/ e '^:j .... -v "' *'*: ■■%■ Ib-i THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, ^•' ■{yU^ ^C/f^ f 1' ^^m /^ 4e^^^^A^ PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH HIGH WYCOMBE, BUCKS. ^ ^ REV. CHARLES BRADLEY, Curate of High Wycombe. ^ " FIRST Americas, from the ForRTH London edition, Philadelphia PUBLISHED BY WILLI AIM W. WOODWAEB, No. 52, South Seconb Street. i82g. iv • . Dft)icATION'. Scriptures, and in facilitating the public worship of the Almighty, are sufficient indications that the value of these principles is well known to your Lordship; and I feel assured that 1 cannot offer you a more acceptable tribute of the gratitude I owe you, than by earnestly praying that the influence of these sacred truths may daily become more powerful in your breast, and their blessedness more richly enjoyed in your heart. They can do more, my Lord, than render you a benefactor to the church, an ornament to your country, and a blessing to the world. They can make you the servant and the friend of God ; the citizen of a kingdom which cannot be moved ; and the heir of a glory which fadeth not away. I have the huiiour to remain, my Lord, Your Lordship's very much obliged and most obedient Servant, CHAKLE^S BKIDLEY. PREFACE. THE following Sermons were not originally designed for publication, They were prepared for the pulpit under circumstances by no means favourable to the exercise of thought or much attention to correctness of language, and were sent to the press without that careful revision, which the Author wished to have given them. He must content himself therefore with expressing his regret at the defects, which he finds it impossible to supply ; and must offer the pressure of daily employments as an apology for the blemishes, which he is unable to remove. It is obvious that much originality of sentiment or of language must hot be expected in a volume, which owes its appearance solely to the kindness of friends. This remark however is not offered as an excuse for frequent plagiarism. Except in the third Sermon, a few thoughts in which were suggested by a work printed in the seventeenth century, the Author is not conscious of having been materially indebted to any "writer ; and trusts that these Sermons will not be found less original than many of those, which are prepared for the pulpit or the press. CONTENTS. SERMON I.— Revelation vii. 14, 15. page- The Worshippers in the Heavenly Temple - - - 9 SERMON II.— Revelation vii. 15, 16, 17. The Worship and Privileges of the Heavenly Temple - 25 SERMON III.— Psalm xxxi. 5. The Dying Christian Committing his Soul to God - -42 SERMON IV.— St Luke xxii. 19. The Advantages of Remembering Chi-ist - - - 54 SERMON v.— St. John xiv. 27. The Legacy of Christ _.---- 67 SERMON VI.— St. Mark xvi. 7. The News of Christ's Resurrection sent to Peter - - 81 SERMON VII.— Ephesians iii. 8. The Humility of Saint Paul - - - - 97 SERMON VIII.— Hebrews iv. 15. The Compassion of the High-Priest of the Church - - 113 SERMON IX.— Hebrews iv. 16. The Throne of Grace - - - - - - 128 SERMON X. — Deuteronomy xxxiv. 5. The Death of Moses - - - - , - - 141 SERMON XL— Deuteronomy xxxii. 10, 11, 12. The Goodness of God to Israel - - - - - 153 SERMON XII.— Numbers x. 29. The Christian journeying to the Promised Land - - 168 SERMON XIII.— Psalm cxix. 54. The Christian's Song in his Pilgrimage - - - - 185 SERMON XIV.— Psalm xxxix. 5. The Brevity and Vanity of Human Life . . _ 200 SERMON XV.— 2 Corinthians iii. 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. The Glory of the Gospel 219 SERMON XVI.— 2 Corinthians v. 14, 15. The Constraining Influence of the Love of Christ - - 238 SERMON XVII.— St. Luke iv. IS. Christ the Healer of the Broken-Hearted - - - 262 SERMON XVIII.— St. John xi. 35. The Tears of Jesus at the Grave of Lazarus - _ ^ 284 SERMON XIX.— Psalm xc. 1, 2, God the Eternal Dweliing-Place of his Servants - r 297 CONTENTS. Vlll SERMON XX.~2 Samuel xvi. 13. page. The Forbearance of David towards Shiniei - - - 315 SERMON XXL— 2 Samuel xvi. 11, 12. The Grounds of David's Forbearance to^vards Shimei - - 331 SEUMON XXII.— Revelation ii. 17. The Rewards of the Conquering Chribtian - - - 345 SERMON XXIII— Jeremiah 1. 4, 5. The Israelites Returning fiom Babylon . - - - 36O SE.iMON XXIV.— Jeremiah 1. 5. The Redeemed Sinner joining himself in a Covenant with God o77 SERMON XXV.—Isaiah xxxv. 8, 9, 10. TheWaytoZion - - •- - - - - 394 SERMON XXVL-Isaiah xxxv. 10. The Heavenly Zion .-_--- 408 SERMON XXVII.— Romans ii. 4. The Patience of God - - - - - - 420 SERMON XXVIII.— St. Matthew xxvii. 3,4, 5. The Repentance of Judas _ _ - - - 434, SERMON XXIX.— St. Luke xxii. 60, 61, 62. The Repentance of Peter ------ 447 SERMON XXX.— Exodus ix. 27, 28, The Confession of Pharaoh ----- 459 SERMON XXXI.— Leviticus xvi. 21, 22. The Scape-Goat a Type of Christ - _ - - 474 SERMON XXXII.-St. John xix. 41, 42. The Burial of Christ ------ 488 SERMON XXXIIL— Isaiah xliii. 1, 2, 3. The Exhortation and Promises of God to the Afflicted - - 501 SERMON XXXIV.— Deuteronomy viii.2. The Advantages of a Frequent Retrospect of Life - - 516 SERMON XXXV.— St. Matthew xiv. 30, 31. The Fear of Peter when Walking on the Sea _ _ . 535 SERMON XXXVI.— 1 Thkssalonians i. 10. The Christian waiting for his Deliverer . - - 545 SERMON XXXVII— Psalm cxxxix. 23, 24. The Prayer of David for Self-knowledge - . . 550 SERMON XXXVIII.— St. Matthew xxii. 11, 12, 13. The Wedding Garment ----- 574 SERMON XXXIX.— Romans v. 17. The Christian Reigning in Life oS"?- SERMOI^ I. — '^—00000000 ^^>^§jgffrxT fx?r THE WORSHIPPERS IN THE iSiVMLY TEMPLE. REVELATION vU. 14, 15. These are they, which c when we hear others speak of him, and when we are in his house or at his table ; we are to maintain an habitual remembrance of him ; to carry him constantly about with us in our hearts wherever we go ; to have him as our companion in all our employments, our pleasures, our sorrows, and our cares. This remembrance too must be affectionate ; it must interest the feelings and touch the heart. It will not indeed always affect us in the same degree, for Ave are not always equally susceptible of the same tender im- pressions. The heart even of the established Chris- tian is often cold and dead, so dead that nothing seems to have power to move it ; but even in its coldest sea- sons, a thought of Jesus will sometimes warm and en- liven it. The remembrance of his dying love- seems to restore the soul to its wonted feeling, and to re-ani- mate its lifeless powers. There are seasons in the Christian's life, in which the name of Jesus comes to his heart like a live coal from the altar, and brings with it a warmth, a feeling, and a joy, which an angel might come doAvn from heaven to share. Rememhering Christ, 57 Without some degree of this affection, our remem- brance of Christ, however frequent, is an empty, for- mal thing. It is no criterion of sincere love to him, and proves nothing as to our character. The faithful wife, when she thinks of a luisband in the grave, does not think of him with cold indifference. A tender parent does not think unmoved of the mouldering corpse of a beloved child. Religion must be tasted and felt, brethren, or it is nothing worth. If it does not get into our affections, it will never save our souls. To remember Christ then implies a previous ac- quaintance with him, a heart-felt love for him, and a frequent and affectionate recalling of him to our minds. But who is there among us, that thus remembers his Saviour? And yet if we do not in some degree thus remember him, we can have no reason to think that we are in the number of his children, but every reason to fear that we are as yet ignorant of his salvation. If we feel for the dying Jesus in the same way only, as we feel for the death of a common acquaintance or a man, who is almost a stranger to us, we can surely draw no other conclusion, than that we are equally un- connected with him, equally estranged from him. II. Let us proceed to enquire, secondly, why Christ has left us this command to remember him. I. He has done this for a reason, which ought to humble us in the dust. He has said, "■ Remember me," because he knows that we are prone to forget him. It might indeed have been supposed that such a Sa- viour could never for one hour, no nor yet for one mo- ment, have been out of a dying sinner's mind ; that his last thoughts in the evening and his first thoughts in the morning would be sweet thoughts of Christ ; but is it so with us, brethren ? Alas; no ! There is reason H 58 The Jklvantages of to fear that many of us seldom or never tliink of Christ at all, unless when we are reminded ofliim on the sab- bath in his house. We do not indeed endeavour, nor perhaps wish to forget him at other times ; but our heads and hearts are too full of other things to leave room for Christ or God to enter into them. The cares and business of the world occupy all the energies of some among us, and dissipations and amusements en- gross the trifling minds of others. And how is it with those, who have begun in some degree to think and act as rational and immortal beings ? Are not their hearts also ever ready to turn aside to vanity ? Even they can often sufier the meanest trifles to intrude into the place of a dying Jesus : and when they have any devout and lively remembrance of his love, it is but for a moment ; the savour of it is soon gone, and lightness and vanity succeed. What a cause for humiliation is here ! Why do wc not all condemn and abhor ourselves for this base in- gratitude ? When we have buried a friend whom wc love, though he is no better than a creature formed of dust, we carry him about in our hearts, and every thing, which disturbs our remembrance of him, is for a long season sickening to the soul ; and yet Jesus, our best and heavenly friend, is forgotten ; his agony and bloody sweat, his cross and passion, and all he has done and suffered for our souls, can find no abiding lodging- place in our remembrance. What reason for shame is here, and what a call for prayer ! Nor is this all : here is a warning also. Am 1 thus prone basely to forget my Saviour ? O then let me fly from every scene, from every society, from every pursuit, which has a tendency to lead my thoughts from him. Let me remember this infirmity of my sinful heart, and Remembering Christ, 59 watch and pray against it, mourn over it, and dread to increase it. 2. But our proneness to forget Christ is not the only reason, why he has commanded us to remember him. He has given us this command, secondly, because he desires to be remembered by us. True, he is now in the very highest heavens, seated on a, throne raised to an immeasurable height above the thrones of angels, with all the exalted spirits, that fill the realms of glory, worshipping at his footstool ; and yet his eye is fixed on a people on the earth, and his soul is as mindful of them as when he groaned for them in the garden, or bled for them on the cross. Unworthy as they are, he loves them ; mean as they arc, he is not ashamed still to wear their form and to call them brethren. He for- gets the songs of angels to listen to their sighs and pray- ers. It is his delight to minister to their wants to pro- tect them in their dangers, and to comfort them in their sorrows. Yea, even when they forget him, he thinks on them ; he watches over and pities them, when they are turning aside to vanity, and as soon as they have tasted the bitterness of their wanderings, he re- storeth their soul, and leadeth them again in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Now he does this, and more than this, for his people, simply be- cause he loves them ; and if he thus loves them, he would not surely be forgotten by them. By his word and ordinances he tells them tliat he would not, and urges them to think of him. What a stoop then is this for such a Being to make ; and what an honour is here conferred on creatures, such as we ! How ought it to elevate our affections and excite our love ! Shall he, who made the worlds, desire to be remembered by us, and we forget him ? Shall he, who inhabits the praises 60 The Advantages of of eternity, call us brethren, and yet shall we forget such a brother in such a place? III. The great reason, however, why Christ has commanded us to remember him, is this; he knows that we cannot think of him without deriving much benefit to ourselves. What then are the advantages resulting from an habitual remembrance of Jesus ? This is our third subject of enquiry ; let us proceed to consider it. 1. The first of those benefits, which flow from a re- membrance of Christ, is comfort to the soul, xvhen wounded by a sense of sin. What can be more reliev- ing, what more cheering to the contrite heart of a mourning sinner, than to think of a Saviour, who was wounded for his transgressions and bruised for his ini- quities ? to remember one, whose blood cleanseth from all sin ; who has already saved thousands of the guilty sons of Adam, and who is still inviting all the weary and heavy laden of his sinful race, to come unto him for pardon and for rest ? It is sweet to think of such a Saviour as pouring out his soul an offering for sin, but it is still more sweet to think of him as at this very moment appearing before God for us; standing as the Lamb that has been slain before his throne, and still bearing in his sacred body the marks of his sufferings and death. This surely must be a source of strong consolation to the soul, that is really mourning for sin. Here is something to lean on ; something which can bear the weight of a sinner's doubts, and fears, and cares. Only let us once be brought to lean on it, and we shall have strength and peace in every hour of trial. The heavens and the earth may be destroyed on ac- count of the sin, which has defiled them, but we shall be safe ; our souls will be unhurt in the mighty wreck. Remeinbering Christ. 61 2. An habitual remembrance of Christ has a ten- dency to elevate our affections, to lead us to set them on things above, and not on things on the earth. If we have a lively remembrance of an absent friend, our hearts will often be where he is ; before we are aware, our thoughts will involuntarily take to themselves wings, and go to him. Thus we cannot have a remem- brance of Christ in our hearts, without having those hearts often in heaven. If we could but habitually carry him in our minds, the world would lose much of its power over us. We should have little time and less inclination to share in its vanities. Our souls would no longer cleave to the dust ; they would soar to their resting-place, and centre in their God. We should almost live the life of angels upon earth; and all our words and conversation, our whole conduct, would savour of heaven. 3. This heavenly-mindedness would lead us to a third benefit resulting from a remembrance of Christ ; patience and comfort in our trials and afflictions. This is the use the apostle makes of this remembrance in his epistle to the Hebrews. '^ Consider him," says he, ^' that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds." Consider ivhat he suffered, the greatness, the intensity of his agonies. Consider hoxu he suffered ; how patiently and cheerfully. " He was oppressed and he was af- flicted 5 he was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth." Consider whi/ he suffered. '^ He had done no sin, neither had any guile been found in his mouth. He died the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God." These considerations, my brethren, if they had their {}^ The Advantages of proper effect on our minds, would repress all disposi- tion to impatience and murmuring, when we are in aflliction. Did Christ, who was altogether sinless, suf- fer so much, and suflVr so patiently, and that for such a being as I am; and shall I, who am altogether guilty, be impatient and complaining in the hour of my light afflictions? What are* my sufferings, when compared with my Saviour's agonies ? Let me then be ashamed of my complaints. Let me endeavour to get the lamb- like spirit of my Muster. Let me strive to change my murmurs for praises, my sighs for songs. 4. The remembrance of Christ has a tendency also to keep alive in our minds a holy hatred of sin. Nothing makes sin appear half so hateful, as the cross of Christ ; nothing so tfiectually checks it when rising in the soul, as the thought of a dying Saviour. Did Jesus suffer for my sins? Was he wounded for my transgressions and bruised for my iniquities ? And shall I trifle with sin ? Shall I play with it, as though it were a harmless thing ? It nailed the man, who is Jehovah's fellow, to a cross ; and has it no cross, no sting, no dreadful curse for my soul ? Was it for my sins that Christ died ? and can- not 1 deny a single lust, nor resist a single temptation for his sake ? O let me never thus crucify the Son of God afresh ! Let me turn my back on every scene and every society, which would tempt me thus to pierce my Saviour. Let me watch and pray against iniquity. Let me trample it underneath my feet. Let me steel my heart against all its treacherous pleasures. It may for a moment seem sweet to my foolish heart, but it cost my Saviour tears and blood. Such are some of the advantages resulting from an habitual remembrance of Christ, and only some of them. This remembrance has a tendency also to in- Remembering Christ. 63 crease our love for the Redeemer, to excite in us a stronger spirit of obedience to his commands;, to re- concile us to death, and to teach us to look forward to eternity with joy. Who then in a world, so full of sin, of sorrow, and temptation as this, would not deaire to remember Jesus ? But it is no easy task, my brethren, to obey this command of Christ. It is an easy thing to fill our hearts with sin,a«d vnn^rty, ,but it is hard indeed to fix in them the ;?6membrance of a Saviour's name. None but God caii enable us to perform the work. He only can imprint on our hearts the name of Christ, and he only can preserve it there. The vanities of every passing hour can, and often will, efface it ; and God himself must write it again and again, or Jesus will be forgotten. Here then ive may see our need of prayer ; but let us not stop here. TFe may see our need of exertion also* Must we know Christ, before we can remember him ? Then let us seek to know him, to get every day a closer and more heart-felt acquaintance with his excellencies, his offices, and his ways. We may study Christ and his gospel for ages, and yet find much in them to learn. There is a depth in them, to which the minds of angels, after ages of enquiry, have never yet penetrated, and a height, to which they have not climbed. I^et the Bible then, which testifies of Jesus, be often in our hands and still more often in our hearts. Are we prone to forget Christ? Then let us not only avoid, as much as possible, every thing that seems cal- culated to increase the propensity, but let us also seek after those things, which have a tendency to counteract and overcome it. Let us often speak to one another of Christ. Our social parties would be much more de- lightful and much more rational too, if tlio name of 64« The Advantages of Jesus were more often heard in them, his gospel more frecjucnth' spoken of, and his memory more affcction- atelv cherished. We love to talk of relatives and friends, who are mouldering in their graves ; why then is the dying Jesus always to be forgotten ? Is there no savour in his memory ? Are there no sweet associations con- nected with his sacred name ? All our employment and happiness in heaven will be to speak of him and sing of him ; and surely we might begin this work of heaven here, and find happiness in it also, if we were not want- ing to ourselves. But if we would habitually remember Jesus, let us not forget the command given us in the text? " This do in remembrance of me." We soon forget objects, which are removed from our sight ; and our Lord, who knows and pities this weakness of our nature, has given us an abiding memorial of himself. He has appointed an ordinance fof this very purpose, to remind us of his love. The sacrament of the Lord's supper is not de- signed to blot out our iniquities, as many suppose ; but simply to remind us of a dying Saviour. It was or- dained, as our church tells us, for a continual remem- brance of the sacrifice of the death of Christ. " There we see Jesus evidently set forth before our eyes cruci- fied among us," so plainly set forth, that if we have any seriousness of spirit, we shall find it difficult not to see and remember him. And yet from this ordinance many of us can often turn away without a struggle and without a sigh. What does this conduct prove ? Our hu- mility ? the tenderness of our conscience ? Alas ! bre- thren, it proves much more clearly that the dying re- quest of a crucified Redeemer is forgotten and despised. We do not so treat a departed purent or a friend. His last requests are cherished in the memory, and we Remeinbering Christ. 