. Let us, first of all, BRING FORTH SOME OF THIS STRONG MEAT AND SET
   IT UPON THE TABLE BEFORE YOU.

   A careful examination of the context will inform you that one form of
   strong meat which is only fit for full grown Christians is the
   allegorical exposition of Scriptural history. You will mark that the
   Apostle was about to allegorize upon Melchizedek. He had intended to
   set forth that that venerable and priestly king was, so far as
   Scriptural information goes, without father, without mother, without
   descent--having neither beginning of years nor end of life--and that he
   was superior to Levi seeing that Levi's progenitor paid tithes to him,
   and received his blessing.

   The Apostle was about to show that Melchizedek was a type of Jesus,
   who, as a Priest, is without father, without mother, without descent,
   having neither beginning of days, nor end of years, but is a Priest
   forever according to the power of an endless life. But the Apostle
   paused, for he felt that this allegory of Melchizedek was too strong a
   meat for those who were not full grown men. Beyond a doubt, the
   historical parts of Scriptures are intended to be instructive
   allegories, setting forth heavenly mysteries. See how the Apostle Paul
   used several of them. There is the case of Hagar and Sarah.

   Since the promise was not performed to Sarah, and no offspring had been
   born to Abraham, Sarah suggests that Abraham should take to himself a
   concubinary wife, Hagar. He does so, and she brings forth according to
   the flesh, and by the power of the flesh, Ishmael. Now the Apostle goes
   on to show that Ishmael was not the seed which God had promised and
   that, consequently, in after years, Isaac was born--not according to
   the power of the flesh--since his father and mother were past age--but
   according to the promise fulfilled by the power of God alone.

   He then goes on to show that this is an allegory. That the children of
   the flesh, that is, those who are the seed of Abraham, by natural
   birth, like Ishmael, are not the true seed. But that those who, like
   Isaac, are the fruit of God's promise, and having been once as dead,
   are given to Abraham, as Isaac was on the mountain in a figure--that
   these are the true seed, concerning whom the Covenant was made. And as
   Sarah said concerning Hagar--"Cast out the bondwoman and her son, for
   the son of the bondwoman shall not be heir with my son, even with
   Isaac." So the Gospel says-- "Cast out the Law, for the children of the
   Law, those who hope to be saved by legal works, shall not be heirs with
   My sons, even with those who are saved by the promise of Grace."

   Now this allegory is meat for instructed Believers. Jacob and
   Esau--born of the same parents, at the same birth, and yet separated in
   destiny by that memorable sentence, "Jacob have I loved and Esau have I
   hated"--were a type of the election of Divine Grace. And with many
   other instances, these go to prove that Holy Scripture is to be
   received not only as a literal description of facts which really did
   occur, but as a picture in which souls taught be Divine Grace,
   illuminated by the Holy Spirit, may see, portrayed in express
   characters, the great Gospel of the living God.

   Those of you who are well instructed will have found out by this time
   that the Book of Genesis is the History of Dispensations--that in all
   its types it sets forth, from Adam to Joseph--the various dispensations
   of primeval innocence. It depicts man without Law, under Law, in
   Covenant, and apart from Covenant--and many other things of which we
   cannot now speak particularly. You will have discovered that Exodus is
   the Book of Redemptions. Here is redemption by blood when the paschal
   lamb was slain, redemption by power when He broke the chivalry of
   Egypt, smiting Pharaoh in the midst of the Red Sea. The Book of
   Leviticus is the Handbook of Communion, the Guide to Access, opening to
   us the way in which God can come to man, and man can go to God.

   And I am sure the least observant of you must have discovered that the
   Book of Numbers is the Record of Experience. All those journeys of the
   children of Israel to and fro when they lived in the wilderness,
   sometimes by Marah's bitter fountain, and at other times by Elim's
   spreading palms, all describe the constant marching of the sacred army
   of God to the Promised Land. The Books of Joshua and Judges typify the
   history of the people who have entered into the land of Canaan, who are
   saved, but who have to fight with their corruptions--with the
   Canaanites that are still in the land-- and to drive them out despite
   their chariots of iron.

   I believe that every book of Scripture has some special lesson beyond
   its historical import. And perhaps when the history of the world shall
   have been fully worked out, we shall see that the books of the Bible
   were like a prophetic roll sealed to us, but yet fulfilled to the
   letter. I sometimes think that we live in the days of the Judges. God
   raises up one mighty minister after another, some Shamgar, Jephthah,
   Gideon, or Samson--and when these die the Church relapses into its
   former state of coldness and indifference. But the time is coming when
   David the King shall come, and when Solomon shall reign from the river,
   even to the ends of the earth.

   The Millennial age shall hasten its glories. And what if it should be
   succeeded by a time of falling away, as under the kings of Israel, and
   then the winding up of the dispensation of the carrying away of the
   wicked into their long and last captivity, and the setting of the
   chosen in another and a better land? If these things are so, I am not
   wrong in the remark, that these allegories are only fit for strong men,
   who, by reason of use, have had their senses exercised. See, I set the
   meat before you.

   I feel persuaded that the Apostle also more particularly referred to
   those mysterious Truths of God which have respect to the relationships
   of our Lord Jesus Christ and to His complex Person. The very simplest
   Believer understands that Christ is God and Man--that Christ stood as
   the sinner's Surety and paid his debt. But, Brothers and Sisters, when
   we come to meditate much upon the Person of our Lord Jesus Christ we
   shall soon discover that there are depths of mystery in which an
   elephant might swim, as well as shallows where a lamb might wade. His
   complex Person suggests a thousand thoughts--all of which are too high
   for comprehension or even consideration--until our senses have been
   exercised.

   The doctrine of Christ's ancient Covenant. The striking of hands
   between Jesus--Jehovah, the Surety, and Jehovah of Hosts, who accepted
   Him as the Substitute for His people--who but the perfect man can grasp
   this? Christ's frequent appearances upon earth, too, before His
   incarnation, when His delights were with the sons of men--when He
   talked with Abraham, communed with Moses, spoke to Joshua, and trod the
   coals of fire with the three holy children--what a theme! Christ's
   eternal Sonship, the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father and
   the Son. The conception of Jesus as to His humanity in the womb of the
   Virgin, and others of a kindred nature, are all great mysteries.

   I do not believe that these are fit topics for babes in Grace. These
   Truths of God are as high above us as the heavens are above the earth.
   But if ever we do come to consider these sublimities, we must remember
   that they are only food for full grown men. I might go on to show that
   our union to Christ, that wonderful doctrine of our being members of
   His Body, of His flesh and of His bones, is also a mystery not to be
   trifled with by children. I might show, too, that even in Christ's
   Second Advent there are lofty questions--mighty difficulties which need
   the full grown intellect of the Believer to grapple with them. And,
   therefore, here again you have another dish loaded with solid meat.

   The doctrines of Grace are also generally esteemed to be very strong
   meat. He that is not full grown in the faith will discover much in the
   doctrine of predestination that will stagger him. No doubt many young
   Believers have felt God's foreordination to be like a stone rolled in
   their way over which they can scarcely climb. They have looked upon
   this glorious Truth of God as a mountain blocking up their path. They
   have not understood that though it is a mountain, it is one upon whose
   summit God communes with man.

   How many have been distressed with the precious doctrine of election?
   It is meat. It is hallowed meat--meat fit for the priests of God, and
   for the Lord's mightiest warriors--but many there are who have been so
   scandalized by it, that they have been glad to write bitter things
   against themselves on account of it. So with the doctrine of the
   immutability of God, and the consequent safety of the Lord's
   people--seeing that because He changes not, the sons of Jacob cannot be
   consumed. This, though sweet as honey dropping from the honeycomb, is
   not a doctrine for every man. Only they who do business upon the great
   waters, and have learned the need of solid food can usually feed on
   these things with satisfaction.

   Oh, dear Brothers and Sisters, what a mercy it is that there are such
   things as the grand old Truths which men nickname Calvinism, but which
   are the very marrow of the Gospel. I find when the heart aches, and the
   spirit is heavy, there is nothing like reading the eighth and ninth
   chapters of Romans. And when things go amiss with me, and everything is
   perversely disappointing my hopes, it is very delightful to throw
   oneself back upon the soft couch of God's eternal purpose, to pillow
   one's head upon the certainty that what He said He will perform, and
   that what He has commanded shall stand fast. Here are royal dainties!
   Costly cheer for fainting pilgrims!

   If you want the wings of eagles, study these doctrines and they shall
   bear you aloft. If you would creep along the ground and be full of
   doubts, fears, miseries, and distractions, live on baser food. But if
   you would walk in the strength of a giant, and fight with the valor of
   a David, live on these loaves of Heaven's best bread, and your youth
   shall be renewed. Yet these things are strong meat and are not for
   babes, but for men.

   Scarcely need I mention that other dish--the more advanced and
   inwrought forms of Christian experience. I believe there are saints,
   for instance, who hardly comprehend that passage where the Apostle
   speaks of the contest within-- "When I would do good, evil is present
   with me." You know there are many little saints who do not comprehend
   the fight within. The conflict is there, but they have not a clear idea
   of what that conflict is. They do not understand, with Paul, that, "It
   is no more I that do it, but sin that dwells in me." The doctrine of
   the two natures, and of their constant struggle with each other, is not
   at their fingertips.

   Then, again, communion with Christ is a high mystery that is never
   learned in the dame school of repentance, not often in the grammar
   school of faith--we must go the university of repentance to learn
   it--leaning our head on Jesus' bosom, and having foretastes of the
   fellowship which makes Heaven what it is. This is one of those rare
   experiences which can only belong in its frequency to the full grown
   Believer. I do not wonder that some people cannot read Solomon's Song.
   We do not expect that they should. If I put a book of algebra or a
   table of logarithms into the hand of a child who has just learned the
   multiplication table, I do not marvel that he should not understand it.

   The fact is that the Song is to the whole Bible what the Holy of Holies
   was to the Temple. You may walk into the Acts of the Apostles and the
   Gospels and say, "Here I am in the outer court of the Temple." You may
   go to the Psalms and to the Epistles, and say, "Here I am in the Court
   of the Priests." But the Canticles are the Holy of Holies. And he that
   has not learned to enter with the High Priest into that which is within
   the veil will never be able to read Solomon's Song. These experiences,
   I say, are for men of full age, who have had their senses exercised.

   I have thus set before you the various sorts of strong meat. Before we
   leave the table let me utter a word of caution. Milk you may use as you
   will. You cannot take too much of it. It will not do strong men any
   great amount of good, but it will certainly do them no harm. But the
   strong meat must always be accompanied by a word of caution when it is
   placed before the uninstructed and feeble--since such are very apt to
   do mischief, both to themselves, and to others with this strong meat.

   As for the allegories. What a world of nonsense have people talked
   about the allegories of Scripture, trying to make things run on all
   fours that were meant to walk erect. Alas, for those silly compounders
   who without the genius of old Origen, imitated his worst faults. What
   can I say that would be censure severe enough upon Origen himself, who
   never could read a chapter but he must needs twist it from its plain
   sense to make a mystery of it. We have all heard, I dare say, of the
   Divine who was foolish enough to take the three baskets full of sweet
   meats that were upon the head of Pharaoh's baker, and to say that they
   represented the Trinity.

   I have heard of another who preached from this passage in
   Ezra--"Nine-and-twenty knives," and went to show that they were types
   of the four-and-twenty elders. What he did with the surplus five I
   don't know! Was God's Book ever meant to be a toy for the amusement of
   childish imagination? Surely not! The strong meat of allegory must be
   for half-inspired saints like John Bunyan, and those masters in Israel
   who are not to be carried away upon the back of every figure, but who
   can ride their figures like good horsemen with a bit in the mouth of
   the allegory, and make it keep in a straight road, and bear them safely
   on to their destination. How many weak men are like boys on unbroken
   colts? The sooner they are off, the better, for they will hurt their
   steed, and do themselves no good.

   So must it be with the good things concerning the Person of our Lord
   Jesus Christ. The mysterious doctrine of the Trinity, and the equally
   mysterious and sublime doctrine of eternal generation are best let
   alone by feeble minds. I do not think there are half-a-dozen men alive
   who ought to meddle with the last. There has been a controversy lately,
   in a magazine, which I sometimes read for amusement rather than for
   instruction, between certain self-considered great and able Divines of
   modern times, who think they are the men, and that wisdom will die with
   them. They have been denouncing each other most heartily--and this
   seems the only thing they can do thoroughly well. They have been
   denouncing each other heartily because one believes this, and the other
   believes that, about a subject which not one of them knows anything at
   all about.

   The Sonship of our Lord is a great and marvelous mystery, to be meekly
   and reverently received. It is never to be disputed about, except by
   those gigantic minds which belong to the past, rather than the present.
   We might like to see two titanic Puritans enter the field of
   controversy--two such men, for instance, as Dr. John Owen, and
   Charnock--one might travel a thousand miles to see them grapple one of
   these lofty subjects. But when the little men of these days meddle with
   them, it saddens the humble-minded and affords enlightenment to none.

   In a measure it is so with the doctrines of Grace. The doctrines of
   Grace are to be handled with caution, for there are some folks who are
   not of full age, and have not, by reason of use, had their senses
   exercised so that they can discern both good and evil. Many love high
   doctrine, but then they want it higher than the Bible. Have we not
   known some who thought themselves very wise, but whose senses, I am
   certain, have never been well exercised? They were so fond of the
   doctrine of justification by faith that they have denied sanctification
   by the Holy Spirit--and have taught imputed sanc-tification--which is a
   doctrine of men, indeed.

   Some have so exaggerated Free Grace that they have denied the practical
   precepts. This is partly through wickedness, and partly through folly.
   It is the sure result of little minds losing their way in the great
   Truths of God, and, slipping from the high road, and falling to
   flounder in the ditch of error. Oh, my dear Brothers and Sisters, I
   would sooner you would leave these doctrines alone, than that you
   should fall into Antinomianism! Among the most damnable things which
   Satan ever sent is that which shall lead you to deny the practical
   precepts, and to forget that, "Without holiness no man shall see the
   Lord."

   Unholy fatalism is a deep ditch, and the abhorred of the Lord shall
   fall in. Those persons, too, who push the doctrines of election, and
   make it into the doctrine of reprobation show that they are foolish.
   They are not fit to deal with sublime Truth. If some persons who are
   renowned for preaching the doctrines of Grace would only hold their
   tongues till they understood them, their admirers would wait upon a
   dumb oracle. Oh, it is a grand thing to be able to receive the whole
   Truth of God--to learn human responsibility as well as Divine
   Sovereignty. To see God doing as He wills, but man bound to obey. To
   see Jehovah exalted on His Throne, King of kings and Lord of lords,
   with man's will His subject and bound to do what God bids, simply and
   only because God commands it!

   I am sure if we can couple the two things, free-agency and
   predestination, together, we shall be saved from Anti-nomianism on the
   one hand, and from infidelity on the other. It is not holding half the
   Truth of God that marks the man, that is the attainment of a babe. But
   to hold all--and to be afraid neither of high doctrines nor of low
   doctrines-- neither of Calvinism nor of Arminianism, nor any other ism
   so long as there is the Truth of God in it. To pick the Truth of God
   out, and to hold fast that which is good--this is the conduct of a full
   grown, well-developed Believer. May you have Divine Grace, dear
   Friends, as touching these Truths, to feed upon them as men and women
   who are of full age.

   I shall not say anything upon the other point, except that it is just
   the same as to advanced experience. There are some who have run to the
   extreme of despondency, and others to the verge of levity through not
   knowing that strong meat is only for men of full age. But I have said
   enough and, therefore, I now leave this point to turn to a second.

   II. Secondly, let me INVITE THE QUALIFIED PERSONS TO COME TO THE FEAST.
   Who are they? They are here described as being persons of full age.
   Understand, dear Friends, that there is no reference here at all to the
   age of a person as to human life. The Greek word is, "Men that are
   perfect." It signifies, therefore, spiritual men and women who have
   attained to the highest degree of spiritual development. Now this is
   not the result of years, for there are some gray heads that have no
   more wisdom than when they first began. And, on the other hand, there
   are some youthful Believers who are worthy to be called fathers in
   Israel, through the progress which they have made in Divine Grace.

   Growth in Grace does not run side by side with growth in years. As old
   Master Brooks says, "There are some few Believers who seem to be born
   with beards." They are ripe Christians at a very early stage of their
   spiritual existence. And there are some who, if they tarry at Jericho
   till their beards are grown, will be long in seeing the King's face.
   They are always babes, needing the spoon and the rocking chair, even in
   old age. The expression in the text, then, has no reference to age, but
   is used in a spiritual and metaphorical sense.

   But what is meant by men that are full grown? Well, you know a babe has
   the same parts as a man. The babe is perfect in its measure, but it is
   not perfectly perfect. Those limbs must expand. The little hand must
   get a wider grasp. The trembling feet must become strong pillars for
   ripening manhood--the man must swell and grow and expand and enlarge
   and be consolidated. Now when we are born to God, we have all the parts
   of the advanced Christian. Faith, hope, love, patience--they are all
   there, but they are all little, all in miniature--and they must all
   grow. And he is of full age whose faith is vigorous, whose love is
   inflamed, whose patience is constant, whose hope is bright, who has
   every Grace, in full fashion.

   Nor is it only development. The full grown man is stronger than the
   babe. His sinews are knit. His bones have become more full of solid
   material. They are no longer soft and cartilaginous, there is more
   solid matter in them. So with the advanced Christian--he is no longer
   to be bent about and twisted--his bones are as iron, and his muscles as
   steel. He moves himself in stately paces, neither needs he any upon
   whom to lean. He can plow the soil, or reap the corn. Deeds that were
   impossible to infancy are simplicities to the full grown man. Now you
   understand what the full grown Christian is. He can do, and dare, and
   suffer what would have frightened him before.

   He can fight with dragons though once he would have fled before a
   grasshopper. He can now endure to pass through deep waters, though once
   a little brook would have swept him away. There is as much difference,
   in fact, between the full grown Christian and the newly-born convert as
   between the strong, hale, hearty man of forty, and a babe of three or
   four. We must, then, before we can venture upon things hard to be
   understood, labor to arrive at full age.

   But then our text tells us that they have had their senses exercised.
   The soul has senses as well as the body. Men who have had their senses
   exercised know how to choose between good and evil. Now, what are these
   senses? Well, there are our spiritual eyes. When the babe first sees,
   it has little idea of distances. I suppose that to a babe's eyes
   everything appears as a flat surface. It is the result of experience
   which enables the man to know that such a thing is so many yards off,
   and that another is so many miles distant.

   Travelers who go to Switzerland for the first time soon discover that
   they have not had their eyes exercised. You think that you can reach
   the peak of yonder mountain in half-an-hour. There is the top of yonder
   rock. You dream that a boy might fly his kite to the summit, but it
   shall take you hours to climb there, and weary limbs, alone, can bear
   you to the dizzy height. At a distance young travelers scarcely know
   which is mountain, and which is cloud. All this is the result of not
   having the eyes exercised upon such glorious objects. It is just
   precisely so in spiritual things--unless Christians have their eyes
   exercised. I hope dear Friends, you know what it is to see Christ. Your
   eyes, by faith, have looked upon the King in His beauty. You know what
   it is, too, to see self. You have looked into the depravity of your own
   heart and have been amazed.

   Your eyes have seen the rising and the falling of many deceptions. Your
   eyes have been tried in waiting for God in many a dark night, or in
   beholding Him in the midst of many a bright Providence. Thus your eyes
   have been exercised. Now, when a doctrine is put before you, a strong
   doctrine, you look at it and say--"Ah, yes, my eye of faith tells me,
   from what I have seen before, that that is healthy food upon which I
   may feed." But if you detect something in it that is too high, or too
   low, you at once say--"No, that won't do for me," and you put it away.
   Hence it is that the man, the eye of whose faith has been tried with
   bright visions and dark revelations, is qualified to discern between
   good and evil in those great mysteries which would be too high for
   unexercised Believers.

   Then there is the ear. We hear it said of some that they have no ear
   for music. We sometimes hear it said of others that they have an ear
   for music and they can tell when people are singing half a note amiss.
   How shocked they would sometimes be with some of you who will persist
   in running away from our good leader, and getting a whole note amiss!
   But there are some who cannot tell one note from another. So is it in
   spiritual things, "Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound,"
   but many do not know the difference between the joyful sound, and that
   which is half a note lower. Why, dear Friends, when a Christian is well
   taught, he knows when a note goes too high and he says--"No, no, no.
   That jars."

   Or when it goes too low he says--"No, that is out of tune." He wants to
   have the keynote of the Gospel constantly before him, and any
   divergence from the grand old tune of orthodoxy, which he has learned
   from the Word of God, at once makes him feel wretched. He has a fine,
   keen, discerning ear. He can tell at once any mistake, and is not to be
   led astray by it. Hence it is that such persons are fit to hear the
   solid doctrines of the Gospel preached, because they have listened to
   the voice of God. They have heard the charms of evil, and, by God's
   Grace, have despised them. They have heard the conversation of educated
   saints, they have been taught in the ways of the Lord, and knowing,
   therefore, the difference between this and that, they can discern
   between good and evil, and are not to be led astray.

   Now, I know that there is always a tendency in our large congregation
   for us to lose a driblet every now and then of two sorts of people. One
   sort, when they hear an earnest sermon to sinners. When the wanderers
   are exhorted to flee to Jesus and are told that if they perish it will
   be their own fault. "Oh," these people say, "that is Arminian
   doctrine!" And off they go to some place where they can have the
   hyperism undiluted. And, then, if on another morning God's
   predestination is proclaimed, and men are told that God has chosen His
   people, that "it is not of him that wills, nor of him that runs, but of
   God that shows mercy," then certain people say, "Ah, I did not get on
   this morning. It was too high for me."

   The fault is not in either of the doctrines, for they are both
   Scriptural--the evil lies in these people's ears. They do not know the
   note which is the happy medium between the two systems--the note which
   takes in both, which shows the sinner his own responsibility--and yet
   shows to both saint and sinner, God's real Sovereignty. Happy is he
   whose ear is well tuned to discern both good and evil. Then, dear
   Friends, comes the nose, the intention of which sense is to smell
   things afar off. True Christians have smelt the fragrance of Christ's
   fellowship. "While the king sits at his table, My spikenard sends forth
   the smell thereof."

   Advanced Christians know the fragrance of Heaven. The angels have
   brought them bundles of myrrh from the other side of the stream. They
   have had their nostrils exercised, and you know the nostrils are of
   very essential use in reference to food. The nostrils can soon detect
   decay or that spiciness which the crafty trader employs to conceal it.
   There are certain persons whose ministry is putrid, but they lay on
   thick, very excellent spice about the safety of the Believer, and the
   joy and peace that there are in Christ--so that the putridity is
   somewhat checked. And some Christian people eat the nauseous morsels,
   forgetting, or not knowing what they really are, because of the sweet
   smell and flavor in which the whole is wrapped up.

   But our nostrils are given us on purpose to detect the craft and
   mischief of designing men. And the spiritual nostril that has been made
   to perceive the difference between the righteous and the wicked will
   soon be able to perceive what is true food and what is carrion. Then,
   you know, there is the taste. And this sense needs educating, too. Some
   men have no taste. To them flavor is no luxury. There are many who have
   no taste spiritually. Give them a cup of mingle-mangle-- "perhaps,"
   "ifs," "buts," "maybe," creature willings, and creature doings--and if
   it is only warm, they will drink it down and say, "Oh, how delightful!"

   If you give them a cup, on the other hand, that is full of Divine
   purposes, precious promises, and sure mercies of David--if you will
   only flavor it with a good style of oratory--they will drink that sweet
   potion, too, and relish it. The two things may contradict each other
   flatly, but these people have no discernment--they have not had their
   senses exercised. But those of you who have been made to taste the
   sweets of Covenant Grace, you, especially, who have eaten His flesh and
   drunk His blood--and you, too, who have been made to drink the
   wormwood, and the gall till your mouth knows every flavor, from the
   bitterness of death up to the glory of immortality--you may taste the
   strong meat without any fear, for your senses are exercised.

   Lastly, there is the sense of touch, and you know how in some men this
   has been developed to a very high degree. Men who are deficient in
   sight, for instance, have acquired by touch the knowledge which would,
   if they had not been blind, have been derived from their eyes. So
   Believers have been made to touch the hem of Jesus' garment. They have
   exercised the sense of feeling by joy, by rapture--perhaps by doubt and
   by fear--and their touch has become so acute, so keen, that though
   their eyes were shut, as soon as they touch a doctrine they would know
   what was of God and what of man.

   Now our text says that this comes as the result of use, and that use
   generally comes to us through affliction. Have you ever noticed how men
   get their senses clear through affliction? I read in the life of good
   Dr. Brown, that when he first preached he heard two women at the door
   talking to one another about his sermon. One of them said to the
   other--"Ah, 'twas very well, but 'twas almost all tinsel." A short time
   after, the good preacher lost his wife. His heart was broken, and his
   whole nature affected. The roots went deeper down into the solid Truth
   of God, and when he preached again, the same woman said to her
   friend--"It is all gold now."

   Afflicted Christians come to know the difference between tinsel and
   gold. I love a people who do not care always to have great garlands of
   fine flowers handed out to them. Oh, that running after oratory, that
   seeking after fine flowing sentences, that spread-eagle style which
   some adopt--why this is all folly! What the child of God wants is
   matter. He would like to have the matter given him in a good shape, but
   still it is the matter, the real solid food that he wants, and that
   ministry will always be the most acceptable to advanced Believers which
   has the most of Truth in it.

   They do not care half so much about the style as about the food that is
   served up in the sermon. They want something upon which the intellect
   may meditate, which the soul can masticate, which the heart can
   assimilate, and upon which the whole being may be nourished and
   strengthened. Young Christians very frequently like Arminian doctrines.
   But as we grow older, as men who were radicals when they were young
   grow to be conservatives when they are old, so we grow to be
   Calvinistic, for Calvinism is the conservatism of Christianity. It is
   just the conservative principle, the old, solid, stiff, unyielding
   doctrine. Though I am a long way from being anything like old, and do
   not intend to be old if I can help it for another thirty years or so,
   yet still I do find a greater and more intense love for the doctrine of
   election, the doctrine of eternal union to Christ, final perseverance,
   and all those great Truths where saints in all ages have been custom to
   find a haven for their spirits.

   III. And now we must conclude. I think our Apostle meant the text to be
   a GENTLE REBUKE TO THOSE WHO

   ARE NOT FULL GROWN MEN. The Apostle says that the Hebrew saints ought
   to have been teachers, but that they still remained infants.

   It is very pleasant to see the infant in the house. What joy there is
   in its tender cry! But suppose that our children were always to remain
   infants--that would be no happiness to the parent. If you had a son
   twenty years of age who still needed to be carried, who required still
   to hang upon the nurse's breast, would you not consider it one of the
   most serious of calamities? But you say you would pity the child. Ah,
   so you would, but suppose it was his own willful fault? Suppose the
   little one could, by some piece of willfulness, prevent itself from
   growing, and would not use the proper means for development?

   I think you would then wisely use the rod as well as show your pity.
   Twenty years of age, and yet still in long clothes! Thirty years of
   age, and still uttering a babbling cry! Forty years of age, and still
   needing milk! Ah, you smile, but did any of you smile at yourselves?
   How long have you been converted to God? How long have you known the
   Savior? Why, I have known some converts that have been in long clothes
   for thirty years after they were converted and are babies still. If you
   asked them to speak for Christ, they could only say a word or two of
   mere babble.

   And as for their confession of faith, it was not a reason. They did
   declare the hope that was in them, but they did not give a reason for
   it, for they could not give one. Then there are some who grow so slowly
   that their faith is just as weak now as it was twenty years ago. They
   go tottering along and cannot run yet. They will want always to have
   preached to them just the simple elements, and if you give them a piece
   of high doctrine they have not cut their wisdom teeth yet, and
   therefore they cannot masticate it, much less can they get any comfort
   out of it. Have I not seen some who ought to have been as patient as
   Job by this time, as fretful as they can well be?

   Dear Friends, I must just give you a word of rebuke. It must be gently,
   for you are our Brothers and Sisters, and if you are but a babe, if you
   have life in you, you are saved. But why should you always be a babe,
   dear Brother? Is it not that you have been too worldly? You have made
   money--oh, I wish you had made an increase of Divine Grace! You have
   been very attentive to those carts and horses, and to that farm and to
   that speculation--you have attended very diligently to that saleroom
   and to that exchange--oh, if only you had been as diligent in prayer!
   If only you had been as diligent for your Bible as for your ledger--and
   if only you had ridden in the chariots of salvation as often as you
   have been riding your own horse about your farm--how much better a
   Christian you might have been!

   Do you not see, Brothers and Sisters, you have been stinting yourself
   of food? You do not read the Scriptures, which are the food of the
   saints. You have stinted yourself of breath, and if a man is short of
   breath, he will not have much to boast of. If you want to grow, you
   need to pray more. My dear Brothers and Sisters, surely you have
   attached too little importance to these things. You have not considered
   them enough. Why not begin to search the Scriptures? Why not try to
   live nearer to God? Why not pant after a greater conformity to Christ's
   image? Why, what a Christian you might then be! I do ask my Lord often
   this one mercy, not only to make this Church, as it is, the largest
   Church in Christendom, but to be pleased to make us also strong men and
   women.

   Oh, if I can have in this Church a body of strong men and women who
   know what they have received, and hold it fast, and grow in Grace--who
   have their eyes lit up with enthusiasm because hearts are burning with
   a Divine fervor-- why, there is nothing impossible for you! You shall
   make the Church tell upon its age. You shall move London, which is the
   heart of the world, until it shall send out deep heart throbs that
   shall reach throughout the universe! With such multitudes as God adds
   to us continually--what might not be done if we had but the Baptism of
   fire?

   But we must be ready for the fire. We must tarry at Jerusalem and then,
   when the Holy Spirit comes down, we may speak each in his own tongue as
   the Spirit shall give us utterance--and who can tell how mightily we
   may serve the Master? Sunday school teachers, I would not have you
   ordinary teachers who merely set children reading. I would have you
   masters of the art of teaching, who are able to catechize with
   clearness and with power. You young preachers who stand in the
   streets--I would not have it said of you that you can talk but that
   there is nothing in it. You young men in our college--I hope it shall
   never be said of any of you, as you go forth, that you are deficient in
   spiritual intelligence, and that you are unenlightened.