65 almost dread to violate or neglect them. How is it thea that Jesus only is despised, when he says, " This do in remenibrance of me ?" There is reason to fear that we must find an answer to this enquiry, not in a tender conscience, but in a cold, careless, worldly heart. There the evil lies, and there the remedy must be ap- plied. Ministers may reason with us and expostulate, but our hearts must be changed, before we shall go to the Saviour's table with a desire of remembering him there. The love of the world and of sin must be rooted out of our souls, and all their energies and affections fixed on God. Deem not these hard sayings. It is a mere trifling with the matter to stop short of this view of it. The heart must be won to Christ before sacra- mervts and ordinances will be loved by us, or be bene- ficial to our souls. If Christ is not remembered in them, and remembered too with affection, they will be useless to us ; they will bring no comfort, no holi- ness to our hearts ; they will leave us, just as they find us, trifling and cold, earthly and sinful. The conse- quence of such a state as this is obvious. It is as sure and certain too, as it is plain. If we do not remember Christ, he will in the end cease to remember us. We need him now, but we shall need him much more soon ; and in that great day of our need, which is fast ap- proaching, he will act towards us, as we act towards others when we forget them. He will take no interest in any thing that concerns us. He will leave us to be our own defenders and saviours, to plead our own cause at the bar of God, and to keep off with our own feeble arm the stroke of vengeance. He will leave us to perish. We may not think much now of the misery of being thus forsaken. We may have no spiritual feelings and I 66 The Advantages oj] &'c. no dread of spiritual evils in our minds. But the dream of life will soon be ended ; and we shall awake in a world, where all our dormant powers will be roused to action in all their energy, either by that fulness of joy, which fills the exalted minds of angels, or by the bursting wrath of an insulted God. We shall then be forced to feel, that there is nothing more desirable for an immor- tal being, than to be remembered by the Lord of glory in his kingdom, and nothing more dreadful, than to be forgotten by him there. If he were to forget us even here, in this world of mercy, we should be undone. Thousands of our fellow-creatures might remember us, and millions of angels come to our help, but all the in- habitants of earth and of heaven could not supply the place of a departed God. All their united efforts could not keep for one moment our bodies from the grave, nor our souls from destruction. Who then among us can bear the thought of being forgotten by the Lord Jehovah ? Which of us will dare to forget him, and be easy ? O may we all be led this very hour to his throne I May each of us offer there, with a contrite heart, this simple prayer, which has never since the day of his agony been offered to him in vain, " Lord, remember roe." SERMON V. THE LEGACY OF CHRIST. ST. JOHN XIV. 37. Peace I leave ivith you ; my fieace I give unto you : not as the ivorld giveth, give I unto you. A HAT the Son of God might become the merciful and faithful high-priest of his church, it behoved him to be fnade in all things like unto his brethren ; not only to clothe himself in their outward form, but to take upon him also their inward nature. Hence in con- templating the wonderful history of his life, we see him influenced by the same affections, that influence ourselves, and manifesting the same dispositions. From his cradle to his grave, we behold in him the Son of man, as well as the Son of God. When he knew that his hour was come, that he should depart out of the world unto his Father, we find him feeling and acting, as many of his brethren have felt and acted on the bed of death. He thinks of the beloved friends, from whom he is about to be separated, and is troubled in spirit at the thought of leaving them. He calls them around him to take of them a last fare- well. In the most gentle and affectionate terms, that language can supply, he tells them of the scene of sor- row, through which he is about to pass ; assures them that death itself shall not separate them from his love ; strives to cheer them with the hope of one day seeing him again ; gives them his dying blessing ; and at 68 The Legacy length, lifting up his eyes to !icavcn, fie commends them to his Father's care, and supplicates for them the richest blesbings. Neither were tliese the only respects, in which the dying Jesus acted as the dying man. When his end drew near, he made, as it were, his will and testament, and would not suffer the last interview with his disci- ples to close, before he had reminded them of the pre- cious gifts, which he purposed to bestow upon them. Houses and lands indeed, silver and gold, he had none to give ; but he bequeathed to them a treasure far more valuable, than splendid mansions and extensive territo- ries; a treasure which silver and gold could never buy. *' Peace," says he, " I leave with you ; my peaccii give unto you : not as the world giveth, give I unto you." What then is this peace, of which tlie Saviour here .speaks ? In what manner has he given this blessing to his saints? These enquiries are naturally suggested by the words before us, and they are enquiries, which have surely a claim on our attention. We do not refuse to listen to the words of a dying friend. We examine with more than common interest the will and testament of one, who has nothing but perishable riches to leave behind him. Let us not turn away our ears then from the parting words of Jesus, our best friend. Let us not look with indifference on the last will of him, who has all the eternal treasures of earth and of heaven at his disposal. Let us open it with some sense of its vast importance, and before our eyes are closed in death, may vvc all sec onr names written in it, and become the inheritors of its everlasting riches. J. What then is the blessing, which Christ bequeaths to his disciples? It is peace, " Peace 1 leave with you : my peace I give unto you." of Christ. 69 Now if there is any word, which can excite in the human brei^st pleasing sensations, it is the word peace. If there is any blessing truly desirable, it is tb.c bless- ing of peace. It is as sweet to (he children of men, as the lonQ:ed wished for shore to the mariner, who is wearied with the dangerous labours of the ocean. It is as reviving, as the warm breezes of the spring to the man, who has just risen from a bed of sickness. How welcome are the tidings of returning peace to a nation, which has been long accustomed to the sound of war ! How beautiful the feet of them, who publish it ! What gladness fills every heart ! what joy sits on every countenance ! what praises and thanksgivings are heard from every tongue ! But it is not amongst mankind only that peace is thus highh'- esteemed. It is declared by the Almighty himself to be among the things, which he calls good ; one of the most precious mercies, which he gives to his faithful servants. To bring down this blessing from above, was the great object of our Saviour's appearing on the earth. To this end was he born, and for this cause came he into the world, to establish the covenant of peace ; to preach the gospel of peace ; to say unto Zion, that her warfare is accomplished, that peace is restored between her and her offended Lord. Hence the prophecies, which announced the coming of the Messiah, spoke of him under the character of the Prince of peace. Hence when he was at length born in the city of David, peace on earth was proclaimed by the rejoicing angels, and connected with the glory of their God. Hence too, when he was about to leave his be- loved disciples and to lay down his life for sinners, peace was the precious legacy he left them. And what was his language after he was risen from the dead ? No yo The Legacij sooner did he appear among his dejected followers, than the sound of peace was again heard. Jesus said unto them, " Peace be unto you." What then is this peace ? Is it an exemption from the calamities of life, from sorrow and affliction? What says the great giver of it ? '* Verily, verily, I say unto you that ye shall weep, and lament, and be sorrowful. In the world ye shall have tribulation." Is it peace with the world, an exemption from its hatred and persecution ? How then shall the Scriptures be fulfilled? "The servant," says Christ, '^ is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If ye were of the world, the world would love his own 5 but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you." 1. The peace, which Jesus came down from heaven to bring, is not an unhallowed peace with a sinful world, but peace with God, reconciliation with that great and holy Being, in whom we live, and move, and have our being. The man, who inherits this precious legacy, was once the enemy of the Lord. He was one of those, of whom the Almighty says, '^ My soul loathed them, and their soul also abhorred me." He hated God, and God could not love him. He might indeed look on him with pity, but he could not regard him with approbation and delight. This warfare is now for ever at an end. The sinner's heart, the sinner's character is changed. The enmity of his carnal mind has been subdued. He has gone, as a repentant prodigal, to the throne of his hea- venly Father, and has received a welcome and a par- don there. Being justified by faith, he has peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. A covenant of of Christ. 71 peace and friendship has been entered into between the King of heaven and his once rebellious subject ; it has been confirmed and sealed ; and he lias pledged his faithfulness and love, that it shall be a perpetual cove- nant, which shall not be forgotten. 2 From this covenant of peace results another bless- ing comprehended in the Saviour's legacy ; peace in the soul^ peace of conscience, inward serenity and rest. This is a blessing, which none but Christ can give, and none but his renewed people receive. Others may in- deed seek it ; they may rise early, and take late rest to obtain that which they think will purchase it ; but they spend their money for that which is not bread, and their labour for that, which satisfieth not. They may perhaps find something, which they may for a moment mistake for it ; they may grasp the shadow, and ima- gine that they have found the substance ; but until a man has been cleansed from his sins by the blood of Jesus, until his heart has been sprinkled from an evil conscience by the same blood, he must remain as far off from true peace of mind, as he is from God. He may possess the peace of Jonah, who slumbered in the storm, a peace which is the token of approaching death; but he must become an humble, weeping suppliant at a Saviour's cross, before he can enjoy any peace, that is worth possessing. *' There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." It is his people only, who dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places. The peace, which Christ bequeathed to his people, is further styled his peace. '^ Peace," says he, *' 1 leave with you ; my peace I give unto you." It is the same peace, that he himself enjoys ; the same peace, that kept his soul serene in the midst of all his sorrows and 72 The Legacy trials upon earth ; the same glorious rest, into which he is now entered in his Father's kingdom above. As the precious oil, that was poured on the head of Aaron, went down to the skirts of his garments, so the joy poured on Jesus, as the head of his church, de- scends to all his members, and the meanest of his peo- ple share in his fulness. He is gone into the kingdom of peace and of glory, as the forerunner of his saints. They are said to be raised up together with him, and made to sit together in heavenly places. They have, in some degree, already entered into the joy of their Lord. Even in this house of their pilgrimage, they receive at seasons the first fruits of the Spirit, a portion of the happiness of their glorified Redeemer, a fore- taste of the eternal rest, which remuineth for the people of God beyond the grave. Thus then the peace spoken of by Christ in the words before us is, first, peace with God, a share in that friend- ship, which subsists between him and his well beloved Son; it is secondly, inward peace, peace of mind, peace of the same kind, as that which Christ himself enjoys in his kingdom of glory. It is indeed inferior to it in degree, but it is of the same nature, and flows from the same living fountain, as the happiness of heaven. 11. Let us now proceed to enquire, secondly, in what manner this precious peace has been given by the Redeemer to his people. The word, which is here translated to give, may be understood as signifying to bequeath, to give by will or as a legacy ; and it is in this sense probably, that it was used on this occasion by our Lord. Neither is a long train of reasoning necessary to convince us of the propriety and beauty of this term. A little atten- of Christ, 7^ tioii to the cireumstances connected with the text, will shew us at once its meaning and its force. What was the situation of Christ when he uttered these gracious words ? It was the situation of a man, who sees himself standing on the brink of the grave, and who bequeaths to his friends all that he is possessed of, before he is taken from them. The Saviour knew that his hour was come that he should depart out of this world unto his Father, and he here leaves to his beloved disciples those blessings, which, as the Medi- ator of the church, he had at his disposal. The property, which a man conveys by a will or tes- tament, must be his own estate, his oivn property, and he must also have a right of transferring it to others* Thus the peace, which Christ bequeathed to his dis- ciples, was his own peace, a property to which he had an undoubted claim, and which he had also the power of conveying to others, of disposing of by will, or in whatsoever manner he pleased. His blood purchased this property, his righteousness obtained it for his church. The price indeed was costly ; all the angels in heaven, with their united riches, could not have paid it ; but Jesus bought the blessing ; he bought it by parting for a season with his throne and his kingdom, with his honour and his glory. He was the only Being in the universe rich enough to purchase pardon and peace for his people, and rather than that his people should perish, he cheerfully became poor for them, that they through his poverty might be made rich. Hence the apostle says, that God hath appointed him heir of all things for his church ; and that it hath pleased the Father, that in him should all fulness dwell. Hence we find him bestowing the most precious blessings, that he himself enjo}s, upon his children. ^^ I appoint," K 74 The Legacff says he, *' unto you a kingdom, as my Father hath ap- pointed unto me." ^' To him, that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me on my throne." The peace, which Jesus gives to his disciples, is like a legacy in this respect also, that it could never have been received and inherited, if the great giver of it had not died. " Where a testament is," says the aposde, *' there must also of necessity be the death of the tes- tator; for a testament is of force after men are dead, otherwise it is of no strength at all, while the testator liveth." A man may leave to his friends abundant riches and treasures, but these gifts will profit them nothing till after he is dead ; it is his death, which gives them a title to the property, and puts them in posses- sion of it. Thus if Jesus had not died, the blessings, which he bequeathed to his people, would never have been their's. He might have said, " Peace 1 leave with you." but there would have been no peace. He might have said, '* I go to prepare a place for you in my Father's house," but not one sinner would have entered the heavenly mansion ; all the countless hosts of just men made perfect, who are now singing, " Wor- thv the Lamb," around the throne in heaven, would have been cursing the Being, who mocked them, in the regions of despair. ^' Jesus has died" is the only claim, which a race of guilty creatures can offer to the offended Sovereign of heaven. It is only by means of his death that they, who are called, can receive the eter- nal inheritance promised to them. But notwithstanding these points of resemblance, there is something peculiar in the testament of Christ. " Not as the world giveth, give I unto you." This language may be designed to remind us that the blessings, which Christ has left to his followers, of Christ, 75 are widely difFerent in their nature from those things, which men leave to their friends, far more valuable, more satisfactory, and more durable. They are more valuable. Men may leave behind them much silver and much gold, stately mansions, pompous titles, and proud distinctions; they may give to their heirs crowns and kingdoms ; but what do these things profit them? what is their value, when compared with peace of con- science, with the friendship of the Almighty ? They cannot mSke a man happy even in the day of pros- perity ; while the legacy of Christ, even in the darkest night of adversity, can satisfy the longing soul, and fill the hungry soul with goodness. Other legacies are all temporal ; the hand of time and of death wrings them from the eager grasp of their possessors, almost as soon as they have obtained them ; but the gifts of Christ are all eternal. When heaven and earth shall pass away, there is not one of them, that will perish, or be plucked out of its possessor's hand. They will re- main precious as ever, when every earthly treasure shall be heard of no more. From the imperfect view, which we have thus taken of the cheering words before us, the humble and be- lieving Christian may see the security and stabihty of the divine promises. Pardon and peace, grace and glory are not only promised, but bequeathed to him by the unalterable will of Jesus his Saviour. The testator is now dead, the testament is in force ; and though it were but a man's testament, no man disannulleth or addeth thereto. Let not therefore your heart be troubled, brethren, neither let it be afraid. Possessed of such blessings as these, peace in your own consciences and peace with your God, let your souls magnify the Lord, let your spirits rejoice in God, your Saviour. Let the 7^ The Legacy possession of these treasures cheer you in the want of every earthly good. Though poor and afflicted, let them make you more joyful, than the hn})picst heir to the most splendid riches. In every hour of trial and of sorrow, in every season of poverty and anxiety, think of the legacy of Christ, and be comforted. Do you say that you are strangers to the peace of Christ, although you have reason to cherish an humble hope, that you have been made partakers of his sanctif}-- ingand saving grace? If you are habitually going in sin- cerity and truth, with humility and faith, to the foun- tain, which divine mercy has opened for sin and un- cleanness ; if you are really seeking there freedom from the defiling power of sin, as well as salvation from its fearful consequences ; you cannot be destitute of re- conciliation and peace with God. He never has, he never will, regard with any thing short of the tcnder- est love, the sinner who is the beloved of his Son, who has been washed with his blood and sanctified by his Spirit. You may indeed be humble, believing Christians, and yet be strangers to that inward peace, which Christ has bequeathed to his people ; but there is only one reason to be given, why you are strangers to it ; you will not lay claim to and possess it. A man may have a precious legacy bequeathed to him, and he may be so infatuated as to refuse to accept it, or so indolent, as to neglect the proper means of possessing himself of it ; but still the legacy is his. It is his own folly, his own indolence alone, that keep it from his hands. The very same causes, my Christian brethren, united with an evil heart of unbelief, may keep you strangers to the peace of God. It was from all eternity the property of your Saviour ; by his agony and bloody of Christ. 77 sweat, by his cross and passion, he has acquired the right of giving it to whomsoever he will ; he has not only promised, but he has bequeathtd it to all who seek and love him ; he has put his dying will and tes- tament in your hands in his gospel ; he has bid you examine this will, and told you how to know whether your names are written in it ; he has died a cruel and a bitter death, that there might be no impediment nor delay in your obtaining his precious peace ; he invites, he urges you to take it and to enter into his joy : — the Saviour has done this, and more than this, to make you peaceful and happy ; and yet you are strangers to his peace and unacquainted with his blessedness. How can these things be ? Slither there is unfaithfulness in the Holy One of Israel, or there is something wrong in you. Search well your hearts, and judge whether your want of peace arises from some defect in the will of Jesus, or from some evil in yourselves ; whether you have not abundant reason to trace your despon- dency to unbelief, to slothfulness, to a carnal and worldly mind. Although the pride of your heart may prevent you from at once discovering it, be assured that the cause of your doubts and disquietude is to be found in your- selves, and not in the faithful Jesus. Endeavour then to find where the evil lies, and, in dependence on di- vine grace, strive to root it out of your souls. Are you doubtful of your title to this legacy of the dying Jesus ? Is your knowledge small, is your faith weak ? Use the means to establish yourselves in the faith, to grow in grace and knowledge. Bring your hearts and lives more frequently to the test of Scripture ; pray more frequently and fervently ; use more diligently ail the appointed means of grace ; watch more against sin ; 78 l"he Legacy endeavour to get clearer ideas of the freeness and ful- ness of the covenant of grace ; strive to stir up your languid desires after spiritual blessings ; seek for these blessings, not as things merely desirable, but as things indispensable to your happiness, not as things beyond your reach, but as things attainable ; look less to your- selves and more to the Redeemer; and the day-star shall, in the end, arise in your hearts ; the peace of God shall keep your hearts and minds. " Your peace shall be as a river, and your righteousness as the waves of the sea." But have all amongst us a right thus to lay claim to the Saviour's legacy, the Saviour's peace ? Are we all warranted to rejoice in our title to this precious gift ? There is reason to fear that the greater part of us have no more claim to it, than we have to crowns and scep- tres. Before we can have a title to it, we must be united to Christ by a living faith; we must become his people, hjs children ; we must seek our peace in him, and in him alone ; a great moral change must take place within us ; our affections must be withdrawn from the world and sin, and fixed on holiness and God ; we must be !)orn again of the Spirit, and be renewed after the divine image. "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked ;" the wicked have not only no title to this blessing, but they are altogether incapable of en- joying or receiving it. *' Their minds are like the trou- bled sea, when it camiot rest." And if God had not made this declaration, our own experience must have led us to a conviction of the same truth. Happiness has been the one great object^ which we have been seeking ever since we were born ; all the energies of our minds and all the strength of our bodies have been employed in the pursuit of it ; and of Christ. 79 yel we are not happy. We seem to be receding from the object of our labours, rather than drawing nearer to it. It is true that we are sometimes as happy for an hour, as the happiest insect, that sports in the summer sun. Our efforts to stifle reflection are successful, and we are enabled to banish from our minds every thought, which, as rational and immortal beings, we might be expected to cherish there. But what does this profit us ? We are the next hour a prey to disappointment, to dis- content, and the galling consciousness of our own va- nity and littleness. \n. spite of ourselves, the mind will resume its hated work ; thoughtfulness will seize upon us ; and conscience will make its voice to be heard. The consequence is, that existence becomes an almost intolerable burden. Our hearts ache for relief, and we fly in search of it to those very pursuits of sin and folly, which we are conscious will again leave us to our own wretchedness. Thus have we gone on from day to day, seeking rest and finding none. If then we have been strangers to peace in the season of health and prosperity, can we expect, brethren, to be less unhappy in the day of afilic- tion, and in the hour of sickness and of death ? This day and this hour may be much nearer to us, than we are aware. We may indeed hardly see how it is possi- ble for affliction or death to touch us. The amusements and business of the world may even have kept every tliought of them out of our minds ; but neither busi- ness nor amusements can always keep sickness out of our houses, nor death out of our chambers, nor sorrow out of our hearts. There are a thousand unsuspected avenues, by which grief can enter the soul. Are we then prepared to receive it as a guest ? Is there any thing within us, which will almost welcome it into our 80 The Legacy of Christ. bosoms, mingle itself with it, and turn it into peace ? Are we possessed of any thing, which can make the hour of tribulation an hour of joy ? Infidelity cannot do this ; scepticism never yet soothed one afflicted soul to peace, never lightened it of one sorrowful care, never smoothed the pillow of one sick or one dying man. Atheism has indeed been permitted to bestow on some of its most depraved and hardened victims an awful in- sensibility ; it has enabled a man to trifle like a child, even in the prospect of immediate death, and to be as thoughtless on the brink of the grave, as the brute beasts, that have no understanding. But this insensi- bility, so far from being a blessing, is one of the hea- viest curses, that can be drawn down upon a sinner's head. Such a peace as this would be well exchanged for the ans-uish of remorse. It is a death-warrant to the soul, the forerunner of eternal destruction. It is the re- ligion of the cross only, which can quiet the mind without degrading or brutalizing it. It is the gospel only, that can say to the agitated soul, " Peace, be still." Turn then, my brethren, from the lying vanities of a sceptical and foolish world, and seek with your whole heart the peace of Christ. Seek, at the cross of Jesus, reconciliation with your offended God. Seek an in- terest in that blood, which cleanseth from all sin. Draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith, to this fountain of blessedness, and you shall at length find rest to your wearied souls. Having your hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, a peace shall be poured out on you, which passeth all understanding; a peace, which none of the calamities of life can ma- terially affect ; a peace, which will keep your souls se- rene amidst the wreck of a perishing universe ; a peace, which will endure for ever in the kingdom of your God. SERMON VI- THE NEWS OF C HRIST'S RESURRECTION SENT TO PETER. ST. MARK XVI. 7. Go ijour ivay ; ie/l his disci/ilcs and Peter, that he goeth before yciu mto Galilee: there shall ye see him. In the history, which the Holy Spirit lias given us of the life of Christ, there are many circumstances re- lated, which appear, on the first view, to be altogether unimportant. We consider them as not designed to convey to us any instruction, and pass them over as too trifling to occupy our attention. Here however we err. Jesus never uttered one unmeaning saying ; there is not a single action of his life recorded in the Scriptures, which is not of some importance to us, and which may not furnish us with a useful lesson. We may apply this remark to the words before us. On the third day after the crucifixion of Jesus, three faithful women came to his sepulchre, with the design of shedding their last tear over his remains, and of pay- ing of them the last kind offices of love. The Saviour however had left the tomb, and as the women were entering it with mingled sensations of surprise and doubt and joy, an angel appears to them, tells them that their beloved master was risen, and commands them to carry the joyful tidings to his disconsolate dis- ciples. But in the command, that was given them. L 8^ The News of Christ's we find one disciple singled out from the rest ; ^' Tell his disciples and Peter,'*'' Now this circumstance may appear on the first view to be hardly worthy a moment's consideration ; but let us not make light of it ; let us rather attentively consider it, and entreat the Spirit of God to make it the means of imparting instruction to our souls. In directing your attention to this circumstance, I purpose to consider, first, the person, to whom the message in the text was particularly sent ; secondly, the Being, who sent it ; and, thirdly, the messengers, who were the bearers of it. I. To whom was this message particularly sent ? To Peter. And who was Peter, that he should be thus singled out from among the disciples ? By what was he distinguished from the other ten, that he should be thus honoured ? We know that at the period when he received this message, he was distinguished from them by a pre-eminence, not in merit, but in guilt. But two days before, he had denied his master, when his master, was about to die for him. All the disci- ples forsook him and fled, but Peter went further, and added the guilt of falsehood, curses, and oaths, to the baseness of desertion. His sin was of the first magni- tude, of a crimson die. It had too this peculiar aggra- vation, that it brought a scandal on the church, when the church seemed least able to bear it. The shep herd was smitten, the sheep were scattered ; and this was the season, in which Peter dishonoured his Lord, and denied hisconnection with his persecuted foliowtfrs. This then was the man, to whom the risen Jebus di- rected his angel to send a particular message of com- fort and peace. Had the faithful John, who adhered to him in his sufferings and stood by his cross, been Resurrection sent to Peter. 88 thus singled out, it might have excited no surprise ; but for Peter, the treacherous Peter, to be thus ho- -iioured, seems indeed strange and mysterious. Who can fathom the depth of the Saviour's love ? Who can measure his unbounded grace ? Was Peter singled out then on account of his pecu- liar guilt ? God forbid. Never let us attempt to mag- nify the grace of God by making that abominable thing, which he hates, a recommendation to his favour. It is true that he is ready to pardon the greatest, the vilest sinner, who really seeks his pardon 5 it is true that he has sometimes shewn the riches of his grace by making a heinous sinner a holy saint ; but are we therefore to sin that grace may abound ? Does the greatness of the sinner's guilt plead with the greatness of divine mercy ? Never. Sin may draw down ven- geance from heaven on a transgressor's head, but never has it drawn down mercy and grace. Why then, it may again be asked, was Peter thus singled out and honoured ? We have hitherto taken only a partial view of his conduct and character ; let us more closely examine them. Peter was not only a great and scandalous sinner, he was also a penitent, mourning sinner. Scarcely had he denied Jesus in the hall of Pilate, when a look of love and pity from his injured master melted his heart, and filled him with the deepest penitence and grief. We do not see him trifling with sin, making light of his transgression, and attempting to excuse or palliate it. We do not find him comforting himself with the thought that he was a disciple of Christ, and therefore might sin without fear ; that though a heinous trans- gressor, he was a child of God, and could not be finally cast away. We see in him nothing but self-loathing 84 The News of Christ's and contrition, sorrow and tears. Saint Matthew says that he went out and wept bitterly ; and Clement, an ancient Christian writer, relates, that throughout all his future days, every morning when he heard the cock crow, he fell down on his knees ; and with tears streaming from his eyes, supplicated pardon for his dreadful sin. Here then we see that it was not the guilty Peter, who was thus honoured ; it was the mourning, contrite Peter. It was not his cursing and oaths, which brought this mercy to him, but his penitence and tears. There is no comfort then in this Scripture for the careless, hardened sinner ; no comfort for the self-righteous sin- ner ; no comfort for the man, who, in the midst of his iniquity, feels no self-abhorrence, no deep contrition for his guilt. There is no comfort for such characters as these ; but there is the sweetest comfort for the broken-hearted, contrite transgressor. If there be such a sinner here, may the Spirit of the living God enable him to derive peace and hope from this instance of his Saviour's love ! May he draw water with joy out of this well of consolation ! II. That those among us, who are thus mourning for sin may be cheered and strengthened, let us pro- ceed to consider, secondly, the author of this message, the gracious Being, who sent it to this fallen disci- ple. We are told that it was brought to the women by an angel; but he brought it from Jesus, the risen Jesus, the same Jesus, who is now seated on the throne of Jehovah, and who will one day come in the clouds of heaven to be our judge. 1. Such a message under such circumstances may teach us, first, that Christ had Just the same tender and compassionate heart after his resurrection, that he Resurrection sent to Peter. 85 had before it. Death changed the nature of his body ; the corruptible temple was made an incorruptible build- ing ; but death did not make the least change in his heart ; it did not alter the dispositions of his soul. We saw him before his crucifixion weeping at the tomb of Lazarus, and shedding tears over the impending misc*. ries of Jerusalem ; and now after his resurrection from the dead, we see that his first concern is not to receive the congratulations of his friends^ nor to put to shame the boasting of his enemies, but to dry the tears of a fallen disciple, and to speak peace to his troubled souh Here then every spiritually-minded Christian may find a spring of consolation. Jesus, my Saviour, h(?, who measures out to me my daily portion of sickness and of health, of sorrows and of joys ; he, who is ever appearing as my advocate at the throne of my God ; this Jesus has the same compassionate heart, that he had on earth. He can still enter as deeply into all the feelings of my fearful, fainting soul. He is still touched with the feeling of my infirmities. He still looks on his saints with the same sympathy, tenderness, and love. 2. The message sent to Peter shews us, secondly, that the risen Jesus looks more upon the graces, than upon the sins of the penitent Christian. He seems to have thought more of Peter's sorrow, than of his curses ; more of his tears, than of his oaths. Thus too did he deal with his servant Job. We read the historv^ of his life, and we see it stained with much that is evil. Complicated as his sufferings were, and great as was the submission which he manifested under them, we are at seasons almost disposed to condemn him for his murmurings, rather than to admire him for his patience. And yet we do not find God condemning this man. 86 The Kews of Christ's He calls him a perfect and an upright man ; and when his friends impeach his integrity, he descends in a whirlwind from heaven to reprove their injustice, and to vindicate the character of his servant. After the lapse of a thousand years we find him exercising the same tender mercy towards this sorrovvful saint. He calls upon us by his apostle Saint James to remember the patience of Job, while he says not a word of his impa- tience, his murmurings, and complaints. We know not indeed how a Being of infinite purity can thus look with delight on any thing, which he finds in any sinner's heart ; but the Scripture repeatedly tells us that, though tliey are sinners, " the Lord takcth plea- sure in them that fear him, in those that hope in his mercy ;" that the Redeemer is satisfied with the travail of his soul ; that he delights in the graces of his church, and greatly desires her beauty. The reason may be that he sees so much of the desperate wickedness of our hearts, as to make him contemplate with pleasure the least good, that his grace enables us to bring forth. The natural barrenness of the soil may lead him to admire the fruit it produces. Who would not value a flower, which he should find blooming on a rock, or throwing its fragrance over the sands of a desert ? Though we cannot comprehend all the riches of Je- hovah's love, we may however believe the plain decla- rations of his word. He tells us there, that " a book of remembrance is written before him, for them that fear him and think upon his name." He tells us too, that though he does not remember the sins of his people, he records in this book, all their graces ; that there is not a desire in the heart of the humble, which he does not regard ; that he sees the tears of the contrite, and treasures them up as though they were precious pearls ; Resurrection sent to Peter. 87 that they cannot give even a cup of cold water to one of his children, but he looks on then with an eye of love, and lays up for ihern a reward. While he sees such things as these in his people, he will not cast them away on account of the sinful infirmities, which still cleave to them. He will not despise the gold, because it is not wholly purified from the dross. He will not burn the wheat, because it is still mixed with the chaiF. Are we then to conclude that God sees no sin in lus people, or that, seeing their sin, he is not displeased by- it ? Are we to suppose that he is an indifferent specta- tor of their transgressions, or become altogether blind to them ? God forbid. Such a conclusion would mili- tate against some of the plainest declarations of hip word, as well as against the whole course of his deal- ings with his church. It would impeach the perfection of his divine nature, his unalterable omniscience, and his infinite holiness. If there could be sin in one of his creatures, and he not see it ; if there could be sin in any part of the universe, and he not displeased at it : he would cease to be the God of the Bible, and we should be without a revelation of his will. Both his word and providence would be alike a riddle and a cheat. O could the afflicted Jacob, the mourning David, the dyijig Moses, or the weeping Peter, hear som.e modern pro- fessors of the gospel speak of that bitter thing, wlwch planted so many stings in their hearts, and drew down so many sorrows on their heads ; how would they won- der and tremble ! They would tell us, in cppositio5» to all the cunningly devised systems of man, that none of the sins of his people pass unnoticed by God, no, iior yet unpunished; that although he may shew himself unbounded in mercy towards them, he will make tliem 88 The Xews of Christ's feel that he is a holy Saviour, and force the world to see that he hates their iniquities. The Almighty, my brethren, has ever visited the transgressions of his children with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes. Thus has it been in every age and with every member of his church, and thus it was in the instance before us. Christ sends to Peter a mes- sap;e of comfort ; but did he suffer his sin to pass un- noticed and unpunished ? No ; he has recorded it to his everlasting shame in his holy word. Even to this very day, wherever his gospel was preached throughout 1;he whole world, there also the falsehood and treachery •of his disciple are known and published. The sin is forgiven, but the remembrance and the shame of it :5till remain. 3. We may observe, further, that Jesus sometimes •vouchsafes to the believer^ who is bowed down with ex- traordinary sorrow^ more than ordinary comfort. He, who is the comforter of his church, singles him out as the particular object of his grace, and stoops down from heaven to bind up his broken heart. A joyful message is sent to all the sorrowful disciples, but Peter is pecu- liarly a mourner, and he receives from his master a special and more personal message of joy. Such a message seemed necessary to restore him to his former peace. It is not a light thing, that will quiet the con- science of the penitent Christian, after he has been ov What was the joyful message that he sent to Peter ? It was this, that he was risen from the dead Peter also, in the first chapter of his first epistle, seems to make a distant allusion to the means, by which his heart was restored to its wonted peace, ^' Blessed," says he. " be M ■ 90 The Kews of Christ's the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which- according to his abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unlo a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead." This too was the salutation, with which the primitive Christians cheered each other under their sufferings ; on the morning of every sab- bath, these joyful words were heard in their assemblies from every mouth, *' The Lord is risen." How is it then, brethren, that we draw so little comfort from a fountain, from which these early saints drew so much ? The great reason is, we do not go for it there ; we do not endeavour to know the power of the Saviour's re- surrection ; we do not understand its importance, nor feel its efficacy. If it were duly considered by us, pro- perly understood, and effectually applied by the Holy Spirit to our minds, we should see that it is able to cheer the most dejected soul, and to put life and spirit into the faintest heart. in. Let us now take a hasty view of the messengers, who were employed to bear this message from Jesus to his sorrowful disciple. 1. It was entrusted first to an angel. Saint Mark describes him as a young man, but Saint Matthew calls him the angel of the Lord, But why should an angel be called on to carry such a message as this ? The feet of the meanest messenger with these glad tidings of good, would have appeared beautiful upon the moun- tains; and he would have been hailed with acclamations of joy. It pleased Jesus however to entrust the news of his resurrection to a heavenly messenger. He had heard the multitude of his heavenly hosts exulting with joy, when they were allowed to make known his birth to the wondering shepherds ; he had witnessed their sympathy in the wilderness, in the garden, and proba. Resurrection sent to Peter. 91 bly at the cross ; and now he singles out one from their number to proclaim his triumph over death and the grave. Neither was it a common angel, that he chose ; it was ^' the angel of the Lord," his own angel, the highest and most favoured archangel in his courts. Mark too how this dignified messenger seems to re- joice in his work, and to think himself honoured by it. He descends from heaven to take his station at the tomb, as one bringing the news of a triumph, and ar- rayed in its emblems. " His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment," like a conqueror's robe, " was white as snow." Now this glorious spirit was employed on this occa- sion by Jesus, not only to do honour to himself, but to teach us a lesson. He would teach us by it, that the breach between us and the angels is healed. The angels v/ere originally the friends of the inhabitants of earth. They had different places of residence, but they were the children of the same common parent and members of the same family, and there was between them and us a sweet communion and friendship. But when man by his disobedience forfeited the favour of God, he lost the love of the angels. Sin dis-united heaven and earth, destroyed the harmony between them, and put an end to their intercourse. This separation however was not an eternal one. We are no sooner reccnciled to God by the blood of his Son, than we become reconciled to the angels also. As holy and faithful beings, they were constrained to take part with the Almighty in his con- troversy with man, and they now rejoice to welcome the returning rebels back again to his family. Hence says the apostle, when speaking of the Redeemer, ^* It pleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell ; and, having made peace through the blood of his cross. 92 The News of Christ's by him to reconcile all things unto himself; by him, I say, whether they be things in earth or things in hea- ven." The angels therefore again regard us as friends, and love us as brethren. Nay more ; they are made our ministering servants, and do not disdain the office. We are told that they are tscnt forth to minister unto them, who are heirs of salvation. And is it not a cheering reflection, brethren, that in all our trials, sorrows, and difficulties, not only is Jesus with us, but his angels also are round about us, and ready to guard and help us ; the same angels, that fed Elijah in tl^.e wilderness, that released Peter from pri- son, that cheered Paul in the storm, and comforted and strengthened the Saviour in the hour of his agony ? But this thought is serious as well as cheering. Am I always surrounded by the holy angels of God? Are they the constant witnesses of my conduct ? Do they see all the actions of my sinful life, and hear all the words of my unclean lips ? O how often then have 1 grieved them, and wounded their souls ! Into what scenes and into what society have I taken them ! O let me for the fu- ture reverence my heavenly attendants ! Let me watch my actions, and words, and thoughts, that I may grieve them no more. Never let me dare to lead them again into scenes of vanity and sin. We may learn also from the appearance of an angel on this occasion, tliat the coritrife sinne?' is peculiarly an object of love to the heavenly hosts. We are told that there is joy in heaven over a sinner that repenteth, and here is a confirmation of the saying. The angel of the Lord has compassion on the weeping Peter, and rejoices to take to him a cup of consolation. What a lesson for ministers, what a lesson for every Christian, s here ! It is a heavenly work to comfort the sorrowful Resurrection sent to Peter. 93 and afflicted. The angels delight in it ; they arc willing to leave heaven to be employed in it. Shall \vc then de- spise it ? Shall we turn away from the brother, who is mourning for sin, and leave no word of comfort behind us? No. Let us bear one another's spiritual burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ. Let us take up the words of the angel, and say to all, who are broken in heart and enquiring for rest and a Saviour, " Fear not ye; for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified." 2. But the angel of the Lord was not the only mes- senger employed to convey the news of Christ's resur- rection to Peter. Three poor women receive the mes- sage from the lips of this heavenly herald, and carry it to the mourning disciple. It might have been supposed that Christ would have made known his resurrection first to Pilate and Herod, who had crucified him, and to the Jews, who had re- jected him. He would thus have convinced them of their guilt, and wiped off the scandal of his cross. But if the punishment of his enemies and the vindication of his own character seem for a season to be forgotten ^ we shall surely find the risen Jesus anxious to put ho- nour upon his disciples, and shewing himself first to them. But no ; the first tidings they hear of his triumph come from Mary Magdalene and from two other wo- men, as mean as she. O what a reproof must this haye been, not only to Peter, but to all the disciples ; and how richly had they merited it! Peter had denied him, and they had all forsaken him and fled. But these faith- ful women had never deserted him. Throughout his life they were ever near him and ministered to his wants ; and in his death nothing could divide them from him. With a fortitude which fills us with admiration and surprise, they stood near his cross, witnessed his d^ The JsTews of Christ's agonies, and heard his dying groan. After his death, none of the cowardly apostles came near the mangled body of their master, but these women assisted at his burial and followed him to the grave. And when his funeral was over, they sat down over against his sepul-/ chre to weep, and could only be prevailed on to leave it by the duties of the sabbath. Neither was their la- bour of love yet ended. In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn towards the first day of the week, the very first moment their duty to God allowed them to testify their affection for their friend, we see them going again to his sepulchre with sweet spices, that they might anoint him. Here then we may perceive the reason, why these three women were thus distinguished by Jesus. They had been first in love and affection, and service for Christ ; it was but right therefore, that they should be first in honour and reward. " Them that honour me," saith the Lord, " I will honour; and they that despise me, shall be lightly esteemed." There is something remarkable too, in the hasty manner in wliich these women were sent with the tidinsfs of Christ's resurrection to Peter. We are told o by Saint Matthew, that the angel invited them to attend the sepulchre of their risen Lord, and to see the place where he lay ; but scarcely had they taken a glance at the empty tomb, when they were hastily sent away from it. *' Go your way," said the angel, ** go quickly and tell his disciples and Peter, that he is risen from the dead." They accordingly "departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy, and did run to bring his disciples word." Why then were these women thus hastily dismissed? There was nothing sinful in the feelings, which a view of the tomb of their Saviour Resurrection sent to Peter. 