   May you be strong men, my Brothers and Sisters, all of you--and then it
   shall be my happiness to see you like the old guard of
   Napoleon--marching irresistibly into the battle, and this shall be your
   war cry, if bad and evil times shall come--"We can die, but we can
   never surrender." For God and for His Truth you shall make your last
   charge over your enemies, and then enter into the victory which He
   reserves for all them that diligently serve Him.

   I have said nothing to those of you who are unconverted. "One word,"
   says one, "one word. One word." Well, here it is for you--I will give
   you more this evening, but I will give you one word now--"Prepare to
   meet your God!" "But how?" asks one. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,
   and you shall be saved. Taste and see that the Lord is good. He that
   believes on Him shall never perish, but have everlasting life. To
   believe is to trust. Trust Jesus and be saved. Amen. Amen. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                 The Power Of Prayer And The Pleasure Of Praise

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 3, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "You also helping together byprayer for us, that for the gift bestowed
   upon us by the means of many persons thanks may be given by many on our
   behalf. For our rejoicing in this, the testimony of our conscience,
   that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by
   the Grace of God, we have had our conversation in the world and more
   abundantly to you." 2 Corinthians 1:11,12.

   THE Apostle Paul had, by singular Providences, been delivered from
   imminent peril in Asia. During the great riot at Ephesus, when
   Demetrius and his fellow shrine-makers raised a great tumult against
   him, because they saw that their craft was in danger, Paul's life was
   greatly in jeopardy. Consequently he writes, "We were pressed out of
   measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life." The
   Apostle attributes to God, alone, his singular preservation. And if he
   referred also to the occasion when he was stoned and left for dead,
   there is much appropriateness in his blessing "God which raised the
   dead."

   The Apostle, moreover, argues from the fact that God had thus delivered
   him in the past, and was still his helper in the present, that He would
   be with him also in the future. Paul is a master at all arithmetic--his
   faith was always a ready-reckoner--we here find him computing by the
   Believer's Rule of Three. He argues from the past to the present, and
   from the present to things yet to come. The verse preceding our text is
   a brilliant example of this arriving at a comfortable conclusion by the
   Rule of Three--"Who delivered us from so great a death and does
   deliver: in whom we trust that He will yet deliver us."

   Because our God is, "the same yesterday, today and forever," His love
   in time past is an infallible assurance of His kindness today, and an
   equally certain pledge of His faithfulness on the morrow. Whatever our
   circumstances may be, however perplexed may be our pathway, and however
   dark our horizon, if we argue by the rule of, "He has, He does, He
   will," our comfort can never be destroyed. Courage, then, O you
   afflicted seed of Israel. If you had a changeable God to deal with,
   your souls might be full of bitterness--but because He is, "the same
   yesterday, today and forever," every repeated manifestation of His
   Grace should make it more easy for you to rest upon Him. Every renewed
   experience of His fidelity should confirm your confidence in His Grace.
   May the most blessed Spirit teach us to grow in holy confidence in our
   ever faithful Lord.

   Although our Apostle thus acknowledged God's hand, and God's hand
   alone, in his deliverance, yet he was not so foolish as to deny or
   undervalue the second causes. On the contrary, having first praised the
   God of All Comfort, he now remembers with gratitude the earnest prayers
   of the many loving intercessors. Gratitude to God must never become an
   excuse for ingratitude to man. It is true that Jehovah shielded the
   Apostle of the Gentiles, but He did it in answer to prayer. The chosen
   vessel was not broken by the rod of the wicked, for the outstretched
   hand of the God of Heaven was his defense--but that hand was
   outstretched because the people of Corinth, and the saints of God
   everywhere had prevailed at the Throne of Grace by their united
   supplications.

   With gratitude those successful pleadings are mentioned in the text,
   "You also helping together by prayer for us," and he desires the
   Brothers and Sisters now to unite their praises with his, "that for the
   gift bestowed upon us by the means of many persons thanks may be given
   by many on our behalf." He adds that he has a claim upon their love
   since he was not as some who were unfaithful to their trust, but his
   conscience was clear that he had preached the Word simply and with
   sincerity.

   While speaking upon these topics, may the anointing Spirit now descend
   to make them profitable to us. We shall, first, acknowledge the power
   of united prayer. Secondly, excite you to united praise. And then, in
   the third place, urge our joyful claim upon you--a claim which is not
   ours alone, but belongs to all ministers of God who in sincerity labor
   for souls.

   I. First, then, dear Friends, it is my duty and my privilege this
   morning to ACKNOWLEDGE THE POWER OF UNITED PRAYER.

   It has pleased God to make prayer the abounding and rejoicing river
   through which most of our choice mercies flow to us. It is the golden
   key which unlocks the well-stored granaries of our heavenly Joseph. It
   is written upon each of the mercies of the Covenant, "For this will I
   be inquired of by the house of Israel to do it for them." There are
   mercies which come unsought, for God is found of them that sought not
   for Him. But there are other favors which are only bestowed upon the
   men who ask, and therefore receive--who seek, and therefore find--who
   knock, and therefore gain an entrance.

   Why God has been pleased to command us to pray at all it is not
   difficult to discover, for prayer glorifies God, by putting man in the
   most humble posture of worship. The creature in prayer acknowledges his
   Creator with reverence and confesses Him to be the giver of every good
   and perfect gift. The eye is lifted up to behold the Glory of the Lord,
   while the knees are bent to the earth in the lowliness of acknowledged
   weakness. Though prayer is not the highest mode of adoration, or
   otherwise it would be continued by the saints in Heaven, yet it is the
   most humble, and so the most fitting, to set forth the Glory of the
   Perfect One as it is beheld by imperfect flesh and blood.

   From the "Our Father," in which we claim relationship, right on to,
   "the kingdom and the power and the glory," which we ascribe to the only
   true God, every sentence of prayer honors the Most High. The groans and
   tears of humble petitioners are as truly acceptable as the continual,
   "Holy, Holy, Holy," of the Cherubim and Seraphim. For in their very
   essence all truthful confessions of personal fault are but a homage
   paid to the Infinite perfections of the Lord of Hosts. More honored is
   the Lord by our prayers than by the unceasing smoke of the holy incense
   of the altar which stood before the veil.

   Moreover, the act of prayer teaches us our unworthiness, which is no
   small blessing to such proud beings as we are. If God gave us favors
   without constraining us to pray for them, we should never know how poor
   we are. But a true prayer is an inventory of wants, a catalog of
   necessities, a suit in forma pauperis, an exposure of secret wounds, a
   revelation of hidden poverty. While it is an application to Divine
   wealth, it is a confession of human emptiness. I believe that the most
   healthy state of a Christian is to be always empty--and always
   depending upon the Lord for supplies. To be always poor in self and
   rich in Jesus--weak as water personally--but mighty through God to do
   great exploits. And therefore the use of prayer--because while it
   adores God, it lays the creature where he should be--in the very dust.

   Prayer is in itself, apart from the answer which it brings, a great
   benefit to the Christian. As the runner gains strength for the race by
   daily exercise, so for the great race of life we acquire energy by the
   hallowed labor of prayer. Prayer plumes the wings of God's young
   eaglets that they may learn to mount above the clouds. Prayer girds the
   loins of God's warriors and sends them forth to combat with their
   sinews braced and their muscles firm. An earnest pleader comes out of
   his closet, even as the sun rises from the chambers of the east,
   rejoicing like a strong man to run his race.

   Prayer is that uplifted hand of Moses which routs the Amalekites more
   than the sword of Joshua. It is the arrow shot from the chamber of the
   Prophet foreboding defeat to the Syrians. What if I say that prayer
   clothes the Believer with the attributes of Deity, girds human weakness
   with Divine strength, turns human folly into heavenly wisdom, and gives
   to troubled mortals the serenity of the immortal God? I know not what
   prayer cannot do! I thank You, great God, for the Mercy Seat, a choice
   gift of Your marvelous loving kindness. Help us to use it aright!

   As many mercies are conveyed from Heaven in the ship of prayer, so
   there are many choice and special favors which can only be brought to
   us by the fleets of united prayer. Many are the good things which God
   will give to His lonely Elijahs and Daniels, but if two of you agree as
   touching anything that you shall ask, there is no limit to God's
   bountiful answers. Peter might never have been brought out of prison if
   it had not been that prayer was made without ceasing by all the Church
   for him. Pentecost might never have come if all the disciples had not
   been, "with one accord in one place," waiting for the descent of the
   tongues of fire. God is pleased to give many mercies to one pleader,
   but at times He seems to say, "You shall all appear before Me and
   entreat My favor, for I will not see your face, unless even your
   younger Brothers and Sisters are with you."

   Why is this, dear Friends? I take it that thus our gracious Lord sets
   forth His own esteem for the communion of saints. "I believe in the
   communion of saints" is one article of the great Christian creed, but
   how few there are who understand it. Oh, there is such a thing as real
   union among God's people. We may be called by different names--

   "But all the servants of our King In Heaven and earth are one."

   We cannot afford to lose the help and love of our Brothers and Sisters.
   Augustine says, "The poor are made for the rich and the rich are made
   for the poor." I do not doubt but that strong saints are made for weak
   saints, and that the weak saints bring special benedictions upon the
   full grown. There is a fitness in the whole body--each joint owes
   something to every other--and the whole body is bound together and
   compacted by that which every joint supplies. There are certain glands
   in the human body which the anatomist hardly understands. He can say of
   the liver, for instance, that it yields a very valuable fluid of the
   utmost value in the bodily economy. But there are other secretions
   whose distinct value he cannot ascertain. Yet , doubtless, if that
   gland were removed, the whole body might suffer to a high degree.

   And so, beloved Friends, there may be some Believers of whom we may
   say, "I do not know the use of them. I cannot tell what good that
   Christian does." Yet were that insignificant, and apparently useless
   member removed, the whole body might be made to suffer, the whole frame
   might become sick, and the whole heart faint. This is probably the
   reason why many a weighty gift of Heaven's love is only granted to
   combined petitioning--that we may perceive the use of the whole body
   and so may be compelled to recognize the real vital union which Divine
   Grace has made--and daily maintains among the people of God. Is it not
   a happy thought, dear Friends, that the very poorest and most obscure
   Church member can add something to the body's strength?

   We cannot all preach. We cannot all rule. We cannot all give gold and
   silver--but we can all contribute our prayers. There is no convert,
   though he is but two or three days old in Divine Grace, but can pray.
   There is no bedridden Sister in Jesus who cannot pray. There is no
   sick, aged, imbecile, obscure, illiterate, or penniless Believer who
   cannot add his supplications to the general stock. This is the Church's
   riches. We put boxes at the door that we may receive your offerings to
   God's cause--remember there is a spiritual chest within the Church into
   which we should all drop our loving intercessions, as into the treasury
   of the Lord. Even the widow without her two mites can give her offering
   to this treasury. See, then, dear Friends, what union and communion
   there are among the people of God, since there are certain mercies
   which are only bestowed while the saints unitedly pray.

   How we ought to feel this bond of union! How we ought to pray for one
   another! How, as often as the Church meets together for supplication,
   should we all make it our bounded duty to be there! I would that some
   of you who are absent from the Prayer Meeting upon any little excuse
   would reflect how much you rob us all. The Prayer Meeting is an
   invaluable institution, ministering strength to all other meetings and
   agencies. Are there not many of you who might, by a little pinching of
   your time and pressing of your labors, come among us a little oftener?
   And what if you should lose a customer now and then, do you not think
   that this loss could be well made up to you by your gains on other
   days? Or if not so, would not the spiritual profit much more than
   counterbalance any little temporal loss? "Not forgetting the assembling
   of yourselves together as the manner of some is."

   We are now prepared for a further observation. This united prayer
   should especially be made for the ministers of God. It is for them,
   peculiarly, that this public prayer is intended. Paul asks for
   it--"Brethren, pray for us." And all God's ministers to the latest time
   will ever confess that this is the secret source of their strength. The
   prayers of the people must be the might of the ministers. Shall I try
   to show you why the minister, more than any other man in the Church,
   needs the earnest prayers of the people? Is not his position the most
   perilous? Satan's orders to the hosts of Hell are, "Fight neither with
   small nor great, save only with the ministers of God." He knows if he
   can once smite through the heart one of these, there will be a general
   confusion. For if the champion is dead, then the people fly.

   It is around the standard bearer that the fight is thickest. There the
   battle-axes ring upon the helmets. There the arrows are bent upon the
   armor, for the enemy knows that if he can cut down the standard, or
   cleave the skull of its bearer, he will strike a heavy blow and cause
   deep discouragement. Press around us, then, you men at arms! Knights of
   the red cross rally for our defense, for the fight grows hot! We
   beseech you, if you elect us to the office of the ministry, stand fast
   at our side in our hourly conflicts. I noticed on returning from
   Rotterdam, when we were crossing the bar at the mouth of the Maas,
   where by reason of a neap tide and a bad wind, the navigation was
   exceedingly dangerous, that orders were issued--"All hands on deck!"

   So methinks the life of a minister is so perilous, that I may well cry,
   "All hands on deck"--every man to prayer! Let even the weakest saint
   become instant in supplication. The minister, standing in such a
   perilous position, has, moreover, a solemn weight of responsibility
   resting on him. Every man should be his brother's keeper in a measure,
   but woe to the watchmen of God if they are not faithful, for at their
   hands shall the blood of souls be required. At their door shall God lay
   the ruin of men if they preach not the Gospel fully and faithfully.

   There are times when this burden of the Lord weighs upon God's
   ministers until they cry out in pain as if their hearts would burst
   with anguish. I marked the captain as we crossed that bar throwing the
   lead, himself, into the sea. And when one asked why he did not let the
   sailors do it, he said, "At this point, just now, I dare not trust any
   man but myself to heave the lead, for we have hardly six inches between
   our ship and the bottom." And, indeed, we felt the vessel touch once or
   twice most unpleasantly. So there will come times with every preacher
   of the Gospel--if he is what he should be-- when he will be in dread
   suspense for his hearers. He will not be able to discharge his duty by
   proxy, but must personally labor for men--not even trusting himself to
   preach--but calling upon his God for help since he is now overwhelmed
   with the burden of men's souls.

   Oh, do pray for us! If God gives us to you, and if you accept the gift
   most cheerfully, do not so despise both God and us as to leave us
   penniless and poverty-stricken because your prayers are withheld.
   Moreover, the preservation of the minister is one of the most important
   objects to the Church. You may lose a sailor from the ship, and that is
   very bad, both for him and for you. But if the pilot should fall over,
   or the captain should be smitten with sickness, or the helmsman be
   washed from the wheel, then what is the vessel to do? Therefore, though
   prayer is to be put up for every other person in the Church, yet for
   the minister is it to be offered first and foremost, because of the
   position which he occupies.

   And then, how much more is asked of him than of you? If you are to keep
   a private table for individual instruction, he is, as it were, to keep
   a public table, a feast of good things for all comers. And how shall he
   do this unless his Master gives him rich provisions? You are to shine
   as a candle in a house--the minister has to be as a lighthouse--to be
   seen far across the deep. And how shall he shine the whole night long
   unless he is trimmed by his Master, and fresh oil is given him from
   Heaven? His influence is wider than yours--if it is for evil, he shall
   be a deadly upas, with spreading boughs poisoning all beneath his
   shadow. But if God makes him a star in His right hand, his ray of light
   shall cheer with its genial influence whole nations, and whole periods
   of time. If there is any truth in all this, I implore you, yield us
   generously and constantly the assistance of your prayers.

   I find that in the original, the word for, "helping together," implies
   very earnest WORK. Some people's prayers have no work in them. But the
   only prayer which prevails with God is a real working-man's
   prayer--where the petitioner, like a Samson, shakes the gates of Mercy,
   and labors to pull them up rather than be denied an entrance. We do not
   want fingertip prayers, which only touch the burden--we need shoulder
   prayers--which bear a load of earnestness, and are not to be denied
   their desire. We do not want those dainty runaway knocks at the door of
   mercy, which professors give when they show off at Prayer Meetings. We
   ask for the knocking of a man who means to have, and means to stop at
   Mercy's gate till it opens and all his need shall be supplied.

   The energetic, vehement violence of the man who is not to be denied,
   but intends to carry Heaven by storm until he wins his heart's
   desire--this is the prayer which ministers covet of their people.
   Melancthon, it is said, derived great comfort from the information that
   certain poor weavers, women and children, had met together to pray for
   the Reformation. Yes, Melancthon--there was solid ground for comfort
   here. Depend on it, it was not Luther only, but the thousands of poor
   persons who sung psalms at the plow-tail, and the hundreds of serving
   men and women who offered supplications, that made the Reformation what
   it was.

   We are told of Paulus Phagius, a celebrated Hebrew scholar, very useful
   in introducing the Reformation into this country, that one of his
   frequent requests of his younger scholars was that they would continue
   in prayer, so that God might be pleased to pour out a blessing in
   answer to them. Have I not said a hundred times that all the blessings
   that God has given us here, all the increase to our Church, has been
   due, under God, to your earnest, fervent supplications? There have been
   Heaven-moving seasons both in this house and at New Park Street. We
   have had times when we have felt we could die sooner than not be heard.
   When we carried our Church on our bosom as a mother carries her child.
   When we felt a yearning and a travailing in birth for the souls of men.

   We may truly say, when we see our Church daily increasing, and the
   multitudes still hanging upon our lips to listen to the Word, "What has
   God worked?" Shall we now cease from our prayers? Shall we now say unto
   the Great High Priest, "It is enough"? Shall we now pluck the glowing
   coals from the altar and quench the burning incense? Shall we now
   refuse to bring the morning and evening lambs of prayer and praise to
   the sacrifice? O children of Ephraim, being armed and carrying bows,
   will you turn your backs in the day of battle? The flood is divided
   before you. The Jordan is driven back! Will you refuse to march through
   the depths? God, even your God, goes up before you. The shout of a King
   is heard in the midst of your hosts!

   Will you now be recreant and refuse to go up and possess the land? Will
   you now lose your first love? Shall "Ich-abod" be written upon the
   forefront of this tabernacle? Shall it be said that God has forsaken
   you? Shall the day come in which the daughters of Philistia shall
   rejoice, and the sons of Syria shall triumph? If not, to your knees
   again, with all the force of prayer! If not, to your vehement
   supplications once more! If not, if you would not see good blighted and
   evil triumphant, clasp hands again--and in the name of Him who ever
   lives to intercede--once more be prevalent in prayer that the blessing
   may again descend! "You also helping together by prayer for us."

   II. We must now EXCITE YOU TO PRAISE. Praise should always follow
   answered prayer. The mist of earth's gratitude should rise as the sun
   of Heaven's love warms the ground. Has the Lord been gracious to you,
   and inclined His ear to the voice of your supplication? Then praise Him
   as long as you live. Deny not a song to Him who has answered your
   prayer, and given you the desire of your heart. To be silent over God's
   mercies is to incur the guilt of shocking ingratitude, and ingratitude
   is one of the worst of crimes.

   I trust, dear Friends, you will not act as basely as the nine lepers,
   who after they had been healed of their leprosy, returned not to give
   thanks unto the healing Lord. To forget to praise God is to refuse to
   benefit ourselves, for praise, like prayer, is exceedingly useful to
   the spiritual man. It is a high and healthful exercise. To dance, like
   David, before the Lord, is to quicken the blood in the veins, and make
   the pulse beat at a healthier rate. Praise gives to us a great feast,
   like that of Solomon, who gave to every man a good piece of flesh, and
   a flagon of wine.

   Praise is the most heavenly of Christian duties. The angels pray not,
   but they cease not to praise both day and night. To bless God for
   mercies received is to benefit our fellow men--"the humble shall hear
   thereof and be glad." Others who have been in like circumstances shall
   take comfort if we can say, "Oh, magnify the Lord with me, and let us
   exalt His name together, this poor man cried, and the Lord heard him."
   Tongue-tied Christians are a sad dishonor to the Church. We have some
   such--some whom the devil has gagged--and the loudest music they ever
   make is when they are champing the bit of their silence. I would, my
   Brothers and Sisters, that in all such cases the tongue of the dumb may
   sing.

   To go a step further here. As praise is good and pleasant, blessing man
   and glorifying God, united praise has a very special commendation.
   United praise is like music in concert. The sound of one instrument is
   exceedingly sweet, but when hundreds of instruments, both wind and
   stringed, are all combined, then the orchestra sends forth a noble
   volume of harmony. The praise of one Christian is accepted before God
   like a grain of incense, but the praise of many is like a censor full
   of frankincense smoking up before the Lord. Combined praise is an
   anticipation of Heaven, for in that general assembly they all,
   together, with one heart and voice, praise the Lord--

   "Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one."

   Public praise is very agreeable to the Christian himself. How many
   burdens has it removed? I am sure when I hear the shout of praise in
   this house it warms my heart. It is at times a little too slow for my
   taste, and I must urge you to quicken your pace, that the rolling waves
   of majestic praise may display their full force! Yet with all
   drawbacks, to my heart there is no music like yours. My Dutch friends
   praise the Lord so very slowly that one might very well go to sleep,
   lulled by their lengthened strains. Even there, however, the many
   voices make a grand harmony of praise.

   I love to hear God's people sing when they really do sing, not when it
   is a drawing out somewhere between harmony and discord. O for a sacred
   song, a shout of lofty praise in which every man's soul beats the time,
   and every man's tongue sounds the tune--and each singer feels a high
   ambition to excel his fellow in gratitude and love! There is something
   exceedingly delightful in the union of true hearts in the worship of
   God--and when these hearts are expressed in song-- how sweet the
   charming sounds. I think we ought to have a Praise Meeting once a week.
   We have a Prayer Meeting every Monday, and a Prayer Meeting every
   Saturday, and a Prayer Meeting every morning, but why do we not have a
   Praise Meeting? Surely seasons should be set apart for services made up
   of praise from beginning to end. Let us try the plan at once.

   As I said about united prayer, that it should be offered specially for
   ministers, so should united praise often take the same aspect. The
   whole company should praise and bless God for the mercy rendered to the
   Church through its pastors. Hear how our Apostle puts it again--"That
   for the gift bestowed upon us by the means of many persons, thanks may
   be given by many on our behalf." Brethren, we ought to praise God for
   good ministers that they live--for when they die much of their work
   dies with them. It is astonishing how a reformation will press on while
   Luther and Calvin live, and how it will cease as soon as the reformers
   die.

   The spirits of good men are immortal only in a sense. The Churches of
   God in this age are like the Israelites in the times of the Judges.
   When the judges died they went after graven images again. And it is so
   now. While God spares the man, the Church prospers, but when the man
   dies, the zeal which he blew to a flame smolders among the ashes in
   nine cases out of ten, if not in ninety-nine out of every hundred. The
   prosperity of a Church rests on the minister's life. God so ordains it
   to humble us. There should be gratitude, then, for spared life.

   But there should be great gratitude for preserved character, for oh,
   when a minister falls, what a disgrace it is! Why, when you read in the
   police reports the sad case of the Rev. Mr._, who chose to call himself
   a Baptist minister, everybody says, "What a shocking thing! What a bad
   set the Baptists must be." Now, any fool in the world may call himself
   a Baptist minister. Our liberty is so complete that no law or order
   exists. Any man who can get a dozen to listen to him preach is a
   minister, at least to them. Therefore you cannot suppose but what there
   will be some hypocrites who will take the name in order to get some
   sort of reputation.

   If the true minister is kept and made to hold fast his integrity, there
   should be constant gratitude to God on his behalf. If the minister is
   kept well supplied with goodly matter. If he is like a springing well.
   If God gives him to bring out of His treasury things both new and old
   to feed His people, there should be hearty thanks. And if he is kept
   sound, if he goes not aside to philosophy on the one hand, nor to a
   narrowness of doctrine on the other, there should be thanksgiving
   there. If God gives to the masses the will to hear him, and above all,
   if souls are converted and saints are edified, there should be
   never-ceasing honor and praise to God.

   Ah, I am talking now about what you all know, and you just nod your
   heads to it, and think there is not much in it. But if you were made to
   live in Holland for a little time you would soon appreciate these
   remarks. While traveling there, I stayed in houses with godly men--men
   of God with whom I could hold sweet communion--who cannot attend what
   was once their place of worship. Why not? "Sir," they say, "can I go to
   a place of worship when the most of the ministers deny every Word of
   Scripture? Not those of the Reformed Church only, but of every sect in
   Holland! How can I listen to the traitors who swear to the Calvinistic
   or Lutheran articles, and then go into the pulpit and deny the reality
   of the resurrection, or assert that the ascension of Jesus is a mere
   spiritual parable?"

   I find that in the Netherlands they are fifty years in advance of us in
   infidelity. We shall soon catch up with them if gentlemen of a certain
   school I know of are suffered to multiply. The Dutch Divines have taken
   great strides in Neologism, till now the people love the Truth of God
   and there are multitudes that are willing to hear it. But these are
   compelled absolutely to refuse to go to Church at all, lest by any
   means they should give countenance to the heretical and false doctrines
   which are preached to them every Sunday.

   Ah, if God were once to take away from England the ministers who preach
   the Gospel boldly and plainly, you would cry to God to give you the
   candlestick back again. We may indeed say of England--

   "With all your faults I love you still." We have a colonial bishop who
   avows his unbelief. We have a few men of all denominations who are
   quietly sliding from the Truth. But, thank God they are nothing as of
   yet. They are but as a drop in a bucket compared to the Churches of
   Christ, and those among us who are not quite as Calvinistic as we might
   wish. I thank God, there are many who never dispute the inspiration of
   Scripture, nor doubt the great Truth of justification by faith. We have
   still preserved among us men that are faithful to God, and preach the
   whole Truth as it is in Jesus.

   Be thankful for your ministers, I say again, for if you were placed
   where some Believers are, you would cry out to your God--"Lord, send us
   back Your Prophets. Send us a famine of bread or a famine of water, but
   send us not a famine of the Word of God!"

   I ask for myself this morning, as your minister, your thanksgivings to
   be mingled with mine in praising God for the help which He has
   vouchsafed to me in the very arduous work of the last fortnight. Praise
   be to God for the acceptance which He gave me in that country among all
   ranks of the people. I speak to His praise and not to mine, for this
   has been a vow with me, that if God will give me a harvest, I will not
   have an ear of corn of it, but He shall have it all. I found, in all
   the places where I went, great multitudes of people, crowds who could
   not understand the preacher, but who wanted to see his face, because
   God had blessed his translated sermons to their souls.

   Multitudes gave me the grip of brotherly kindness and, with tears in
   their eyes, invoked, in the Dutch language, every blessing upon my
   head. I hoped to preach to some fifties and hundreds, and instead of
   that, there were so many that the great cathedrals were not too large.
   This surprised me, and made me glad--and caused me to rejoice in
   God--and I ask you to rejoice with me. I thank God for the acceptance
   which He gave me among all ranks of the people. While the poor crowded
   to shake hands, till they almost pulled me in pieces, it pleased God to
   move the heart of the Queen of Holland to send for me, and for an hour
   and a quarter I was privileged to talk with her concerning the things
   which make for our peace.

   I sought no interview with her. It was her own wish. And then I lifted
   up my soul to God that I might talk of nothing but Christ, and might
   preach to her of nothing but Jesus. And so it pleased the Master to
   help me. And I left that very amiable lady, not having shunned to
   declare the whole counsel of God. Gratified was I, indeed, to find
   myself received cordially by all denominations, so that on the Saturday
   at Amsterdam I preached in the Mennonite Church in the morning, and at
   the Old Dutch Reformed Church in the evening. The next Sunday morning
   in the English Presbyterian Church, and then again, in the evening, in
   the Dutch Free Church.

   Sometimes I was allowed to preach in the great cathedrals, as in the
   Dom Kirk at Utrecht, and in Peter's Kirk, at Leyden, not having the
   poor only, but the nobility and the gentry of the land, who, of course,
   could understand English better than most of the poor, who have had no
   opportunity of learning it. I felt, while going from town to town, the
   Master helping me continually to preach. I never knew such elasticity
   of spirit, such bounding of heart in my life before. And I come back,
   not wearied and tired, though preaching twice every day, but fuller of
   strength and vigor than when I first set out!

   I give God the glory for the many souls I have heard of who have been
   converted through the reading of the printed sermons, and for the
   loving blessings of those who followed us to the water's edge with many
   tears, saying to us--"Do your diligence to come again before winter,"
   and urging us once more to preach the Word in that land. There may be
   mingled with this some touch of egotism. The Lord knows whether it is
   so or not, but I am not conscious of it. I do praise and bless His
   name, that in a land where there is so much philosophy, He has helped
   me to preach His Truth so simply, that I never uttered a word as a mere
   doctrinalist, but I preached Christ and nothing but Christ. Rejoice
   with me, my dear Brothers and Sisters. I must have you rejoice in it,
   or if you will not, I must rejoice alone, but my loaf of praise is too
   great for me to eat it all.

   III. And we come to a close. I have to urge THE JOYFUL CLAIMS which the
   Apostle gives in the twelfth verse, as a reason WHY THERE SHOULD BE
   PRAYER AND PRAISE. "For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our
   conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly
   wisdom, but by the Grace of God, we have had our conversation in the
   world and more abundantly to you."

   Ah, after all, a man's comfort must come, next to the finished
   salvation of God, from the testimony of his own conscience. And to a
   minister, what a testimony it is that he has preached the Gospel in
   simplicity, to which there are two senses-- preached it not with
   double-mindedness--saying one thing and meaning another. And he has
   preached it, not as oarsmen row--looking one way and pulling
   another--but preached it meaning what he said, having a single heart,
   desiring God's Glory and the salvation of men.

   And what a blessing to have preached it simply, that is to say, without
   hard words, without polished phrases, never studying elocutionary
   graces, never straining after oratorical embellishments. How accursed
   must be the life of a man who profanes the pulpit to the dignity of
   eloquence! How desperate will be his deathbed when he remembers that he
   made an exhibition of his powers of speech rather than of the solid
   things which make for the winning of souls! That conscience may well be
   easy that can speak of having dealt with God's Truth in simplicity.

   The Apostle says, also, that he had preached it with sincerity. That
   is, he had preached it meaning it, feeling it--preached it so that none
   could accuse him of being false. The Greek word has something in it of
   sunlight, and he is the true minister of God who preaches what he would
   wish to have hung up in the sunlight, or who has the sunlight shining
   right through him. I am afraid we are none of us like white glass--most
   of us are colored a little--but he is happy who seeks to get rid of the
   coloring matter as much as possible, so that the light of the Gospel
   may shine right straight, clear as it comes from the Sun of
   Righteousness, through him.