90 was likely to excite ; but they were not suiFered to stay there to indulge them, that we might be taught that pious feelings must lead to pious actions; that reli- gious meditation must often give way to the active du- ties of life. It is good and sweet to think of Christ, but it is better to act for Christ. " He is the best servant," says an old writer, ^^ not that delights to stand in his master's presence, but that carefully minds and dili- gently goes about his master's business." One active Christian, my brethren, is worth a thou- sand merely contemplative admirers of the gospel. It is the working servant, that receives wages ; it is the fight- ing soldier, that has for his reward a triumph and a crown. Religious actions must indeed have their origin in religious affections. The religion of the gospel can- not live in the heart, which has not first learned to think and to feel. But then what are those feelings worth, which have no influence on the disposition and the conduct ? They may resemble the workings of the pious heart, but there is no real piety in them, none of the power of godliness. It is one thing to have a stu- dious mind or a lively imagination, and another thing to have Christ in the soul, the hope of glory. It is very possible too, even when the great realities of religion have been lodged in the mind, to raise one duty to an undue pre-eminence over others, to give to the exer- cises of devotion a portion of that time, which ought to be devoted to works of charity and labours of love. We can never be too earnest then in watching our treacherous hearts, and bringing all their workings to this simple standard of the gospel, '* By their fruits ye shall know them." We can never be too earnest in our endeavours to resemble him, who " went about doing- good ;" in aiming to bring forth much fruit to the glory of God. 96 The News of Christ's Resurrection^ &c. Go your way then, you who, like these women, profess to seek a crucified, and to rejoice in a risen Jesus ; go your way, you who, like Peter, know what it is to mourn for sin, and to receive pardon and comfortT from a compassionate Saviour ; go your way, and bind up the broken heart, and speak peace to the troubled soul ; go and comfort others with the comforts, where- with you yourselves have been comforted of God ; go and publish to a world of sinners, by all the means which a bountiful Providence has placed within your power, those joyful tidings, which have been sent to you in your Bibles ; go and send this good news round a perishing world, that '^ Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners ; that whosoever cometh to him shall in no wise be cast out ;" that all, who are weary and heavy laden with the burden of their sins and sor- rows, may come to him and find the sweetest rest to their troubled souls. SERMON VII. ^JTHE HUMILITY OF SAINT PAUL. EPHESIANS 111. 8. Less than the least of all saints. X HE man, who has left us this record of himself, was one of the holiest and most exalted saints, that ever graced the Christian church. He seems to have entered more into the spirit of his master, than any of his fol- lowers, and to have received from him more abundant honour. And yet in the midst of his attainments, even while standing on the eminence to which divine mercy had raised him, we find this distinguished saint hum- bling himself in the dust. He, who has been for ages the delight and admiration of the church, here styles himself less than the least of all saints ; and as though even this were too honourable a name for him to bear, we see him, in another place, abasing himself still more ; he deems himself unworthy to be called an apostle, and takes this as his more appropriate title, *' The chief of sinners." This deep humility in an apostle of such exalted eminence may well excite our admiration ; but let not admiration be its only fruit. It invites us to go and sit at his feet, and learn of him. It calls upon us to be more meek and lowly in heart ; to have a more abiding sense of our meanness, unworthiness, and guilt ; to walk more humbly with our God. N 98 The Humility of With these objects in view, let us enquire, Jirst^ in what the humility of Saint Paul consisted; and secondly j by what means that spirit of self-abasement, which reigned in him, may be habitually maintained in our own hearts. I. In what did the humility of Saint Paul consist ? How did it manifest itself? The slightest acquaintance with his character leaves us no room to suspect, that it consisted in words only. There is such an appearance of honesty and integrity in his writings, that they give us at once the fulest conviction that the humility, which appears in his language, was to be found also in his heart and life. A reference to his writings will con- sequently be just as satisfactory, as a reference to his history, and perhaps as interesting and instructive. 1. We cannot take even the most hasty glance at the writings of this apostle, without at once noticing the entire submission of his mind to the gospel of Christ, the simple and hearty reception, which he gave to every divine truth. He had naturally just the same proud heart that we have, and hated the humiliating doctrines connected with the cross of Christ, as much as we hate them. Nay, they were more ofi'ensive to him, than they are to us. They were opposed, not only to those common workings of pride which we all feel, but to a thousand prejudices peculiar to himself or to the age and country, in which he lived. He was a Jew, he was a scliolar of Gamaliel, he was a man of strong intellectual powers; and yet all the prejudices of the Jew, all the pride of the scholar, and all the dictates of worldly wisdom were torn out of his heart ; and the once proud and haughty Saul is seen sitting at the feet of the carpenter's son, humble and teachable as a little child. Read Iiis epistles to the Ixomans and Gala- Saint Paid. 99 tians, brethren, and see how low the grace of God can humble the proudest mind. We do not find him en- deavouring, in these epistles, „to accommodate the doctrines of the gospel to his former opinions, reduc- ing and qualifying them to make them square with the feelings of the Jew or the pride of the philosopher ; he receives them, in all their humiliating force, with sim- plicity and godly sincerity. Every imagination and every high thing, which had so long exalted itself in his mind against the knowledge oF God, seems to be utterly cast down, and every thought brought into cap- tivity to the obedience of Christ. This entire submission of the mind to God is no common attainment. It is no trifling change of heart, no common humility, that will lead a man to it. We love to bring the declarations of God to the standard of our corrupt reason before we receive them. If they are opposed to this standard, we too often endea- vour to wrest them from their meaning ; and when they will not bear to be thus misinterpreted, we do not hesitate to disbelieve and reject them. Thousands, who seem as though they could have triumphed over the depravity of the flesh, have fallen a sacrifice to the corruption of their understandings and the pride of their foolish minds. 2. The writings of Saint Paul prove the greatness of his humility by shewing us, secondly, that the highest spiritual attainments could not make him for- get his meanness and guilt. There are indeed some professors of the gospel risen up in our day, who would object to such a test of humility as this. They seem to regard it as the very perfection of religion to forget their iniquities, and to look upon them- selves as spotless in the sight of God. But mark the 400 The Humility of difference between such professors and this humble Paul. He knew as much of the freeness and fulness of redemption as any of us, and had tasted as much of the savour of the grace of Christ. He had been taken up too into the third heaven, and beheld there glori- ous revelations, which had never been beheld before by mortal eye ; and heard there unspeakable words, which it is not lawful nor possible for a man to utter. And yet what was his language ? What in the midst of these attainments and honours was his opinion of himself? Did he forget his sins ? Never. Throughout every period of his life, his guilt seems as present to his mind, as at the hour of his conversion. ^' I was," says he, ^' a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and inju- rious." And lest we should suppose, that he thought only of his former iniquities, he says, '^ I am the chief of sinners, 1 am carnal, sold under sin." The fact is, that an enlarged view of the mercies of God in Christ Jesus must humble the soul, must re- mind it continually, not only of its former guilt, but of its present vileness. The Christian is always the low- est in his own esteem, when his hope in divine grace is the highest. He is always the most poor in himself, when he sees himself the most rich in Christ. 3. The sense, which the apostle had of his own sin- fulness, did not liovvever prevent him from seeing and acknowledging what divine grace had done for his soul, and what it had enabled him to do for God. He sometimes mentions these things in his writings, but he never mentions tiiem v.'ithout affording us another proof of his lowliness of heart ; his marked anxiety to give all the ghry of all his labours and attainments to God. We never find him taking any part of the praise fo himself, but always expressly disclaiming it. He Scdnt Paul, 101 seems afraid of ascribing something to his own merit or power, and of robbing his Saviour of his honour. Lest the glory of Jesus should be lessened, he takes the crown of excellency oflPhis own head, and, like the angels in heaven, he casts it down before the throne of the Lamb, as though he were unworthy and un- willing to wear the meanest crown in his presence. Thus we find him saying of himself, in the fifteenth chapter of his first epistle to the Corinthians, " I am the least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God : bat by, the grace of God I am what 1 am; and his grace which was bestowed upon me, was not in vain, but I laboured more abundantly than they all ;" and then he adds, as though he had said too much, '* Yet not I, but the grace of God, which was with me." 4, The humility of Saint Paul was manifested also in the low opinion^ which he had of himself, when com- pared with his Christian brethren. He speaks not, in the text, the unmeaning language of compliment, but the language of godly sincerity. The apostle wrote, as he felt. His lowliness of mind had really taught him to esteem others better than himself. When he takes a view of his own character, he seems to find in himself nothing but infirmity and sin ; but when he looks at others, all their failings are out of his sight, and he sees only their excellencies. This spirit of cliarity was the natural result of the apostle's humility. The man, who walks humbly with his God will always be distinguished by it; he will always deem his own guilt peculiarly aggravated, -and greater than that of any of his brethren. The rea- son is obvious. He sees the iniquity, which dwells in his own heart, while the corruptions; that are struggling 103 The Hinnility of in the hearts of others are hidden from his view. He has an intimate knowledge of the sins of his own life, but a remote and slight view of the sinful conduct of others. A wounded man feels the pain of his own wound, while he can only guess at the pain of his suffer- ing neighbour. Hence we find, that true humility, while it brings to light our own sins, is ever sure to cover a multitude of the sins of other. The man, who is the most sensible of his own failings, will always be heard to talk the least of the failings of others. It is the proud man, the proud professor of the gospel, who is the reviling man, the censorious professor. Pride takes a pleasure in bringing to light the infirmities of others, that itself may be exalted ; while humility de- lights in contemplating their excellencies, that it may be laid by them still lower in the dust, and be led to imitate their graces. 5. The humility of Saint Paul consisted, lastly, in his simple dependence upon Christ. If ever man had any thing in himself, in which he might safely hope, it was surely this apostle. Read the account he gives us of himself before his conversion. "" Circumcised," says he, '^ the eighth day ; of the stock of Israel ; of the tribe of Benjamin ; a Hebrew of the Hebrews ; as touching the law, a Pharisee ; concerning zeal, persecuting the church ; touching the righteousness, which is in the law, blameless." And what had he to boast of after divine grace had brought him to a knowledge of the gospel ? If we would obtain an answer to this enquiry, we must not refer merely to his journeyings and labours in the cause of Christ, to his weariness and painfulness, his watchings and fastings, his hunger and thirst, his cold and nakedness : we must ascend into heaven, and Saint PaiiL 103 count the number of those rejoicing saints, who, through his means, have been saved from destruction ; we must estimate the glory, which their redemption will for ever throw around the throne of Jehovah. When we have done this, we shall know something of what Saint Paul had to lean on. And yet what is itj that we find him actually depending on, actually hoping in ? His graces as a Christian ? His labours as an apostle ? His success as a minister ? His soul seems to shrink from the very thought. We find in him the most simple trust, the most undivided re- liance on the free mercy of his Saviour. He seeks the salvation of his soul, as though he were indeed the greatest of sinners, the vilest of the cliildren of men. The source of this simple reliance on Christ must be sought for in that humility, in that deep and abid- ing sense of his own unworthiness which the Holy Spirit had lodged in the apostle's heart. This was the one great reason, why all the powers of his mind, and all the strength of his body, were employed in making known the salvation of the cross ; this was the reason, why he endeavoured with so much fear and trembling to secure it for himself; — he felt, more perhaps than any other sinner ever felt, his wretched- ness, his helplessness without it. It was this, which made him so cheerfully suffer the loss of all things, that he might win Christ. It was this, which made him so anxious to renounce all confidence in his own righteousness and seek so earnestly that righteous- ness, which is through the fliith of Christ. It was this, which made him glory so much in the cross of Jesus, and desire so ardently to be found in him. Without this deep conviction of our guilty and helpless state, and that humility of spirit which flows 104< The Humility of from it, all that Christ has done and suffered for sin- ners will profit us nothing. Our proud hearts will never stoop to accept his terms of salvation. We shall either scoff at his gospel, and openly trample upon the blood which gives efficacy to its promises, or we shall corrupt and disfii^ure it. We shall not love it in its simplicity. In one shape or other, self will be intro- duced into it, and made the ground of our confidence. We may have too much knowledge of the Scriptures to think of purchasing the glories of heaven by the decency of our conduct, or the benevolence of our hearts, or the usefulness of our lives ; but we may place the same self-righteous dependence in fancied excellencies of another kind, that our brethren around us are placing in these. We may rest our hope of acceptance with God on our faith, our knowledge of the gospel, our convictions of sin, our frames and feel- ings, or even on our pretended humility ; and as ef- fectually ruin our souls, as though we hoped for sal- vation from our alms-giving and prayers. Nothing but a heart-felt sense of our sinfulness and wretchedness will lead us to the cross of Jesus, and keep us near it. Dependence on Christ must flow from humility of heart. If we are destitute of the one, we shall be des- titute also of the other. We must know our need and our danger, before we shall seek a remedy or look around for help. It is the sick man, who applies to a physician ; it is the man, who feels that he cannot heal himself, that lets his physician do with him whatsoever he will ; it is the man, who feels the pain of his sick- ness the most severely, that goes to his physician the most frequently, II. These then are some of the marks of true hu- mility, which may be traced in the character of Saint Saint Paul, 105 Paul. Other proofs of the lowliness of his mind might be mentioned, but we must proceed to enquire, secondly, by what means that spirit of self-abasement, which reigned in his heart, may be habitually main- tained in our own. But in making this enquiry and others of a similar nature, let us never forget that in spiritual things we have no power in ourselves to do any thing as of our- selves. We are not able to plant a single grace in_ our hearts ; and when any spiritual seed has been plant- ed there, we have no power to preserve it alive, and cause it to bring forth fruit. Every grace is the gift of God, his free gift, a gift as freely bestowed, as the rain that comes down from heaven. If then we ima- gine that we can humble our own proud hearts by our own strength, we shall be disappointed. That pride, which is the curse of our nature, has struck its roots too deeply within us, for any human arm to pluck it thence. But though we are thus weak and impotent in our- selves, the Holy Spirit generally works his purposes of grace by the use of means, and through these means he allows, yea, he commands us to seek his grace. We have then ample encouragement to endeavour to stretch forth the withered arm. The invitations and commands of the Almighty afford us the strongest as- surance, that he is at this very moment seated on a throne of grace, waiting there to be gracious, and ready to pour down his richest spiritual gifts on the head of every praying sinner. Are we then eairnestly desiring a more humble frame of mincl '? Let us lift up our eyes to those everlasting hills, from wlience cometh our help. Let us seek it of God ; and entreat him to bestow it on us through those means and chan- O 106 The Humility of nels in which his servant Saint Paul sought and ob- tained it, and through which he is hourly bestowing it on a thousand seeking hearts. 1. One of these means must immediately occur to our minds ; it is this, a frequent remembrance of our former iniquities^ and an abiding sense of our present corruptions^ This consciousness of guilt was not only one of the effects of Saint Paul's humility ; it was the principal root, from which it sprung. In the midst of his greatness, he remembered Saul of Tarsws, and was humbled. He thought of the infirmities which still cleaved to him. and was constrained to abase him- self before his God. We are much inclined to turn away from this con- templation of our sinfulness. It is humiliating, it is painful to us, and we endeavour to persuade ourselves that it is unnecessary. Because God has graciouly promised to deal with us as though he remembered our iniquities no more, we are tempted to think that he has really forgotten them, and that we need no longer have them in remembrance. Here however we err. The redeemed and sanctified servant of God has just as much need to have a lively sense of his transgressions, as the most hardened and defiled sinner. Any sys- tem of religion, brethren, which tends in the least de- gree to make the soul regard itself in any other light, than as altogether vile and sinful, is not the religion of the Bible. It may seem on the first view to magnify the Saviour, but it will most surely lower our concep- tions of him. It may appear calculated to bring com- fort to the soul, but it is much more calculated to bring to it perplexity, conceit, and pride. The sim- ple gospel of Christ, while it exalts the Holy One of Israel in the very highest degree, sinks the sinner, even Saint Paul. 107 the converted sinner, to the very lowest. Who ever thought more highly of Christ than Paul ? and who ever thought more lowly of himself? However high your attainments in religion may be, look therefore, with this great aposde, to the rock, whence ye were hewn ; and to the hole of the pit, whence ye were digged. Think of the many hours, and days, and years, you once spent in the service of the world and of Satan. Perhaps too you can remember the time, when you treated real religion with ridicule and reproach. It opposed your sinful practices, and you hated it ; it wounded your pride, and you scorned it. You delighted in pouring contempt on the gospel of Christ, and on all, who appeared to you really attached to it. Think too of the sins, by which you have been defiled, since you began to seek after heavenly things. Has your conduct during the latter years of your life been always such, as becometh the gospel of Christ ? Have you always v/alked as children of the light ? Alas, no ! Into how many outward iniquities have some of us fallen, and of how many inward transgressions arc we all conscious ! How many unchristian tempers too have we at seasons manifested ! A disgraceful cata- logue of sins might easily be enumerated, that would make us appear hateful to ourselves ; and if our sins are objects of abhorrence to ourselves, what must they be to that holy Being, in whose sight the heavens are not clean ? He has seen them ; he remembers them all. " He has'^set our mis-deeds before him, and our secret sins in the light of his countenance." Let this reflection lead us also to remember our iniquities. Let it influence us to strive daily to discover our own imperfections, what is amiss in us, and wherein we are defective. Let us think more of what we want, than 108 The Humility of of what we have attained. Instead of bein.^ ready to pride ourselves on our knowledge and goodness, let us rather sit down and mourn that we are still so igno- rant, sstill so corrupt. Remember, my Christian bre- thren, what you once w^ere ; remember what you still are, notwithstanding all that divine grace has done for you ; and if you can then find cause for pride and boasting, '^ Your spot is not the spot of my children," saith t!ie Lord. 2. If we would habitually maintain an humble frame of mind, we must have a lively sense of the freeness and fulness ofcUvine mercy, of that mercy, which God has bestowed upon us through his Son. Saint Paul had tasted of this mercy. It had enriched his soul, and made him the most zealous preacher of its glad tidings, that ever graced the church of God. He seems to have had deeper and more enlarged views of its unsearchable riches, than any other saint ; and yet never was any man more humble than he. Nothing indeed softens and humbles the heart, like a sense of pardoning mercy and redeeming grace. The Christian can sometimes think of his manifold iniqui- ties, and be but little atfccted by the remembrance ; but a thought of the love of Jesus brings him upon his knees, and lays him in the dust. It makes him fall down, like the poor woman who had been a sin- ner, at the feet of his Saviour, and weep. It was mercy, that made David exclaim, '^ Who am I, O Lord God, and what is mine house, that thou hast brought me hitherto ?" It is n.crcy that still makes the heart of many a sinner lowly and contrite. Fix your thoughts then, my brethren, more frequently and more closely on that wonderful love, wherewith the Father has loved you. Think of its beginning in the Saint Paul. 109 councils of eternity. Think of its freeness, its great- ness, its unchangeableness. Think of that depth of misery from which it has raised you, and of that height of blessedness, to which it is gradually lifting you. If such thoughts as these will not humble your hearts, write bitter things against yourselves, and deem your^ selves strangers to the grace of Christ. 