   Paul had preached with simplicity and sincerity. And he adds, "Not with
   fleshly wisdom." Oh, what stories have I heard of what fleshly wisdom
   will do! And I have learned a lesson during the last fortnight which I
   would that England would learn. There are three schools of theological
   error over yonder, and each one leaps over the back of its fellow. Some
   of them hold that all the facts of Scripture are only myths. Others of
   them say that there are some good things in the Bible, though there are
   a great many mistakes. And others go further still, and fling the whole
   Bible away altogether as to its Inspiration, though they still preach
   it, and still lean on it, saying that they do that merely for the
   edification of the vulgar--merely holding it up for the sake of the
   masses--though I ought to add merely to get their living as well.

   Sad! Sad! Sad that the Church has gone to such a length as that--the
   Old Dutch Reformed Church--the very mirror of Calvinism, standing fast
   and firm in its creeds to all the doctrines we love, and yet gone
   astray to latitudinarian and licentious liberty. Oh, how earnestly
   should we decry fleshly wisdom! I am afraid, dear Friends, that
   sometimes some of you, when you hear a minister, like him to put it
   pretty well, and you find fault unless he shows some degree of talent.
   I wonder whether that is not a sin? I am half inclined to think it is.

   I sometimes think whether we ought not to look less every day to
   talent, and more and more to the matter of the Gospel that is preached.
   Whether if a man is blessed with elocutionary power we may, perhaps, be
   more profited by him--whether that is not a weakness. Whether we had
   not better go back to the days of fishermen once again, and give men no
   sort of education whatever, but just send them to preach the Truth of
   God simply. This, rather than go the length they are now going, giving
   men, I know not what, of all sorts of learning that is of no earthly
   use to them, but which only helps them to pervert the simplicity of
   God. I love that word in my text--"Not with fleshly wisdom."

   And now I lay my claim, as my conscience bears me witness--I lay my
   claim to this boasting of our Apostle. I have preached God's Gospel in
   simplicity. I do not know how I can preach it more simply, nor can I
   more honestly declare it. I have preached it sincerely--the Searcher of
   all hearts knows that. And I have not preached it with fleshly wisdom,
   and that for one excellent reason--that I have not any--and have been
   compelled to keep to the simple testimony of the Lord. But if I have
   done anything, it has been done by the Grace of God.

   If any success has been achieved, it has been Divine Grace that has
   done it all. "And more especially to you." For though our word has gone
   forth to many lands, and our testimony belts the globe, yet, "more
   especially to you." You have we warned. You have we entreated. You have
   we exhorted. With you have we pleaded. Over you have we wept. For you
   have we prayed. To some of you we have been a spiritual parent in
   Christ. To many of you as a nursing father. To many of you as a teacher
   and an edifier in the Gospel. And we hope to all of you a sincere
   friend in Christ Jesus. Therefore do I claim your prayers--yours more
   than any other people's.

   And though there will be not a few who will remember us in their
   supplications, I do conjure you, inasmuch as it has been, "especially
   to you," let me especially have your prayers. Some will say that it is
   unkind even for me to suppose that you do not pray. Well, I do not so
   suppose it out of unkindness, but there may be some who forget--some
   who forget to plead. Oh, do pray for me still! The whole congregation
   is not saved yet. There are some that hear us that are not yet
   converted. Plead with God for their sakes. There are some hard hearts
   unbroken! Ask God to make the hammer strike. And while there are some
   still unmelted, pray God to make the Word like a fire!

   This great London needs to be stirred from end to end. Pray for all
   your ministers, that God may make them mighty. The Church wants more
   still of the loud voice of God to wake it from its sleep. Ask God to
   bless all His sent servants. Plead with Him with Divine energy, that so
   His kingdom may come, and His will may be done on earth as it is in
   Heaven.

   O that you all believed in Jesus! For until you do, you cannot pray nor
   praise! O that you all believed in Jesus! Remember, this is the only
   way of salvation. Trust Jesus, for he that believes on Him is not
   condemned, but he that believes not is condemned already, because he
   believes not on the Son of God. Trust Jesus and you shall be saved. May
   Christ accept you now, for His own love's sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

               Comfort To Seekers From What The Lord Has Not Said

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 10, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth: I said not
   unto the seed of Jacob, Seek you Me in vain." Isaiah 45:19.

   WE might gain much solace by considering what God has not said. What He
   has said is inexpressibly full of comfort and delight. What He has not
   said is scarcely less rich in consolation. It was one of these, "said
   nots," which preserved the kingdom of Israel in the days of Jeroboam,
   the son of Joash. "The Lord said not that He would blot out the name of
   Israel from under Heaven" (2 Kings 14:27). In our text we have an
   assurance that God will answer prayer, because He has, "not said unto
   the seed of Israel, Seek you My face in vain." You who write bitter
   things against yourselves, I would have you remember that. Let your
   doubts and fears say what they will, if God has not cut you off from
   mercy, there is no room for despair--even the voice of conscience is of
   little weight if it is not seconded by the voice of God.

   What God has said tremble at! But suffer not your own fears and
   suspicions to overwhelm you with despondency and sinful despair. Many
   timid persons have been vexed by the suspicion that there may be
   something in God's decree which shuts them out from all hope--some
   secret, written in the great roll of destiny, which renders it certain
   that if they did pray and seek the Lord--He would not be found of them.
   Our text is a complete refutation to that troublesome fear. "I have not
   spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth. I have not said," even
   in the secret of My unsearchable decree, "Seek you My face in vain."
   The decrees are "spoken in secret"--the decrees are hidden as, "in a
   dark place of the earth."

   But it is absolutely certain that the Lord has said nothing in any of
   them, or anywhere else, which can be interpreted to mean, "Seek you My
   face in vain." Oh, no, Brothers and Sisters, that Truth which God has
   so clearly revealed, that He will hear the prayer of those who call
   upon Him, cannot be contravened by anything which God may have spoken
   elsewhere. He has so firmly, so truthfully, so righteously spoken that
   there can be no equivocation. He does not, like the Sibyls, speak
   mysteriously with a double tongue. Nor does He, like the Delphic
   oracle, reveal His mind in unintelligible words. No, our God speaks
   plainly and positively, "Ask, and you shall receive."

   O that all of you would accept this sure Truth of God--that prayer must
   and shall be heard, and that never, even in the secrets of eternity,
   never, even in the council chamber of the Covenant--has the Lord said
   unto any living soul, "Seek you My face in vain."

   The proposition I come to deal with this morning is this--that those
   who seek God, through Jesus Christ, in God's own appointed way, cannot,
   by any possibility, seek Him in vain. That earnest, penitent, prayerful
   hearts, though they may be delayed for a time, can never be sent away
   with a final denial. "He that calls upon the name of the Lord shall be
   saved. He that seeks, finds. He that asks, receives. Unto him that
   knocks it shall be opened." I shall prove this, first, by the negative,
   as our text has it--"I have not said, Seek you Me in vain." And then,
   briefly, by the positive. Oh, may God give us His Holy Spirit, that
   while I am preaching, comfort may be given to many troubled hearts.

   I. First, then, BY THE NEGATIVE. It is not possible that a man should
   sincerely, in God's own appointed way, seek for mercy and eternal life
   and not find it. It is not possible that a man should earnestly, from
   his heart, pray unto God, and yet a gracious answer be finally refused.
   And that for several reasons.

   1. We will suppose the case--suppose that sincere prayer could be
   fruitless--then the question arises, Why, then, are men exhorted to
   pray at all? If prayer is not heard, if supplication may possibly end
   in a failure, why does God so constantly, so earnestly, so strenuously
   constrain and command men to call upon Him? Would it not be a heartless
   cruelty on my part, if I saw a poor farmer who could not pay his way,
   if I exhorted him to plow upon a rock, and scatter the little seed he
   had upon soil where I knew it could never grow? Or if a king imposed
   upon his poor subject a law that he should plow the seashore, and
   harrow it, and exercise all the arts of husbandry upon it--when he was
   perfectly aware that not a single grain could ever bless the farmer's
   toil?

   What would you think of any man who should advise a thirsty wretch to
   pump an empty well? Suppose some sovereign should enjoin it upon his
   subject, seeing he is ready to die of thirst, to let the bucket down
   where there is no water and to continue to do it without ceasing--to be
   always letting down the bucket and always winding it up--with the
   absolute certainty that no good can come of it! And do you think that
   God, who commands men to pray and not to faint, would bid them do it,
   if no harvest could be reaped from it? Does He tell them to continue in
   prayer, to, "pray without ceasing"--to watch unto prayer, to arise in
   the night watches and cry unto Him--and yet, after all, has He settled
   it that He will be deaf to their entreaties and despise their cries?

   Would it not be a piece of heartless tyranny if the Queen should wait
   upon a man in his condemned cell and encourage him to petition her
   favor, no, command him to do it, saying to him, "If I do not send you
   at once an answer, send another petition and another. Send to me seven
   times, yes, continue to do it, and never cease so long as you live. Be
   importunate and you will prevail." And what if the Queen should tell
   the man the story of the importunate widow, should describe to him the
   case of the man, who, by perseverance, obtained the three loaves for
   his weary friend? And then say to him, "Even so, if you ask you shall
   receive"? And yet all the while should intend never to pardon the man,
   but had determined in her heart that his death warrant should be signed
   and sealed and that on the execution morning he should be launched into
   eternity?

   I ask you, Brothers and Sisters, whether this were consistent with
   royal bounty, whether this were fit conduct for a gracious monarch. And
   can you for a moment suppose that God would bid you, as He does each
   one of you, to seek His face--would He bid you come to Him through
   Jesus Christ--and yet, secretly in His heart, intend never to be
   gracious at the voice of your cry?

   2. Further, for a second argument--if prayer could be offered
   continuously, and God could be sought earnestly-- but no mercy found,
   then he who prays would be worse off than he who does not pray. And
   supplication would be an ingenious invention for increasing the ills of
   mankind. For a man who does not pray has less woes than a man who does
   pray, if God is not the Answerer of prayer. The man who prays is made
   to hunger--shall he hunger, and not eat! Were it not, then, better
   never to hunger? How, then, can it be said, "Blessed are they that
   hunger and thirst after righteousness"? The man who prays, thirsts. As
   the hart pants after the water brooks, so he pants after his God.

   But if God will never give him the living water to drink, is not a
   thirsty soul much more wretched than one who never learned to thirst at
   all? He who has been taught to pray has great desires and wants. His
   heart is an aching void which the world can never fill. But he that
   never prays has no longings after God. He that never makes supplication
   feels no ungratified desires after eternal things. If, then, a man may
   have these vehement longings, and yet God will never grant them, then
   assuredly the man who prays is in a worse position than he who prays
   not.

   How can this be? Has God so constituted the world that virtue shall
   entail misery, and that vice shall engender happiness? Can it be, while
   God is the moral Ruler of the universe, that He will reward the man who
   forgets Him, and will pour misery into the soul of the man who
   earnestly seeks His face? It is blasphemy to suppose it! The beasts in
   the field do not lament that they are not immortal, for they never had
   aspirations after immortality. A gracious God has limited their
   ambition to their attainments--but if the ox could groan after Heaven,
   if the sheep could pray for a resurrection-- it were a wretched
   creature, indeed, to be denied these things.

   So the ungodly man, like the beast of the field, has no longing after
   God's favor. He has no yearnings after eternal life, no desire to be
   conformed to the image of Christ--and his ambitions are so far limited
   to what he gains. But shall it be that a soul shall pant to be like
   God, shall thirst to be reconciled to his Maker, shall hunger even to
   faintness, that he may find, "peace with God through Jesus Christ," and
   yet shall such desires as these be only given to make him wretched? I
   cannot suppose such a thing! The absurdity of imagining that the man
   who does pray, would be by God put in a worse position than the man who
   does not, seems to me to be at once convincing that the earnest,
   faithful prayer shall certainly, through the merit of Christ, prevail
   with God.

   3. But I go a step further. If God does not hear prayer, since it is
   clear that in that case the praying man would be more wretched than the
   careless sinner, then it would follow that God would be the Author of
   unnecessary misery. Now we know that this is inconsistent with the
   Character of our God. We look around the world and we see punishment
   for sin, but no punishment for good desires. We discover that the Fall
   has brought us loss and ruin. And we know that there is a dreadful Hell
   where justice shall be executed to the uttermost.

   But I see no chamber of arbitrary torture, where God, the Almighty,
   takes pleasure in the undeserved pangs and unmerited groans of His own
   creatures! I do not see a single invention made by God to give pain
   unnecessarily. I find not a joint of my body, no, not a sinew or a
   muscle, that is intended to cause me anguish. They may all be racked
   with aches and pains, since I am a fallen, sinful man. But the body was
   not organized with a view to pain, but for pleasure. And do you think
   that God would ingeniously put up a Mercy Seat to increase human misery
   by a mockery of Divine Grace, a mimicry of bounty?

   Do you dream that He would send out commands to men, obedience to which
   would entail upon them greater sorrow than disobedience could bring? Do
   you think that He would woo them with outstretched hands to be more
   wretched than they were before? Would He be so false and heartless as
   to bid them come, knowing that their coming would only make them
   ten-fold more unhappy than they were already, because He did not intend
   to accept them when they did come? He that can think thus of my God
   does not know Him. He who could dream that it is possible for Him to
   invite and incite in you the prayer He has promised to hear, and yet,
   after all, would reject it, must surely be comparing Jehovah to
   Juggernaut. He knows not what Jehovah is.

   Know you not that prayer, itself, is the work of God? Prayer is not the
   act of the creature, but the work of the Creator. Prayer is God in man
   coming back to God. Prayer is the fruit of Divine life. And do you
   believe that God would Himself write upon the human heart prayers which
   He did not intend to hear? Do you think the Holy Spirit would dictate
   petitions which God, the Eternal Father, had determined to reject? No,
   no, no! We must, from this negative way of reasoning, be persuaded that
   our God will hear and answer prayer.

   4. Should there still be some desponding ones, who think that God would
   invite them to pray and yet reject them, I would put it on another
   ground. Would men do so? Would even you, full of sin though you are, so
   treat your own fellow creature? I know that we should hold up to scorn
   any rich man who should say to beggars in the streets, "I live in
   such-and-such a place. It is six miles off. If you will all come
   tomorrow morning at eight o'clock and knock at my door, repeating my
   son's name, I will supply your wants." And what if, when he had
   collected the poor beggars, he should let them stand and knock
   according to his bidding till they were weary and never grant them an
   answer?

   If he should let them know that there was bread within the house, but
   not a morsel for them, we should say, "Well, if men must make
   themselves merry with practical jokes, let them not be carried out upon
   the poor and needy. Let them find some other victims, and let not the
   helpless mendicants of the streets be the victims of such foolish
   mirth." And shall it be possible for my God to be less generous than
   men?

   Do we not find continually, if there is an hospital opened to relieve
   the sick, or to heal the maimed, that when much injured persons make an
   application they are received? I know not that there are any peculiar
   hearts of compassion in those who have the oversight of the hospital,
   but I do know this--there is so much of the milk of human kindness in
   their bosoms, that the moment a poor wretch is brought to the door
   almost dead--if it were a slighter case they might take some
   exception--the very desperateness of the case throws open the hospital
   door, and at once the patient is admitted.

   Man is in such a case, near to die, no, condemned and utterly ruined by
   his sin--and I do not believe that my God will shut His door in the
   face of misery. Rather, I am persuaded that the very desperateness of
   the case will make an appeal to His heart and He will fulfill His
   promise. It is a low ground to put it on, I will admit, for God is
   infinitely more loving than man. "As the heavens are higher than the
   earth, so are His ways higher than our ways, and His thoughts than our
   thoughts." And if a man would not reject the supplication which he had
   himself invited--if a man's heart would be moved to pity by the cry of
   misery--much more the heart of the All-Bounteous God, whose very name
   is Love, and whose Nature it is to give liberally without upbraiding. I
   am persuaded, therefore, that He must, and will hear prayer.

   5. Yet further--have you forgotten that this is God's memorial, by
   which He is distinguished from the false gods? "They have ears, but
   they hear not, hands have they, but they help not their worshippers.
   And feet have they, but they come not to the rescue of their votaries.
   But our God made the heavens, and this is His memorial, the God that
   hears prayer." Has not David put it--"O You that hear prayer, unto You
   shall all flesh come"? One of the standing proofs of the Deity of
   Jehovah is that He does, to this day, answer the supplications of His
   people.

   But suppose that any one among you could seek His face day after day,
   week after week, and month after month, and yet He should refuse
   you--where would His memorial be? O if yonder poor sinner, with tears
   and plaintive cries were really to besiege the Mercy Seat in the name
   of Jesus, and God, the Almighty Father, should refuse him and drive him
   away, I say, where is the boasted name of God? I grant you, the answer
   may tarry, but only that it may be the more sweet when it comes. I know
   the ships of Heaven may be long upon the voyage, but only that they may
   bring a richer cargo to you.

   But come they must. "If the vision tarry, wait for it. It shall come.
   It shall not tarry." For otherwise, I say, where is the glory of God?
   How is He distinguished above Baal? How is He exalted above the gods of
   the heathen? Did not Elijah put it to the test? The priests of Baal
   cried--they cut themselves with knives. From morning to evening their
   shrieks went up to Heaven and the sarcastic Prophet said, "Cry aloud,
   for he is a god! Perhaps he is on a journey, or he sleeps and must be
   awakened." All day long the lancers drew forth priestly blood. But no
   voice came from Baal.

   Clear the stage and let God's servant come. He lifts his hands to
   Heaven and cries--"Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and of Israel, let it be
   known this day that You are God in Israel, and that I am Your servant,
   and that I have done all these things at Your word. Hear me, O Lord,
   hear me, that this people may know that You are the Lord God, and that
   You have turned their heart back again." Down falls the fire of the
   Lord, consuming not only the bullock, but the stones of the altar and
   the water in the trench! For our God does hear prayer.

   Now do you see, Soul, that your despair, when you say He will not hear
   you, really takes away from God one of His grandest titles? You do Him
   a serious dishonor in supposing that He will refuse to hear you. You
   cast mire upon the escutcheon of Deity, and think unworthily of the
   Most High when you imagine for an instant that He would teach you to
   pray, and come to Him through the blood of Christ--and yet refuse to
   hear the voice of your groaning.

   6. Surely these arguments might well suffice. But if unbelief has as
   many lives as a cat, as John Bunyan says, I will deal it the full nine
   blows and one over, to make assurance doubly sure.

   If God does not hear prayer--suppose such to be the case for a
   moment--then I want to know--what are the meaning of His promises? I
   ask, with all reverence, how He shall make His veracity to be proved,
   if He does not answer His people? Let me give you one or two of His own
   promises--"Call upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver you,
   and you shall glorify Me." "He shall call upon Me and I will answer
   him." What does this mean, by the mouth of Isaiah--"He will be very
   gracious unto you at the voice of your cry. When He shall hear it, He
   will answer you." That is neither more nor less than a falsehood, if
   God does not hear prayer.

   What about this splendid passage--"And it shall come to pass, that
   before they call I will answer, and while they are yet speaking I will
   hear"? And this by Zechariah--"They shall call on My name and I will
   hear them. I will say, It is My people and they shall say, The Lord is
   my God"? Can there be words plainer than these, from the lips of the
   Savior-- "Ask and it shall be given you. Seek and you shall find, knock
   and it shall be opened to you. For everyone that asks receives, and he
   that seeks finds. And to him that knocks it shall be opened"? Or these,
   "If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your
   children, how much more shall your Father which is in Heaven give good
   things to them that ask him?"

   And what is the meaning of this great promise--"And all things,
   whatsoever you shall ask in prayer, believing, you shall receive"? Are
   not these so many arrows shot at the very heart of unbelief? I begin at
   that ancient writing, the Book of Job. "He shall pray unto God, and he
   will be favorable unto Him, and he shall see His face with joy." The
   Psalms are crowded with such promises, and even the Prophet Joel, who
   is full of thunder and lightning--even he says, "Whosoever shall call
   upon the name of the Lord shall be delivered"--which the Apostle Paul,
   in the Epistle to the Romans, varies a little, and puts it--"For
   whoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved."

   Even James, who is all practical, and very little comforting, cannot
   get through the Epistle without saying, "Draw near to God and He will
   draw near to you." Why, even under the old Law, Deuteronomy had a
   promise like this--"If you shall seek the Lord your God, you shall find
   Him, if you seek Him with all your heart and with all your soul." Under
   the rule of the kings, we find it written, "If you seek Him, He will be
   found of you." So might I go on quoting promises, until you were weary
   with hearing my voice. But, my dear Friends, I ask you, if God does not
   hear prayer, after saying what I have repeated to you, where is His
   truthfulness?

   He must be true, if every man is a liar--God's own Word must
   stand--though Heaven and earth should pass away. Like flowers, you
   nations, you shall die. Like a dream, you kingdoms, you shall melt.
   Like a shadow, O you mountains, you shall dissolve. Like a wreck, O
   earth, you shall be broken into pieces. Like a worn out gesture, O you
   heavens, you shall be rolled up. But every Word of God is sure and
   steadfast, "yes, and amen in Christ Jesus." "The voice said, Cry. And I
   said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass and all the goodliness
   thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withers and the flower
   thereof fades away. But the Word of the Lord endures forever." How can
   we find arguments stronger than this?

   7. Another stroke. If God has virtually said to us, "Pray, but I will
   never hear you. Seek My face in vain," then I ask, what is the meaning
   of all the provisions which He has already made for hearing prayer? I
   see a way to God. It is paved with stones inlaid in the fair crimson of
   the Savior's blood. I see a door. It is the wounded side of Jesus. Why
   was that blood shed, if God hears not prayer? Why that side rent if,
   after all, the veil still shuts out from access to the Mercy Seat?
   Moreover, in Heaven I see a Mediator between God and man. But why a
   Mediator, if God will not be at peace with man nor hear his prayer?

   Moreover, I see an Intercessor. I see the Son of God stretch His
   wounded hands, and point to His side, wearing the jeweled breastplate
   on His forefront. But why the breastplate, and why the High Priest, if
   prayer is a futile thing, and God has said, "Seek you My face in vain"?
   Moreover, I see all the marvelous transactions of the Covenant from
   first to last. And I ask, Why all this, if it is not meant for sinners
   who seek His face? Moreover, I see the blessed Spirit. He, Himself,
   condescends to dwell in us, and make, "intercession for us with
   groaning which cannot be uttered." And I ask of you, O Melancholy and
   Despair, why was this Spirit sent? Why this blood shed? Why this Savior
   ordained and exalted on high, "to give repentance and remission of
   sins," if remission is never to be given, repentance never to be
   accepted and intercession never to be heard?

   By every wound of Jesus I beg you, Sinner, to believe that God will
   hear you! By every drop of that precious blood, by every cry of those
   dying lips, by every tear of those languid eyes, by every smart of that
   bruised back, by every jewel of that crown of glory, by every precious
   stone upon that priestly breastplate, by every honor which God the
   Father has bestowed upon our Lord Jesus--yes, by all the power of the
   blessed Spirit, by all the energy with which He raised Christ from the
   dead, by all the "power" with which He is acknowledged to be God--I do
   beg you to never doubt but that God will in due time be gracious to the
   voice of your cry.

   8. Still to pursue this dying foe, whom methinks we might have slain
   outright by this time, I use the argument which the Apostle uses upon
   the resurrection. If God does not hear prayer, what Gospel have I to
   preach? As the Apostle said, concerning the resurrection, "Then is our
   preaching vain and your faith is also vain. You are yet in your sins."
   If God does not hear prayer, I say, our preaching is in vain. We are
   sent to tell men that, "though their sins are as scarlet, they shall be
   as wool. Though they are red like crimson, they shall be whiter than
   snow"--if they will turn from their evil ways, and seek the Lord.

   But if they can turn, and yet not be accepted, I, for my part, renounce
   my commission, for I have not a Gospel that is worth the preaching. And
   surely you would say, "It is not a Gospel worth our acceptance." If
   prayer, offered in Jesus' name, is not accepted, taking Paul's line of
   argument, then Christ is not accepted. If the sinner's plea, "for
   Jesus' sake," is not heard, then is Christ not heard? And if Christ is
   not heard and accepted, then our preaching is in vain, and your faith
   is in vain. Yes, and we are found false witnesses for God, because we
   have testified of God that He hears the intercession of Jesus, whom He
   hears not if He hear not those who plead His name.

   9. Further, my Brothers and Sisters--and here we strike the ninth
   blow--if this could be removed, where is the Believer's hope? Hang the
   heavens in sackcloth, let the sun be turned to darkness, let the moon
   become a clot of blood if the Mercy Seat can be proved to be a mockery!
   Oh, if God would let His people cry and not be gracious, better for us
   that we had never been born! The most happy saint, in his best moment,
   would be as wretched as the damned in Hell, if he were persuaded that
   God did not, and could not, hear prayer.

   What would we have to comfort us in our hours of trouble, what to
   strengthen us in our times of labor, what refuge from the storm, what
   cover from the heat? Where, where, my Brothers and Sisters, could we
   fly, if the Throne of Grace were a fiction? Heaven, surely, is shut,
   when the gate of prayer is shut. Surely every blessing will pass away
   at once, when prayer ceases to avail. The ladder which Jacob saw would
   be drawn up into Heaven, and from now on, there would be no communion
   between God and man. Glory be to God, such a thing cannot be! Sinner,
   you think that God would never hurt His saints, but that He would
   reject you. But see, if He refuses to hear you, the rule is broken, and
   the rule, being once broken--there being one exception--the whole
   stability of the saints' comfort is removed at a blow.

   10. I close this negative view of the subject by asking, in the tenth
   place, What would they say in Hell if a soul could really seek the Lord
   and be refused? Oh, the unholy merriment of devils! "Here's a soul,"
   says one, "that perished, though it prayed! Here's a hand that touched
   the hem of Jesus' garment, but that garment did not heal! Here are lips
   scorched with burning fire which once were warm with living prayer."
   Methinks they would drag such a one in triumph through the streets of
   Tophet. They would crowd the thoroughfares to look on. And oh, what
   dread acclaim of scorn!

   What thundering laughter would go up! "Aha! Aha! Aha," they would say,
   "Where is the boasted Savior now? He lied unto men's souls! He
   promised, but He did not give. He taught them to pray--and made them
   begin their Hell on earth--and then threw them into Hell forever."
   Could it be? Oh, could it be? What would praying men do in Hell? I
   remember that story of Mrs. Ryland, a good Christian woman, who, when
   she lay dying, was very, very sad, and her husband said to her, "You
   are dying, my Dear?" "Yes," she said. "And where are you going?" he
   asked. She replied, "Ah, John, I'm going to Hell."

   "And what will you do there?" he asked her. Well, that had not struck
   her, what she should do there. "Do you think," he asked, "you will
   leave off praying, Betsy?" "No, John," she said, "even if I were in
   Hell, I would pray." "Oh, but," said he, "they'd say, 'Here's praying
   Betsy Ryland here--turn her out--this isn't a fit place for her.' " And
   so me-thinks if one of you could go there with a prayer upon your lips,
   pleading and crying, they would either rejoice over you, as a proof
   that God was not true, or else they would say, "Turn her out. We cannot
   bear prayers in Hell. We could not bear to hear the voice of earnest
   supplication among the shrieks and curses of lost spirits."

   I have been arguing against a thing which you know theoretically is not
   possible. But yet there are some who, when they are under conviction of
   sin, still cleave to this dark delusion--that God will not hear them.
   Therefore, I have tried by blow after blow, if possible, to smite this
   fear dead. When Jael did but take one nail and hammer, she was able to
   smite Sisera through his brain with it. Since I have used ten nails,
   and have given the ten as lusty strokes with the hammer as I could give
   them, O may God make them strong enough to strike the Sisera of
   unbelief dead at your feet!

   11. Now, for a very little time, THE POSITIVE VIEW OF THE QUESTION.
   That the Lord does hear prayer, we think, may be positively
   substantiated by the following considerations:

   For the Lord to hear prayer is consistent with His Nature. Whatever is
   consistent with God's Nature, in the view of a sound judgment, we
   believe is true. Now, we cannot perceive any attribute of God which
   would stand in the way of His hearing prayer. It might be supposed that
   His justice would. But that has been so satisfied by the atonement of
   Christ, that it rather pleads the other way. Since Christ has "put away
   sin," since He has purchased the blessing, it seems but just that God
   should accept those for whom Jesus died, and give the blessing which
   Christ has bought.

   All the attributes of God say to a sinner, "Come, come! Come to the
   Throne of Grace, and you shall have what you want." Power puts out his
   strong arm and cries, "I will help you! Fear not." Love smiles through
   her bright eyes, and cries, "I have loved you with an everlasting love,
   therefore with the hands of kindness have I drawn you." Truth speaks in
   her clear, plain language, saying, "He that seeks finds. To him that
   knocks it shall be opened." Immutability says, "I am God. I change not.
   Therefore you are not consumed." Every single attribute of the Divine
   Character--you can think of these as well as I can--pleads for the man
   who prays, and I do not know--I never dreamed of a single attribute of
   Deity which could enter an objection. Therefore, methinks if the thing
   really will glorify God, and not dishonor Him, He will certainly do it.

   "Oh, but," you say, "I am such a great sinner." That gives me another
   argument. Would it not greatly extol the love and the Grace of God for
   Him to give His Grace to those that deserve it least? To give to a man
   what he deserves is no charity. To bestow a favor upon those who have a
   little offended, is no very great act of beneficence. But to choose out
   the biggest rebel in His dominions, and to say to that rebel, "I
   forgive you"! Yes, to take that rebel, and to adopt him into His
   family, adorn him with jewels, and set a crown of gold upon his
   head--is this the manner of men, O Lord God? No, it is in such cases
   that we see the broad distinction between the leniency of human
   sovereigns, and the mighty Sovereign Grace which is in the King of
   kings.

   The worse you make your case out to be, the better is my argument. The
   worse the disease, the more credit to the physician who heals. The
   worse the sin, the more glory to the astounding mercy which puts it
   away! The greater the rebel, the more triumphant that Divine Grace
   which makes that rebel into a child of God. I say that the greatness of
   your sin may act as a foil to set forth the brightness of God's love.
   And herein, because the hearing of your unworthy prayers, and the
   listening to the cry that comes out of your polluted lips--because this
   would honor Him--I am persuaded He will do it.

   Further, though these two reasons would suffice, let me notice that it
   is harmonious with all His past actions. If you want a history of God's
   dealings with men, turn to the 107th Psalm. There you find travelers
   lost, like you, in a desert. They wander in a wilderness in a solitary
   way. They find no city to dwell in. The water is spent in the bottle.
   The bread is exhausted from the camels' backs. They find no well. They
   perceive no way--they follow this path, then that. At last, hungry and
   thirsty, their souls fainted within them, up from the desert's parched
   sand there arose to the burning sky the voice of wailing, "O God, spare
   us and let us live."