3. The Christian will also find his humility in- creased 1)7/ frequently meditating on the infinite purity and majesty of the living God. It is a sight of the di- vine greatness and holiness, which enables us to see our own meanness and guilt. It is this, that brings to nought the glory of man, and stains his honour. It was this, that made Isaiah acknowledge his unclean- ness. It was this, that made Job abhor himself, and repent in dust and ashes. It was this too, which made Saint Paul so conscious of his own imperfections. In his way to Damascus, he saw something of the glory of Christ, and when he was taken up into the third heavens, he undoubtedly saw more of it, than it was lawful for him to utter. The effect, which the view that had been vouchsafed to him left upon his mind, may in some degree be seen in the first chapter of his epistle to the Hebrews, and in his epistle to Timothy, where he calls God " The blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord of lords ; who only hath immortality ; dwelling in the light, which no man can approach unto ; whom no man hath seen, nor can see." If we then would walk humblv with our God, let us set him always before us in his spotless holiness and awful greatness. With the Bible in our hands and a fervent prayer in our hearts, let us endeavour to be- hold him, that is invisible ; and even the distant pros* pect of the divine glory, to which our feeble eyes can 110 The Humility of reach, will constrain us to feel that no flesh can glory- in Jehovah's presence. 4. A due sense of the great importance of an humble spirit will also have a tendency to keep us low in our own eyes. The grace of humility is not a merely ornamental grace, a something, which it is desirable, but not absolutely necessary, to possess. It lies at the very root of true religion. It is the source, from which every spiritual grace must spring. Where this is wanting every thing is wanting. We may appear very religious, and have a high reputation for godli- ness, but if self-abasement be not the corner-stone of the spiritual temple, if the building rest not on this foundation, it is raised upon the sand. The house may be beautiful and even splendid; it may appear to the spectator firm ; but when the rain descends, and the floods come, and the winds blow, and beat upon that house, it will assuredly fall, and great will be the fall of it. Humility too can adorn the house, as well as sup- port it. The Lord giveth grace to the humble, and. not only grace, but honour and glory. There is no mansion, which he loves so well as a sinner's humbled heart. Yea, that high and lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy, dwells" not only in the high and holy place, but with him also that is of a con- trite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the hum- ble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones. Humility also can do more for a man in the present life, than any other grace can do. It can enable him, as it enabled Saint Paul, in whatsoever state he is, there- with to be content ; it can fill his heart with thankful- ness ; it can keep him dependent upon his God ; it can teach him hov/ to bear the enmity and reproach of Saint Paul ill a persecuting world ; it can preserve within his breast a sweet and heavenly calm amidst all the ruffling storms of life. 5. If we would become more lowly in heart, we must, finally, iook more to Christy than we have hither- to looked to him. We must regard him as our only Sanctifier, as well as our only Saviour. We must ap- ply to him to subdue the pride of our hearts, as well as to blot out the sins of our lives. We must look to him also as a bright example of humility. Compared with his self-abasement, the humility of Saint Paul sinks into nothing. As we look on the babe of Bethlehem ; as we behold the master laying aside his garments, and girding himself, and stooping down to wash his disciples' feet ; as we follow the man of sorrows to the cross, and witness the degradation, which he cheerfully suffered there ; the lowly Paul is no longer thought of. We see the Son of God humbling himself in the dust. We see the King of heaven disrobing himself of all his dignity and glory, and clothing himself in the mean and wretched garment of fallen and guilty man. It was at the feet of Jesus that the apostle learned how to abase himself; and there also, if we would have our lofty spirits humbled, he sends us. ^' Ye know," says he, " the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men ; and, being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, lis llie Humility of Saint Paul. even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name, which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should how, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." SERMON VIII THE COMPASSION OF THE HIGH-PRIEST OF THE CHURCH. HEBREWS iv. 15. iVe have not 071 high-firiest, which cannot be touched lOlth the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all fioints tempted like as we are, yet vjitli- out sin. A HIS is one of the sweetest and most encouraging declarations in the word of God. It has cheered many a fainting heart, and restored many a wandering soul to peace and hope. In the verse preceding it, the apostle speaks of Jesus, the great High- Priest of the church, as the Son of God ; as having passed into the far distant j heavens, and entered into his glory. He speaks of him here as the Son of man, as being still the same compassionate Jesus, that he was on earth, with a heart as tender and a love as strong. " 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." That we may draw Scriptural comfort and hope from these words, let us enquire, first, of what infirmities the apostle here speaks ; secondly, what is implied in Christ's being touched with the feeling of them ; and, thirdly, what reasons we have to believe that he still exercises this love and compassion. I. We are to enquire, first, what infirmities are spoken of in the text. ' The apostle calls them " our P ' 1 14 The Compassion of the infirmities," the infirmities of himself and of the He- brew Christians, to whom he was writing. These words must consequently be applied in their fulest sense to the true Christian only, to the man, who, like Saint Paul, has been washed, sanctified, and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God. In one sense indeed the ascended Jesus is touched with the infirmities of all mankind ; he pities and often relieves them, when suffering ujider them. But it is the sorrow of his beloved church, which chiefly touches his heart, and calls forth all its ten- derness. Still however the question recurs, with which of the many infirmities of his servants is Jesus touched ? To this enquiry we may answer with confidence, that he is touched with all of them. All outward infirmities are the subjects of his compassion ; poverty and want, hun- ger and thirst, weariness and pain, sickness and death ; and not only these natural evils, but all the calamities, which a hating and persecuting world can heap upon the church; contempt and disgrace, slander and re- proach, cruel m.Qckings and scourgings, bonds and im- prisonment. All our inward infirmities are also in- cluded in the apostle's words ; trouble and perplexity, fear and terror, grief and anguish, the temptations of the world and of Satan, and a sense of the wrath of God. With all these infirmities Jesus was exercised or tempted, and with the feeling of all these he is un- doubtedly still touched. But there are other and still more painful infirmities yet behind, the infirmities, which are the effects of sin, sinful infirmities, the pain, which is caused in the soul by its conflicts with evil lusts and unhallowed tempers. Are these then included in the apostle's words ? There High-Priest of tlie Church. 115 is one expression in the text, which seems, on the first view, to exclude at once all these sources of sorrow from the sympathy of Christ. He was tempted or ex- ercised by all the various calamities of human life, but yet he was without sin. The text however tells us that he was in all points tempted like as we are ; and again another Scripture says, that he was made in the likeness of sinful flesh ; that he took our nature upon him, not as it was in our first parents in a state of innocence, not as it is now in the glorified saints in heaven, but as it is impaired and degraded by the fall. Not that there was any sin in him. He was perfectly harmless, per- fectly pure, without spot, or blemish, or any such thing. But though he was free from sin, he felt and tasted in all their bitterness many of those effects of sin, to which man is liable in the present state. He knew what it was to be under the guilt of sin ; not that he was ever really guilty, but he was in some degree dealt with as though he were. " God," says the apostle, " made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin." Hence he was made to taste something of those sufferings, which are the con- sequences of guilt, something of that horror of soul, that fearful, dreadful sense of divine displeasure, which sin brings into the mind. He was stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted ; yea, it pleased the Lord to bruise him, to put him to grief, and, in the midst of his se- verest agonies, to forsake him, to leave him to himself. If then Jesus, though free from sin, has thus tasted of its bitter fruits, we may reasonably conclude that he can sympathize with his people when suffering under them ; that he can feel for them even when wounded by a sense of guilt, when encompassed with a multitude of sinful infirmities, and harassed by a thousand tempta- tions and lusts. 116 The Compassion of the It becomes us however to speak with caution on such a subject as this, lest we should seem to make light of iniquity, and take to our hearts one of the greatest of all spiritual curses, unhallowed comfort in sin. It is true that we dare not limit the Holy One of Israel in the exercise of his mercy towards his people ; it is un- bounded mercy, high as the heavens and deep as eter- nity ; but then who are his people ? Who are the ob- jects of his mercy ? The Scripture uniformly tells us, that they only are included in their number, who abhor sin, hate it from their very soul, and daily and hourly strive to tear it from their hearts. If then I love iniqui- ty, delight in it, and cherish it in my soul ; if I am, like mankind in general, vain and trifling, earthly-minded and sensual, this Scripture has no comfort for me. It was not designed for me. M}'' character, my heart, must be changed, before I dare appropriate it to myself, or draw any consolation from it. II. Let us now go on to enquire, secondly, what is meant by Christ's being touched with the feeling of our infirmities. The double negative, which the apostle has em- ployed in the text, is much stronger and more expres- sive, than a direct affirmative would have been, and seems to imply a fuller assurance of the fact. Here also it must be observed, that the word, which is rendered ** touched with the feeling of," signifies to suffer with another, to share his sorrows, to sympathize with him under them. We are taught then by this expression, that Christ sympathizes with his people, just as one man sympathizes with another; that he still retains all the affections of the human heart, and still delights to exercise them. We do not indeed attempt to say how these affections are exercised in a Being, who is God High-Priest of the Church. 117 as well as man ; but, though we may not always be able fully to explain the declarations of God, yet if we have humble and simple hearts, we can believe them, and rejoice in the gracious truths they contain, and adore the goodness of that Father of mercies, who has caused them to be written in his word for our comfort and salvation. But let us take a somewhat closer view of this compassion of Jesus. 1. His being touched with a feeling of our infirmi- ties evidently implies a knowledge of them ; it tells us that he sees, and notices, and remembers them. Now this knowledge is an accurate, a perfect know- ledge. Our infirmities may be as numerous, as the sands upon the sea shore ; but none of them escape his notice. They may be more than we can number, but he numbers them all, and has the account of them ever before him. There is not one of them so small, as to be deemed unworthy of his regard ; none so great, as to make him unwilling to concern himself in it. His knowledge too is experimental, as well as accu- rate. He knows by experience what our trials are, for he has borne and carried them. He has felt their weight, and pressure, and smart, and still remembers every painful feeling, w^hich they excited in his souL 2. This accurate and experimental knowledge pro- duces another eftcct implied in Christ's being touched with a feeling of our infirmities; this effect is sympathy, a tender compassion for us, while suffering under our trials. We often know and see the afflictions and in- firmities of one another, without our knowledge pro- ducing any effect upon our minds ; but it is not so with Christ. Our infirmities interest his feelings and touch his soul. And this not in a slight degree. His sympa- thy is a strong sympathy. When a good man sees an- 118 The Compassion of the other in distress or misery, though he be a stranger, he is moved with compassion toward him ; but if the sufferer, instead of being a stranger, be a beloved rela- tive or friend, he feels a much livelier interest in his sorrow, and is more deeply affected with his condition. Thus Jesus feels for us, not merely as we are objects of pity, but as the objects of his tenderest love. He feels for us as his own beloved people, as those, whom he has purchased with his blood, and whom he regards as the choicest treasures he possesses. He feels for his people as a brother feels for his brethren, as a father for his child, as a husband for the wife of his bosom. The sympathy of Christ is as abiding too, as it is strong. It is a constant, never- failing sympathy. He does not have pity upon us one hour, and neglect us the next ; he does not weep with us in this trial, and turn away from us in that : no ; he shares every sorrow with us, and as long as we are encompassed with in- firmities, so long will his compassion be exercised to- wards us. Nay more ; he will sympathize with us, when all our infirmities shall have passed away ; he will share in our joys in heaven, as well as in our sorrows upon earth. Even in his kingdom above, whatever affects us will affect him. He now mourns with us in our sorrow, and he will there sing with us in our joy. 3. To be touched with a feeling of our infirmities implies, further, a readiness in Christ to succour us under them. The sympathy of Christ is not a mere sentimental thing. It is not that fashionable and much applauded sensibility, which can weep over misery, and yet not stretch out a hand to relieve it. It is ap active principle. It leads the Saviour to do for us all, that, consistently with our welfare and his glory, he can do ; to give us all the help, and support, and comfort, which High- Priest of the Church. 119 we need under our afflictions, and, as soon as possible, to give us a happy issue out of them. He is indeed a wise, as well as a tender friend ; and he will not re- move any infirmity from us one moment before it will be well for us to have it removed ; but then as long as we are afflicted, he is afflicted. While we are suffering, he is suffering also. Let this satisfy us. Let it bring comfort to our souls under affliction ; and convince us that help and deliverance will come in their proper season. in. We may now proceed to enquire, thirdly, what reasons we have to believe that Jesus is still exercising this love and compassion towards the infirmities of his saints. It is so great and wonderful an act of conde- scension, that many a faithless heart may be ready to doubt it, or at best slow to believe it. We seem to want something to encourage us to the belief of a truth so strange to reason, so far above all expectation, so much beyond all we could hope for or think of. The apostle however has given us in this epistle abundant confirmation of the truth of his assertion. 1. He tells us, first, that this was one of the ends, for which Christ took our nature upon hiin, that he might be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. We read in the beginning of the chapter, which follows the text, that every high-priest, taken from among men, must " have compassion on the ignorant, and on them that are out of the way ; for that he himself also is com- passed with infirmity." it was necessary for Jesus therefore to be made such a high-priest as this. ** Wherefore," says the apostle in the seventeenth ^erse of the second chapter of this epistle, " in all things it behoved him to be made like unto his bre- thren^ that he might be a merciful and faithful High- 130 The Compassion of the Priest in things i>ertaining to God, to make reconcilia-^ tion for the sins of the people ; for in that he himself hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted." His assuming our nature did not indeed increase his mercifulness as God, for that, before his incarnation, was infinite. But it enabled him, as man, to pity from experience. He submitted to our infirmities, that he might not only be merciful to us as a God of mercy, but tender-hearted and compassionate towards us as a brother and a friend. Now this being- one of the ends, for which he became man, the con- stant exercise of his sympathy is no more to be doubted, than his incarnation itself. He was made man, not only that he might suffer for us, but that he might suffer with us ; and as long as he remains the great High- Priest of the church, our sorrows will be his sorrows, our trials his trials, and our joys his joys. 2. The same truth will be evident, if we remember, secondly, that it is a part of the Saviour^ s office^ as the High- Priest of the church, to be touched with a feeling of its infinriities. The appointment of the Levitical high-priest, as we learn from the passage of Scripture which has already been referred to, had mercy and compassion in its very design. One branch of the du- ties of his office had a reference chiefly to God, and consisted in offering sacrifices to hini ; while the other had a reference principally to the people, and consisted in feeling for them, in being touched vvitli a compas- sionate sense of their infirmities and sins. Hence the names of the twelve tribes were to be written upon the breast- plate of the high- priest when he went into the holy of holies, to remind him that it was his duty to remember all his brethren in the sacrifices and prayers he offered there. High-Priest of the Church. 121 The same office Jesus has undertaken to sustain for ever in the Christian church, and bound himself to per- form its duties. He has taken upon himself an un- changeable priesthood in the heavenly temple above, and will never be unfaithful to those covenant engage- ments, into which his love for his church led him to enter. He is gone into the holy of holies with the names of all his saints written on his heart, and he will for ever remember there all their infirmities and wants. He de- lights to do all the will of God ; and he will not surely neglect that part of it, which is connected with the safety, the comfort, and the happiness of the people, whom he has suifered so much degradation and misery to save. The text, which we have thus briefly considered, will suggest to us a few practical inferences. It reminds us, first, that the church of Christ has never lost a privilege^ which has once been granted to it, tvithout receiving a greater. The sacrifices and inter- cession connected with the office of the Levitical priest- hood were great and invaluable blessings, and many of the Jews hesitated to embrace Christianity from a fear of losing the benefits rcsultmg from them. Hence the apostle labours with a marked anxiety to convince them, that so far from losing any of their privileges by wel- coming the gospel to their hearts, they would have ihem. all confirmed to them and unspeakably improved. Had they sacrifices for sin under the law ? He tells them that under the gospel they should have the same, even the blood of the eternal Jesus, a far more noble and effectual sacrifice, than thousands of rams or ten thousands of rivers of oil. *' Christ," says he, *' being come an High-Priest of good things to come, by^a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with Q i22 The Compassion of the hands, that is to sa}-, not of this building ; neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood ; he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us. For if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of an heifer, sprinkling the un- clean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your consciences from dead works to serve the living God?" Had the Israelites under the law a high-priest, whose office was the life and glory of their worship ? The apostle assures them that the gospel of Jesus would not deprive them of this privilege ; that all his followers have a high-priest ministering and interceding for then^ in the heavenly temple above, one, " who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens ; who necdeth not daily, as those high-priests, to offer up sacrifice first for his own sins, and then for the people's, for this he did once when he offered up himself. For the law maketh men high-priests, which have infirmity ; but the word of the oath, which was since the law, maketh the Son, who is consecrated for evermore." Let us then never fear for the church of Christ. From the creation of the world, the dispensations of the Almighty towards it have been continually chang- ing, but by every change the church has been a gainer ; and thus it will continue to be to the end of time. Clouds may indeed rise at seasons to darken its pros- pects, but they are always big with mercy ; and will shower down a thousand blessings on the church, as they roll over it. There is also in the text a ?iever-failing source of High-Priest of the Church. 1S3 consolation for every afflicted saint, a spring of comfort, which will reach to every sort of trial, and that too at every season. We are told that Jesus, our great High- Priest, " was in all points tempted like as we are." Ave we tried with poverty ? Are we sometimes so poor, as to want the necessaries of life ? We cannot be poorer, than Jesus once was. Though he is now seated on a throne in a glorious temple, there was a time, when he had not where to lay his sacred head. Are we ill-treated in the world, misrepresented, reproached, and hated? Jesus too has suffered shame, and hatred, and reproach. He was despised and rejected of men, stricken, wounded, and bruised. Have we been bereaved by death of our friends? Does our sorrow spring from the grave of a mouldering parent or child, husband or wife ? Jesus has stood by a grave, and groaned in the spirit as sorrowfully as we, and wept as bitterly. Are we friendless in the world, standing alone, forsaken and forlorn ? How many friends had Christ ? A few poor fishermen. And how did they act, when he most needed their friendship ? They all forsook him and fled. Do our sorrows flow from spiritual causes ? from harassing temptations or the loss of religious consolations ? The Son of God is no stranger to such sufferings as these. He was tempted ; he was exceeding sorrowful ; he was forsaken by his God. However diversified our trials may be, our High- Priest has felt the smart of them all. He has tasted of all the sorrows of life and all the pains of death, and knows by experience how to be touched with a feeling of them. What a source of consolation then is here opened to every dejected saint ! In all my troubles and sorrows, Christ is near me, and pitying me, and suffering with me. My poor body may be racked with pain, my heart 124 The Compassion of the may ache, and my soul be filled with fear, perplexity, and anguish : but Jesus, my Saviour, sees all my trials ; he has experienced them, and knows exactly what I am now feeling under them. While I am complaining, he is, as it were, hanging over me, and weeping with me. O then let me take contentedly my cup of suffering, and cheerfully drink the bitter draught ! Let mc take up my cross, and rejoice to bear it, though it may seem heavy to my feeble frame. Let me look unto Jesus, and be comforted. There is also in the text encouragement for every penitent sinner^ who desires to return to God. Can such a Saviour as this, with such a heart, ever refuse to re- ceive one contrite transgressor, who casts himself on his mercy ? Can he turn away from one trembling soul? Can he push back the perishing sinner, who flies to his cross for refuge ? Sooner could a mother refuse to have compassion on the son of her womb. Venture then to this Sa*^iour, brethren, and make trial of his compassion, lie already knows all your misgivings and fears ; he is touched with the feeling of them, and is anxious to chase them all away. Take to him youc weary and heavy-laden souls ; commit them with con- fidence into his hands ; and you shall find in him the richest comfort, and the sweetest rest. The subject we, have been considering reminds us, further, of the duty of feeling one for another, of mak- ing each other's soriows our own. To have Christ for his compassionate High-Priest is the Christian's privi- lege ; to miitate his compassion is the Christian's duty, not a duty, which may be dispensed with, but a duty, which he will most assuredly be led to perform and de- light in, as soon as the love of God is shed abroad in his heart. O that the meekness, and gentleness, and High-Priest of the Church. 1S5 tenderness of Jesus may constrain us all to be pitiful, and courteous, and kindly affectioned one to another ! His compassion would produce this effect in us, if we were really followers of him as dear children. The reason, why we are censorious, and uncharitable, and hard-hearted, is simply this — we have not the spirit of Christ, and are none of his. Never let us deem our- selves Christians, till we bear some faint resemblance to our meek, and lowly, and compassionate Master I The religion, which he puts into the hearts of his followers, softens the character, sweetens the temper, enlivens all the tender affections of the soul, and fills it with kind- ness and with love. The apostle calls upon us in the text, finally, to hold fast the profession of our faith. This indeed seems to be the great end, for which he alludes, in the passage before us, to the sympathy of Jesus. " Seeing then," says he, " that we have a great High- Priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession." He then proceeds to teil us for our encouragement, that this Jesus is touched with the feeling of our infirmities ; that the ascended Saviour knows all the difficulties, all the trials and struggles, which we meet with in the profession of his religion, and is ready to help us in them all ; to strengthen us, when weak ; to refresh us, when weary ; to make us more than conquerors, when tempted. The apostle well knew the liability of his fellow Christians to turn away from the faith of the gospel, the great danger which they were in, of becoming apostates to the truth. The mere nominal professor of religion thinks nothing of this danger, and cannot per- haps be prevailed on even to acknowledge it ; but the real Christian sees' it, he feels it hourlv, and is some- l:S6 The Compassion of the times ready to tremble on account of it. He is travel- ling the road, and sees all the dangers, which surround it ; while the other has never entered in at its straight gate, has never taken one step in its narrow path, and knows nothing of its difficulties. The wonder is, not that this or that man should turn aside from the way, which leadcth unto life, but that any feeble sinner should persevere in it to the end, so as to be saved. The true Christian therefore wants comfort and sup- port under this fear and danger of departing from the living God, and the text gives him all he can wish for. Jesus knows his infirmities. He sees all the ruggedness and dangers of the path, in which he is treading. Will he then look on with indifference, and not help his be- loved saints ? Will he suffer them to sink while striving to draw near unto himself? No; their foot may well nigh slip, but the Lord will place underneath them his own everlasting arm, and save them from falling, and sustain them. *' My sheep," says he, " shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, ' Fear not, for I have redeemed thee ; 1 have called thee by thy name ; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, 1 will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee ; when thou walkest through the Are, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.' " Here then, my brethren, is our safety and our com- fort ; a leaning on Cnrist, a resting on his compassion, liis faithfulness, and his power. If we rest simply on liis almighty arm, we are as safe in the midst of our dangers, as though there were not a single danger in High-Priest of the Church. 127 our path. If we rest any where else, we are undone. No matter how near we may seem to have ascended to heaven, we shall sink into hell. Where we go for par- don, there we must also go for perseverance;, and there we shall obtain it. ^' Let us then lay aside every weight, and the sin, which doth so easily beset us ; and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God." ,/ SERMON IX- THE THRONE OF GRACE. HEBREWS iv. 16. ijCt us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that ive may obtain meixy, arid find grace to helji in tim.e of need. XN the two preceding verbcs of this chapter, the apos- tle sends our thoughts upwards to heaven. He shews us Jesus as having passed there in the character of our High- Priest, as pleading for us before his Father's throne, and as being still touched, in the midst of the splendours around him, with the feeling of our infirmi- ties, and bearing a part of all our cares, sorrows, and trials. From this cheering representation of the Sa- viour, the exhortation in the text is drawn. *' Let us therefore," says he, "come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." Let us enquire, yzr^?, what those blessings are, which are spoken of in these words ; secondly, where they are to be obtained ; and, thirdly, how they are to be sought. And O may he, that sitteth upon a throne of grace, send down his Holy Spirit from on high to rest upon us, and to take up his abode in our hearts ! I. We are to consider, first, the blessings spoken of in the text. L The first of these is mercy, pardoning mercy, reconciling mercy, saving mercy. This mercy is ever needful. The brightest saint needs it, as well as the The Throne of Grace, 129 greatest sinner. We need it every hour of our life, and in every action of our life. Whatever difference there may be amongst us in other respects, here we are all on an equality. We must all obtain mercy, great mercy, free mercy, or we must perish. The apostle mentions this blessing first, because till we have obtained mercy, we have no ground to hope for any other spiritual gift. Pardon is introductory to all the other blessings of the gospel. We must go to God as a Saviour, before we can go to him as a com- forter and a friend. We must apply to him to pardon our sins, before we can apply to him to cheer and strengthen our souls. 2. The second blessing spoken of in the text is grace^ supporting, helping grace, *' grace to help in time of need." Ail our times are times of need. There is not a moment of our life, in which we are not poor and altogether needy. But there are certain seasons, in which we especially need grace to help us. A lime of affliction is one of these seasons, when our souls are ready to faint within us and our hope to perish. A time of temptation is another, when sin seems to be forcing its way into the mind, and the corruptions of our depraved hearts stand ready to welcome it. There are seasons of perplexity and anxiety, wliich are times of need ; seasons of coldness, deadness, and spiritual dtrsertion ; seasons of despondency on account of sin, when the bewildered soul looks around for comfort and finds none, and is ready to fly even to despair as a refuge from its fears. A time of deatli too is a time of need, when our bodies are about to be broken to pieces, and our souls to enter eternity, to go into that untried and unknown world of spirits, where all is either unmixed anguish, or perfect blibS. R iSO The Throne Now in these times of need nothing can help us, but grace. It is grace alone, that can subdue our corrup- tions, resist temptations, warm our hearts, and bring strength, comfort, and hope, to our troubled souls. The language of the apostle seems to imply that the grace, which we are principally to seek, is grace for present, and not for future need. We are to come to the throne for grace in time of need. There is a strange propensity in some minds, my brethren, to be con- tinually anticipating these times of need, to be inces- santly looking forward to future trials and difficulties, and bringing distress into the mind by a premature anxiety about the morrow. We often find ourselves enquiring, O what should I. do, if this or that affliction should befal me ? How would my poor soul bear to have this or that friend taken from me, to be reduced to poverty, to have to struggle with pain, and disease, and death ? Now this anxiety about future trials is too often sin- ful. It occupies too much of our thoughts ; it has its origin in distrust of God ; it silences the voice of thankfulness, and leads to gloominess and discontent. ^' Take no thought for the morrow," says Christ, " for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." Grace to help shall come, when it is needed ; but why should it come before ? We shall have grace to suffer in a suffering season, and grace to die in a dying season. As our days are, so shall our strength be. The Bible gives us this assurance, and the experi- ence of some among us has fully confirmed it. We have looked forward m the duys that are past to trials, and shuddered at the prospect. These dreaded trials however have come, and come perhaps with aggrava- tions, which we never thought of. We have been re- of Grace, 131 duced to the poverty, we shrunk from ; the disease and pain, which we dreaded, have seized our frames ; our friends have been taken from us ; and what has been the consequence ? Has our soul sunk, as we ex- pected it to sink ? No. It has risen stronger and stronger, and soared higher and higher, and at length bounded, as it were, over the trial, and left us a wonder to ourselves. What then does this teach us ? Humiliation for the time that is past, and trust and confidence for the time to come. It tells us, when we find our souls beginning to be anxious about grace for future emergencies, to stop them short by asking whether we have all the grace, that is necessary for our present need ; whether at the present moment we do not want grace to root out anxiety and distrust from our minds, and to teach us submission to the will of God. II. Let us now go on to enquire, secondly, where this mercy and this helping grace are to be obtained. The apostle sends us for them to "^ the throne of grace." 1. He tells us to seek them at a throne : he sends us therefore to a God of majesty. Thrones upon earth are designed for those, who are of the greatest glory among men, and he, who sits upor^jthe throne of hea- ven, is the most glorious Being in the universe ; the Father of an infinite majesty. A throne indicates too that the God, who sits on it, is a God of dominion and sovereignty ; that he reigns over the universe, and is its lawful and Supreme governor; that all the creatures in this lower world, the sun and the stars in the firmament, and all the angels in heaven, are under him as his subjects. '^ The Lord," says the psalmist, •< hath perpared his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom ruleth over all." 13S ' The Throne A throne implies also that he is a God of power, of infinite, almighty power, in the universe, over which he reigns. As the kingdom and the glory are his, so is the power also. There is nothing which he cannot perform. He could in a moment dash to pieces the millions of worlds, which his hand has formed, and in a moment create a million more. All the moral part of his creation is as much under his controul, as the material. He can bend at his will the minds of men and of angels, and make them subservient to his purpo- ses of grace. '^ But this majesty, this sovereignty, this power," it may be said, " are nothing to me. They bring no comfort to my heart. They rather repel than invite. They excite terror rather than hope. They tell me that God is glorious, while 1 feel that I am vile as the dust 1 tread on ; tliat he has a claim on my allegiance and service, while I know that I have been a rebel against him and been serving another lord ; that he has power to take vengeance on the sinner, while I am conscious that I have hourly broken his laws." 2. The apostle meets this objection, and goes on to call this great and glorious throne a throne of grace. It has been supposed that there is an allusion in this expression to the mercy-scat in the temple. This mercy- seat was the golden cover of the ark. At each end of it was a cnerub, and between these cherubims the Lord was said to sit or reside, as on a throne. This view of the text would recal to the mind of the experi- enced Christian many interesting subjects of contem- plation, but it will perhaps be more generally profita- ble to us to consider the language of the apostle in a more obvious and simple point of view. When the apostle sends us to a throne of grace, he of Grace. 138 reminds us that he, who sits upon thh throne^ has mercy and grace at his disposal; that lie lias removed out of the way all impediments to the exercise of his good- ness; that he can now be gracious to a world of re- bellious sinners in a way consistent with his honour, and shew himself a God of mercy without tarnishing the glory of his other perfections. The awful display of his infinite holiness and fearful justice, which Jeho- vah gave to the universe upon the cross of Christ, can leave none of his creatures at liberty to suspect that he has ceased to be the hater of iniquity, when he redeems from destruction and carries to heaven the sinful chil- dren of men. They are as much the trophies of his holiness and justice, as they are the monuments of his mercy and grace. The splendour, which their salva- tion throws around his throne, was unknown to the creation before they were redeemed, and will for ever eclipse the glory of all his other works. Hence, though WQ have sinned against him, God can now pour upon us the richest blessings of his goodness, and at the same time bring glory to himself by the exercise of his mercy. He can give us, in the most free and ho- nourable manner, pardon for our sin, strength for our weakness, and comfort for our sorrow. The expression used by the apostle tells us also that God has not only mercy and grace at his disposal, but that he is willing to bestow them on the si?iners^ who seek them. The place, on which he sits, declares his willingness. If he presented himself to us upon a seat of judgment, a tribunal of justice, we might conclude that he was ready to discharge the offices of a judge, that he was sitting there to do justice and to execute judgment. When therefore he leaves this tribunal, and presents himself to us upon a throne of grace, wc 134 The Throne may surely conclude that he is ready to shew grace and mercy , that he is willing to receive the petitions of the sinful and to dispense help to the needy. This expression shews us also the manner, in which the Lord exercises his mercy and grace. It tells us that he dispenses these blessings freely and royally. He dispenses them freely. If God is a sovereign on a throne, it cannot be consistent with his honour to receive ought for his benefits. Even an earthly mo- narch considers it a degradation to take a price of his subjects for his favours. Will the great Sovereign of heaven then demand a price for his mercy of such poor, mean subjects as we are ? Never. All his acts of mercy are acts of grace, of pure, unmerited grace. They must be so, or we could never receive them. Whatever is required, we have nothing to give ; for sin and misery are all, that we can call our own. God is ready to bestow his grace royally, magnifi- cently, as well as freely. When he describes himself as a king, seated on a throne of grace, he assures us that he will give like a king ; that he will bestow upon us not a few trifling gifts, but such as are answerable to his greatness and magnificence. We dishonour him therefore, if we do not expect great things at his hands. We must not regard the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ as a common benefactor. He is ready to give us not merely mercy to deliver, but grace to exalt us. He is willing not only to lift us out of the pit, but to advance us to a throne. But here it may be said, *' What if God has mercy and grace at his disposal, and is ready to give them thus freely and royally ? is he not a Being too great and too high to be approached by me '? I need these blessings, and God may be ready to bestow them ac- of Grace. 135 cording to his sovereign will ; but where is the sinner, who will dare to go to so high a God, and ask for them ?" The expression, which the apostle uses, meets this objection also. It tells us that the Lord is willing to be asked for his mercy and grace, and that too by the meanest sinner. When he offers himself to us on a throne of grace, he gives us the strongest assurance which he can give us, that he will admit dust and ashes into his presence ; that he will hear and answer prayer ; that it is the very season, the very opportunity, to carry our requests to him, and to have them granted. He sits upon this throne, he abides and dwells there, for this very pur- pose, that he may be ever ready to receive our petitions. He waits there to be gracious. III. In what frame of mind then does it become us to approach" him ? How are we to seek of him mercy and grace ? This is our third enquiry, and this, the apostle answers. *' Let us come boldly unto the throne of grace." The sense, in which the apostle here uses the word *' boldly," may be inferred from the expressions, with which it is connected, " the throne of grace." 1. It is plain, first, that if God is seated on a throne as a God of majesty and power, this boldness must be altogether different iromfearless presumption or irreve- rent freedo?n. The glory of the Almighty when seated on a throne, even though that throne be a throne of grace, is enough to make creatures, whose habitation is in the dust and who are crushed before the moth, fear before him and approach him with reverence. *'^ God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the saints, and to be had in reverence of all them, that arc round about him, 1 he Lord reigneih, let the people 43(5 The Throne tremble. He sitteth between the cherubim, let the earth be moved." There is, in some professors of the gospel, an un- hallowed familiarity with the sacred name of God, which makes some of their brethren tremble. They seem to forget both his character and their own ; to forget that he is that high and mighty One, who in- habiteth eternity, and they sunk almost to a level with the brutes that perish. They appear as though they thought it a mark of a high degree of grace to bring dowai Jehovah from his lofty throne, and to degrade him to a level with themselves. Beware, my brethren, of this unholy boldness. It is not the offspring of grace, but of ignorance and pride. We stand before the throne of God as sinners ; what we ask for there is mercy ; and surely the conviction that we are sinners and need mercy, ought to fill us with humility, with reverence, and godly fear. We are criminals suing for a pardon ; our boldness then must be the boldness of an huml)le penitent, cherishing in his heart a lively sense of his meanness, and a deep conviction of his guilt. 2. The boldness, of which the apostle speaks, is op- posed also to self-ruill, and must consequently include in it submission to the will of God. If he is a sove- reign on a throne, we must give him, in our approaches to him, a sovereign's authority. We must go to him as those, who desire to be wholly subject to him, to be governed by his wisdom and ordered by his will. Whatever we ask for, we must ask for it with this prayer in our mouth and in our heart, ^^ Father, not my will, but thine be done." 3. This boldness is opposed further to restraint in prayer ^ and implies an humble and holy freedom in of Grace. 