   How is it written? "He delivered them out of their distresses. And He
   led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of
   habitation." For it says, "He satisfies the longing soul, and fills the
   hungry soul with goodness." That is not told us as the exception, but
   as the rule. This is God's way of dealing with men. When they are lost
   and turn to Him, He hears them. "Ah," you say, "I am lost, but I am not
   like those travelers. I am lost by reason of my own sin."

   The next case in this Psalm will suit you. Here we find rebels brought
   into prison. They have been rebelling against the Word of God, and they
   have condemned the counsel of the Most High. Therefore He brought them
   down by labor. They fell down, and there was none to help. Then they
   cried unto God in their trouble. Did He hear them? These were "rebels,"
   fitly and properly put in prison, justly and rightly fettered with
   iron. Do you wear the fetters of conscience and the chains of terror?
   Are you in the prison of the Law? So long as you are not in the final
   prison of Hell, if you call upon God in your trouble, you will find it
   with you as it was with them. "He brought them out of darkness and the
   shadow of death, and broke their bands in sunder."

   "Oh, but," says another, "I have got into trouble through my sin. But I
   do not know how to pray as I should, I am such a stupid blockhead."
   Then the next case is yours. "Fools because of their transgression, and
   because of their iniquities, are afflicted." One of these "fools" had
   brought on disease by his sin, and he was so sorely sick that he lost
   all appetite. He abhorred all manner of meat and drew near to the gates
   of death. This fool, what sort of prayer did he pray? Why, a fool's
   prayer, certainly. But even a fool's prayer God will hear, as it is
   written, "He sent His Word and healed them and delivered them from
   their destructions." So, if you are ever so great a fool, and the
   suffering you now feel has been brought on you through your own folly,
   yet He will hear you.

   "Ah, but," you say, "I have been such a bragging fellow, such a
   boaster. And I have done such terrible deeds in my day." What is the
   next case? The case of the sailor. You know, we generally reckon that
   seafaring men do not care for much. They are daredevils and rap out an
   oath without compunction. And in the olden times, I dare say, they were
   worse than they are now, so that when they did get ashore they were a
   very pattern of everything mischievous and bad. But here we have a crew
   of sailors in a storm. They had, no doubt, been cursing and swearing in
   the calm, but here comes a storm.

   They go up to Heaven, and then they go down again into the
   depths--"They reel to and fro and stagger like a drunken man," for they
   cannot walk across the deck. The ship reels, "they are at their wits
   end," and they think, "Surely she will go to the bottom." Then they cry
   unto God. There was no chaplain on board. Who prayed? Why, the
   boatswain, and the captain, and the crew--and I dare say they did not
   know how to put the words together. They were more used to swearing
   than to praying--but they went down on their knees on deck--clinging to
   mast and bulwark and tiller, and they cried, "O God! O God! Save us!
   The ocean swallows us up! God of the tempest deliver us."

   And did He hear the sailor's prayer? Did He hear the cries, the frantic
   cries, of sinking men? Read here. "He makes the storm a calm, so that
   the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they are quiet.
   So He brings them unto their desired haven." Well now, you that have
   been accustomed to cursing and swearing, and say, "What is the use of
   my praying?" here is a case which just suits you. And this is the rule,
   I say again, not the exception. And I argue, therefore, from the past
   acts and ways of God, that He does hear prayer.

   Besides, here is another argument for you. What does He mean by His
   promises? As I said negatively, if He did not hear, where are His
   promises? So I say positively this time, because of His promises, He
   must hear. God is free, but His promises bind Him. God may do as He
   wills, but He always wills to do what He has said He will do. We have
   no claim upon God, but God makes a claim for us. When He gives a
   promise, we may confidently plead it. I venture to say that promises
   made in Scripture are God's engagements, and that as no honorable man
   ever runs back from his engagements, so a God of honor and a God of
   truth cannot, from the necessity of His Nature, suffer one of His Words
   to fall to the ground.

   In this little book, Clarke's Promises, which one likes to have always
   near, you find two or three chapters containing collected promises of
   the Lord--that He will answer secret prayer and listen to the voice of
   penitents. But I shall not occupy our time with promises which you can
   find in your Bibles at home. Only "let God be true and every man a
   liar." If God promises, He must and will perform, or else He were not
   true. While we dare to say that God's answering prayer is certified by
   abundance of facts in our own experience, we observe that the best
   proof is to try for yourself. It is said that there is no learning to
   ride except on a horse's back. And I believe there is no learning any
   Truth of God except by experiencing it.

   If you want to know the depravity of the human heart, you must find it
   out when you look at your daily imperfections. And if you would know
   that God hears prayer, you must test the fact, for you will never learn
   it through my saying, "He heard me"--you will only know it through His
   having heard you. And I would, therefore, exhort you--all of you who
   are now within reach of this voice of mine. Since it is not a perhaps,
   a chance, a maybe, a haphazard--but since it is a dead--I must not use
   that word--since it is a living certainty, that, "he that asks
   receives, and he that seeks finds," go to your houses, fall upon your
   knees and pray to God!

   Pray to Him even now in your pews, to save your souls. Ambition tempts
   you to disappointment. Riches charm you to speculations which will lead
   to failure. Your own passions drive you to pleasures which end in pain.
   The best the world can promise you is a perhaps. But my Master presents
   to you, "the sure mercies of David"--certainties--infallible
   certainties. Will you not have them? O may the Spirit of God lead you
   to accept them. In your pew you may pray! In that aisle the silent cry
   may go up to Heaven! In your little narrow chamber, or in the saw pit,
   or in the garden, or the field, or in the street, or in the prison
   cell--wherever you have a heart to pray, God has an ear to hear.

   No words are wanting, except such as spring spontaneously to the lips.
   Tell Him you are a wretch undone without His Sovereign Grace. Tell Him
   you have no hope in yourself. Tell Him you have no merits! Tell Him you
   cannot save yourself. Say, "Lord, save, or I perish!" It was Peter's
   sinking prayer. But it preserved him from drowning. Say, "God be
   merciful to me, a sinner"! It was the publican's prayer in the temple.
   It justified him.

   Bring a suffering Savior before a gracious God--point to the wounds of
   Jesus, and say, "O God! Though my heart is hard as a millstone,
   Christ's heart was broken. Though my conscience is not tender and is
   callous, yet the flesh of Christ was tender and it smarted sorely.
   Though I can give no atonement, Christ gave it--though I bring no
   merits, yet I plead the merits of Jesus." And let me say to you, pray
   as if you meant it, and continue as Elijah did, till you get the
   blessing.

   I would to God that some of you would never rise from your knees till
   God has heard you! Plead with Him as a man pleads for his life! Clutch
   the horns of the altar as the drowning man clutches the life buoy to
   which he clings. Lay hold on God, as Jacob grasped the angel--and do
   not let Him go until He blesses you, for "thus says the Lord, I have
   not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth. I said NOT unto the
   seed of Jacob, seek you My face in vain"!
     __________________________________________________________________

                          Lead Us Not Into Temptation

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 17, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." Matthew 6:13.
   Psalms are entitled "Songs of Degrees." Certainly the prayer before us
   might be called a Prayer of Degrees. It begins where all true prayer
   must commence, with the spirit of adoption, "Our Father." There is no
   acceptable prayer until we can say with the prodigal--"I will arise and
   go unto my Father." This child-like spirit soon perceives the grandeur
   of the Father "in Heaven," and ascends to devout adoration, "Hallowed
   be Your name." The child who lisps, "Abba Father," grows into the
   cherub, crying, "Holy, Holy, Holy."

   Then there is but a step from rapturous worship to the glowing
   missionary spirit, which is a sure outgrowth of filial love and
   reverent adoration--"Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as
   it is in Heaven." We do not commence our spiritual career with this
   mission spirit. We begin with "Our Father." We go on to feel His Glory,
   and then the next natural desire is that others may behold His
   greatness, too, till we are ready to cry with the Psalmist, "Let the
   whole earth be filled with His Glory."

   In the process of education, which this prayer so well describes, we
   find the man very early conscious of his dependence upon God. For as a
   dependent creature he cries, "Give us this day our daily bread." Being
   further illuminated by the Spirit, he discovers that he is not only
   dependent, but sinful, therefore he entreats for mercy. "Forgive us our
   debts as we forgive our debtors," and being pardoned, having the
   righteousness of Christ imputed, and knowing his acceptance with God,
   he humbly supplicates for holy perseverance, "Lead us not into
   temptation."

   The man who is really forgiven is anxious not to offend again. The
   possession of justification leads to an anxious desire for
   sanctification. "Forgive us our debts," that is justification. "Lead us
   not into temptation, but deliver us from evil," that is sanctification
   in its negative and positive forms. Now, it would not be the course of
   nature to begin a life of prayer with the supplication of this morning.
   This is a petition for men already pardoned, for those who know their
   adoption, for those who love the Lord and desire to see His kingdom
   come. Taught of the Spirit to know their pardon, adoption, and union to
   Jesus, they can cry, and they, alone--"Lead us not into temptation, but
   deliver us from evil."

   I shall this morning, first of all, anticipate an objection. Then I
   shall venture upon an exposition. And conclude with an exhortation.

   I. First let us ANTICIPATE AN OBJECTION. A great many persons have been
   troubled by that passage in James, where it is expressly said, "Let no
   man say, when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be
   tempted with evil, neither tempts He any man." It has been found very
   difficult to reconcile that express declaration of the Apostle with
   this prayer of our Savior. And some good, but very ignorant men, have
   gone the length of altering our Lord's words. I have heard of one who
   was custom always to say, "Leave us not in temptation"--a most
   unwarrantable and unjustifiable alteration of Holy Scripture.

   Because sometimes a learned minister ventures, in all honesty and
   discretion, to give a more correct translation of the original--can
   this justify a foolish unlettered man in altering the original, itself,
   and perverting the sense of a passage? There is an end to Scripture
   altogether, if license is given to alter its teachings according to our
   will. To teach perfect Wisdom how to speak is too great a task to be
   ventured upon by any but the presumptuous and foolish. When our version
   is incorrect, then it is a duty to present the proper rendering, if one
   is able to find it out. But to give translations out of our whimsical
   heads, without having been taught in the original tongue is
   impertinence, indeed!

   There can be no better translation of the Greek than that which we have
   before us. The Greek does not say, "Leave us not in temptation," nor
   anything like it. It says, as nearly as English language can convey the
   meaning of the original, "Lead us not into temptation," and no sort of
   pinching, twisting, or wresting can make this prayer convey any other
   sense than that which our version conveys in so many words. Let us
   always be afraid of attempting improvements on God's perfect Word. And
   when our theories will not stand with Divinely revealed Truth, let us
   alter our theories, but let us never attempt for one single moment to
   put one Word of God out of its place.

   Neither can we get out of the difficulty by supposing that the word
   "temptation" does not mean "temptation," but must be restricted to the
   sense of "trial." Now, we grant at once that the use of the word
   "temptation" in our translation of Scripture is somewhat liable to
   mislead. The word temptation has two meanings--to try, and to entice.
   When we read that God did tempt Abraham, we are by no means to
   understand that He enticed Abraham to anything that was evil. The
   meaning of the word in that place, doubtless, is simply and only that
   God tried him.

   But permit me to say that this interpretation will not stand with this
   particular text now before us. The word here used for "temptation," is
   not the word constantly written when trial is meant. It is the very
   word which one would employ if temptation to sin were intended--and I
   cannot believe that any other translation can meet the case.
   Doddridge's paraphrase is a happy one--"Do not bring us into
   circumstances of pressing temptation lest our virtue should be
   vanquished, and our souls endangered by them. But if we must be thus
   tried, do You graciously rescue us from the power of the Evil One."

   I grant you that the word includes trial, as all temptation does, for
   all temptation, even if it is temptation from Satan, is, in fact, trial
   from God. Still there is more than trial in the text, and you must look
   at it just as it stands. As Al-ford, says, "The leading into temptation
   must be understood in its plain literal sense." Take the text just as
   you find it. It means literally and truly, without any variance, "Lead
   us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

   "Well," says one, "if God does not tempt men, how can it be proper to
   pray, "Lead us not into temptation"? Dear Brothers and Sisters, do but
   notice the text does not say, "Tempt us not." If it did, then there
   would be a difficulty! It does not say, "Lord, tempt us not," but it
   says, "Lead us not into temptation." I think I shall very rapidly be
   able to show you that there is a vast difference between leading into
   temptation and actually tempting. God tempts no man. For God to tempt,
   in the sense of enticing to sin, would be inconsistent with His Nature
   and altogether contrary to His known Character.

   But for God to lead us into those conflicts with evil which we call
   temptations, is not only possible, but usual. Full often the Great
   Captain of Salvation leads us by His Providence to battlefields where
   we must face the full array of evil-- and conquer through the blood of
   the Lamb. This leading into temptation is by Divine Grace overruled for
   our good, since, by being tempted we grow strong in Grace and patience.
   Our God and Partner may--for wise ends, which shall ultimately serve
   His own Glory, and our profit--lead us into positions where Satan, the
   world, and the flesh may tempt us. And so the prayer is to be
   understood in that sense of a humble self-distrust which shrinks from
   the conflict.

   There is courage here, for the suppliant calmly looks the temptation in
   the face and dreads only the evil which it may work in him. But there
   is also a holy fear, a sacred self-suspicion, a dread of contact with
   sin in any degree. The sentiment is not inconsistent with, "all joy,"
   when the many different temptations do come. It is akin to the
   Savior's, "If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me," which did not
   for a moment prevent His drinking the cup, even to its dregs.

   Let me observe that God, in no sense, so leads men into temptation as
   to have any share in the blame of their sin if they fall into it. God
   cannot possibly, by any act of His, become partner with man in his
   crime. As good old Trapp well observes, "God tempts men for PROBATION,
   but never for PERDITION." The devil tempts men that he may ruin
   them--God tries men and puts them where Satan may try them--but He
   leads them into temptation for probation, that the chaff may be sifted
   from the wheat, that the dross may be separated from the fine gold.

   By these trials, hypocrites fall, being discovered in the hour of
   temptation, just as the rough March wind sweeps through the forest, and
   finding out the rotten boughs, snaps them from the tree--the fault
   being not in the wind--but in the decayed branch. James alludes to the
   actual solicitation to evil in which the most holy God can have no
   part, but our text deals with the Providential bringing about of the
   temptation which I think you can clearly see may be the Lord's work
   without His holiness in any degree being stained.

   When the Lord leads us into temptation, it is always with a design for
   our good. He leads us to battle, not that we may be wounded and
   defeated, but that we may win glorious victories which shall crown the
   head of our gracious Leader with many crowns, and prepare us for future
   deeds of valor. Temptations overcome are inestimable blessings, because
   they make us lie the more humbly at His feet, bind us more firmly to
   our Lord, and train us to help others. Tempted men can lift up the
   hands that hang down, and confirm the feeble knees. They have been
   tempted in the same manner, and can therefore succor their Brothers and
   Sisters.

   Yet, while the benefit which God brings out of our being led into
   temptation is very great, still, temptation in itself is a thing very
   dangerous. Trials and distress, in themselves, are so perilous, that it
   is right for the Christian to pray, "Lead us not into temptation."
   Though, as Martin Luther says, "Temptation is the best school into
   which the Christian can enter. Yet, in itself, apart from the Grace of
   God, it is so doubly hazardous. This prayer should be offered every
   day, 'Lead us not into temptation.' Or if we must enter into it, 'Lord,
   deliver us from evil.' "

   I do not know whether I have met the objection. Perhaps, in the
   exposition that is to follow I may be able to make it a little more
   clear. I wish to say that although God does not tempt men--that is
   affirmed in Scripture and reason--and by God's own Character--though
   all prove it to be fact, yet He may, and certainly does, lead us into
   positions in His Providence, where it is absolutely certain that we
   shall be tempted. And therefore, our consciousness of weakness should
   constrain us to plead for escape from the terrible contest--and
   deliverance out of it--if come, it must.

   II. LET US NOW EXPOUND THE TEXT. Possibly we may get at the meaning of
   the text better by supposing that we have just risen from our beds this
   morning. We are about to engage in prayer. Before we do so we endeavor
   to prepare our hearts for that hallowed exercise. We look back upon
   yesterday. We remember all our follies, our mistakes and sins. We feel
   deeply grieved. We are conscious that we are, this morning, just as
   weak as we were yesterday.

   We feel that if temptation assails us we shall as surely fall into sin
   as we did on the past day. We have gathered some experience, but we
   find we are still as weak as water, and that while the will to be holy
   is present with us, how to perform that which is good, we find not. At
   the same time we have an intense abhorrence of sin--we feel in our own
   hearts that we would sooner die than offend our God--we can contemplate
   sorrow with pleasure, but sin only with horror. We feel afraid to
   venture downstairs. We fear that temptations may await us in the
   family, and in business. We feel, therefore, constrained to pray.

   We know that there is the temptation of the theater and the music hall,
   but Divine Grace has made us resolute not to go there, for we feel we
   could not honestly ask God to preserve us from that temptation if we
   ran into it ourselves. There are our besetting sins, but being aware of
   them, we cry to God for help against them. But the black thought comes
   across our mind--"You do not know what is to happen today. You cannot
   tell what loss you may have to suffer. You do not know what trouble you
   may meet with, what rough word may be spoken to you. Your ship is on
   the sea, but you know not what rough waves will beat against it--there
   are sunken rocks and hidden quicksand--what if you should be wrecked on
   these?"

   You feel that you are about to follow the course of Divine Providence,
   that whatever happens to you will be according to your Father's will,
   and you put up this prayer, "Lord, You are to lead me this day. I would
   follow close to Your footsteps as a sheep follows its shepherd. But
   since I know not what is to happen to me, suffer me to ask one thing of
   You. Do not, I pray You, lead me away from sorrow or trouble--do as You
   will about that, O my Lord--but do not, I beseech You, lead me in Your
   Providence where I shall be tempted. For I am so feeble that, perhaps,
   the temptation may be too strong for me. Therefore, this day make a
   straight path for my feet, and suffer me not to be assailed by the
   Tempter.

   "Or if it must be, if it is better for me to be tempted, and if You do
   intend this day that I should fight with old Apol-lyon himself, then
   deliver me from evil. Oh, save me from the mischief of the temptation.
   Let me have the temptation if so it must be, but oh, let it do me no
   hurt. Let me not stain my garments. Let me not slip nor slide, but may
   I stand fast at the end of the day. May this temptation, though it be
   not joyous but grievous, have so worked out in me the comfortable
   fruits of righteousness, that it may be a part of that grand method by
   which You shall ultimately deliver me from all evil and make me
   perfectly like Yourself in Glory everlasting." That, I believe, is the
   meaning of the prayer.

   Possibly we should bring it out more clearly by taking several cases in
   which the Lord providentially leads men into temptation. There is
   poverty. No one will deny that poverty is, in many cases, directly an
   infliction from God. There are some, who by their indolence and
   debauchery, bring themselves low, but who pities them? But there are
   others who by the loss of parents are left orphans. Others who can
   never rise from the helpless penury of their first estate. God alone
   knows the mass of poverty in this city. We talk about the distress in
   Lancashire, and to some degree, I fear, Christian liberality has been
   diverted from London.

   But to my knowledge there is much distress in many of the streets of
   this huge city. Some of you ride through our fine wide streets, which
   are a sort of ornamental fringe upon the skirts of poverty, and you
   know nothing about those narrow back streets--those blind alleys and
   those courts inside of courts--where poverty is huddled together, and
   where too often sin, lust, and disease become its natural consequences.
   When a gracious man is brought very low in circumstances, it is God's
   act, an act of God which leads that man into temptation. For poverty
   necessarily has its temptations which you cannot possibly dissociate
   from it.

   Look at you poor needle girl--Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!--till the fingers
   are worn to the bone, till her eyes are red, and her heart weary. All
   that she can earn is hardly enough to keep body and soul together,
   while her clothes hang in rags about her. Do you know how stern is that
   temptation when a fallen sister whispers to her that there is money to
   be had so easily, and paints the gainful sin in flashing colors? What
   arguments can the Tempter find in that bare room, and empty cupboard,
   and thin slice of dry bread--and perhaps in a starving mother dying on
   a few rags in the corner. If throughout life we have been preserved
   from the contamination of vice, and feel at all inclined to exalt
   ourselves in our virtue, let us remember what we might have been had we
   been exposed to the same fierce solicitations. And let us pray for
   ourselves, and for all our Brothers and Sisters, "Lead us not into that
   temptation."

   Circumstances alter cases. Oh, my dear young Friends, I pray that no
   terrible circumstances may ever be able to alter you, but may the Lord
   who tries you, deliver you from evil. Sometimes the temptations of
   poverty appear in another form. A man finds that his trade does not pay
   him. He works hard, but he gets poorer and poorer. What few goods he
   had in the shop are decreasing. The stock gets lower. The children are
   crying for bread--his wife, perhaps, is an ungodly woman--and she tells
   him there is trade to be had on the Sunday, and if he will but open his
   shop he will prosper. She says everybody else in the street does it,
   and all the neighbors call him a fool for putting the shutters up.

   Oh, I admire that noble-heartedness which I have seen in some of you!
   It has made me look upon you with greater pride than ever prince did on
   his jewels, when you have said--"I can starve, but I cannot sin against
   my God." But when, to my grief, some professors yield to the
   suggestion, I cannot, and do not marvel. I can only pray for the
   steadfast and pray for myself--"Lord, lead me not into this
   temptation," for if a starving wife, wailing children, and a sickly
   infant are crying in our ears, who knows how soon we might betake
   ourselves to any means so as to satisfy their wants? Happy are they who
   have come through this temptation, and have been delivered from the
   evil of it! But happier far are they who have never been led into it.
   "Give me neither poverty nor riches," was the good prayer of Agur. And
   you that have never known poverty, and have never understood what
   shortness of bread means, pray this prayer this morning for yourselves
   and for all your Brothers and Sisters in this Church, "Lead us not into
   temptation."

   The Lord frequently leads His people into temptation from wicked men in
   the form of persecution. It often happens that in the course of
   Providence, for the wisest possible ends, a good man is put to labor
   where he finds no godly associates, but where his name is the theme of
   laughter. God is sometimes pleased to convert the woman while her
   husband remains unconverted, and perhaps he is opposed to her religion
   and will insist upon it that his wife shall not carry out her
   convictions. Now, in cases like this, God has manifestly put His people
   in a position where they are constantly tempted with the fear of men.
   This temptation is inevitably connected with persecution--a temptation
   to be ashamed of Christ, to hide one's face, to hold one's tongue when
   one should speak, to run down one's colors when they ought to be waved
   to the breeze--and like Peter, to deny our Lord.

   When some young man has been, to use a common expression, chaffed day
   after day, day after day, these cruel ridi-culings are a great deal
   harder to bear than a lash upon the back. Oh, it is a grand thing if a
   man can go through this, can endure the slow roasting alive year after
   year, and yet is delivered from evil. But, dear Brothers and Sisters, I
   think you and I may well pray, "Lead us not into temptation," for I
   fear there are some of you who are like the nautilus which, when the
   Mediterranean is all calm and quiet, floats in a gallant fleet upon the
   surface. But as soon as ever the rough waves come and the Euroclydon
   begins to blow, every nautilus draws in its tiny sail and drops to
   quiet obscurity in the bottom of the sea. There are many such
   professors, who, while everything goes smooth, float gloriously with
   us--but if rough times should come, they would be all unknown and
   unheard of.

   Many there are, I fear, who walk with Religion in her silver slippers,
   who might desert her if she had to go barefooted and ragged through the
   street, having no place to rest--her only destiny being the prison and
   the flames. We may pray, as we read the stories of martyrdom, or as we
   look upon some Brothers and Sisters in Church fellowship with us who
   have to be laughed at day by day, "Lord, lead us not into temptation,
   or if You do, be pleased to deliver us from evil." I have merely
   commenced the catalogue. Have patience with me while I mention the
   daily adversities to which we are heirs.

   Some of us fret and think that the Lord deals harshly with us. Let us
   mend our tune. What a world of mercy God gives to us compared with what
   others receive! I hear sometimes of a Believer who has lost a ship, or
   a horse, or has sustained a very serious loss with a dishonored bill,
   or a bad debt--or another of you is out of work for a week, or else
   your little ones are ill. Well, I pity you all for these trials, but
   after all, what little trials these are compared with what some endure!
   Take the case of Job--house and children, land and servants, and
   cattle--all swept away at a stroke--and his own body covered with sore
   boils. Did not the Lord lead him into temptation, and was it not a
   marvel, indeed, that Job did not go even further than cursing the day
   of his birth? Was it not a wonder that he did not yield to his wife's
   suggestion and curse God and die?

   Surely, Brothers and Sisters, when we see the way in which some saints
   have met bereavement after bereavement-- the holy courage with which
   others have sustained loss after loss. When we have marked the heroic
   resignation with which some have borne all the "ills which flesh is
   heir to"--and suffered in head and hand, and passed through painful
   surgical operations which have well near brought them to the jaws of
   the grave. When we note all this, we may well wonder how it is that
   they have been delivered from the evil of so much adversity, and we may
   with holy trembling, exclaim, "Lead us not into temptation." How
   impatient you and I might have been if we had been sorely sick, or
   bedridden for years.

   What hard things we might have thought of our God if He had swept all
   our estate away. How bitterly we might have spoken of His goodness if
   our husband were in a consumption, or if our wife were in the tomb. Our
   little ones are round about us and we hear their happy and cheerful
   voices. But oh, what a temptation to distrust God it would have been,
   if He had taken them away. Lord, do not so try us! Send not such
   adversities upon us as to lead us into temptation. But if You do this,
   be pleased to hold us up in the rough road, lest we fall into evil.

   To change the line of thought a moment. There are not only the
   temptations arising from poverty, from shame, and from trouble, but you
   know, Beloved, that by far, more dangerous temptations come from
   prosperity. You sometimes envy the very rich. You think of them as
   having more money than they can count, and broad acres, and parks, and
   lands so extensive that they hardly know their own boundaries. If you
   understood the temptations which beset their life. If you knew how hard
   it is to serve God and be rich--how difficult, especially, to be a
   courtier and at the same time a servant of the living God--you would
   not aspire to so lofty a station, but you would say, "Lead us not into
   temptation."

   Temptation must be incessant to the man who only has to wish and can
   enjoy what he wills. Many men are kept from sin by being poor. Their
   poverty is a clog to them. But when a man has strong appetites, and has
   no person to rebuke him--and has, moreover, all the means in his own
   hand of running into sin--we may well cry, "Lord, do not try me in that
   way." Perhaps you are very anxious to attain a prominent position in
   the Church. You may think, for instance, that to be a preacher,
   well-known and listened to by hundreds, is a very enviable position. It
   is about as enviable as the position of Blondin upon his high rope a
   hundred and fifty feet from the ground. If you knew the temptations
   which beset a man who lives in popularity and has constantly to preach
   the Word to thronging multitudes, you would say, "Lead me not into
   temptation, and if it is Your will that I must rise to that position,
   then deliver me from evil."

   Let me assure you, that high places and high Grace do seldom meet
   together. And that even in the Church any position of eminence is
   counterbalanced in the pleasure which it brings by the extreme danger
   to which it exposes its occupant. Long not to be too prosperous! Thank
   God for bad winds. Bless God for a little blight and mildew--yes, and
   be content to bless Him even if the fig tree should not blossom--and
   the flocks should be cut off from the field, and the herds from the
   stall. For any trial in the world is better than unbroken prosperity,
   concerning which you may well pray, "Lead us not into that temptation."

   Now you may see that the list is endless. If prosperity, honor, and
   esteem may breed in us worldliness, self-conceit, forgetfulness of God,
   reliance upon our own strength, and a departure from simple confidence
   in Him that made us what we are, then there must be trials everywhere.
   But I think I ought to add that, frequently, God leads men into
   temptation in the service which He requires of them. "Stop," you say,
   "how can that be? When God prescribes a duty, how can that lead man
   into temptation?"

   I reply that to know duty is often in itself to be tempted not to do
   it. And that when that duty is high and stern, and demands of us severe
   self-denial and earnest perseverance, we may be tempted to shun the
   engagement. Take the instance of Jonah. He is sent to Nineveh. His
   prophetic soul forewarns him that the mission will not be to his honor.
   He objects to go and attempts to fly to Tarshish to escape the mission
   of his God. Now, such a temptation is not so rare as some suppose. You
   think, "I can never face that multitude again." You have to deal,
   perhaps, with cruel tongues in a Church meeting and you think, "I can
   never fight that battle through."

   You have been preaching in the street and the whisper comes--"Never do
   that again. Never expose yourself to the insults of the passerby." You
   have been teaching in a Sunday school and you may be led into this
   temptation--"Give it up. It is of no use. The children will never be
   blessed." You may have been a tract distributor You may have attempted
   to go from house to house to speak for God and the temptation may have
   been hot upon you--"Cease from it. There's no need for you to do it."
   Your very duty has led you into temptation.

   Brethren, pray to God against it. Ask Him that the duty required of you
   may always be such as your strength shall enable you to perform--that
   you may go to His Throne daily and get such help that your arms may be
   sufficient for you. If not, even in the highest form of spiritual
   service you may be led into temptation. What if I add to this that God
   may demand sacrifices of us which lead us into temptation? Look at
   Abraham. "Take you your son, your only son Isaac, and offer him up upon
   the place that I will show you." I overheard a mother say, "I love my
   son so much, and he is such a comfort to me, that I could not give him
   up." One observed to her that she should not talk so, for the Christian
   ought to stand to the surrender every hour, and be willing to give up
   child, or husband, or friend at Christ's bidding.

   But her answer was, and it was a true one, "I could not do it. It is of
   no use my pretending that I could. I could not do it, and I am
   persuaded that if God should command me to give him up--He might take
   him away, and I would submit to it--but if I had to give him up
   voluntarily, I could not do it. It is no use in my saying I could."
   Then I suggested that therefore she ought always to pray that God would
   not try her that way, but that He would be pleased to spare her the
   sacrifice which she could not make--that in fact, He would not lead her
   into temptation, or if He did, would give her so much Divine Grace that
   she would not be tempted to rebel, but might give up her son, though he
   were to her as her own soul.

   Oh, dear Friends, there are many trials we talk about, and think we
   could bear! But if they were once to assail us, we might find it very
   difficult to do so. It is easy to be a sailor on shore, and to laugh at
   the winds when you are snug in your beds. It is all very well to sing
   of the waves and shout for--

   "The flag that braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze," but
   the battle and the breeze are very different things from what the song
   would make them out to be, and we had better, I think, while we are
   free from the trial, unanimously pray this prayer--"Lead us not into
   temptation."

   I want you to notice that word "us," for selfishness will dictate you
   to pray this prayer for yourselves. But we are more than two thousand
   strong, a great army for God united in Church fellowship. And you know
   there are many young added to the Church, though a large proportion of
   the aged also come--more, perhaps, than in any other congregation.
   Remember our young members, our young men and women, who are very
   greatly exposed. I charge you, elders of the Church. I charge you,
   seniors in the faith. I charge you, mothers in Israel, that you offer
   this prayer today and every day:

   "Lord, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Lord,
   temper the wind to the shorn lamb. Put not the little boat upon the
   rough billows. Send not Your little ones to stern battles. And, Lord,
   since we are all weak, old as well as young--since the gray locks cover
   no more wisdom than the child's curls, except as You give wisdom--so
   keep all the Church, and lead neither pastor, nor officers, nor members
   into temptation. But if we must be led there, we take up the latter
   sentence, and pray it still more passionately, 'Deliver us from evil.'
   "

   I have heard of a poor pitman, who after being converted to God, had a
   great dread of falling into sin. One morning, after having endured much
   scorn, mockery, blasphemy, swearing, and ill-treatment from his fellow
   colliers, before he went down into the pit, knelt down and prayed that
   God would sooner let him die than fall into sin. He cried, "Lord, let
   me die sooner than fall into sin," and he did die there and then--happy
   thus to be taken up where he should no more know the annoyance of trial
   from without, or temptation from within.

   III. We close our discourse with A BRIEF EXHORTATION. I exhort you to
   pray this prayer very earnestly, dear Friends, and I bid you do it for
   several reasons.

   First, remember your own heart. A man who carries gunpowder about with
   him may well ask that he may not be led where the sparks are flying. If
   I have a heart like a bombshell, ready to explode at any moment, I may
   well pray God that I may be kept from the fire, lest my heart destroy
   me. Perhaps you have angry tempers, constitutionally so. Some men still
   remain hot and quick--some of our Welsh friends, always so. Such should
   pray every day that they may not be tempted by any jeering words. That
   they may be kept calm and quiet, and not be led into irritation. We
   have each besetting sins of some sort or another, and I do not know
   that the temptation to be hot and quick in temper is anything so bad as
   that to be dull and lumpy and stupid.

   Generally speaking, a man who has not some temper in him, is not worth
   much. And those who, as we sometimes say, are as easy as an old shoe,
   are not often worth more than that worn out article. We may have
   temptations, however, of another kind, and just there we should put up
   our prayer with great earnestness and intense passion, exclaiming,
   "Lord, lead me not into that temptation." There is a weak point in each
   of us. And remember, the strength of a rope is to be measured, not
   according to its strength in its strongest, but its weakest part. Every
   engineer will tell you that the strength of a ship should always be
   estimated, not according to her strongest, but her weakest part--for if
   the strain shall come on her weakest part, and that is broken, no
   matter how strong the rest may be, the whole ship goes down.

   Now, I say there is a weak point in every man. Indeed, where is there a
   point where we are not weak? Show me where our strength lies. It lies,
   surely, nowhere here, but only there in Him who makes us strong to do
   exploits in His name. Therefore, because of weakness and inclination to
   sin, let each man pray, and pray constantly, "Lead us not into
   temptation."

   To use another argument, how many have fallen who were led into
   temptation! Think of them, not to congratulate yourselves, nor yet to
   blame them, but to take warning. When cases of discipline come before
   the Church, I have thought how gently we ought to deal, for had we been
   put where these Brothers and Sisters have been, our fall might have
   been even more desperate than theirs. I have often grieved when a
   Brother has lost his temper, and then I have thought, "Well, I cannot
   accuse, but I must not judge uncharitably. For if I had been teased one
   half as much as he has been, I might have been worse than he."

   When I see another man shipwrecked, I should mind that I carefully
   navigate my own boat. When I see another who has caught a contagious
   disease, I should be careful not to go into those quarters where that
   disease is the most virulent, lest I catch it, too. And if I know that
   there is a great disinfectant, a heavenly remedy by which contagion may
   be stopped, how ought I to use it. That remedy is PRAYER, and the
   precise prayer is in the text--"Lead me not into temptation, but
   deliver me from evil, lest I fall as others have done and become weak
   and vile as they."

   Remember to pray this prayer, because should we fall under temptation,
   how great will be our misery. A certain high Antinomian said, one day,
   that if a Christian fell into sin, he lost nothing by it except--what
   do you think he said? Except his comfort, and his communion with God! I
   suppose he thought the Christian's comfort and his communion with God
   were a drop in a bucket! But he that has once lost his comfort, and his
   communion with God will tell you quite another tale! Oh, to lose your
   comfort, to have to groan out with David, "Make the bones which you
   have broken to rejoice. Hide your face from my sins and blot out mine
   iniquities!" Pray that Penitential Psalm over and you will soon
   discover that sin is the father of Sorrow, and that a saint cannot slip
   without much damage to himself.

   I have marked, and marked carefully, those Brothers and Sisters who
   have backslidden and fallen into sin, and have afterwards been
   restored. And though I have rejoiced in their restoration, yet I never
   can help noticing how different they are from what they used to be. So
   quiet now--so sad in appearance, too. And though, perhaps, better men
   than ever they were, yet the joy of God is gone. The spring has gone
   out of their souls! They cannot dance with David before the ark now!
   You never find David dancing after his sin with Bathsheba. Not he.
   There was no dance in him after that! He limped to the day of his
   death. Take care, man--if you would not make for yourself a garment of
   sorrows, if you would not stuff the pillow of your bed with thorns, and
   be perpetually wearing chains--take care that you pray to God to lead
   you not into temptation.

   Worse remains. Recollect what mischief a Christian's fall will do. A
   thousand Believers live in holiness, and nobody says anything about
   them. But if one of them shall fall into sin, the whole world rings
   with it. I know not why it should be, but if they can but find one bad
   fish in our net, they hawk it all round the town in four-and-twenty
   hours. "See here," they say, "here is one of the people that go to hear
   Spurgeon! Here is one of your professors! Here is one of your Baptists!
   Here is one of your Methodists!" or something of that kind. Why do they
   not look at the nine hundred and ninety-nine who stood fast? Why do
   they not talk of those who serve their Lord well, and are found
   faithful even to the end?

   But that, indeed, would not answer their purpose. Brethren, would you
   fill the mouths of the daughters of Philistia? Would you make the
   children of Gath and Askelon rejoice? Would you see the banner of Hell
   floating proudly in the breeze, and the escutcheon of our glorious
   Christ trailing in the mire? Would you grieve the Spirit? Would you
   open the wounds of Christ afresh? Would you put Him and His fair
   Spouse, the Church, to an open shame? If you would, then be slack in
   your prayers. But if you would not, if you would adorn the doctrine of
   God your Savior in all things. If you would win jewels for Christ's
   crown. If you would make men wonder at Him, and at you, because you
   have been with Him, then pray this prayer--"Lead us not into
   temptation, but deliver us from evil."

   I cannot tell why it is that this text should come on this particular
   Sunday, but it is very likely that your life this week will let you
   into the secret of it. Thus says the Lord unto some of you, "This week
   I will sift you and try you." Pray that you enter not into temptation.
   Christ pleads for you, for Satan has desired to have some of you, that
   he may sift you as wheat. Join your prayers with Christ's supplications
   that your faith fail not. I cannot tell, I am no Prophet, but I feel a
   call to warn you to watchfulness. There may happen something that may
   make us bless God for this warning note. We are forearmed because we
   are forewarned. We are able to put our helmet on in time, to gird on
   our breastplate and our shoes of brass, and to put our hand upon our
   sword. For the battle is coming, and the Lord has sounded the trumpet
   and bids us cry--"Lead us not into temptation."

   This prayer will not suit some of you. You need not be led into
   temptation, for you live in it already. A man might pray to be kept out
   of the water, but a fish cannot, for it lives in it. Even so, you whose
   native element is sin, cannot pray, "lead us not into temptation."
   There is another prayer for you to pray before you get to this, and
   that is, "Forgive us our trespasses." Pray that today, and then you
   shall pray this tomorrow. Your sins are accusing you before God today.
   Your trespasses are clamoring at the Mercy Seat. I hear their cry. They
   are crying "Justice! Justice! Justice! Lord, smite that man! Lord,
   smite that man!"

   With hoarse voices they cry aloud, "Let him be lost! Let him be cast
   away!" While your sin clamors against you, will you not pray for mercy?
   Mercy is ready to hear you. The Throne of Grace is easily accessed.
   Come before God and say, "O Lord! I know that Jesus died and took upon
   Himself the sins of all those that trust Him. I trust Him. For His
   sake, Lord, forgive my trespasses, and let my debt be blotted out by
   His blood." He will hear you, Sinner, and before you go out of yonder
   doors your sins may be forgiven, and you may be white in Christ's
   righteousness, and spotless as the newly fallen snow. After that, then,
   use my text and pray to Him who is able to keep you from falling, "Lead
   us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
     __________________________________________________________________

                               Peace By Believing

   A SERMON BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE,
   NEWINGTON.

   "Therefore, beingjustified by faith, we havepeace with God through
   ourLord Jesus Christ."

   Romans 5:1.

   A MOMENT'S contemplation would suffice to arouse any man to the terror
   of the position involved in being at war with God. For a subject to be
   in a state of sedition against a powerful monarch is to commit treason,
   and to incur the forfeiture of his life. But for a creature to be in
   arms against its Creator! For a thing that depends for its existence
   upon the will of God--to be at enmity with the God in whose hand its
   breath is! For a soul to know that God, who is terrible in His power,
   and Almighty to protect or to destroy, is his foe! That He whose anger
   endures forever, and His wrath burns even unto the lowest Hell, is his
   chief and grand Enemy--this is an appalling thing, indeed!

   Could any man but understand and realize this, smitten through with
   terrors as great as those which surprised Bel-shazzar when he saw the
   handwriting on the wall, he would cry out in anguish, and he would make
   a thrilling appeal for mercy. God is against you, O sinful man! God is
   against you, O you who have never submitted yourself unto His Word! God
   is against you! And woe unto you when He shall rend you in pieces, for
   none can deliver you out of His hand! Happy! Happy beyond all
   description is the man who can say with our Apostle, "We have peace
   with God." But wretched! Wretched, again, beyond all description!
   Wretched must that man be who is at war with his own Maker, and sees
   Heaven itself in arms against him!

   Chiefly, now, we shall endeavor to talk of the peace which the Believer
   enjoys. And then I shall have a few words of counsel, warning, and
   encouragement for those who have not this peace with God, or who may
   have had it, but for a time have lost the enjoyment of it.

   I. In speaking of THE PEACE OF GOD WHICH THE CHRISTIAN ENJOYS, we will
   commence with some remarks upon its basis. There is the widest possible
   difference between a man being just in his own eyes, and his being
   justified in the sight of God. Yet, perhaps no fallacy is more common
   than to mistake the one for the other. Then, as a natural consequence
   of building on a weak foundation, the structure, however fair to look
   upon, is insecure. The peace in which multitudes of professors delight
   themselves is merely peace with their own conscience and not in any
   sense peace with God.

   I know of no greater contrast than there is between that peace which is
   a mere stagnation of thought, a lull of anxiety, or a blindness to
   danger, and that soul-satisfying peace which passes all understanding.
   The true peace of God flows like a river in unceasing activity. It
   preserves a tranquil frame amidst storm, tempest, and tribulation--by
   all of which it is frequently assaulted. It is a part of the panoply of
   God with which a Christian is clothed, to withstand principalities, and
   powers, and spiritual wickedness in the evil day. Or, to change the
   figure, Christ gave His disciples this peace as a charm, when, as He
   was about Himself to depart, and go to the Father, He sent them forth
   to be buffeted about in the world.

   Just so in the text. If you pursue the subject in the next few verses,
   you will find that this peace with God is given first, and afterwards
   comes experience of tribulations everywhere else. We ourselves,
   Brothers and Sisters, have proved it. There is a natural disposition of
   sin to defile, but the blood of Christ speaks peace in the conscience.
   There is a constant tendency of the world to destroy our hope, but the
   peaceful word of Jesus comforts us. "Be of good cheer, I have overcome
   the world." There is a painful proneness of human strength to fail, but
   the promise supports us--"This One shall be peace when the Assyrian
   comes into our land." And this true peace gives to the Believer an
   inward sense of God's acceptance. As Moses never lost sight of the
   goodwill of the Dweller in the bush, so, too, there is a more blessed
   assurance of goodwill in the faith that always realizes, "God in Christ
   reconciling the world to Himself."

   And now, as to the experimental basis of that peace which the Believer
   has with his God--it must have some solid rational ground. It must have
   some basis which judgment may estimate. I know some who have an
   apprehension of peace with God that has no foundation whatever. Let me
   describe the person. "Are you living in peace with God, my Friend?"
   "Yes," says he, "thank God, I have enjoyed a sense of peace for twenty
   years." "How did you get it?" "Well, as I was walking one day, in great
   distress of mind, on such-and-such a road, a feeling of comfort came
   over me, and it has remained with me ever since." "Yes, but, Friend,
   what is the reason of your hope? What is the ground of your confidence
   that you have peace with God?"

   "Well, you see, I felt comfortable, and I believe that I have felt
   comfortable ever since." "No, no. That's not the matter at which I aim.
   What is the ground? What is the doctrinal proof? What is the matter of
   fact that gives you comfort?" "Well, do not press me," he says, "for I
   do not know. Only this I know--I did feel happy, and I have felt happy
   ever since. And I have not had any doubt." That man, mark you, if I am
   not mistaken, is under a delusion. If I err not, it is very possible
   that that man has received a draught of the opium of Hell. Satan has
   said to him, "Peace, peace," where there is no peace. He is going
   undisturbed, and quiet, down to the place where he shall lift up his
   eyes and discover too late his error.

   The peace of a Christian is not such a lull of stupefaction as that. It
   has a reason. It has some groundwork. And when you come to pull it to
   pieces, it is as completely a logical inference from certain facts as
   any deduction that could be drawn by mathematical precision. Let me,
   however, bring up a few more who think they have peace but build their
   supposition on wrong grounds. Here is a man who very flippantly and
   joyously says, "Peace with God, Sir? Yes, peace with God. I enjoy the
   unbroken satisfaction that I have made my peace with Him." "Well, how?"
   "Why, you see, some years ago I never went to a place of worship on
   Sunday at all, and I felt one day that I was doing wrong. Here was I
   going to the theater most nights, and I was doing my trade in a very
   bad way, and now and then I took too much drink.

   "I was doing a great many things that were wrong, and I thought it was
   time for me to turn over a new leaf, and I have done so. Now I
   generally go to a place of worship twice on the Sunday. I may now and
   then indulge myself--well, who is there that never does anything wrong?
   But still there is very great amendment in me. If you ask my wife, she
   sees a wonderful change. And if you ask my workpeople, they will say I
   am a different man from what I used to be. Now, I think

   1 am not like the man you brought up just now, with no ground for his
   peace. I think I have a very good ground for mine, for I am deserving
   very well of my Maker now. I feel now, if I go to a place of amusement
   where I ought not, I cannot pray that night. But the next night I try
   over again, and manage to get through my form of prayer. On the whole I
   am doing so well that I think I may say I have a good bottom and ground
   for saying that I am at peace with God."

   Now, let this man be reminded that it is written, "By the works of the
   Law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight." All these moral
   things of which he has spoken are good enough in themselves. They will
   be very excellent in the temple of Christianity if they are placed at
   the top. But, if they are used as foundations, a builder might as well
   use tiles and slates and chimney-pots for foundations and cornerstones
   as use these reformatory actions as a ground of dependence. Man! Do you
   not perceive that your foundation is not an even and secure one? For
   what about the past? What is to become of the sins already committed?
   How are you to get rid of these? Do you suppose that the payment of
   future debts will discharge old liabilities?

   Go to your tradesman and tell him that you owe him a very great sum of
   money, and you cannot pay him a farthing of it. Do you expect he will
   not sue you in court because you never intend to get into his debt any
   more? I think he will tell you that is not a method of business he
   understands. Certainly this is not the way in which God will deal with
   you. Your old sins! Your old sins! Your OLD sins! What about those?
   Those debts unpaid? Those crimes as yet unburied? Let your conscience
   give them a resurrection in your memory tonight. What about these?
   Surely you can have no peace with God while these remain unforgiven!

   Besides, you have an inward conviction that you have not peace with
   God, but only peace with yourself. You do feel a little better
   sometimes, but it is a very poor sort of confidence that you have, for
   a little sickness shakes it. How would you like to die now? Would you
   wrap yourself up in these miserable rags of yours and say, "Lord, You
   know I have sinned, but then I have done my best to make up for it."
   You know and feel that this bed is shorter than a man can stretch
   himself on, and this coverlet too narrow for a man to wrap himself in.
   Renounce this confidence, for it is one that will never stand before
   God!

   To give an instance of yet another case--one in which I tread on more
   delicate ground. Beloved, there are some who have peace which they
   explain to you in such a way that while I trust they have a peace with
   God, I fear they misunder- stand the ground of it. Some true Christians
   will talk to you in this way--"I hope I am at peace with God now, for
   my faith is in active exercise. My love is fervent. I have delightful
   seasons in prayer. The eyes of my hope are no longer dim, and my
   patience can endure many things for Christ. My courage did not fail me
   yesterday in the midst of Christ's enemies. My graces are vigorous. The
   Spirit of God has been blowing across my soul as over a garden. And all
   the graces, like flowers, have yielded their best perfume, and
   therefore I feel that I have peace with God."

   Oh, Believer, Believer! Are you so foolish as having begun in the
   Spirit by faith, to be made perfect in the flesh by your own doing?
   Remember, if you have peace, if you put your peace here upon your
   graces, then there will come another day--perhaps it may come
   tomorrow--when all those graces will droop like withered flowers,
   yielding no perfume! Instead of beauty there shall be baldness. Instead
   of ornament there shall be decay. There will come a day when you shall
   see yourself in your true natural colors, and discover yourself, like
   Job, and cry out as he did, "Lord, I am vile!" What will you do, then,
   with your peace? Why, if you have begun to look to your graces in any
   way for peace, then you are looking to a fickle source.

   You are going to the cistern, instead of living by the fountain! You
   are using Hagar's bottle, instead of sitting like Isaac at the well to
   drink from never-ceasing streams. Yet this is an evil into which we are
   so apt to fall after having done well for the Master, and being helped
   to serve Him. It is true we do not trust in these things. I hope God
   has delivered us from self-righteousness. Yet there is just that, "Now
   I must be a child of God--now I must truly be an heir of Heaven-- for
   see how I have been sanctified! Mark how I have been edified and built
   up in the faith." Ah, Brothers and Sisters! There is the cloven foot
   there! Be on your guard! It is an unclean thing. It will bring you into
   pain and bondage. It will make you sick, and put your feet in the
   stocks, and thrust you into the inner dungeon before long. Flee from it
   as you would from a serpent. Stand ever under the dear Cross of Christ,
   looking up to His wounds, rejoicing in His all-sufficiency, and
   building your peace there, and there alone.

   I fear, too, that there are not a few who, I trust, have genuine peace,
   but who, nevertheless, are tempted to found their confidence upon their
   enjoyments. We have our enjoyments--God be thanked for this. Oh, there
   are times when our communion is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus
   Christ! We have not been into Heaven, but we have heard some of the
   songs of the angels on the other side the pearly gates. Or, if not the
   songs, we have heard the echo of them in our hearts. There are times
   when we have been in prayer and our soul has been like the chariots of
   Aminadab, swift and strong. We have had our seasons, as it were, of
   witnessing the Transfiguration! We can remember Tabor's mount--well can
   we remember the hill Mizar, and the Hermonites--for there He spoke with
   us.

   We have had our experience of Jacob's dream, as well as our fellowship
   with Jacob's wrestling. We have seen the Lord, and by faith have put
   our finger into the print of the nails, and thrust our hand into His
   side. He has kissed us with the kisses of His love, and His love is
   better than wine. But the tendency is to say, "Now I have peace with
   God. Now I must be reconciled to Him. Now I will press out the wine of
   comfort from these grapes." If we do this, let us remember that perhaps
   tomorrow we may be in Gethsemane. We may have our times of agonizing
   and fruitless prayer. We may be in the valley of despondency, or in the
   blacker valley of the shadow of death.

   Brothers and Sisters, present joys, promises applied with power,
   whispers of Christ's love, sweets of His Covenant, delighting ourselves
   in the Lord--what then? Ah, my Brothers and Sisters, we shall find
   ourselves weak, because we have taken our comforts to be the basis of
   our peace, instead of continuing to look solely and only to Christ. Let
   me warn you, Beloved, though this may not seem a case as dangerous as
   some others, yet let me warn you that it is essential to our comfort
   that we should stand to this and to this only--being justified by
   faith--we have peace with God. Our peace is solely the result of a
   justification achieved through faith and not the result of enjoyments,
   nor of graces, much less of good works, or of any foolish irrational
   impression which we may think we have been favored with.

   Where, then, does lie the Christian's conviction of his peace with God?
   Well it lies in this--that he is justified by faith. The process is
   plain. It is as clear, I say, as a proposition in Euclid. Christ stood
   in my place before God. I was a sinner doomed to die. Christ took my
   place. He died for me. Well, then, how can I perish? How can I be
   punished for offenses which have been punished already in the Person of
   my Substitute? God demands of me perfectly to keep His Law. I cannot do
   it. Christ has done it for me--kept the Law--magnified it, made it
   honorable. What more can God demand of me? I, a sinner, am washed in
   Jesus' blood. I, guilty, am clothed in Jesus' righteousness.

   You say "How? I cannot see it is so." True, it is so by faith. God says
   that he who believes in Christ shall be saved--I believe in
   Christ--therefore I am saved. He says, "He that believes on Him is not
   condemned." I believe on Him. Therefore I am not condemned--this is
   clear reasoning enough. Very well, then, the man who has believed in
   Christ has his sins forgiven, and the righteousness of Christ imputed
   to him. Therefore he is at peace with God. Now this is reasoning which
   no logic can deny. There is a rebel--first he is pardoned, next merit
   is imputed to him--and he is at peace with his king, and a rebel no
   longer. There is a child. He has offended. His Father takes him,
   accepts him for his elder Brother's sake, and he is at peace with his
   Father.

   The thing is clear enough. Here is a reason for the hope that is within
   us, which we may give with meekness and fear! It is true, never with
   diffidence and timidity! We may venture to give it in the presence of
   the old dragon, and defy him to break its force. We might give it,
   even, in the midst of a congregation of assembled demons and defy them,
   if they can, to break its power. We may give it in the presence of the
   Eternal God, for He will never deny the Word on which He has caused us
   to hope. "Who is he that condemns? It is Christ that died, yes, rather,
   that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also
   makes intercession for us." It stands forever.

   Stand here, and you stand so fast that no howling tempest of temptation
   can sweep you down. Stand to this, that Christ has finished your
   salvation for you, that He has done everything that Omnipotent Justice
   can ask. He has endured all the penalty, drained the cup of wrath,
   obeyed the Law completely, given to Divine equity all it can
   demand--and therefore, believing in His name, standing in His
   righteousness, accented in His suretyship--you must have peace with
   God. This is the basis of the Christian's peace--one on which he may
   sleep or wake, live or die--and live eternally, without condemnation or
   separation from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus the Lord.

   Continuing our remarks on this subject, we shall now turn your
   attention to the channel of this peace. "Therefore being justified by
   faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ."

   Take it for a certain fact, then, that we are justified as the result
   of what Christ has done for us, seeing that He, "was delivered for our
   offenses and raised again for our justification." And the experience,
   insofar as we have assurance of our being personally justified, is the
   result of our trusting Christ. What then? How are we to enjoy the
   comfort of it? There are times when we begin to doubt whether we are
   justified. Brethren, we must not come to our faith to get comfort, but
   to the primary cause of our justification. The channel through which
   the comfort comes is Jesus Christ. So then, though justification by
   faith, is, in itself, a well of comfort, even from that well we cannot
   get it, except we use Christ--who dug the well--to be the Bucket to
   draw the water up from its depths.

   It must come through Christ. I will suppose, then, that I am in doubt
   and fear tonight, and want to get my peace re-stored--how shall I seek
   it? Through Jesus Christ, the Surety and Substitute Himself. How?
   First, by believing in Christ over again, just as I did at the first.
   Christ tells me that He came to save sinners. I am a sinner, therefore
   He came to save me. He says He can save me. This looks reasonable. He
   is very God. He is perfect Man. He has suffered and offered a complete
   atonement. He tells me He is willing to save me. This also appears
   reasonable, for why else should He die, if He did not wish to save?

   Then He tells me if I will trust Him, He will save me. I trust Him, and
   I have not the shadow of a doubt that He will be as good as His word.
   If He is faithful and just--of which who dares to breathe a
   suspicion?--this soul of mine, in Heaven, must be. It is committed to
   the Redeemer's charge with every pledge that God can give, with more
   security than we could ever ask. In Him I trust--in Jesus, and in
   Jesus, only. Brothers and Sisters, this is how you must get your peace
   with God tonight--through Jesus Christ--by going to Him. By a simple
   faith, just as you went at the first.

   Some silly people who have got high doctrine in their heads, so high
   that it smells offensive in the nostrils of those who read the
   Scriptures--they say we teach that man is saved by mere believing. We
   do--by mere believing. There is a poor, starving man over there. I give
   him bread--his life is spared. Why do not these people say this man was
   saved by mere eating--by mere eating! And here is another person whose
   tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth by thirst, and is ready to die.
   I give him water, and he drinks, and his eyes sparkle--and the man is
   saved by mere drinking. And look at ourselves--why do we not drop down
   dead in our pews? Just stop your breath a little while and see. Surely
   we all live by mere breathing.

   All these operations of nature that touch the vital mysteries may be
   sneered at as merely this, or merely that. And in like manner to speak
   with disparagement of, "mere believing," is stupid nonsense. And yet,
   let me say it in my sense of the term--we are saved, we are reconciled
   to God through Jesus Christ by mere believing--by the simple act of
   trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ. And if I would get my peace made
   more full and perfect, having come to Christ by faith, I must continue
   to get peace from Him by meditation upon Him. For the more I go to
   Christ believingly, the deeper will my peace be. If I believe in
   Christ, and do not know much of Him, my faith will necessarily be
   somewhat slender.

   But if I continue, "to comprehend with all saints what are the heights,
   and depths, and lengths, and breadths, and to know the love of Christ
   which passes knowledge," then my little faith will become strong faith.
   The bruised reed shall become a cedar, and the smoking flax shall
   become a beacon flaming to the very skies! I must take care, above all,
   that I cultivate communion with Christ, for though that can never be
   the basis of my peace--mark that--yet it will be the channel of it. If
   I live near to Christ, I shall not know fear. What sheep is afraid of
   the wolf when it is close to the shepherd's hand? What child fears when
   it hangs upon its mother's breast? Who should know fear when he is
   covered with the eternal wings, and underneath him are the everlasting
   arms?

   "While His left hand is under my head, and His right hand does embrace
   me," I cannot but be at peace, and that peace, if my communion is
   continued, will be like a river--deep and broad--my righteousness being
   like the waves of the sea. It is Christ, the substance of my salvation!
   Christ, the sum of all my hope! Christ who performs all things for me,
   and Christ made of God all things to me! As Christ was the first means
   of giving us peace, so He must still be the golden conduit through
   which all peace with God must flow to our believing hearts. And all
   this through the act of merely believing, or merely trusting in Him! By
   looking to Him I drew all the faith which inspired me with confidence
   in His Grace. And the word that first drew my soul--"Look unto
   Me"--still rings its clarion note in my ears. There I once found
   conversion, and there I shall often find refreshing and renewal.

   Having thus glanced at the basis of our peace, and the channel through
   which it flows, let us pass on to notice its certainty. I like to read
   these rolling sentences of Paul, without an "if," or a "but," in
   them--"Therefore, being justified, we have peace with God." He talks as
   logically as if he were a mathematician, and as positively as though he
   could see the thing written before his eyes. Oh, how different is this
   from the way in which some talk--"I hope," "I trust," "I sometimes hope
   my poor soul may have peace with God." Now where this language is
   genuine, it deserves sympathy--but I believe in many cases it is cant.

   There is a certain class of professors who think strong faith is pride,
   and doubts and fears are humility. Therefore they look upon these
   base-born thorns as though they were choice flowers, and they will cull
   them together like a bouquet of nettles and noxious weeds--a fool's
   bouquet of flowers. Have you ever seen it in the magazines? I have
   observed it very frequently. Or they will dig up a nasty ugly thorn,
   put it in a flower pot, place it in an ornamental situation, display it
   outside the window, and call you all to admire it, as being a special,
   a wonderful piece of Christian experience.

   Well, one likes to see a thorn when it is developed to the highest
   degree, but as soon as seen, one likes to see it burned. And so with
   these doubts and fears. It is very well for us to know how far doubting
   and fearing may go, but we think we would like to have them plucked up
   by the roots and destroyed as soon as possible. Let those who are the
   subjects of these doubts be sympathized and cheered, but let their
   doubts and fears be rooted out utterly. O Christian Brothers and
   Sisters, it is not impudence, it is not presumption to believe what God
   tells you. If he says "You are justified," do not say "I hope I am."

   If I should say to some poor man--one terribly poor--"I will pay your
   rent for you tomorrow," and he should say, "Well, well, I hope you
   will," I should not feel pleased with him. If you should say to your
   child tomorrow morning, "Well William, I shall buy you a new suit of
   clothes today," and he should say, "Well, Father, I sometimes hope you
   will, I humbly trust, I hope I may say, though I sometimes doubt and
   fear, yet I hope I may say I believe you," you would not encourage such
   a child as that in his uncomely suspicions. Why should we talk thus to
   our dear Father who is in Heaven? He says to us, "I give unto you
   eternal life, and you shall never perish, neither shall any pluck you
   out of My hand." Is it humility for us to reply, "Father, I do not
   believe you, I cannot think it is possible"?