137 our addresses to God. If we are habitually living in his faith and fear, we may come to his throne, not as strangers and foreigners, but as those who are of the household of God. We are not to go to him as a harsh master and unfeeling ruler ; we are not to appear before him, as the slave appears before his tyrant ; but we are to go to him as children to a father, to a forgiv- ing father, to a tender-hearted, yea, a heavenly father. The Lord loves the humble, reverential boldness of the child, much more than he loves the trembling of a slave. If we could but always approach God in this spirit of adoption, how sweet would be our fellowship with him, how successful our petitions ! Nothing would appear to us too great, nothing too trifling, to lay before him. We should pour out our hearts be- fore him ; open to him our every want, and fear, and sorrow ; and find in him the sweetest sympathy, and the tenderest love. { 4. This boldnes^s opposed, lastly, to distrust and unbeliefs and includes a persuasion that God has grace to bestow and is willing to bestow it, and that we are authorized to ask for and to expect it. It is the bold- ness of faith, which the apostle recommends, a confi- dence, not in our own merits, but in Sovereign mercy ; a faith in Jesus, and such a faith in him, as triumphs over fears and suspicions, and rises to the confidence of hope. This confidence is quite consistent with that hu- mility, which becomes us as sinners ; indeed it is closely connected with it. At the very moment, when the Christian is enabled to exercise the greatest bold- ness in his wrestling with God, he has a far deeper sense of sin, than he has at other seasons, a livelier conviction of his own utter vileness. The Christian's S 138 The Throne life is indeed a riddle, a mystery, a perplexing maze to the mere speculative professor of the gospel. It brings together so many different and apparently oppo- site affections of the soul, and feo sweetly and yet so strangely blends them together, that he, who has not experienced the power of godliness, cannot comprehend and will not believe it. O that our understandings may be opened to understand the mysteries of the Chris- tian's hidden life, and our liearts softened and enlarged to enjoy its secret pleasures ! From a review of the subject wc have been consi- dering, \wt may learn how mercy and grace may be ob- tamed. They are to be obtained by prayer. But this implies more, than appears on the first view. It im- plies that we deeply feel our need of mercy and grace. It implies, not a mere acknowledgment only that we are sinners, not a cold sense that we need mercy ; but such a conviction of our sin and necessity, as fills our souls, interests our feelings, abides with us wherever we go, and daily sinks deeper and deeper into our minds. Without this, our prayers will be empty breath, our religion a lifeless form. Here it is, where thousands err. Their religion has not their own utter vlleness and helplessness for its foundation. Hence there is no abiding spirit of prayer in them, no settled love to Christ, no clinging to the cross, no cleaving to God. This deeply. seated sense of poverty and guilt must precede every real prayer for mercy. The heart must be humbled, as well as softened. Till this point is gained, nothing is done. Here then let us begin. Let this be our first prayer, that we may have a heart-felt sense of our need of mercy and of grace. If we have but this, brethren, O who can tell how ready God is to receive, how will- ofCh^ace. 139 ing to pardon and to help us ? Could we but once sec and feel the thousandth part of his willingness to bless us, we should want no further encouragement to lead us at once with boldness to his throne. Here too we may see a part of our vast obligations to the cross of Christ. How was this throne of grace erected ? By whom was it built ? Who prevailed on infinite justice to sit and reign on it ? We know the answer — Jesus, who died for us, and rose again, and is now seated on the right hand of God. It was the blood of the Lamb, that was slain, which first made the throne of God a throne of grace to sinners ; it is the Lamb, that was slain, who still keeps it such. Though the building of this throne cost us nothing, it cost the man, who is the fellow of Jehovah, tears and groans, a life of misery and a death of anguish. Who then, that feels his need of mercy and of grace, can make light of Jesus Christ the Saviour ? Who can hear of his dying love, and yet despise it ? W^e may infer, lastly, from the words before us, that the man, who lives xvithout prayer lives without the mercy and grace of God ; that he, who has never sought these blessings at a throne of grace, is utterly destitute of them. How then am 1 living ? If I am a stranger to secret, humble, heart-felt prayer, my character is awful and my state is perilous. 1 stand before the Almighty as an unpardoned, ungodly sinner. I am under the curse of the God, who made me, and the object of his just abhorrence. What then will be my future condition, if I die in such a state as this ? Where will my soul go, if death should come upon me, and find me destitute of mercy and of grace ? It must go into devouring fire and everlasting burnings. How is it then, that knowing and believing myself to be thus 140 The Throne of Grace. ready to perish, I can still live day after day without prayer? How is it that I am not hourly going for mercy to the throne of grace ? My heart tells me, that thou|:^h 1 in some degree know that I need mercy, I am indifferent about obtaining it. If 1 could go to the throne of an earthly sovereign, and get a splendid es- tate or a proud tide by merely asking for it, 1 should at once go, 1 should immediately be found there ; but what are titles and estates, when compared with what God has to give, with mercy and with grace ? They are nothing. My reason tells me that they are nothing. And yet 1 cannot bring my senseless heart to seek these precious gifts of God. Let me strive then to get this desperately wicked heart awakened, softened, and changed. It is a dreadful evil within me ; let me no longer trifle with it, lest it destroy me. Let me take it to Jesus, that it may be made a new and holy heart. Let me no longer keep from this blessed Saviour. I will this very hour begin to pray. This very hour shall see me a weeping suppliant in the dust before his throne. There will I lie, and pray, and plead ; there will I seek mercy and grace ; there will I smite upon my breast and say, " God be merciful to me, a sinner." SERMON X. THE DEATH OF MOSES. DEUTERONOMY XXXiv. 5. So Moses the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moa6, according to the word of the Lord, JL HE chapter, of which these words are a part, con- tains a short but remarkable account of the death and burial of Moses. To lead the children of Israel to the land of Canaan, this faithful servant of God had abandoned the fairest prospects of honour in the court of Pharaoh, and endured for forty years the greatest trials and difficulties in the wilderness ; and now at length, when the object of all his labours seems about to be obtained, when he has arrived on the very brink of Jordan and within sight of the promised land, the hand of death removes him from the world, and leaves to us another striking instance of the mysterious nature of the ways of God. The circumstances connected with his death are interesting and instructive, and they are written here for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come. Let us then direct our attention to them, and endeavour to draw from them instruction in righteousness and in grace. I. The first truth, of which the death of Moses re- minds us, is this ; the Sovereign of the world can carry on his purposes of grace without the help of man. Who was this Moses, whose death is here recorded ? He was a man of the most eminent talents and of the 143 The Death most exalted piety. He had been for forty years the leader of the hosts of Israel, and, during the whole of that long period, their honour and safety, their meat and their drink, their very existence, seemed todtpend on him. At what period was this Moses taken from this peo- ple ? At the very period, when he seemed most ne- cessary to them. Under his guidance they had over- come the dangers of the wilderness, but they had now to encounter still greater dangers. They had to pass over Jordan, to fight with enemies stronger and more numerous than themselves, to drive them from their country, and to establish themselves in it. In this cri- tical and dangerous situation, when every eye was turned to him for direction and assistance, and all their hopes of success seemed to be centred in him, their illustrious leader and commander was taken from them, and all their prospects appeared at once blasted and destroyed. How mysterious was this dispensation ! And yet, brethren, the occurrences of every day are involved in almost equal mystery. A great and difficult work is to be accomplished in the church or in the world, and the Lord raises up and prepares an instrument for performing it. He calls him out into actual service ; he crowns his efforts with astonishing success ; but in the midst of his work, at the very period when he seems most necessary for the accomplishing of it, he removes him from the world, lays him silent and in- active in the grave, and finishes his work without him. Do we ask why he acts thus ? why he thus breaks in pieces the instrument before the work is done? He does it to teach us our meanness and his greatness ; to shew the ^vorld. that although he is pleased to employ of Moses, 143 human instruments, he does not need them ; to let his creatures see, that even if the hosts of heaven should cease to obey his word, he could form other hands to do his work, or bring to pass his purposes without any instrument at all. He does it to bring the hearts of his people to a closer and more simple dependence on him- self. He dashes to pieces the cistern, that we may go to the fountain. He breaks the reed^ that we may be led to rest on the rock of ages. While therefore the king of Zion sits on his holy hillj we have no reason to fvar for the safety of the church, or for the honour of our God. Israel passed over Jor- dan, and triumphed over all their enemies, without Moses. The church of Christ also shall stand, and shall be established in the earth, though she may seem to be without a helper or a friend. Her lights may dis- appear, her ministers may be removed, and her ene- mies may rejoice ; but " God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved ; God shall help her, and that right early." As for her enemies, he will clothe them with shame, but upon himself shall his crown flourish. n. We are taught, secondly, by the history before us, that sin is exceedingly hateful in the sight of Godj and that he will mark it with his displeasure even in his most beloved servants^ W'hy was Moses commanded to go up unto the mountain of Nebo, and die ? Although he was an hun- dred and twenty-three years old, he still retained all the health and vigour of youth, and seemed warranted to expect many years of life and usefulness. His eye was not dim, nor was his natural force abated. Why again was not this eminent saint allowed to pass over Jordan, and to enter with his brethren the land of Canaan ? He had been a faithful servant of God. He had given up 144 llie Death for him all the pleasures and honours of Pharaoh's court. He had chosen atid cheerfully endured affliction and reproach with his people, and esteemed them greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. He had niijde these sacrihces, and suffered these trials, that he might obtain an inheritance in the promised land ; and now, when arrived after years of anxiety and labour on its borders, and earnestly desiring to enter it, he is not allowed so much as to set a foot on it, but is removed from the world. Wiiy was this holy man thus treated by a righteous God? The Scriptures inform us. He had sinned against that God. Though distinguished by a uniform course of meekness and faith, he had on one occasion spoken unadvisedly with his lips, and mani- fested in his conduct anger and unbelief. The children of Israel had murmured at Kadesh for want of water, and to silence their faithless murmursj the Lord com- manded Moses to speak unto one of the rocks around them, and promised that at his word it should bring forth water before their eyes. But the agitated prophet exceeded his cominission. Moved with indignation and resentment, he called the murmuring people rebels, and instead of speaking to the rock, he smote it twice, as though he doubted the efficacy of a word, and thought his rod necessary to effect the miracle. '^ Hear now, ye rebels," said he, " must we fetch you water out of this rock ? And he lifted up his hand, and with his rod he smote the rock twice." This was the offence of Moses, the only offence re- corded of him ; and though this admitted of many ex- cuses, and was repented of almost as soon as it was committed, the divine indignation was kindled against him and Aaron, and they were both condemned to die in the wilderness. of Moses. 145 How forcibly then does this history remind us, that we have to do with a God of awful holiness and fearful righteousness ; with one, who will not bear with sin, though it be in the dearest and most distinguished of his saints ! Moses and Aaron among his priests, and Samuel and David among them that call upon his name, even these favoured saints must be visited with judg- ments, when they dare lo turn aside from his holy ways. It is true that his loving-kindness he will not utterly take from his ransomed people, nor suffer his faithfulness to fail ; yet if they break his statutes and keep not his commandments, he has pledged himself to visit their transgressions with the rod, and their ini- quity with stripes. Where he forgives, he will not wholly spare, fie may so pardon the sin, as not to in- flict upon the sinner eternal condemnation ; and yet he may take a severe vengeance on his iniquities. He acts thus, that he may prevent any abuse of his grace, that he may manifest the holiness of his nature and his law, that he may excite watchfulness and circumspection in his people, that he may reprove and warn the ungodly sinner. Let us learn therefore, whatever our characters may be, to abhor and dread that which is evil. Are you serving and fearing God? Remember that God has other punishments for sin besides the bitter pains of eternity ; and these punishments, if you dare to sin, will be poured out upon your head. Are you living without God in the world, strangers to holiness and grace ? Remember that one transgression excluded the faithful Moses from Canaan ; what then will be your doom, you, who are loaded with so many sins, and so hardened in your guilt? God cannot endure sin even in the people who fear him, without testifying his sore T 146 The Death displeasure against it ; will he then bear with it in you ? in you, who despise his mercy, as well as mock at his laws? in you, who brave his vengeance and defy his power? If these things be done in the green tree, will nothing be done in tlie dry ? III. We may learn, further, from the circumstances connected with the death of Moscs, that the afflicted servant of God is generalli/ enabltd to submit with re- signation to the chastisements of his heavenly Father. Moses anxiously wished to enter the goodly land of Canaan, and, as we are informed in the third chapter of this book, he at first besought the Lord to revoke the sentence passed upon him. But when this request had been once denied him, he acquiesces in the justice of 'the sentence, and not a murmur escapes his lips. As his end approaches, he devotes the greater part of his time to admonishing Israel, and instructing them in the things of God. He at length receives the command to go up to the top of Pisgah and die, and no sooner is it received, than it is obeyed. With the praises of God in his mouth, he ascends the hill, and cheerfully meets his end. Here then let us learn a lesson of meek submission to the will of God. It is not indeed wrong to feel the smart of afflictions. Insensibility under them is not only unnatural, but sinful, for it subverts the purpose, for which they are sent to us. Moses felt sorrow and pain, when he was forbidden to enter Canaan ; and a greater than Moses had his soul troubled at the thought of ap- proaching suffering. Neither is it wrong to beseech the Almighty to with- draw from us the chastisements, with which he has visited us. Moses besought the Lord that he might be allowed to go over Jordan ; and what was the language of Moses. 147 of the suffering Jesus ? " O my Father, if it be possi- ble, let this cup pass from me." This was the begin- ning of the Saviour's prayer, but mark how he ended it ; " Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, ex- cept I drink it, thy will be done." We see no insensi- bility here, no despising of the chastening of the Lord. We see, on the contrary, the liveliest, the deepest feel- ing. But then this feeling is attended with a spirit of entire submission to the will of God. Let this spirit live and reign in you. It carried Moses to the top of Pisgah ; it led Jesus to the cross. Intreat the Spirit of God to fix it in your hearts, and it will lead you re- joicing through all the changes and chances of your wearisome pilgrimage. It will lighten the burden of trouble and sorrow ; it will cheer the hour of sickness ; it will enable you to go down to the grave in peace. Learn to submit your will, brethren, to the will of God. Learn to put this question to yourselves, " Should it be according to my mind ?" Learn to take these words of the prophet into your lips, " I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because 1 have sinned against him." What, though you are poor, and sick, and af- flicted, are you not sinners? and ought you not to wonder that your afflictions are so light, while your sins are so heavy ? " Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins ? It is of the Lord's mercies, that we are not consumed, be- cause his compassions fail not." Every breath we draw is a wonder of mercy, a miracle of patience. If we know any thing of our real character, we must acknow- ledge that we deserve all the piercing anguish of eter- nity. O then let us never murmur against the Lord, because he sends us the light afflictions of time ! 148 The Death IV. The history before us, reminds us also, that the death of the servants of God^ with all the circumstances connected ivith it^ is ordered by the Lord. Moses is coinmauded on a certain day to go to Pis- gah, a certain place, and there to wait the approach of death. After his eyes were closed in death, even his lifeless body was not forsaken. To prevent the Israelites from paying idolatrous worship at his tomb, as well as to do honour to his servant, it was buried in some un- known place, by God himself. Equally precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of all his saints. Not only is the will of God concerned in the general sentence of mortality pronounced upon them, but death always receives from him a particular commission, before he dares approach to hurt them. It is the Lord that appoints the time, the manner, and the place of their departure; and he determines these by rules of unsearchable wisdom, as well as of love. There are undoubtedly great and wise reasons, why the death of every saint is appointed at this or that particu- lar season, and in this or that particular manner ; why some trees of righteousness are soon removed from the world and transplanted into the paradise of God green and young, while others are suffered to remain here to a good old age, and are not removed till they can no longer grow on the earth. These reasons however are at present hidden from our eyes; but what we know not now, we shall know hereafter, and in the mean while all things are working together for our good. With this assurance let us be satisfied. Our times are in the Lord's hands ; he measures out every day to us ; and will not allow death to touch us, till the hour he appoints for our change is come. Our Bibles tell us ilutt he disposes of the meanest and smallest concernh of Moses. 1-19 of our life; bow much more then of life itself! If a hair of our heads cannot fall to the ground without our heavenly Father, much less can we ourselves fall with- out him. We may conclude tlicrefore, that we shall go down to the grave at the very moment, and in the very manner, that will be most conducive to the honour of our Redeemer, and the welfare of our souls. V. The last truth, of which the text reminds us, is this ; the faithful people of God may confidently expect support and comfort in the hour of death. Moses had sinned against the Lord, and though liis sin had been pardoned as far as regarded another world, he must die. Yet the God, against whom he had sinned, did not suffer his servant to close his eyes without a manifestation of his loving- kindness towards him. He met him on the sum.mit of the hill, where he had appointed him to die ; he talked with him there, as a man talketh with his friend ; and shewed him all the country of Canaan. He saw the land of promise stretch- ing itself before his eyes, and whilst gazing on the prospect he fell asleep. But O what a blessed transition did he experience ! He is taken indeed from the fairest earthly prospect, that ever eye beheld ; but his soul flies to the enjoyment of a still fairer inheritance, eter- nal in the heavens. He loses sight of the plains of Ca- naan, and the goodly tents of Jacob, but he sees the plains of heaven and the throne of God. Thus did the Lord cheer the heart of Moses in the hour of death, and thus does he generally cheer the hearts of all his servants. It is indeed a fearful thing to die. Even the righteous often shrink from the drear\ path, which is to lead them through the grave to thei; desired home, and wish that heaven could be entered by some other way. All attempts to reconcile nature t( 150 The Death her own dissolution are vain. Who can love to be, as it were, taken to pieces ; to be torn in two ; to have a wide separation made between the soul and the body ; to have one part of him in an eternal world, wliile the other ib> lying in oblivion in the eartli, and turning to corrupiion and to dust? In such an hour as tliis, fiesh and heart must fail ; the soul must need support and consolation ; and they, who fear the Lord, shall find all the grace and help they need. He, who was with Moses, will be with them, as the strength of their heart, and their portion for ever. The Lord has said to each of his saints, " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee ;" and surely this promise will not be broken at the very lime, when the performance of it is most needed. What was the language of the believing David to his God ? *' Though 1 walk through the valley of the sha- dow of death, 1 will fear no evil ; for thou art with me : thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." But God often does more than vouchsafe his pre- sence to his dying saints. He sometimes opens their eyes, and gives them a distant prospect of the glories of the heavenly Canaan, as he shewed to Moses the plains, the valleys, and the palm-trees of the promised land. How often has the soul of the dying Christian seemed to rise to heaven, even before it could disen- gage itself from the body ! It has been carried to Pis- gah, raised above the earth, and heaven, with all its glories, has burst upon its view. If you, my brethren, would enjoy this blessedness on the bed of death, strive to enjoy it now. Strive to rise above the present scene, and to look forward to the eternal Canaan. Think of the riches of that goodly land, and your nearness to it. The sighs and struggles of the wilderness are drawing to an end, and you are of Moses. 151 about to dwell in a city, which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. Think of the greatness of the change, which awaits you. How wonderful the transition ! to pass in a moment from this wretched world, to yonder glorious skies ! to go from obscurity to honour, from weariness to rest, from sorrow to joy, fronj a duneeon to a throne ! Does this change, brethren, real)/ await us? Dare we look to it for support and comfort in the hour of eared fair before us ; it promised us much, and we were willing to credit it. Fools that we were, we tried it; but what could it do 156 The Goodness of for us ? It gave us, among its briars and thorns, a few flowers to amuse us, but it left us starving for want. It brought us no pardon for our guilt, no peace for an accusing conscience, no deliverance from the grave, no refuge from hell. It left us desiitute, forlorn, and wretched. 3. The state, in which the Almighty finds his peo- ple, is, thirdly, a state of danger. The wilderness was dangerous to Israel, as well as barren and desert. It was a howling wilderness, full of ravenous beasts, which roan;ed about it with hideous yellings. It was a terrible wilderness, wherein were fiery serpents and scorpions. The defenceless Israelites had to contend also with formidable enemies. Many of them perished by the arms of Sihon and Og, and many more by the allurements of Balaam and Balak. Equally dangerous is the condition of the servants of God in the world. It is the territory of an enemy, who goes about seeking whom he may devour. They are the inhabitants of a country, which is at war with the only Being, who can bestow mercy and grace on their souls. They are surrounded by thousands, who have formed a league with the prince of darkness to rob the Redeemer of his jewels, and to drag to destruction the people, whom he is anxious to save. It is indeed im- possible to contemplate without wonder the escape of any sinner from the dangers, which surround him in the world. The more we know of our own hearts, of their earthly and sensual nature ; the more we know of the world, of its unconquerable hatred to religion, and its alniost irresistible influence over our own minds ; the more shall we tremble at the greatness of the dan- ger, from which we have been delivered, dread the .Snares which surround us. and wonder at our escape. God to Israel. 