   Oh, no! That is true humility which sits at the feet of the Promiser
   because it is humble--looks up into the face of the Promiser because it
   is trustful--and coats on the word of the promise, because it is
   sincere. He will perform it. Away with you, you Fiends that make me
   doubt! His honor is engaged to the carrying out of His Covenant. He
   will perform it. He says by faith in Christ I am justified. Therefore I
   say, I am justified, and have peace with God, nor shall anyone stop me
   of this glory--I have peace with God through Jesus Christ. I should
   like to hear you all talking in this way and get- ting rid of that old
   Babylonian jargon of "ifs," and "buts," and doubts and fears! Be fully
   persuaded that what He has promised He will fulfill, as those who do
   believe what God has said, just because He has said it. Here is the
   certainty of justification by faith.

   And now, as to the effect produced. When a man can say he has peace
   with God--what then? Why, the first effect is JOY. Who can be at peace
   with God, and have Him for a Father, and yet be miserable? I think I
   told you one night that, years ago, I was waited upon by a woman who
   wished to convert me to a novel sect that had come up with a false
   prophet at its head. She talked much and talked long, and talked all to
   no purpose. At last I told her I thought it best that she should tell
   me her way in which she wished to be saved, on condition that she would
   let me tell her mine.

   I need not tell you what she said, but I said, "This is how I hope to
   be saved--it is said in God's Word, 'This is a faithful saying and
   worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to
   save sinners.' And it is also written, 'he that believes on Him shall
   be saved.' Now, I do trust in Him, and I believe that, therefore, I
   shall be saved. No, more, I am saved and my sins are all forgiven. A
   perfect righteousness, namely, that of Christ, is cast about me, and I
   am so saved today that nothing by any possibility shall ever destroy
   me. I am saved forever." The woman said, "If I believed that that were
   true, I would very gladly give up my faith for anything so bright as
   that. But you," she said, "you ought to be the happiest man in the
   world." And I said, "I thank you for that word and so will I be, God
   helping me, for I ought to be. I have the utmost cause."

   And so should every Believer feel he ought to be, because this great
   salvation, this solid hope, this rocky foundation for our everlasting
   peace should give us quiet, and calm, and security, till our joy should
   overflow and become an anticipation and an foretaste of the joy of
   Heaven. This peace should give the Believer, beyond, and in addition to
   his joy, a calm resignation, no, a delightful acquiescence in his
   Father's will. Now smite me if You will, my Father, for I am Your
   friend and You are mine. Now send the flames, for it shall only
   chasten, but cannot kill. Now take away my goods, for You are my All,
   and I cannot lose You. Now let the floods of trouble come, for You are
   my ark, and though the floods come around me higher and higher, still I
   shall abide in You, secure from reach of harm, while You shut me in!

   Thus with calm composure the Believer walks along over life's hills and
   dales. And when he comes to the valley of the shadow of death he fears
   no evil, for his God is with him, His rod and His staff do comfort him.
   What fear is there to the man that is at peace with God? Life?--God
   provides for it. Death?--Christ has destroyed it. The grave?--Christ
   has rolled away the stone and broken the seal. Affliction, tribulation,
   famine, peril, or the sword? "No, in all these things we are more than
   conquerors through Him that has loved us." To have peace with God,
   Beloved, I cannot tell you what innumerable streams of good shall flow
   to you from this ocean of pleasure, and these rivers of delight. I have
   but skimmed over one of these placid streams. There are hundreds of
   blessed practical results that are sure to follow from a certain
   conviction of our peace with God through Jesus Christ.

   II. In drawing to a close, I want to address myself to THREE CHARACTERS
   THAT I HAVE NO DOUBT ARE REPRESENTED HERE IN THIS LARGE CONGREGATION.

   There is a man here tonight--I know he is here, though I do not know
   his name--a man who many years ago was a professor of religion. He has
   never been easy in his conscience since he forsook the ways of God.
   There has been some trembling hope sometimes in him that there was a
   little life, not quite extinct. And since he has come in here, he feels
   quite like a stranger in the House of Prayer, where once faces were so
   familiar. And there is, perhaps, a groaning in his spirit as he says,
   "O that I knew the way of peace, and the sense of peace for which in
   happier days I once enquired. I have lost my roll, if I ever had it. I
   have lost my character, and with my character, my faith--and with my
   faith my hope. Can I ever be at peace with God?"

   Backslider, if you have ever been called by Divine Grace, let me ask
   you this question. Do you remember the time when you had a hope? Say,
   does not memory revive before you that time, when on your knees in
   agony, you did cry unto Him that hears prayer, and the mercy came, and
   your spirit rejoiced in pardon bought with blood? Man, do you remember
   it? The tear is on your cheeks now. You were not a hypocrite--let us
   hope that it was not all hypocrisy--not all a lie and a delusion. You
   did feel, then, that Christ could save. And you did trust yourself with
   Him.

   Now then, Man, do the same tonight--and the dew of your youth will be
   restored unto you. Your leprosy is white upon your brow, but wash in
   Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall come again unto you, even as a
   little child. Jehovah seeks you. He cries unto you tonight, and by the
   lips of His ambassador says, "Return, O backsliding children, return
   unto Me for I am married unto you, says the Lord. You have wearied Me
   with your sins, you have made Me to serve with your iniquities, but I,
   even I, am He that blots out your transgressions for My name's sake,
   and will not remember your sins."--

   "To your Father's bosom pressed, Once again a child confessed, From His
   house no more to roam. Come, and welcome, Sinner come."

   "Oh, but I have forsaken Him." Lay aside your "buts, "and "ifs." He
   bids you come. Away with you, you doubts and fears, and black
   despairing thoughts! The sinner comes, and Jesus meets him. There is
   the kiss of His love. "Take off his rags, clothe him, put shoes upon
   his feet, bring forth the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and
   be merry, for this, My son, which was dead, is alive again, he was lost
   and is found." O, I wish I could persuade you--though you are growing
   old now--I wish I could persuade you to fling yourself at the foot of
   His dear Cross again! His hands are still nailed--He has not moved them
   yet. His feet are still fast--He has not stirred from the place where
   He waits for you--His arms still open wide. O believe Him! He is love,
   still, and the blood is mighty, still, and the plea in Heaven is
   all-prevailing, still. "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you shall be
   saved."

   Then I wanted to have said a word to some here who are not backsliders,
   exactly, but they have lost their peace for a little time. Many young
   Christians are subject to these little fits in which their evidence
   gets dark, and they lose their peace. I have no need to say more to
   you, Brothers and Sisters, while you are walking in darkness and see no
   light. "Let him trust," is a prophetic admonition--it shall be mine
   tonight. When you cannot see a single reason why you should be saved
   except that God says you shall, let that be enough for you. When you
   have nothing here, or there, or anywhere to look to. When there is no
   hope for you except in that Man whose wounds are bleeding, always think
   that is enough-- because it is--and come to Christ just as you came at
   first.

   I find it very convenient to come every day to Christ as a sinner--as I
   came at first. "You are no saint," says the devil. Well, if I am not, I
   am a sinner--and Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Sink
   or swim, there I go-- I have no other hope--

   "And when your eye of faith is dim, Still trust in Jesus, sink or swim.
   And at His footstool bow your knee, For Israel's God your peace shall
   be." On Christ with all my weight I lean. And as I throw myself upon my
   bed to sleep, so on Christ will I stretch myself full length to
   rest--for He is able and He is willing. And if He can fail, then He
   fails me and fails all His Church. But if He cannot, then I shall see
   His face in Glory everlasting!

   By your leave, I must have two or three words with those who never had
   peace. I shall be brief. I have no doubt I address many here who never
   had faith, and you are wanting to get it. I ask you, first of all, not
   to seek peace at all as the first object. For, if you want peace before
   you get Divine Grace, you want the flower before you get the root--and
   you will be apt to be like little children who, when they have a piece
   of garden given them, will go and pluck up the flowers out of their
   father's bed, and put the flowers into their own ground and then say,
   "What a nice garden I have got!"

   But to their dismay, on the morrow all is withered. Better put the
   roots in, and wait a week or two till they sprout--and then the flowers
   will be living ones, not borrowed ones. Do not seek after peace first.
   Seek after CHRIST first. Peace will come next. Still, I pray you, do
   not think that peace is a qualification for Grace. If you fancy this,
   you will be in error, indeed. You are to come to Christ as Nicodemus
   did, by night, that is, in the night of your ignorance, in the night of
   your fear and trouble. You must come just as you are, bringing nothing
   to Christ, but coming empty-handed. No money, no price, no fee,
   "nothing to pay."

   He asks of you nothing but that you would take all gratis from His
   liberal hand. And will you please remember that if you put your eye on
   anything but Christ, or anything with Christ--so as to disturb your
   whole thought and attention from being directed exclusively to
   Him--then peace will be an impossibility to you. If your eye is single,
   your whole body shall be full of light. But if you mix another trust,
   and so your eye is evil, your whole body will be full of darkness. Do
   not trust your repentance! Do not trust your faith! Do not rely upon
   your feelings! Do not depend upon your knowledge--above all, do not
   depend upon your sense of need.

   Do not come to Christ as a sensible sinner--do not come trusting
   Christ, feeling that you are a man who has a right to come--that you
   answer to a certain character that may come. But come because you are a
   sinner. Because you have nothing to recommend you. Because, if God
   should search you through and through, He could not find a point in
   you, a spot in you large enough to put the point of a pin upon that
   which was good. Come because you are vile, to be pardoned. Come,
   because you are black in sin, to be washed. Come, because you are
   penniless, to be made rich.

   Look for nothing else except in Christ. Write this for your
   motto--"None but Jesus." Oh, men and women, and Brothers and Sisters,
   if those Israelites of old, who were inside their houses that night,
   had gone outside to the lintel of their doorpost and said, "Now here is
   this lintel made of very common wood, we will paint and grain it." And
   if they had then gone inside and trusted to the painting and graining
   of the lintel, the destroying angel would have found them out and
   destroyed them. If, again, they had said, "We will write up our name
   over the door--it is a respectable name. We will record the list of our
   charities and good works over the door," the angel would have smitten
   through the whole, and there would have been a wailing through the
   house as through the houses of the Egyptians.

   But what did they do? They took the blood. They marked the lintel and
   the two side posts and smeared them with a crimsoned stain. Then in
   they went, and sat contentedly down--or stood at last in peace--and ate
   the Passover with joy. And, while the shrieks of Egypt went up in the
   cold midnight air, the sons of Israel went up also into Heaven, for the
   angel of death, when he spread his wings on the blast, had seen the
   blood and by that mark he knew that he must pass by that habitation and
   smite none that were there.

   The word of the Lord was not "When I see your faith," but "when I see
   the blood, I will pass over you." Oh, Soul, if you trust Christ, the
   blood is on your brow tonight! Before the eyes of God no condemnation.
   Why, then, need you fear? You are safe, for the blood secures every
   soul that once is sheltered thereby. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,
   and you shall be saved. But if you believe not, trust where you may,
   you shall be damned. God help you to believe in Christ for His name's
   sake. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                                   Pentecost

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 24, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "When the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one
   accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from Heaven as of
   a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were
   sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire,
   and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy
   Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit ga ve them
   utterance." Acts 2:1-4.

   How absolutely necessary is the Presence and power of the Holy Spirit!
   It is not possible for us to promote the glory of God, or to bless the
   souls of men, unless the Holy Spirit shall be in us and with us. Those
   who were assembled on that memorable day of Pentecost were all men of
   prayer and faith. But even these precious gifts are only available when
   the celestial fire sets them on a blaze. They were all men of
   experience--most of them had been preachers of the Word, and workers of
   miracles. They had endured trials and troubles in company with their
   Lord, and had been with Him in His temptation.

   Yet even experienced Christians, without the Spirit of God, are weak as
   water. Among them were the Apostles and the seventy evangelists. And
   with them were those honored women in whose houses the Lord had often
   been entertained, and who had ministered to Him of their substance. Yet
   even these favored and honored saints can do nothing without the breath
   of God, the Holy Spirit. Apostles and Evangelists dare not even attempt
   anything alone. They must tarry at Jerusalem till power is given them
   from on High. It was not a want of education. They had been for three
   years in the college of Christ, with perfect Wisdom as their Tutor,
   matchless eloquence as their Instructor, and immaculate Perfection as
   their example. Yet they must not venture to open their mouths to
   testify of the mystery of Jesus until the anointing Spirit has come
   with blessed unction from above!

   Surely, my Brothers and Sisters, if it was so with them, much more must
   it be the case with us. Let us beware of trusting to our well-adjusted
   machineries of committees and schemes. Let us be jealous of all
   reliance upon our own mental faculties or religious vigor. Let us be
   careful that we do not look too much to our leading preachers and
   evangelists, for if we put any of these in the place of the Divine
   Spirit, we shall err most fatally. Let us thank God for all gifts, and
   for all offices, but oh, let us ever be reminded that gifts and offices
   are but as sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, unless the quickening
   Influence is present.

   It has been said by certain modern theologians that we make this
   doctrine of dependence upon the Holy Spirit far too prominent, and that
   our constant teaching of this Truth has a tendency to benumb all human
   effort, and foster indifference and sloth. Surely it is not so, my
   Brothers and Sisters. Let us refute this slander by our own
   earnestness, and let it be seen that those of us who confess that
   without their Lord they can do nothing, are able with His aid to do
   everything! O may we be so inflamed by the Eternal Fire that our life
   may be all zeal and love, self-sacrifice and labor! So shall we teach
   the gainsayer that the worshippers of the gracious Spirit are not
   loiterers in the vineyard of the Lord.

   I am persuaded that so far from speaking too frequent upon this matter,
   we do not often enough extol the Blessed Spirit, and certain ministries
   almost ignore His existence. You might attend some Chapels and not even
   know that there was a Holy Spirit at all except for the benediction.
   And were it not for the liturgy, and the, "Glory be to the Father and
   to the Son and to the Holy Spirit," there are many of our national
   edifices where you might never know that a Comforter had been sent to
   us.

   Now I earnestly pray that this morning I may stir up your minds by way
   of remembrance, by a simple exposition of the descent of the Holy
   Spirit at Pentecost. We are not observers of days and months, but it
   happens to be the season of the year in which the early Church was
   accustomed to celebrate the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost. We
   commonly talk of Whitsuntide, or White Sunday--which name is not
   without its lesson in the earlier centuries on this particular day--in
   commemoration of the great Baptism of the three thousand converted
   under the preaching of Peter. It was the custom of the Church to hold a
   great Baptism, and the candidates for immersion being, as with us,
   robed in white-- (therefore the name "Candidates," or "White
   Ones")--and so that Sunday was called White Sunday.

   It was not ill that the outpouring of Pentecost should be celebrated by
   the Baptism of converts, for the cause is always best remembered by the
   effect. May our Lord help us to enjoy a Pentecost all the year round
   and may the pool of Baptism be stirred every week.

   I shall call your attention to the season when the Spirit was poured
   out. Secondly, to the manner in which it was manifested. And then to
   the matter itself. And, fourthly, to the results which followed.

   I. There is much holy teaching in THE SEASON when the Spirit of God was
   given. "When the day of Pentecost was fully come." We may observe,
   first, that the Spirit of God was given in God's chosen and appointed
   time. There is a set time to favor Zion. The Spirit is not at all times
   alike active in His manifest workings. Both to try our faith and to
   prove His own sovereignty, the right hand of the Lord is sometimes
   thrust into His bosom. He will only make bare His arm at such times and
   seasons as He, Himself, has appointed. "The wind blows where it lists,"
   is a Truth of God well calculated to hide pride from man.

   Brethren, if every drop of rain has its appointed birthday, every gleam
   of light its predestinated pathway, and every spark of fire its settled
   hour of flying upward, certainly the will, foreknowledge, and decree of
   God must have arranged and settled the period of every revival and
   place of every gracious visitation. Times of refreshing, in a Church or
   a commonwealth, come not except as the Creator-Spirit has determined.
   The day of salvation to each individual is an appointed time. The
   second birth is not left to hazard.

   Yes, more--every breath of that Divine Spirit which sweeps across the
   mind of the Believer, every drop of sacred oil which anoints him, or of
   the holy dew which quickens him--comes to him according to that
   irresistible will which looses the bands of Orion, or binds up the
   sweet influences of the Pleiades in God's accepted and appointed time.
   Therefore, the light of Heaven shall go forth, and although this is not
   to withhold or restrain us from asking for the Spirit every day, it is
   to encourage us if He does not at once begin to work, for if the vision
   tarries we are to wait for it, it shall come in due time--it will not
   tarry.

   There was a further mystery in the season, for it was after the
   ascension of our Lord. The Spirit of God was not given till after Jesus
   had been glorified. The various blessings which we receive are
   ascribable to different parts of Christ's work. His life is our imputed
   righteousness. His death brings us pardon. His resurrection confers
   upon us justification. His ascension yields to us the Holy Spirit, and
   those spiritual gifts which edify the body. He says, when He ascended
   up on High, He led captivity captive and gave gifts unto men. 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.

   As when Roman heroes returned from blood-red fields, and the Senate
   awarded them a triumph, they rode in their chariot drawn by milk-white
   steeds through the thronging streets of the capitol. So did Jesus
   Christ, when He led captivity captive, receive a triumph at His
   Father's hands. The triumphal chariot bore Him through the streets of
   Glory, while all the inhabitants, with loud acclaim, saluted Him as
   Conqueror--

   "Crown Him! Crown Him! Crowns become the Victor's brow!" It was the
   custom of the Roman conqueror, as he rode along, to distribute large
   quantities of money which were scattered among the admiring crowd. So
   our glorified Lord scattered gifts among men, yes, to the rebellious,
   also, He gave those gifts that the Lord God might dwell among them. In
   this manner, then, to grace the triumph of Jesus, the Spirit of God was
   liberally poured out upon the Church below.

   Perhaps you remind me that our Lord had ascended ten days before. I
   know He had, but the delay might teach them patience. Not always does
   the flower bloom from the root in one hour. Christ has ascended, and
   Heaven is ringing with His praise. They have kept ten days of joyous
   holiday before the Eternal Throne, and now, when Pentecost is fully
   come, the rushing mighty wind is heard. Do you think, my Brothers and
   Sisters, that we plead Christ's ascension enough as a reason why the
   Church should be blessed with the Spirit? I know we often reach as far
   as, "By Your agony and bloody sweat, by Your Cross and passion, by Your
   precious death and burial, by Your glorious resurrection"--but do we
   proceed to, "by Your ascension we beseech You to hear us?"

   I am afraid we fail to perceive that the ascension of Christ is to be
   used as an argument in prayer, when we would have the Church revived by
   the holy breath of God, or have gifts bestowed upon her ministers and
   Church officers. Moreover, there is yet more teaching in the season. It
   was at Pentecost. Many of the early writers say that Pentecost was the
   time when the Law was proclaimed upon Mount Sinai. Others think it
   doubtful. If it is so, it was very significant that on the day when the
   Law was issued amid thunders and lightning, the Gospel--God's new and
   better Law--should be proclaimed with mighty wind and tongues of fire.

   We are clear, however, that Pentecost was a harvest festival. On that
   day the sheaf was waved before the Lord, and the harvest consecrated.
   The Passover was to our Savior the time of His sowing, but Pentecost
   was the day of His reaping, and the fields which were ripe to the
   harvest when He sat on the well, are reaped now that He sits upon the
   Throne.

   But certainly the Spirit of God was given at Pentecost because there
   was then the most need of Him. On that occasion vast crowds were
   gathered from all regions. The God of Wisdom always knows how to time
   His gifts. What would have been the use of granting the many tongues
   when no strangers were ready to hear? If there had been no Parthians
   and Medes, and Elamites, and dwellers of Mesopotamia collected in
   Jerusalem, there would have been no need for the cloven tongues. But
   inasmuch as the city was full, and the high festival was being kept by
   unusual multitudes, it was most fit and right that now the Lord should
   say--"Thrust in your sickle, for the harvest of the earth is ripe."

   Dear Friends, I think that whenever we see unusual gatherings of men,
   whenever the Spirit of hearing is poured out upon the people, we ought
   to pray for, and expect an unusual visitation of the Spirit. And when I
   look upon these crowds assembled in this house every Sunday year after
   year, I can but entreat you to cry mightily to Him with whom is the
   residue of the Spirit, that He would give us a Pentecost. Though
   neither Parthians, nor Medes, nor Elamites are here, yet there scarcely
   ever passes a Sunday without there being representatives of almost all
   nations under Heaven who hear the wonderful works of God. Not in their
   own tongue, it is true, but yet in a language which they understand.
   Oh, pray that the Spirit of God may fall upon the unexampled hosts
   assembled here!

   Still, dear Friends, we have not dwelt upon a leading reason why the
   Holy Spirit descended at this special season. "They were all with one
   accord in one place." We have been expecting to see the days of Heaven
   upon earth. Our soul has longed to hear the voice of God thundering out
   of Heaven. We have hoped for days such as our fathers have told us
   comforted them in the old times. We looked to see thousands born in a
   day--alas, the vision comes not. But look at our country! We have had
   spasms of revival--that is as much as I can say. Even the Irish
   revival, for which we can never sufficiently bless God, was but as a
   passing cloud. It was not an abiding, resting shower, and so with all
   the shakings we have had in these later times.

   We have had but glimpses where we wanted sights. We have had but
   twilight where we needed the sacred, everlasting noon. What is the
   reason for this? Perhaps it is to be found in our want of union. "They
   were all with one accord in one place." Christians cannot all be in one
   place. We have no room that would be large enough to hold them, blessed
   be God! But if they cannot all be in one place, yet they can all be of
   one accord. Oh, when there are no cold hearts, when there are no
   prejudices to divide us, no bigotries to separate us, no apathy to hold
   us down, no false doctrine to separate the flocks from one another--and
   no schism to rend the one sacred garment of Christ--then may we expect
   to see the Spirit of God resting upon us!

   And in any Church where there is no strife as to who shall be the
   greatest, no division about peculiarities, no fighting for
   respectabilities--but when the Church is of one accord--then may we
   expect to hear the sound of abundance of Heaven's rain. Note, dear
   Friends, what they were doing. They were not merely unanimous, but they
   were earnest about one grand object. They had all been praying. Read
   the first chapter and you will perceive that they had been much in
   prayer. The whole of the time since the ascent of our Lord they had
   been occupied in constant supplication. And so, pleading both day and
   night, it was no great wonder that the granaries of Heaven should be
   unlocked!

   We have had weeks of prayer at the beginning of the last few years, and
   it was well. But if we had continued in prayer all the weeks of the
   year, if we had always been with one accord still crying unto Heaven,
   still wrestling with the angel, still interceding--surely the little
   cloud, like a man's hand, which the eye of faith has seen--would by
   this time have covered all the heavens, and have discharged a plenteous
   shower upon all nations of men! There must be unity, but that unity
   must not be the frozen union of death. It must be the glorious welding
   of a glowing furnace. They had been much in prayer, and now I see them
   sitting still. Why do they sit so quietly? It is the quietude of
   expectation.

   When God's Church adds expectation to supplication, then a blessing
   tarries no longer. We ask, but we do not expect to receive. We pray,
   but probably nothing would so alarm us as the answer to our prayers.
   If, after having pleaded with God to send His Holy Spirit, the Holy
   Spirit did come, there are many who would not believe it. There are
   others who would think it a mere excitement, and there are multitudes
   who would shut their eyes to it altogether. Oh Spirit of God! Work in
   the hearts of Your children perfect harmony, intense anxiety, and
   confident expectation--and then will You come to do Your mighty deeds
   once more!

   These remarks concerning the season may lead to many practical
   questions. I will but put them rapidly and leave them. Do I help to
   hinder the coming of the Spirit by any bitterness of my temper? Do I by
   any want of love tend to divide the Church? Are my prayers such as are
   likely to prevail? And when I pray, do I expect the blessing of God? If
   not, how mournful that I should be the means of restraining and
   limiting the Holy One of Israel! That I should be a Church robber and
   commit sacrilege against the Church of God--not by stealing its gold
   and silver--but by closing the treasury of God! Let us, as a Church,
   humble ourselves under the hand of God and then, girding up the loins
   of our mind, wait upon Him with patience and earnestness until the
   Spirit is poured out from on High!

   II. I come now, dear Friends, in the second place, to notice THE MANNER
   IN WHICH THE SPIRIT WAS GIVEN. Each word here is suggestive.
   "Suddenly." No herald sounded his trumpet, but as they were expecting,
   in a moment, the celestial tempest came. If the Lord is about to do any
   great work in the world we must not be astonished if we hear of its
   coming like a thunderclap. Man sits down and plans, and arranges and
   works, and everybody knows what he is aiming at. God also plans and
   arranges, and forestalls Himself. But He does not tell man what His
   purpose is. It is the Glory of God to conceal a thing, and so, though
   the Spirit may have been secretly preparing men's hearts, yet the real
   work of revival is done suddenly, to the surprise of all observers.

   You will have noticed it was so in the great revival in New England,
   when Jonathan Edwards stood up and read his manuscript sermon, holding
   the manuscript close to his eyes, because he was nearsighted--a method
   of preaching which I should think would be the very least likely ever
   to cause an excitement in the audience. And yet while he preached from
   that text--"Their feet shall slide in due time," the Spirit of God
   suddenly came down--the people began to tremble and even cry out under
   the terrors of conviction--and the awakening spread throughout all that
   region and many thousands were added to the Church of Christ.

   Was it not so with Livingstone at the Kirk of Shotts. The presbytery
   had been holding long services and preaching sermons without any great
   results. And just at the close, Livingstone was asked to preach.
   Standing on a gravestone, in the midst of a driving shower, he
   addressed the assembled crowd, and down came the Holy Spirit--more
   mighty than the shower which fell from Heaven--and hundreds were born
   in one day to Christ. It was the same under George Whitfield, in the
   notable revivals of which he was the agent. The Spirit came like
   lightning from the skies. Do not be suspicious when you hear of these
   things suddenly appearing.

   You remember, yourselves, an instance which wakes all your hearts to
   gratitude. You remember a Chapel with but a handful of people in it who
   could scarce see from one to another. Did the crowds come by slow
   degrees? Was it a life-work to build up a Church? No, but the trumpet
   sounded. The prepared ears heard it. The house was thronged. The Church
   grew and multiplied--and now we who are members of it bless God for His
   mercies every day. When God says, "Let there be light" there is light.

   Then there was a sound. Although the Spirit of God Himself is silent in
   His operations, yet the operations are not silent in their results. The
   sound would teach them that the Spirit of God was not come to be
   concealed in their hearts as a silent guest, but to be heard throughout
   the world as the voice of God. For now faith was come by hearing, and
   hearing by the Word of God. And a sound as of a mighty rushing wind,
   was a type to them of the sound of their own testimony which was to go
   forth throughout all the world even unto the ends thereof. To their
   ears the speaking hurricane would say, "Even so, we, a handful of
   converted men, are to sweep around the globe like a mighty wind. And
   men are to be compelled to hear the sound of mercy."

   Then it was a sound, notice, as of wind. It is remarkable that both in
   the Greek and in the Hebrew tongues, the word used for wind and for
   Spirit is the same. Hence, when the Savior said to Nicodemus, "The wind
   blows where it lists, and you hear the sound thereof," the type might
   have been suggested to him by the fact of the word having the double
   signification of the wind and of the Spirit. The wind is doubtless
   chosen as a significant emblem because of its mysteriousness-- "You can
   not tell where it comes, nor where it goes." Because of its
   freeness--"It blows where it lists." Because of diversity of its
   operations, for the wind blows a gentle zephyr at one moment, and later
   it mounts to a howling blast. The Holy Spirit at one time comes to
   comfort, and at other times to alarm--at one season softly with the
   promise--and at another time terribly with the threat.

   Observe it was rushing. this portrayed the rapidity with which the
   Spirit's influences spread--rushing like a torrent. Within fifty years
   from that date of Pentecost, the Gospel had been preached in every
   country of the known world. Paul and his Brothers, the Apostles, had
   journeyed east, west, north and south. Iron gates had been , and bars
   of brass had been snapped, and the glorious life-giving Word had been
   preached to every creature under Heaven for a witness against them.
   God's Spirit does not creep and crawl as too often our unspiritual
   agencies do. When He comes, it is a rush--and half the world is lit
   with Divine light before we dream that the match has struck.

   Nor is this all, for it was mighty, a wind against which nothing could
   stand. The house itself might be shaken. They may have been greatly
   alarmed for fear the house should fall about their heads. The wind was
   irresistible, and so is the Spirit of God--where He comes, nothing can
   stand against Him. O Spirit of God, if You would but now come as a
   rough north wind, the crescent of Mohammed would be prostrate in the
   dust, and the gods of the heathen would fall upon their faces like
   Dagon before the Ark. You have but to proceed in Your sevenfold
   operations, and the harlot of Rome would lose her enchanting power. You
   can dash in pieces the hoary systems which have resisted all human
   attack. Mightier than the tooth of time, Your finger, O sacred Spirit,
   could destroy what man reckons to be his everlasting workmanship.

   Glory be to God, wherever the Spirit comes He proves Himself to be
   Divine by the Omnipotence which He displays. They heard, then, a sound
   as of a rushing mighty wind. Although we never expect to hear a sound
   like this, yet we do expect, dear Christian Friends, to have the
   reality. We hope yet to see the Spirit of God mysteriously at work, and
   we hope to hear the sound thereof, the glad tidings cheering our
   hearts. We love to see nations born in a day. We do yet believe that
   before our eyes are closed in death, we shall see God's arm stretched
   out and the irresistible might of His Spirit felt by His enemies.

   Consider the next sentence. "Which filled all the place where they were
   sitting." The sound was not merely heard by the disciples, but it
   appeared to penetrate the other chambers besides that large upper room
   where they were probably gathered together. Ah, and when the Spirit of
   God comes, He never confines Himself to the Church. The influence may
   not be saving to those without, but it is felt by them. A revival in a
   village penetrates even the pothouse. The Spirit of God at work in the
   Church is soon felt in the farmyard, known in the workroom, and
   perceived in the factory. It is not possible for the Spirit to be
   confined when once He comes.

   Oh, if He should but visit this place, Walworth and Camberwell and
   Southwark must all know it. The very streets should be made to wear a
   different aspect! And whereas we now have to walk down long rooms of
   shops still open on the Sunday, we should doubtless see them closed,
   for the Spirit of God would fill all the place where His Church was
   located. May such glad times come, when from one end of England to
   another, the Spirit of God shall fill all men in all places, because He
   dwells specially with His chosen people.

   But this was not all. I must now mention what I think was the
   appearance seen. It was a bright luminous cloud, probably, not unlike
   that which once rested in the wilderness over the tribes by night. A
   fiery pillar was seen hovering in the upper part of the room. The cloud
   is mentioned as "it," so that it seems to have been one, and yet it is
   called "tongues," so that it must have been many. In the Greek there is
   a unique commingling of singular and plural in the verbs, which can
   hardly be accounted for, unless there really did exist a singularity,
   and a plurality at the same time.

   There floated in the room, I think, one mass of flame, a great cloud of
   fire. This suddenly divided, or was cleft--and separate tongues of fire
   rested upon the head of each of the disciples. They would understand
   that thus a Divine power was given to them, for such a figure was by no
   means unusual or far-fetched. Heathens have been accustomed to
   represent in their statues, beams of light, or flames of fire
   proceeding from their false deities. And to this day the cloudy
   radiance with which Roman Catholic painters always adorn the heads of
   saints is a relic of the same idea. It was said by the an- cients of
   Hesiod, the first of all the poets, that whereas he was once nothing
   but a simple neat-herd, yet suddenly a Divine flame fell upon him, and
   he became from then on one of the noble of men.

   We feel assured that so natural a metaphor would be at once understood
   by the Apostles. A tongue of fire resting upon them would be a token of
   a special inspiration from God. Notice first it was a tongue, for God
   has been pleased to make the tongue do mightier deeds than either sword
   or pen. And though the pen shall speak to ages yet to come, yet never
   with that living force which trembles from the tongue. For what we read
   in a book is but dead, but that which we hear with the ear comes as a
   living word to the soul. It pleases God, by the foolishness of
   preaching, to save them that believe.

   Then it was a tongue of fire, to show that God's ministers speak, not
   coldly, as though they had tongues of ice. Nor learnedly as with
   tongues of gold, nor arrogantly as with tongues of brass. Nor
   plaintively as with tongues of willow, nor sternly as with tongues of
   iron--but earnestly, and in a mystery--not as with tongues of flesh,
   but with the tongue of flame. Their words consume sin, scorch
   falsehood, enlighten the darkness, and comfort the poor. Notice,
   moreover, that "it SAT upon them." It did not flicker or remove. It
   remained there. So the Spirit of God is an abiding Influence, and the
   saints shall persevere. It sat upon each of them, so that while there
   was but one fire, yet each Believer received his portion of the one
   Spirit. There are diversities of operations, but it is the same Lord.

   I will not tarry longer with the description of how the Spirit came
   except to observe that I would to God that He would manifest Himself in
   the same manner this day. We want our young men to have tongues of
   fire. And you, fathers, we long to see you also kindled by the live
   coal which touched the lips of Isaiah. Even you, my Sisters--for
   doubtless that tongue of fire rested upon the Virgin Mary and upon the
   other women--we would like to see it rest on you, that in your
   families, in your Sunday school classes, or in your visitations and
   nursing of the sick, you may have the Holy Fire abiding in you.

   Oh, may God be pleased to send forth the Comforter to each of us! May
   none of us be without His power, for the set time to favor Zion shall
   have come when both men and women of every rank and degree shall have
   received the Spirit of the blessed God. I am afraid this does not
   interest you. You think it happened a long while ago, and is not likely
   ever to occur again. And I am afraid it is not while we remain so
   indifferent to it, but, oh, if we had the anxiety to desire it, and the
   faith to expect it, we might see greater things than these. Without the
   outward sign, which was but for the babyhood of the Church, we might
   receive the inward and spiritual Grace fit for the full grown man of
   the advanced Believers of our time.

   III. Consider now THE MATTER ITSELF, the benefit which now was given.
   Of the matter itself, we react very briefly that, "they were all filled
   with the Holy Spirit." The sound was not the Holy Spirit, nor was the
   tongue of fire the Holy Spirit--these were but the symbols of His work.
   The real work was done when all present were filled with the Holy
   Spirit. What is this? What is this strange mystery? The skeptic sneers
   and says, "There is no such thing." The formal religionist says, "I
   have never felt it." And the most of Christians think it something to
   be devoutly believed in, but by no means to be experienced.

   Is there a Holy Spirit? My Hearer, you dare not ask that question,
   unless you are prepared to involve a doubt of your own conversion, for,
   "Except a man be born of the Spirit, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
   And if, therefore, the Holy Spirit does not dwell in you, and has not
   made you a new creature by His miraculous operations, you are still in
   the gall of bitterness, and in the bonds of iniquity. Only the true
   Christian knows what it is to receive the Spirit--but there are only a
   few Christians who know what it is to be filled with Him--to be filled
   with Him to the brim.

   There are times when the preacher has known it, when he had no need to
   ask himself what he should say, nor in what language he should couch
   his thoughts--for the thoughts were born all dressed, and armed--and
   they sprung not from him but through him, of the Holy Spirit. There are
   times when the soul is full of calm, for the dove is there--full of
   passion for the fire is there--full of life, for the wind is
   there--full of growth, for the dew is there--full of Divine priesthood
   and the power to bless, for the oil is there. And there are times when
   the soul is full of knowledge, for the light is there--purged and
   cleansed, because the fountain of Living Water flows within.

   There are, it is true, seasons when the man has to complain that he
   cannot discover any of these signs. But oh, there are glad and high
   days when God's anointed servants feel borne upon the mystic Wind aloft
   in thoughts sublime. Then they are no longer weak men, but men inspired
   to break hard hearts, to stir emotions, to quicken the dead, to open
   blind eyes, and to preach the Gospel to the poor--and all by the Power
   from on High. You who have felt the sublime sensation of being filled
   with the Spirit may read of Ezekiel's being lifted by a lock of his
   hair between earth and Heaven--but you know that to be filled with the
   Spirit is a greater wonder still, for that lifts a man up from worldly
   cares, enables him to lay hold upon God in prayer, bathes him in the
   joy of Heaven--and then sends him down with shining face to bless his
   fellow men.

   The flesh trembles in the dust because the great Spirit has come to our
   spirit's help, and flesh must lose all dominion, but our spirit
   rejoices with great joy. Observe the difference between Peter with the
   Spirit, and Peter without the Spirit! There he is, cursing and swearing
   like a sailor. He never knew Christ, he says. There he is, sinking in
   the sea, he does not believe that he can walk upon the waters, and he
   cries, "Lord, save, or I perish." Peter, the braggart, the rash man,
   and yet the coward! Look at him now--the Spirit of God has come upon
   him. How different is Peter! Fearless of all the jeers and taunts which
   the ribald crew might cast at him, he stands up to preach.

   Why has this man eloquence? He speaks mightily and not as the scribes.
   Lo, the people are moved under him as the green corn is moved by the
   wind, or as the waves of the sea are swept by the gale. And when he has
   finished preaching he goes up to the temple and commands a lame man to
   leap, and the miracle is worked! He is brought before the rulers and
   commanded to hold his peace, and he answers like a hero, "Whether it is
   right to obey man rather than God, you judge." Peter is found traveling
   over every country, preaching the Word in every tongue, and at last, he
   that was once a coward cheerfully stretches out his aged arms to be
   nailed to a cross, but head downwards, as though he felt he was not
   worthy to die like his Master. He expires upon the tree, glorifying
   Christ in his death!

   There is no comparison to be drawn. It is a case of clear contrast
   between Peter the unspiritual, and Peter full of the Holy Spirit. No
   man or woman among you knows what he might be if he were filled with
   the Spirit. What is that rough Luther? He is only fit to have been a
   killer of bullocks, or a feller of oaks in the forest. But fill Luther
   with the Holy Spirit and what is he? He takes the bull of Rome by the
   horns, slays wild beasts of error in the great arena of the Gospel, and
   is more than a conqueror through the might which dwells in him! Take
   John Calvin--fit naturally to be a cunning lawyer, cutting and dividing
   nice points, judging this precedent, and that, frittering away his time
   over immaterial niceties.

   But fill him with the Holy Spirit, and John Calvin becomes the mighty
   master of Divine Grace, the reflection of the wisdom of all past ages,
   and a great light to shed a brilliant ray even till the Millennium
   shall dawn! Chief, and prince, and king of all uninspired teachers, the
   mighty seer of Geneva, filled with the Spirit of God is no more John
   Calvin, but a God-sent angel of the Churches! Who knows what yonder
   young man may be? I know today he is but as other men--fill him with
   the Spirit, let it move him in the camp of Dan--and woe to the
   Philistines!

   Who knows what that young woman may be? She may sit under the oak
   quietly with Deborah now, but the day may come when she shall stir up
   Barak and put a song into his mouth, saying, "Awake, awake, O Barak,
   lead your captivity captive, you son of Abinoam!" Only let us be filled
   with the Spirit and we know not what we can be. We shall, "Laugh at
   impossibility and say, 'It shall be done.' " We shall attempt what we
   never dreamed of before, and accomplish that which we always thought to
   be far beyond our grasp.

   IV. Our last point is--THE RESULT OF IT ALL. Well, well, you will it a
   very commonplace sort of thing. After all this rushing mighty wind,
   this fire and so on, what are you expecting? Kings trembling in the
   dust, or riding in their chariots to do homage to the Apostles? Shall
   the wind blow down dynasties--shall the fire consume dominions? Nothing
   of the kind, my Brothers and Sisters! Nothing of the kind! Spiritual
   and not carnal, is the kingdom of God. The result lies in three
   things--a sermon, a number of enquirers, and a great Baptism! That is
   all! Yes, but though it is all, it is the grandest thing in all the
   world--for in the judgment of the angels and of those whom God has made
   wise unto salva-tion--these are three most precious matters.

   There was a sermon. The Spirit of God was given to help Peter to preach
   a sermon. You turn with interest to know what sort of a sermon a man
   would preach who was full to the brim with the Holy Spirit. You expect
   him to be more eloquent than Robert Hall, or Chalmers, of course. More
   learned than the Puritans, certainly. As for illustrations, of course
   you will have the loftiest flights of poetic genius. You may expect,
   now, to have all the orations of Cicero and Demosthenes put entirely in
   the shade. We shall have something glorious now!

   No such thing! No such thing! Never was there a sermon more commonplace
   than that of Peter's, and let me tell you that it is one of the blessed
   effects of the Holy Spirit to make ministers preach simply. You do not
   want the Holy Spirit to make them ride the high horse and mount up on
   the wings of the spread eagle to the stars. What is wanted is to keep
   them down, dealing with solemn subjects in an intelligible manner. What
   was the theme of this sermon? Was it something so intellectual that
   nobody could comprehend it, or so grand that few could grasp it?

   No, Peter just rises up and delivers himself somewhat like this--"Jesus
   Christ of Nazareth lived among you. He was the Messiah promised of old.
   You crucified Him, but in His name there is salvation, and whoever
   among you will repent and be baptized shall find mercy." That is all! I
   am sure Mr. Charles Simeon in his, "Skeleton Sermons," would not have
   inserted it as a model. And I do not suppose that any college professor
   alive would ever say to his students--"If you want to preach, preach
   like Peter." Why, I do not perceive it firstly, secondly, thirdly or
   fourthly, to which some of us feel compelled to bind ourselves. It is,
   in fact, a commonplace talking about sublime things--sublime things
   which in this age are thought to be foolishness and a stumbling block.

   Well then, may the Spirit of God be poured out to teach our ministers
   to preach plainly, to set our young men talking about Jesus Christ--for
   this is absolutely necessary. When the Spirit of God goes away from a
   Church, it is a fine thing for oratory, because then it is much more
   assiduously cultivated. When the Spirit of God is gone, then all the
   ministers become exceedingly learned, for not having the Spirit they
   need to supply the emptiness His absence has made. And then the
   old-fashioned Bible is not quite good enough. They must touch it up a
   bit, and improve upon it. The old doctrines which used to rejoice their
   grandmothers at the fireside are too stale for them--they must have an
   improved and a new theology.

   And young gentlemen nowadays show their profound erudition by denying
   everything which is the prop and pillar of our hope, and start some new
   will-o'-the-wisp which they set their people staring at. Ah, well, we
   want the Spirit of God to sweep all that away. Oh that my dear Sister
   who conducts the female class, and all who are in the Sunday school may
   be helped just to talk to you about Christ. When you get the Spirit of
   God to come upon you like fire, and like a rushing mighty wind, it will
   not be to make you doctors of divinity, and scholars, and great
   elocutionists. It will only be just for this--to make you preach Christ
   and preach Him more simply than ever you did before.

   The next result was that the people were pricked in the heart and began
   to cry, "Men and Brothers and Sisters, what shall we do?" What a
   disorderly thing to do at a sermon. Usher! Put that man out of the
   Church! We cannot allow people to be calling out, "What must I do to be
   saved?" Blessed disorder, blessed disorder, which the Spirit of God
   gives! This will be the result of all sermons in which there is the
   Presence of God. Men will feel that they have heard something which has
   gone right into their inmost nature--that they have received a wound
   which they can by no means heal. And at the next enquiry meeting there
   will be many saying, "How can I find peace? How can I get my sins
   forgiven?"

   What next? Why, where the Spirit of God is, there will be faith, and
   there will be an outward confession of it in Baptism. "Well, well,"
   says one, "I did not think we were to see all this rushing mighty wind,
   and tongues of fire just to get a few commonplace sermons and
   conversions and Baptisms." But I tell you again it is the conversions
   and baptisms which make the arches of Heaven ring! I do not believe
   there was one extra note in Heaven on the day when the Princess of
   Wales rode through London. We all went and gazed and admired, but I do
   not believe that one angel ever opened one eye to look at it. He saw
   nothing there which struck him.

   But wherever there is a groaning, and a sobbing, and a sighing after
   the Savior, a longing after reconciliation--and above all, where there
   is a renewed heart dedicating itself openly to Jesus, where there is a
   soul that says--"I will be buried with my Master. I will be obedient to
   His command, and despite every opposition, I will go down with Him into
   the liquid grave. I will be numbered with the ridiculed men and women
   who acknowledge that they are dead to the world and only alive to
   Christ"--I say it is in such a case that angels rejoice, and this it is
   for which we want the Spirit of God.

   I have done when I have sown this thought. See, dear Friends, see the
   absolute importance of repentance, and of faith, and of Baptism. I pray
   you, if the Spirit of God comes all the way from Heaven to work these,
   be not satisfied till you receive them. See, again, the importance of
   preaching, for the Spirit of God descends only to help the preacher.
   And then see, last of all, the all-importance of the Holy Spirit.
   Without Him we cannot preach, and we cannot hear so as to believe and
   be saved. May I beg you, as you go your way, to entreat the Lord to be
   with us according to His own promise--"If you, being evil, know how to
   give good gifts unto your children, much more shall your heavenly
   Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him."
     __________________________________________________________________

                            A Precious Drop Of Honey

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 31, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   "Behold, I ha ve inscribed you upon the palms of My hands." Isaiah
   49:16.
   GOD'S promises are not exhausted by one fulfillment. They are manifold
   mercies, so that after you have opened one fold and found out one
   signification, you may unfurl them still more and find another which
   shall be equally true, and then another, and another, and another,
   almost without end. Like the cherubim, God's promises have a face for
   every quarter of the earth, and like the wheels, they are full of eyes
   for every trial of the chosen people. The Lord knows how to speak
   many-handed promises. His words, like the trees of the New Jerusalem,
   bear twelve manner of fruits, and yield their fruit every month.
   No doubt the text and the preceding promises all refer to the seed of
   Abraham. God will not cast them away. He does no more forget them than
   does a woman forget her sucking child. They shall return to their own
   land and accept Messiah, the Prince whom they have so long despised.
   But the seed of Abraham is the grand type of the Church. And therefore
   we believe that every word here, in its widest and most extensive
   sense, belongs to the elect of God--those who are written in the Lamb's
   Book of Life, and for whom Jesus shed His blood. We feel persuaded that
   the favor which is shelved to the whole body is given to each member,
   and therefore any true Believer who is, through faith, one of the
   spiritual seed of Abraham, may take the promises to himself and say,
   "Thus says the Lord unto my soul. Thus and thus speaks He comfortably
   concerning me."

   I believe, I say, that the text before us belongs primarily to the seed
   of Israel. Next, to the whole Church as a body. And then to every
   individual member. Understand it so, and may each one of you, even
   though you are numbered among the little in Israel, have Divine Grace
   to draw forth marrow and fatness out of the inexpressibly rich text
   which today the Spirit of God presents to us.

   I intend, first of all, to consider our text verbally, pulling it to
   pieces word by word. Then next, to consider it as a whole. And then, to
   incite you by it as a whole, to consider what is the conduct demanded
   of you by a Truth of God so sweet.

   I. First of all, then, my text is one of those remarkable sentences in
   which EVERY SINGLE WORD DESERVES TO BE EMPHASIZED. We will begin with
   the first word, "Behold." "Behold, I have inscribed you upon the palms
   of My hands." "Behold," is a word of wonder. It is intended to excite
   admiration. Wherever you see it hung out in Scripture, it is like an
   ancient signboard, signifying that there are rich wares within, or like
   the hands which solid readers have observed in the margin of the older
   Puritan books, drawing attention to something particularly worthy of
   observation.

   Here, indeed, we have a theme for marveling. Heaven and earth may well
   be astonished that God should ever inscribe upon His hands the names of
   sinners. That rebels should attain so great a nearness to His heart as
   to be written upon the palms of His hands! Well might the angels
   wonder, and those bright spirits be lost in amazement, for unto which
   of the angels said He at any time, "I have inscribed you upon the palms
   of My hands"? What cherub ever attained this dignity, or to what seraph
   was this honor awarded? But to man, who is but a worm. To the son of
   man who is but dust and ashes. To man who has rebelled, who has lost
   all claim upon God's favor, and deserves His hottest wrath--to man is
   this consolation given, "I have inscribed you upon the palms of My
   hands."

   Speak of the seven wonders of the world! Why this is a wonder in the
   seventh heavens! No doubt a part of the wonder which is concentrated in
   the word "Behold," is excited by the unbelieving lamentation of the
   preceding sentence. Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, and my God
   has forgotten me." How amazed the Divine mind seems to be at this
   wicked unbelief of man! What can be more astounding than the unfounded
   doubts and fears of God's favored people? He seems to say, "How can I
   have forgotten you, when I have inscribed you upon the palms of My
   hands? How can it be? How dare you doubt My constant remembrance, when
   the memorial is set upon My very flesh?"

   Unbelief, how strange a marvel you are! I know not which most to wonder
   at, the faithfulness of God or the unbelief of His people! He keeps His
   promise a thousand times, and yet the next trial makes us doubt Him. He
   never fails. He is never a dry well. He is never as a setting sun, a
   passing meteor, or a melting vapor--and yet we are as continually vexed
   with anxieties, molested with suspicions, and disturbed with fears--as
   if our God were fickle and untrue. Here follows the great marvel--that
   God should be faithful to such a faithless people! And that when He is
   provoked with their doubts, He nevertheless abides true.

   Behold! Behold! I say and am ashamed and confounded for all your cruel
   doubts of your indulgent Lord. I remarked that the "Behold" in our text
   is intended to attract particular attention. There is something here
   worthy of being studied. If you should spend a month over such a text
   as this, you should only begin to understand it. It is a gold mine.
   There are nuggets upon the surface, but there is richer gold for the
   man who can dig deep. I can only indicate the veins of gold--it is for
   you afterwards in your meditations to follow them out.

   1 pray you, be very careful with the text--lose not a drop of the wine
   of consolation contained in its precious crystal--be prayerful and
   anxious to grind forth from this wheat every atom of its fine flour.
   Leave no meal to grow stale in this barrel. Drain all the oil from this
   cruse, for where God sets a "Behold," depend upon it, there is a
   something that is not to be trifled with, nor to be passed over in
   indifference.

   We pass on now to the next word, "Behold, I have inscribed you upon the
   palms of My hands." The Divine Artist, who has been pleased to engrave
   His people for a memorial, is none other than God Himself. Here we
   learn the lesson which Christ afterwards taught His disciples--"You
   have not chosen Me, but I have chosen you." No one can write upon the
   hands of God, but God Himself. Neither our merits, prayers, repentance,
   nor faith can write our names there, for these in their goodness extend
   not unto God so as to write upon His hands.

   Nor did blind chance or mere necessity of fate inscribe our names. But
   the living hand of a living Father, unprompted by anything except the
   spontaneous and Omnipotent love of His own heart, wrote the names of
   His people upon His own hands. How dependent are we upon God! If my
   name is in the Lamb's Book of Life, how ought I to adore the
   sovereignty of the Divine Grace which placed it there! Had it not been
   there, I could not have inscribed it. Had it not been found in the
   list, no archangel could, by any possibility, have inserted it--

   "What if my name should be left out When You for them shall call?"

   It is a black thought to any of us, but when I know that it is not left
   out, but is written there among the bright spirits chosen of God, and
   precious, how this should make me leap for joy! "I have inscribed you."
   Then, again, if the Lord has done it, there is no mistake about it. If
   some human hand had cut the memorial, the hieroglyphs might be at
   fault. But since perfect Wisdom has combined with perfect Love to make
   a memorial of the saints, no error by any possibility can have
   occurred. There can be no erasures, no crossing out of what God has
   written, no blotting out of what the Eternal has decreed. Fixed, and
   fixed forever must be the inscription which is of Divine Authorship.

   The powers of darkness cannot erase those everlasting lines. "I have
   inscribed you upon the palms of My hands." Soul, this is enough to
   overwhelm you with humble adoration that God should so much as take
   notice of you. When you receive the daily tokens of Divine care, ought
   you not to exclaim with David--"When I consider Your heavens, the work
   of Your fingers, the moon and the stars which You have ordained, what
   is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit
   him?" But how is it, Lord, that You can go farther than this, and You
   Yourself write the names of these insignificant mortals upon Your own
   hands?

   "I have inscribed you." It is wonderful to see how God comes into
   immediate contact with His saints, and appears in Person in all His
   acts of Grace towards them. In other works it is His far-reaching
   voice, but in the wonders of His Grace it is His present hand. In the
   making of worlds, He stands at a distance, and speaks His will. But
   when He creates saints, and redeems His people, He comes out of His
   chambers--He rends the heavens and comes down--He reveals Himself as a
   God near at hand. He stands over His work as the potter over the clay
   upon the wheel.

   It is written that when He made the heavens and the earth, "the morning
   stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." But I
   never hear that God sang. There is nothing in the merely material
   universe to stir the Infinite heart. The work is not dear enough to
   Him, nor so full of satisfaction as the grand work of redeeming love.
   When He saved His people--when He created Israel for Himself, I hear it
   said--"He shall rest in His love. He shall rejoice over you with
   singing." Oh, matchless verse, in which the Eternal Trinity burst forth
   into sacred song! Do you not catch the strain even now. "I have done
   it. I have come forth Myself out of the secret of My tabernacle wherein
   I have concealed Myself from the gaze of men, and 'I have inscribed you
   upon the palms of My hands.' "

   Take the next word. We have many wells here out of which we may draw
   water. "Behold, I have inscribed you." Not, "I will," you see. Nor yet,
   "I am doing it." It is a thing of the past, and how far back in the
   past! Oh, the antiquity of this inscription! They take us to the
   British Museum and show us most reverend writings which are the
   memorials of those hoary ages--which were the first born of the years
   beyond the flood. But here is an inscription older than them all.
   Compared with it, Assyrian antiquities and Egyptian records are things
   of yesterday. Before the young earth had burst her swaddling bands of
   mist, yes, before the globe had been begotten, or yonder sun had darted
   his infant arrows, or yonder stars had opened their eyes, the Eternal
   had fixed His eyes of love upon His favorites.

   Fly back as far as you will, until this present world and all the
   worlds within the universe sleep in the mind of God, like unborn
   forests in an acorn cup, and even then you have not reached the time.
   Before all time when it was first said-- "I have inscribed you upon the
   palms of My hands." "From everlasting to everlasting You are God." From
   everlasting to everlasting You are the same, and Your people's names
   are written on Your hands!

   Yet, methinks there may be a prophetic reference here to a later
   writing of the names, when Jesus Christ submitted His outstretched
   palms to those cruel engraving tools, the nails. Then was it surely,
   when the executioner with the hammer smote the tender hands of the
   loving Jesus, that He engraved our names upon the palms of His hands.
   And today when He points to those wounds, when by faith He permits us
   to put our fingers into the prints of the nails, He may still say to
   us--

   "Deep on the palms of both My hands I have engraved Your name."

   Well, Christian, do not these deep things comfort you? Have you no
   consolation in the ancient things of the everlasting mountains? Does
   not eternal love delight you? God is no stranger to you. He has known
   you long before you knew yourself--yes, long before you were curiously
   worked in the lowest parts of the earth--in His book all your members
   were written, which in continuance were fashioned when as yet there was
   none of them. Known unto God from the foundation of the earth were you.
   He was always thinking of you. There was never a period when you were
   not in His mind and on His heart. "I have inscribed you upon the palms
   of My hands."

   But the next word is "inscribed." My dear friend, The Rev. John
   Anderson, of Helensburgh, whom I am glad to welcome here today, told me
   this morning that while traveling in the east he has frequently seen
   persons with portraits of their friends upon their hands, so that
   wherever they went, as one in this country would carry the portrait of
   a friend in a brooch or a watch, they carry these likenesses printed on
   their palms.

   I said to him, "Surely they would wash out." They might by degrees, he
   said, but they frequently had them pricked in with strong indelible
   ink, so that there, while the palm lasts, there lasts the memorial of
   the friend. Surely this is what the text refers to. I have inscribed
   you in. I have not merely printed you, stamped you on the surface, but
   I have permanently cut you into my hand with marks which never can be
   removed. That word "inscribed" sets forth the perpetuity of the
   inscription. Not on the hand of man but on the hand of God is it
   engraved.

   Oh, mysterious thought! On that hand immortal and eternal is it dug,
   engraved in. Our engravers press upon their tools. They tell us how
   stern the labor when they cut the hard metal to mark each line, and God
   has thus engraved--with the whole strength of Omnipotence He has leaned
   upon the tool to cut our names into His flesh! Was there not such an
   engraving at Calvary? Is it not written, "It pleased the Father to
   bruise Him. He has put Him to grief"? It is as if eternal strength, I
   say, leaned upon that engraving tool to write the memorial of His
   chosen people in the hands of Jesus. "I have inscribed you upon the
   palms of My hands."

   We need not indulge the dark foreboding that we shall be lost, but we
   may sing with Hammond--

   "If Jesus is ours we have a true Friend, Whose goodness endures the
   same to the end. Our comforts may vary, our frames may decline,

   We cannot miscarry. Our aid is Divine. The hills may depart and
   mountains remove, But faithful You are O fountain of love! The Father
   has inscribed our names on Your hands, Our record, in Heaven, eternally
   stands."

   Shall we stop to take that next word? Scarcely may I preach from it,
   but you should meditate upon it constantly. "I have inscribed you upon
   the palms of My hands." My Lord, do You mean me? Yes, even me, if I, by
   faith, cling to Your Cross. I am not shut out from Your heart of love,
   if by faith I have entered into Your happy family. I know that You
   remember me or You would never have helped me to remember You. Glory be
   to You, O my gracious Lord."

   But I want you, my beloved Brothers and Sisters, to notice that the
   word runs, "I have inscribed you." It does not say, "Your name." The
   name is there, but that is not all--"I have inscribed you." See the
   fullness of this! I have inscribed your person, your image, your case,
   your circumstances, your sins, your temptations, your weaknesses, your
   wants, your works. I have inscribed you--everything about you--all that
   concerns you. I have put you altogether there. It is not an outline
   sketch, you see. It is a full picture, as though the man himself were
   there. What? Do you dare dream that God forgets you? Will you ever say
   again that your God has forsaken you when He has engraved you--not your
   name, I say, but everything that concerns you--upon His own palms?

   "Oh," says one, "but I am in such a plight this morning." Well, He has
   inscribed that there. "Ah," says another, "I am so weak and so feeble!"
   That, too, is engraved there. "I have inscribed you." The Omniscient
   God knows you better than you know yourself--and whereas you are
   conscious of some sin and some imperfection--He knows that you have an
   infinitude of sin and a vastness of infirmity. He has put it all
   there--"I have engraved you." I say, again, this is a thing too great
   to be talked of, but more fit to be read, marked, learned, and digested
   in the silence of your closet.

   You have never inscribed yourselves so well upon the tablets of your
   own knowledge as God has inscribed you upon those blessed tablets--the
   palms of His hands. Yes, I dare to say it--our indulgent God as much
   thinks of one saint as if there were no other saint--and no other
   created thing in all the world. Our Covenant God so recollects and
   cares for His child, that if the whole universe were dissolved and had
   departed like a shadow, and our Lord had but one man to fix all His
   Divine Grace upon, He would not watch him more, nor more carefully and
   lovingly see after his best interests, than He now cares for each one
   of His people. "I have inscribed you upon the palms of My hands."

   We have up to now taken every word, but we must now take the next two
   or three. Remember we are inscribed, where? Upon His hands, not upon
   the works of His hands. They shall perish--yes, they shall all wax old
   as does a garment. But His hands shall endure forever and ever. We are
   not inscribed upon a seal, for a seal might be slipped from the finger
   and laid aside. The hand itself can never be separated from the living
   God. It is not inscribed or engraved on a huge rock, for a convulsion
   of nature might rend the rock by an earthquake, or the fretting tooth
   of time might eat the inscription out. Our record is on His hands,
   where it must last, world without end. Not upon the back of His hands
   where it might be supposed that in days of strife and warfare the
   inscription might suffer damage, but there upon the palms of His hands
   where it shall be well protected, so that even--

   "When God's right arm is bared for war, And thunder clouds His stormy
   cry," even then, when He smites with His fist, His people shall be well
   protected within the palms of His hands.

   The most tender part shall be made the place of the inscription, that
   to which He is most likely to look. That which His fingers of wisdom
   enclose, that by which He works His mighty wonders shall be the
   unceasing remembrance, pledging Him never to forget His chosen. Do
   notice, it does not say, "I have inscribed you upon the palm of one
   hand," but "I have inscribed you upon the palms of My hands." There are
   two memorials. His saints shall never be forgotten, for the inscription
   is put there upon the palm of this hand, the right hand of blessing,
   and upon the palm of that hand, the left hand ofjustice. I see Him with
   His right hand beckon me--"Come you blessed," and He sees me in His
   hand.

   And on that side He says, "Depart you cursed," but not to me, for He
   sees me in His hand, and cannot curse me. Oh, my Soul, how charming
   this is, to know that His left hand is under your head, while His right
   hand does embrace you. Both hands are marked with the memorial--this
   left hand, which is the hand of cursing, cannot curse me, for it is
   under my head. It cannot smite, for it has become my strength and my
   stay, my pillow and my rest. While His right hand does embrace me, to
   keep me safe from death, and Hell--and to preserve me and bring me to
   His eternal kingdom in Glory.

   Now I am conscious that I cannot work out the beauty of this passage. I
   am equally conscious that you cannot either, unless you have much
   longer time for meditation than such a short service as this can afford
   you. Take it home and look at it again and again, especially laying an
   emphasis on the word "you." And oh, if you can render it--"He has
   inscribed me, me, me, upon the palms of His hands." If your soul can
   know that God has you daily in remembrance, and neither can, nor will,
   forget you, then you will dance before the Ark of the Lord. And if
   Michal mocks, you may answer her as David did--"The God that chose me,
   made me to dance." Eternal Election and Indissoluble Union are truths
   which make Believers rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
   "Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, you righteous, and shout for joy all
   you that are upright in heart."

   II. Now let us proceed to the second part of the subject, which is to
   CONSIDER THE TEXT AS A WHOLE. "I have inscribed you upon the palms of
   My hands." This seems to show us, first of all, that God's remembrance
   of His people is constant. The hands, of course, are constantly in
   union with the body. In Solomon's Song we read, "Set me as a seal upon
   Your hands." Now this is a very close form of remembrance, for the seal
   is very seldom laid aside by the Eastern, who not being possessed with
   skill in the art of writing his name, requires his seal in order to
   affix his signature to a document. Therefore the seal is almost always
   worn, and in some cases is never laid aside.

   A seal, however, might be laid aside, but the hands never could be. It
   has been a custom, in the olden days especially, when men wished to
   remember a thing, to tie a cord about the hand, or a thread around the
   finger by which memory would be assisted. But then the cord might be
   snapped or taken away, and so the matter forgotten. But the hand and
   that which is printed into it must be constant and perpetual. O
   Christian, remember that by night and by day God is always thinking of
   you. From the beginning of the year even to the end of the year, the
   Lord's eyes are upon you, according to His precious Word--"I, the Lord
   do keep it, I will water it every moment, lest any hurt it. I will keep
   it night and day."

   Your remembrance of God is intermittent. You thought of Him this
   morning when you rose from your beds. You are trying to think of Him
   now, and this evening, again, your thoughts will go up to Him. These
   are only times and seasons of remembrance, but God never ceases to
   recollect you. The finite mind of man cannot constantly be occupied, if
   it is to engage in other pursuits, with any one thought. But the
   gigantic mind of God can think of a million trains of thought at once.
   He is not confined to thinking of one thing, or working out one problem
   at a time. He is the great many-handed, many-eyed God. He does all
   things, and meditates upon all things, and works all things at the same
   time--therefore He never is called away by any urgent business so that
   He can forget you.

   No second person ever comes in to become a rival in His affection
   towards you. You are fast united to your great Husband, Christ, and no
   other lover can steal His heart. But Jesus, having chosen you, does
   never allow a rival to come. You are His beloved, His spouse, the
   darling of His heart, and He has Himself said, "My eyes and my heart
   are toward you continually." Every moment of every day, every day of
   every month, and every month of every year, is the Lord continually
   thinking upon you, if you are one of His.

   Still further, the text as a whole seems to show us that this
   recollection on God's part is practical. We are engraved upon His
   heart--this is to show His love. We are put upon His shoulders--this is
   to show that His strength is engaged for us. And also upon His hands,
   to show that the activity of our Lord will not be separated from us. He
   will work and show Himself strong for His people. He brings His
   Omnipotent hands to effect our redemption. What would be the use of
   having a friend who would think of us, and then let his love end in
   thought? The faithfulness we want is that of one who will act in our
   defense. We need one who so cares for us that against every arrow of
   the adversary He will lift up the shield. And for every want will find
   a supply. We want an active sympathy from God. Surely this is the
   intention of the text. "I have inscribed you upon the palms of My
   hands."

   He has done all He has done as if everything that He touched left a
   memorial of His people on it--as if every work He did, He did it with
   the same hands that carved the remembrance of His people. Do you see
   the drift of it? If He molds a world between His palms and then sends
   it wheeling in its orbit--it is between those palms which are stamped
   with the likeness of His sons and daughters--and so that new work shall
   minister to their good. If He divides a nation, it is always with the
   hand that bears the remembrance of Zion. Scripture itself tells us
   this, "When He divided the nations, He set the bounds of the people
   according to the number of the children of Israel."

   The great wheel of Providence, when God makes it revolve, works for the
   good of the people whom He has called according to His purpose. There
   are many strings, but they are all in one hand, and they all pull one
   way--to draw a weight of glory to the chosen. There are many wheels and
   innumerable cogs, and as you and I look about us, we cannot understand
   the machinery. We cry, "O wheels, what do you work?" But the end, the
   end, if you stood there and saw the end of everything, you would see
   that God has stamped all the wheels with the memory of His children, so
   that the result is always good and only good to those whom He has
   inscribed on the palms of His hands. It is, then, a practical as well
   as a constant sympathy.

   Next, dear Friends, and to the children of God this will be a
   delightful thought, this is an eternal remembrance. You cannot suppose
   it possible that any person can erase what is written on God's hands.
   The Scriptures tell us that we are in the hands of Christ, and that
   none shall pluck us out. Some Arminians say we can slip out. But how
   can we slip out if we are engraved there? We may well defy all the
   devils in Hell, with all their craft, even to forge a plan by which
   they can get at the palms of God's hands. I cannot think of a thing
   that should seem more impossible, more tremendously impossible, than
   that any creature--whether it be life or death, things present or
   things to come--should ever be able to reach the palms of God's hands,
   so as to erase our names. Our hymn is not wrong when it says--

   "Once in Christ, in Christ forever,
   Nothing from His love can sever." And Toplady made no mistake when he
   said--
   "My name from the palms of His hands
   Eternity will not erase.
   Impressed on His heart it remains
   In marks of indelible Grace--
   Yes, I to the end shall endure,
   As sure as the earnest is given.
   More happy, but not more secure,
   The glorified spirits in Heaven."
   "I have inscribed you upon the palms of My hands."

   Still I have not drained my text dry. Let the treader of the winepress
   tread the grapes once more, and more holy wine shall flow there from
   this memorial--how tender! How tender, I say, because it is inscribed
   on the hands. We have heard of one, an eastern queen, who so loved her
   husband that she thought even to build a mausoleum to his memory was
   not enough. She had a strange way of proving her affection, for when
   her husband's bones were burned she took the ashes and drank them day
   by day, that, as she said, her body might be her husband's living
   sepulcher.

   It was a strange way of showing love and there was a marvelous degree
   of strange, fanatical fondness in it. But what shall I say of this
   Divine, celestial, unobjectionable, sympathetic mode of showing
   remembrance by cutting it into the palms? Words fail to express our
   intense content with this most admirable sign of tenderness and fond
   affection. It appears to me as though the King had said, "Shall I carve
   my people upon precious stones? Shall I choose the ruby, the emerald,
   the topaz? No. For these all must melt in the last general
   conflagration. What then? Shall I write on tablets of gold or silver?
   No, for all these may canker and corrupt, and thieves may break through
   and steal.

   "Shall I cut the memorial deep on brass? No, for time would fret it,
   and the letters would not long be legible. I will write on Myself, on
   My own hands, and then My people will know how tender I am, that I
   would sooner cut into My own flesh than forget them. I will have my Son
   branded in the hands with the names of His people, that they may be
   sure He cannot forsake them. Hard by the memorial of His wounds shall
   be the memorial of His love to them, for, indeed, His wounds are an
   everlasting remembrance." How loving, then, how full of superlative,
   super-excellent affection is God toward you, and toward me in so
   recording our names.

   Weary not when I yet further remark, that this memorial is most
   surprising. Scripture, which is full of wonders, yet allows a "Behold"
   to be put before this verse--"Behold!" If the things I have been saying
   are enough to make you won-der--the deep sea of the text, without
   bottom and without shore--would much more cause you to hold up your
   hands in astonishment. Child of God, let your cheerful eyes, and your
   joyful heart testify how great a wonder it is that you, once so vile,
   so hard of heart, so far estranged from God, are this day written on
   the palms of His hands. And then I close this point by saying it is
   also most consolatory. When God would meet Zion's great doubt--"God has
   forgotten me," He cheers her with this--"I have inscribed you upon the
   palms of My hands."

   Where are you this morning, Mourner--where are you? Ah, you may well
   hide your head for shame. You said yesterday, when trial after trial
   came --

   "My God has quite forgotten me; My Lord will be gracious no more." Here
   is God's answer to you this morning--"It cannot be. I cannot forget
   you, for I have inscribed you upon the palms of My hands."--

   "Forget you, I will not, I cannot, your name Engraved on My heart does
   forever remain; The palms of My hands while I look on, I see The wounds
   I received when suffering for you." There is no sorrow to which our
   text is not an antidote. If you are a child of God, though your
   troubles have been as innumerable as the waves of the sea, this text,
   like the channels of the ocean, can contain them all. I care not this
   morning though you have lost everything, though you came here a
   penniless bankrupt beggar--so long as you have this text you are rich
   beyond a miser's dream!

   You may have forgotten your own mercy. Your own experience may seem a
   dream to you. The devil may tell you that you never knew the Lord. Your
   own sins may bear evidence in the same way--but if you have believed in
   the Lord Jesus Christ, the Covenant made with David's Lord must not,
   and cannot, be broken. "I have inscribed you upon the palms of My
   hands." Come, drooping Saint, lift up your head! You dreary, downcast
   Brother, be of good cheer! If Christ remembers you, what more can you
   want? The dying thief's extremity could not suggest a prayer larger
   than, "Lord, remember me!"--and your greatest sorrow cannot ask for a
   more complete assuagement than this--"Lord, show me that You have
   inscribed me upon the palms of Your hands."

   III. And now we come to the last point, upon which only a hint. I said
   the last point would be to EXCITE YOU TO THE DUTY WHICH SUCH A TEXT
   SUGGESTS.

   Beloved in our Lord Jesus Christ, if you are partakers of this
   inestimably precious text, let me say, first of all, is it not your
   duty to leave your cares behind you today? We do not want any valuables
   left behind in the Chapel, but these cares can be swept out tomorrow
   morning when the women clear away the rubbish--and I am sure the
   dustbin never contained viler stuff. Leave them here today. What are
   you fretting about? Is not a Christian inconsistent when he is full of
   carking care? Should not the fact that God always graciously and
   tenderly remembers you, compel you once and for all to leave your
   burden with Him who cares for you?--

   "The Lord our Leader goes before,
   Sufficient He and none besides.
   And were the dangers many more,
   We need not fear with such a Guide.
   Through snares, through dangers and through foes
   He leads, whose arm almighty is--
   What, then, if earth and Hell oppose?
   We need not fear if we are His."

   Then, if you must not have cares, I think you should not have those
   deep sorrows and despairs. Lift up your head! Jehovah remembers you,
   Man! The billows cannot drown him whom the Lord of Hosts ordains to
   bring to shore. Be glad in your God, and His perfect love. Do you not
   think that joy becomes a man to whom such a text as this belongs? Wipe
   your brow. It is true, the sweat stands on it, but your greatest labor
   is done--Christ has finished it for you. There need, at least, be no
   sweat of trepidation and alarm upon your face. He cannot forget you.
   You have what angels envy. You have what poor mourning souls would give
   their eyes to win--what troubled consciences would give their blood to
   buy.

   Be glad! Why should the children of such a King go mourning any one of
   their days? Now lift up your heads and bathe them in the sunlight of
   God. Take the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for
   the spirit of heaviness. I am certain that the man who wears such a
   gold chain about his neck need not bear the rags of penury. The man who
   wears such a diamond coronet as this upon his brow ought not to behave
   like a poor beggar in the streets. Go not clothed in rags of mourning,
   but put on the scarlet and fine linen of thanksgiving--since God gives
   you this consolation--"I have inscribed you upon the palms of My
   hands."

   One thing more and that is, if this text is not yours, how your mouths
   ought to water after it. It is wrong to covet, but not to covet such a
   thing as this. "Covet earnestly the best gifts." Is there a soul here
   who says, "O that I had a part and lot in this matter! Would God that I
   were saved, that I were written in the palms of Jesus' hands"? Poor
   Soul, if you desire Christ, He desires you. If you have a spark of love
   to Him, His soul is like a fiery furnace of love toward you--and you
   may have His pardoning love shed abroad this morning.

   "How?" you ask. "Whoever believes on Him shall never perish." To
   believe is to trust, and if you trust confidently, simply--just as a
   child trusts to its mother's arms--you shall find that He will never
   fail your trust nor prove untrue to your confidence. May God bring you
   to know yourself, and to know the sweetness of this blessed, blessed
   text, which overwhelms and destroys all power of speech in me, and
   makes me feel the poverty of my thoughts and language.

   God bless you, for Jesus' sake. Amen. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

                             The Young Man'S Prayer

   A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JUNE 7, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
   SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

   O satisfy us early with Your mercy, that we may rejoice and be glad all
   our days."

   Psalm 90:14.

   ISRAEL had suffered a long night of affliction. Dense was the darkness
   while they abode in Egypt, and cheerless was the glimmering twilight of
   that wilderness which was covered with their graves. Amidst a thousand
   miracles of mercy, what must have been the sorrows of a camp in which
   every stop was marked with many burials--until the whole trail was a
   long cemetery? I suppose that the deaths in the camp of Israel was
   never less than fifty each day--if not three times that number--so that
   they learned experimentally that verse of the Psalm, "For we are
   consumed by Your anger, and by Your wrath are we troubled."

   Theirs was the weary march of men who wander about in search of tombs.
   They traveled towards a land which they could never reach, weary with a
   work the result of which only their children should receive. You may
   easily understand how these troubled ones longed for the time when the
   true day of Israel should dawn, when the black midnight of Egypt, and
   the dark twilight of the wilderness should both give way to the rising
   sun of the settled rest in Canaan. Most fitly was the prayer offered by
   Moses--the representative man of all that host--"O satisfy us early
   with Your mercy." Hasten the time when we shall come to our promised
   rest. Bring on speedily the season when we shall sit under own vine and
   our own fig tree, "and shall rejoice and be glad all our days."

   This prayer falls from the lips of yonder Brother, whose rough pathway
   for many a mile has descended into the Valley of Death. Loss after loss
   has he experienced, till as in Job's case, the messengers of evil have
   trod upon one another's heels. His griefs are new every morning, and
   his trials fresh every evening. Friends forsake him and prove to be
   deceitful brooks. God breaks him with a tempest. He finds no pause in
   the ceaseless shower of his troubles. Nevertheless, his hope is not
   extinguished, and his constant faith lays hold upon the promise, that,
   "weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." He
   understands that God will not always chide, neither does He keep His
   anger forever.

   Therefore he watches for deliverance even as they that watch for the
   morning, and his most appropriate cry is, "O satisfy us early with Your
   mercy. Lift up the light of Your countenance upon us. Show Your
   marvelous loving kindness in this present hour of need. O my God, make
   haste to help me, be a very present help in time of trouble. Fly to my
   relief lest I perish from the land. Awake for my rescue, that I may
   rejoice and be glad all my days."

   See yonder sick bed! Tread lightly, lest perchance you disturb the
   brief slumbers of that daughter of affliction. She has tossed to and
   fro days and nights without number, counting her minutes by her pains,
   and numbering her hours with the attacks of her agony. From that couch
   of suffering where many diseases have conspired to torment the frail
   body of this child of woe, where the soul itself has grown weary of
   life, and longs for the wings of a dove, methinks this prayer may well
   arise, "O satisfy us early with Your mercy." "When will the eternal day
   break upon my long night? When will the shadows flee away? Sweet Sun of
   Glory! When will You rise with healing beneath Your wings? I shall be
   satisfied when I wake up in Your likeness, O Lord. Hasten that joyful
   hour. Give me a speedy deliverance from my bed of weakness, that I may
   rejoice and be glad throughout eternal days."

   Methinks the prayer would be equally appropriate from many a distressed
   conscience where conviction of sin has rolled heavily over the soul
   till the bones are sore vexed, and the spirit is overwhelmed. That poor
   heart indulges the hope that Jesus Christ will one day comfort it, and
   become its salvation--it has a humble hope that these wounds will not
   last forever but shall all be healed by Mercy's hand. That He who
   looses the bands of Orion will one day deliver the prisoner out of his
   captivity. Oh, conscience-stricken Sinner, you may on your knees now
   cry out--"O satisfy me early with Your mercy! Keep me not always in
   this house of bondage. Let me not plunge forever in this slough of
   despair. Set my feet upon a rock, wash me from my iniquities. Clothe me
   with garments of salvation and put the new song into my mouth, that I
   may rejoice and be glad all my days."

   Still, it appears to me that without straining so much as one word even
   in the slightest degree, I may take my text this morning as the prayer
   of a young heart, expressing its desire for present salvation. To you,
   young men and maidens, shall I address myself. And may the good Spirit
   cause you in the days of your youth to remember your Creator, while the
   evil days come not, nor the years draw near when you shall say, we have
   no pleasure in them. I hope the angel of the Lord has said unto me,
   "Run, speak to that young man," and that like the good housewife in the
   Proverbs, I shall have a portion also for the maidens!

   I shall use the text in two ways, first, as the ground of my address to
   the young. And then, secondly, as a model for your address to God.

   I. WE WILL MAKE OUR TEXT THE GROUND WORK OF A SOLEMN PLEADING WITH
   YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN TO GIVE THEIR HEARTS TO CHRIST THIS DAY.

   The voice of Wisdom reminds you in this, our text, that you are not
   pure in God's sight, but NEED HIS MERCY. Early as it is with you, you
   must come before God on the same footing as those who seek Him at the
   eleventh hour. Here is nothing said about merit, nothing concerning the
   natural innocence of youth or the beauty of the juvenile character. You
   are not thus flattered and deceived. But Holy Scripture guides you
   aright, by dictating to you an evangelical prayer, such as God will
   deign to accept--"O satisfy us early with your mercy."

   Young men, though as yet no outward crimes have stained your character,
   yet your salvation must be the work of reigning Grace, and that for
   several reasons. Your nature is at the present moment full of sin and
   saturated with iniquity, and therefore you are the object of God's most
   righteous anger. How can He meet an heir of wrath on terms of justice?
   His holiness cannot endure you! What if you are made an heir of Glory?
   Will not this be Divine Grace and Divine Grace alone? If ever you are
   made meet to be a partaker with the saints in light, this must surely
   be Love's own work-- inasmuch as your nature, altogether apart from
   your actions--deserves God's reprobation.

   It is mercy which spares you, and if the Lord is pleased to renew your
   heart, it will be to the praise of the glory of His Grace. Be not
   proud, repel not this certain Truth of God--that you are an alien, a
   stranger, an enemy--born in sin and shapen in iniquity! By nature you
   are an heir of wrath, even as others. Yield to its force, and seek that
   mercy which is as really needed by you as by the hoary-headed villain
   who rots into his grave, festering with debauchery and lust--

   "True you are young, but there's a stone Within the youngest breast
   One-half the crimes which you have done Would rob you of your rest."

   Besides, your conscience reminds you that your outward lives have not
   been what they should be. How soon did we begin to sin! While we were
   yet little children we went astray from the womb, speaking lies.

   How rebellious we were! How we chose our own will and way, and would by
   no means submit ourselves to our parents! How in our riper youth we
   thought it sport to scatter fire-brands and carry the hot coals of sin
   in our bosom! We played with the serpent, charmed with its azure
   scales, but forgetful of its poisoned fangs. Far be it from us to boast
   with the Pharisee--"Lord, I thank you that I am not as others." But
   rather let the youngest pray with the publican--"God be merciful to me
   a sinner." A little child, but seven years of age, cried when under
   conviction of sin--"Can the Lord have mercy upon such a great sinner as
   I am, who have lived seven years without fearing and loving Him?"

   Ah, my Friends, if this babe could thus lament, what should be the
   repentance of those who are fifteen, or sixteen, or seventeen, or
   eighteen, or twenty, or who have passed the year of manhood? What shall
   you say, since you have lived so long, wasting your precious days--more
   priceless than pearls, neglecting those golden years, despising Divine
   things and continuing in rebellion against God? Lord, You know that
   young though we are, we have multitudes of sins to confess, and
   therefore it is mercy, mercy, mercy, which we crave at Your hands!

   Remember, beloved young Friends, that if you are saved in the morning
   of life, you will be wonderful instances of preventing mercy. It is
   great mercy which blots out sin, but who shall say that it is not
   equally great mercy which prevents it? To bring home yonder sheep which
   has long gone astray, with its wool all torn, its flesh bleeding, and
   its bones broken, manifests the tender care of the Good Shepherd. But,
   oh, to reclaim the lamb at the commencement of its straying--to put it
   into the fold and to keep it there and nurture it--what a million
   mercies are here compressed into one! The young saint may sweetly
   sing--

   "I still had wandered but for You; Lord, it was Your own all-powerful
   Word, Sin's fetters broke and set me free, Henceforth to own You as my
   Lord."

   There are depths of mercy to pluck the sere brand from out of the fire
   when it is black and scorched with the flame. But are there not heights
   of love when the young wood is planted in the courts of the Lord and
   made to flourish as a cedar? However soon we are saved, the glory of
   perfection has departed from us, but how happy is he who tarries but a
   few years in a state of nature. As if the fall and the rising again
   walked hand in hand. No soul is without spot or wrinkle, but some
   stains are spots the young Believer is happily delivered from. Habits
   of vice and continuance in crime he has not known. He never knew the
   drunkard's raging thirst. The black oaths of the sailor never dirtied
   his mouth.

   This younger son has not been long in the far country. He comes back
   before he has long fed the swine. He has been black with sin in the
   sight of God, but in the eyes of men, and in the open vision of
   onlookers, the young Believer seems as if he had never gone astray.
   Here is great mercy--mercy for which Heaven is to be praised forever
   and ever. This, me-thinks, I may call distinguishing Grace with an
   emphasis. All election distinguishes, and all Divine Grace is
   discriminating. But that Grace which adopts the young child so early is
   distinguishing in the highest degree! As Hadad was brought up in the
   court of Pharaoh, and weaned in the king's palace, so are some saints
   sanctified from the womb.

   Happy is it for any young man--an elect one out of the elect is he--if
   he is weaned upon the knees of piety and candled upon the lap of
   holiness--if he is lighted to his bed with the lamps of the sanctuary
   and lulled to his sleep with the name of Jesus! If I may breathe a
   prayer in public for my children, let them be clothed with a little
   ephod, like young Samuel, and nourished in the chambers of the temple,
   like the young prince Joash. O my dear young Friends, it is mercy,
   mercy in a distinguishing and peculiar degree, to be saved
   early--because of your fallen nature, because of sins committed, and
   yet more--because of sins prevented, and distinguishing favor bestowed
   by the Grace of God!

   2. But I have another reason for endeavoring to plead with the young
   this morning, hoping that the Spirit of God will plead with them. I
   remark that salvation, if it comes to you, must not only be mercy, but
   it must be mercy through the Cross. I infer that from the text, because
   the text desires it to be a satisfying mercy, and there is no mercy
   which ever can satisfy a sinner, but mercy through the Cross of Christ.
   There is no mercy apart from the Cross. Many say that God is merciful,
   and therefore, surely, He will not condemn them. But in the pangs of
   death and in the terrors of conscience, the uncovenanted mercy of God
   is no solace to the soul.

   Some proclaim a mercy which is dependant upon human effort--human
   goodness or merit--but no soul ever yet did or could find any lasting
   satisfaction in this delusion. Mercy by mere ceremonies or mercy by
   outward ordinances is but a mockery of human thirst. Like Tantalus, who
   is mocked by the receding waters, so is the ceremonialist who tries to
   drink where he finds all comfort flying from him. Young man, the Cross
   of Christ has that in it which can give you solid, satisfying
   comfort--if you put your trust in it. It can satisfy your judgment.
   What is more logical than the great doctrine of Substitution?--God is
   so terribly just that He will by no means spare the guilty, and that
   justice is wholly met by Him who stood in the place of His people!

   Here is that which will satisfy your conscience. Your conscience knows
   that God must punish you. It is one of those Truths which God stamped
   upon it when He first made you what you are. But when your soul sees
   Christ punished instead of you, it pillows its head right softly. There
   is no resting place for conscience but at the Cross. Priests may preach
   what they will, and philosophers may imagine what they please, but
   there is in the conscience of man, in its restlessness, an indication
   that the Cross of Christ must have come from God, because that
   conscience never ceases from its disquiet till it hides in the wounds
   of the Crucified. Never again shall conscience alarm you with dreadful
   thoughts of the wrath to come, if you lay hold of that mercy which is
   revealed in Jesus Christ.

   Here, too, is satisfaction for all your fears. Do they pursue you today
   like a pack of hungry dogs in full pursuit of the stag? Fly to Christ
   and your fears have vanished! What has that man to fear for whom Jesus
   died? Need he alarm himself when Christ stands in his place before the
   Eternal Throne and pleads there for him? Here, too, is satisfaction for
   your hopes. He that gets Christ gets all the future wrapped up in Him.
   While--

   "There's pardon for transgressions past;
   It matters not how black their cast," There are also peace, and joy,
   and safety for all the years and for all the eternity to come in the
   same Christ Jesus who has put away your sin. Oh, I wish, young Man, I
   wish young Woman, that you would put your trust in Jesus now, for in
   Him there is an answer to this prayer--"O satisfy us early with Your
   mercy."

   3. Furthermore, anxiously would I press this matter of a youthful faith
   upon you, because you have a dissatisfaction even now. Do I not speak
   the truth? When looking into the bright eyes of the gayest among you, I
   venture to say that you are not perfectly satisfied. You feel that
   something is lacking. My Lad, your boyish games cannot quite satisfy
   you. There is a something in you more noble than toys and games can
   gratify. Young Man, your pursuits of business furnish you with some
   considerable interest and amusement, but still there is an aching
   void--you know there is--and although pleasure promises to fill it, you
   have begun already to discover that you have a thirst which is not to
   be quenched with water, and a hunger which is not to he satisfied with
   bread. You know it is so.

   The other evening when you were quite alone, when you were quietly
   thinking matters over, you felt that this present world was not enough
   for you. The majesty of a mysterious longing which God had put in you
   lifted up itself and claimed to be heard! Did it not? The other day,
   after the party was over at which you had so enjoyed yourself, when it
   was all done and everybody was gone--and you were quite quiet, did you
   not feel that even if you had these things every day of your life--yet
   you could not be content? You want, you know not what, but something
   you do want to fill your heart.

   We look back upon our younger days and think that they were far happier
   than our present state, and we sometimes fancy that we used to be
   satisfied then, but I believe that our thoughts imagine a great
   falsehood. I do from my soul confess that I never was satisfied till I
   came to Christ. When I was yet a child I had far more wretchedness than
   ever I have now. I will even add more weariness, more care, more
   heartache, than I know at this day. I may be singular in this
   confession, but I make it and know it to be the truth. Since that dear
   hour when my soul cast itself on Jesus, I have found solid joy and
   peace! But before that all those supposed gaieties of early youth, all
   the imagined ease and joy of boyhood were but vanity and vexation of
   spirit to me.

   You do feel, if I know anything about you, that you are not quite
   satisfied now. Well, then, let me say to you again, that I would have
   you come to Jesus. Depend upon it, there is that in Him which can
   thoroughly satisfy you. What can you want more to satisfy your heart
   than love to Him? Our hearts all crave for an object upon which they
   may be set. We often surrender ourselves to an unworthy object which
   betrays us, or proves too narrow to accommodate our heart's desire. But
   if you love Jesus you will love One who deserves your warmest
   affection, who will amply repay your fullest confidence, and will never
   betray it.

   You say that not only does your heart want something, but your head. My
   witness is that there is in the Gospel of Christ the richest food for
   the brain. Before you know Christ, you read, you search, you study, and
   you put what you learn into a wild chaos of useless confusion. But
   after you have found Christ, everything else that you learn is put in
   its proper place. You get Christ as the central sun, and then every
   science and fact begins to revolve round about Him just as the planets
   travel in their perpetual circle around the central orb. Without Christ
   we are ignorant, but with Him we understand the most excellent of
   sciences, and all others shall fall into their proper place.

   This is an age when, without a true faith in Christ, the young mind has
   a dreary pilgrimage before it. False guides are standing, arrayed in
   all sorts of garbs, ready to lead you first to doubt this book of
   Scripture, then to distrust the whole. Then to mistrust God and
   Christ--and then to doubt your own existence and to come into the
   dreary dream land where nothing is certain--where everything is myth
   and fiction. Give your heart to Christ, young Man, and He will furnish
   you with anchors and a good anchor-hold to your mind. And then when
   stormy winds of skepticism sweep across the sea, and other boats are
   wrecked, you shall outride the storm and shall evermore be safe.

   It is a strange thing that people should be so long before they are
   satisfied. Look at some of my hearers today. They mean to be satisfied
   with money. When they were apprentices they thought they should be so
   satisfied when they earned journeymen's wages. But they came to be
   journeymen, and then they were not satisfied till they were foremen.
   And then they felt they never should be satisfied till they had a
   concern of their own. They got a concern of their own and took a house
   in the city--but then they felt they could not be content till they had
   taken the adjoining premises.

   Then they had more advertising and more work to do, and now they begin
   to feel that they never shall be quite easy till they have purchased a
   snug little villa in the country. Yes, there are some here who have the
   villa, and handsome grounds, and so on. But they will not be satisfied
   till they see all their children married. And when they have seen all
   their children married, they will not be at rest then. They think they
   will, but they will not. There is always a something yet beyond. "Man
   never is, but always to be blessed," as Young puts it. There are
   Fortunate Isles for the mariner to reach, and failing these, there is
   no haven for him even in the safest port.

   We know some, too, who, instead of pursuing wealth, are looking after
   fame. They have been honored for that clever piece of writing, but they
   are desirous of more honor. They must write better, still. And when
   they have achieved some degree of notoriety through a second attempt,
   they will feel that now they have a name to keep up, and so they must
   have that name widened, and the circle of their influence must extend.
   The fact is, that neither wealth, nor honor, nor anything that is of
   mortal birth can ever fill the insatiable, immortal soul of man. The
   heart of man has an everlasting hunger given to it, and if you could
   put worlds into its mouth it would still crave for more.

   It is so thirsty that if all the rivers drained themselves into it,
   still, like the deep sea which is never full, the heart would yet cry
   out for more. Man is truly like the horseleech--he forever say, "Give!
   Give! Give!" And until the Cross is given to the insatiable heart, till
   Jesus Christ--who is the fullness of Him that fills all in all--is
   bestowed, the heart of man never c