157 This then is the state, in which the Ahnighty finds his people in the world. It is a state of distance from God, of the greatest want, of the most fearful danger. This is the wretched wilderness, into which we and all mankind have wandered, and from which none but an Almighty arm can deliver us. We may not indeed be: aware of the misery of our condition. We may feel no want, and suspect no danger. Our bodies may be clothed and fed. We may deem all our spiritual ne- cessities supplied. And yet, brethren, our souls may be in a desert, in a wilderness that borders upon hell. II. Let us now proceed to our second subject of consideration, and enquire in what manner the Al- mighty acts towards his redeemed people, whom he found in this wretched and dangerous condition. His conduct towards them is illustrated in the text by the conduct of the eagle towards her young. This bird is said to bear a peculiarly strong affection to her offspring, and to manifest this affection in a very ex- traordinary manner. When she considers them suf- ficiently strong to leave their nest, she stirs it up or disturbs it, in order to induce them to quit it; and, at the same time, she flutters over them, that they may be encouraged to. try their wings, and be instructed in the use of them. If these means do not succeed in drawing them from their nest, it is said that she spreads abroad her wings, and placing her young on them, she soars with them into the air, and then gliding from un- der them, she compels them to endeavour to bear them- selves up, and attempt to fly. if however she perceives that they are unable to sustain themselves in the air, she darts under them with incredible swiftness, and receiving them again on her wings, prevents their fall, and places them once more in their nest. 158 The Goodness of This beautiful similitude strikingly illustrates the tenderness with which the Almighty led Israel from Egypt to Canaan, and the loving-kindness which he is still manifesting towards all who seek him in the wil- derness of this world. It shews us what he does for them, and how he does it. 1. This similitude shews us what God does for his people. It tells us that he ajfflicts them. As the eagle disturbs her young in their nest, so the Lord suffers not his children to remain at ease in the world ; but renders them dissatisfied with it, and thus leads them to seek a better and a heavenly country. Is affliction then a blessing ? It was so to Israel. Their nest was stirred up in Egypt ; the arm o^ a cruel tyrant was lifted up against them ; and what was the consequence ? They desired and obtained deliverance from the house of their bondage. They were dealt Vvith in the same manner in the desert. He, who had opened a passage for them through the Red Sea, could have made the waste and howling wilderness blossom as a rose before them, and led them along a fruitful and pleasant path to Canaan. But such a path would have ruined Israel. The foolish people would have lin- gered in the country, built their tabernacles in it, and thought no more of the promised land. But why need we enquire of these favoured people whether it is good for a sinner to be afflicted ? Cannot our own experience decide the question ? Give it what name we may, be it in its nature joyous or grievous, is not that a blessing, which makes us dissatisfied with worldly enjoyments and worldly sins and follies ? Is not that a blessing, which forces the wandering pro- digal to think of the home he has forsaken, and brings him back again to his father's arms ? O brethren, if God to Israel i59 poverty and sorrow, if perplexity and trouble, if pain and sickness, will but wean our hearts from this wretched world, and cause our souls to long for hea- ven ; if they will but force the heart to feel, and the tear of penitence and love to flow ; if they will but pro- mote and sweeten our communion with God, and make us more meet for the enjoyment of him in his king- dom ; let us ever regard them as blessings, let us wel- come them LIS friends ; let us be thankful for tribula- tion. When tempted to consider our liglit afllictions as evils and enemies, let us look back on the days that are past, and let each of us put tiicse questions to him- self— where should 1 have been now, what would have been my present character and condition, if my God had never visited me with suffering and sorrow ? what would have been my hope ? vv^hat my eternal home ? The figure in the text teaches us also that the Lord guides the people^ who are the lot of his inheritance. When the eagle has stirred up her nest, she flutters over her yoUng as their instructor and leader ; and thus, we are told, the Lord led Israel about and in- structed him. In a miraculous cloud and pillar, he went before hirn in the pathless desert, and led him by a right way to a city of habitation. Now we need a guide to heaven, as much as these Israelites needed a guide to Canaan. We have wan- dered a great way off from our Father's house, and thougli a way back to him has been opened, we know not wiiere to find it, nor how to walk in it. But ss soon as we feel the misery and evil of our wanderings, he, who came down from heaven to seek and to save them which were lost, vouchsafes to be our conductor. He takes us by the hand, and leads us on step by step through a world of misery, till he brings us into a world 160 The Goodness of of glory. Not that we can always discern his guiding hand, or always perceive that the road, in which he is leading us, is the road to God. The path of life is of- ten a mysterious path, and he, who walks in it, will soon be taught that he must walk by faith and not by sigiit. Our ignorance makes it mysterious ; but when we have arrived at the end of it, and look back on all the way wherein the Lord our God has led us in the wilderness to humble us and to prove us, we shall see that we have been led by the right and the best way to the land of rest. *' I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not, saith the Lord. 1 will lead them in paths, that they have not known. I will make dark- ness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them." We are reminded, further, by the words of Moses, that the Lord preserves his people, watches over, and defends them. The eagle does not desert her feeble voung, when she sees them sinking in the air, but flies to their aid, and bears them up on her wings. Neither did the Father of Israel desert his children in the wil- derness. '^ He kept them as the apple of his eye." He visited them indeed with judgments, but he suffered none of their enemies to harm them ; and as for his own judgments, they were for the greater part only fatherly chastisements. Thus also does he continue to watch over his spiri- tual Israel. The Christian pilgrim has still the mighty God for his preserver, as well as for his guide. Sur- rounded by a thousand dangers, and forced to war witli a thousand enemies, as long as he is conscious of his own weakness and flies to his God for refuge, ht- is as safe, as though there were not a single danger nor a God to Israel. 161 single enemy in his path. And what, if he be led into new and untried scenes of difficulty and trial ? What, if he be brought into fiery afflictions ? They may alarm, but they cannot injure him. They may instruct, and benefit, and help him forward on his sacred journey, but they cannot tear his soul from the hand of God. There are indeed some seasons in the Christian's prilgrimage, in which he finds it difficult to believe that God has not forsaken him. Affliction heaped upon affliction presses on his head ; the consolations "which he once enjoyed, are withdrawn ; his way seems hedged up with thorns ; and all around him is mystery, gloom, and darkness. And yet at the very moment, when he is well nigh borne down with the weight of his sorrows and perplexities, and can scarcely lift up a last and almost despairing cry for help, he feels the everlasting arm of Jehovah placed underneath him; he sees his before invisible hand guiding him in the wil- derness ; he hears his voice saying to his fainting soul, *' Fear thou not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am thy God. 1 have redeemed thee ; I have called thee by thy name : thou art mine. When thou passcst through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee. When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." 2. But in what manner does the Lord thus afflict, guide, and defend his servants ? He exercises his mercy towards them constantly. Not that the Almighty is ever afflicting his children. It is true that he loves them too well to withhold afflic- tion from them when they need it; but he will never continue it one moment longer than their spiritual wants require. But though his afflictive mercies may X 16S The Goodness of endure only for a season, his guiding and preserving care is never withdrawn from his church. " He with- draweth not his eye from the righteous," says Job. " Behold," says David, " he that keepeth Israel neither slumbereth nor sleepeth." In some season of perplexity and fear, Zion may say, " The Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me ;" but what is the an- swer of Zion's God ? ^' Can a woman forget her suck- ing child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb ? Yea, they may forget, yet will not 1 forget thee. Behold I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands j thy walls are continually before me." The Lord exercises his mercy towards his saints patiently. With what patience and gentleness did he lead his ancient people to Canaan ! Numerous as were their provocations, for forty years the guiding pillar never forsook them. Its progress too was regulated accoiding to the vi-eakness and infirmities of the peo- ple, whom it was leading. When they were weary, N^t rested ; and when they were collecting their manna, preparing, and eating it, it stood still and hurried them OOt. And does not this pillar remind us of the patience and gentleness of one, who leadeth his flock like a shepherd, *' who gathereth the lambs with his arm, and carrieth them in his bosom, and gently leadeth those that are with young ?" No other guide could be thus patient and gentle towards us. The meekest man upon earth, yea, the most merciful angel in heaven, could not thus bear with us. Our continual and aggra- vated provocations would soon force them to leave us. But God does not leave us. Christ does not forsake us. He, who once bore our sins in his own body on i^ocl to Israel. 163 the tree, bears with our infirmities now : and when the Christian recollects how long and how patiently he has borne with him, and how gently and tenderly he is leading him to glory, his heart is filled with wonder, as well as softened by love. The similitude in the text reminds us, lastly, that the loving-kindness, which God exercises towards his people, he exercises with delight, with the same plea- surable feelings, with which a tender-hearted parent watches over and provides for his child. What the Almighty does for his pardoned children, he does, not grudgingly nor of necessity, but bountifully and cheer- fully, with the affection of a father as well as the libe- rality of a prince. Tlie Bible tells us that the Lord delighteth in the mercy, which he pours out on them that seek him, and waiteth, and, as it were, longeth to be gracious unto them. It warrants us to conclude that his" chief delight is not in the angels, which sur- round his throne with rapturous hallelujahs, but in that broken-hearted, contrite sinner, who comes to him fear- ing his name, mourning over his rebellion against him, -"=:«ftd sighing for his salvation. " The Lord taketh pleasure," says the psalmist, *' in them that fear him, in those that hope in his mercy." And this is the pro- mise, which he himself makes to his servants by his prophet, " I will rejoice over them to do them good, and 1 will plant them in this land assuredly, with my whole heart and with my whole soul." The review, which we have thus taken of the good- ness of God to his ancient people, is calculated to re- mind his spiritual Israel of many grounds of consola- tion and thankfulness. It suggests to them also a lesson, which they sometimes find it difficult to learn, but which, when it is once learned; can keep the most 164 The Goodness of troubled soul in perfect peace. It calls upon them to trust implicitly in God, and it offers them a solid loun- dation, on which to build their confidence. It assures them that the Lord will not suffer his portion to be lost, nor his inheritance to be injured ; that he will not suf- fer the people, whom he has formed for himself and on Avhom he has lavished so much grace, to be ruined by the calamities of this life, or touched by the miseries of another. He has already removed the sorrows of eternity far from them, and as for the afflictions of this present time, the text tells us that he has turned them into blessings. It teaches us that the trials, which seem so grievous to us, are only a part of our pur^ chased inheritance ; that our heaviest sorrows are among our highest privileges. Surely then it becomes us to receive every cup of affliction, which is held out for us to drink, at least with patience and submission. It becomes not a child to indulge a fearful, disconsolate murmuring spirit, while receiving blessings from the hand of a father. O if there be a creature in the universe, who has rea- son to trust in God and to hope in his mercy, it is that inhabitant of the earth, whom affliction has stopped in his thoughtless career of sin, whom sorrow has taught to pray, whom adversity has led to seek in Christ a Refuge, a Comforter, and a Saviour ! instead of draw- ing from painful trials, frowning providences, and per- plexing difficulties, grounds for discouragement and despondency, such a man has reason to rejoice exceed- ingly in tribulation, to weep with gratitude, and to burn with love. Though he is in the waste and howl- ing wilderness of the world, there is not an angel in heaven so rich in mercies as he, nor so beloved by his God ; none, whose inheritance in eternity is more glori- God to Israel. 165 0U3 or more secure. As long as he continues to love and fear the Lord, he has not only his mercy and good- ness to encourage him ; he hath his faithfulness, yea, his oath and his eternal purpose, to rejoice in. In every season of suffering and sorrow, he has these words of his Saviour to think of and depend on ; *• Fear not little flock, for it is the Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." He has these words of the psalmist, which he is allowed to use as his own ; " Surely good- ness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and 1 shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. I am continually with thee, O Lord ; thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me by thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my Jieart and my portion for ever." But there is another class of persons, to whom the subject before us speaks ; yea, it speaks to us all, and calls upon us to enquire whether we have any part in the blessedness we have been contemplating, whether the happiness of Israel is our own. It is not all mankind, to whom the Lord is thus rich in goodness. His tender mercies indeed are over all his works, and there is not a sinner living on the earth, who is not a monument of his goodness and a marvellous instance of his mercy. But then the loving-kindness, which is spoken of in the text, is that special loving- kindness, that peculiar mercy, v/hich he manifests only to his spiritual Israel ; to those, whom he has chosen in Christ out of man- kind, ar.d brought, by his grace, out of that state of distance from him, of danger, and want, in which he found them, into a state of union with himself, of par 166 The Goodness of don, security, and peace. Now if we are included ia the number of these happy people, we have felt our- selves to be in a guilty, and consequently in a needy and perishing condition ; and we have fled to Christ as ruined sinners to a Saviour. We have learned to hope in him and to tread in his footsteps. We have his Spirit reigning within us, and we are in some de- gree like him. If we have been visited with afflictions, they have done more for us, than fill our minds with sorrow and our eyes with tears ; they have softened our hearts, taught us more of our sinfulness and weak- ness, weaned us from the world, and made us long for heaven. If these feelings have not been excited within us, and if these fruits of the Spirit are not visible in cur dispositions and lives, we are not the portion of the Lord, we are not the lot of his inheritance. The God of Israel is not leading us to heaven, but we are fol- lowing another guide to another and a very different place. We have Satan for our leader, and the land of darkness for our home. And yet, brethren, it is awful to think how easy many of us remain under such guidance, and with this dreadful prospect before us. We are far more careless and unconcerned, though travelling in the road to de- struction, than they are, who are journeying to a land of life and of rest. Whence arises our lightness of heart ? Have we really made a wiser choice than the people of God? Is the guide we have chosen a better guide than Christ ? Has he a stronger arm to protect us ? Does he afford us greater consolation, and will he lead us to a happier place ? Alas, no ! Destruction and misery are in his ways, and his footsteps go down unto death. It is our thoughtlessness, not our securit3% which keeps us so easy. It is our awful insensibility. God to Israel 167 which hardens our hearts, and blinds our eyes to the evils which surround us. But this thoughtlessness and this insensibility will not last for ever. When the journey of life is done, they will come to an everlasting end, and we know by what they will be succeeded ; by the pangs of that worm, which dieth not, and of that fire, which is not quenched. Strive then to be serious and thoughtful now, when seriousness may be made the means of leading you to Christ, and thoughtfulness to heaven. Pray for a feel- ing heart. Welcome the bitterest afflictions, which through grace, may force you to think of your souls and eternity. Be thankful for every thing, which has a tendency to render you dissatisfied with the wages of vanity and sin, and to lead you to seek the paths of wisdom and God. These paths are lying open before you, if you have but a sincere desire to walk in them; and there is a Holy Spirit appointed and waiting to lead you to them, and to guide your feet into the way of peace. Commit yourselves therefore to his gracious guidance. Seek it by prayer. If you seek it in earnest, you will not seek it in vain. He will restore your wan- dering soul, and lead you in the paths of righteousness for his names' sake. He will instruct you, as he leads you about ; and when he has taught you all, that the waste and howling wilderness is designed to teach you, he will remove you from its agitated scenes, and place you in the peaceful and blessed paradise of your God. SERMON XII. THE CHRISTIAN JOURNEYING 10 THE PROi\USED LAND. NUMBERS X. 29. ITc are journeying unto the place, of which the Lord said, " / iviii ^ivr It you :" come thou ivith us, and we ivill do thee good, for the Lord hath s/iokcn good concei-ning Israel. A HE place referred to in these words was the pro- mised land of Canaan. The Israelites were now pre- paring to leave mount Sinai, and to renew their jour- ney through the wilderness to this long wished for country. Before however they finally leave the mount, we find Moses endeavouring to prevail on Hobab, his father-in-law, to accompany them in their pilgrimage, and to share in the promised advantages of their future home. *' We are journeying," says he, " unto the place, of which the Lord said, ^1 will give it you:* come thovi with us, and we vvHl do thee good, for the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel." Such was the primary meaning of the words before us ; but the general tenour of Scripture, when speaking of the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness to Canaan, will perhiips justify us in viewing them in another and a more spiritual light. They may be con- sidered as affording us a simple and striking emblem of the state and conduct of the Christian in the world. He is here in a wilderness ; the Lord has promised him beyond it a land of rest ; he is journeying to this The Christian journeying^ &c. 169 land ; and would have all men become his fellow tra- vellers in the way, which leads to it. ■ \ ievved in this light, the text furnishes us with three subjects of consideration; the place spoken of in it; the conduct of the Christian with respect to this place ; and the advice, which he gives to others as he journeys towards it. I. The place spoken of in the text is Canaan, a type of heaven, that far distant but better country, which all the Israel of God have ever regarded as the scene of their blessedness and their home. ^^^ 1. Hence it is, first, a much wished for place. It is a place, to which the Christian is jouri^eying, and con- sequently a place, which he wishes to rfiach. Like the saints of old, he desires a better country, even a hea- venlys. He is really anxious to be iii heaven, and would; gladly leave the world and go thg-e. This desire is not natural to us. £^ long as our hearts remain in an unrenewed state, we feel nothing of this earnest longing- after heaven. We are in fact altogether indifferent about it. We know iiideed that we must die? and we wish to go to heaven when we die ; but why do we wish to go^tliere ? Because we love heaven, and are thirsting aft^r its joys ? No ; be- cause we cannot remain any loager upon earth, and are not willing to endure the pains of hell. If we could remain here, though we feel that we are in a wilderness, here we should be anxious to remain, and be content to let heaven be peopled from some other world. Only let us stay on the earth, and give us our full share of its vanities, pleasures, and riches, and we will willingly leave to the angels the joys and honours of the hea- venly kingdom. The cause of this indifference about heaven must be* Y 17U The Clunstian journeying sought for in the earlhliness and sensuality of our minds. We have lost that holy and heavenly principle, which was at first implanted in our souls, and we are become almost as low and grovelling in our desires, r.s the brutes that perish. Now the gospel provides a remedy for this earthly- rnindedness. Jt speaks to us not only of mercy to save the soul, but of grace to change the heart. It offers to bring back to the mind, the principle it has lost, to lift its affections from the world, and to fix them on heaven and God. Nothing but the gospel can effect this change, and none but the man who loves the gosj>eI, has expe- rienced it ; yea, none other heariily desires it. It would mar all the sensual enjoyments of every other man, throw a sickening draught into his cup of pleasure, and make him turn with disgust from his much loved follies. Others may talk of heaven, and say that they wish to be there ; but the reneued Christian is the only man in the world, v. ho understands the nature of its joys, and habitually and heartily desires to have a place in its courts. If we ask how it is, that he has thus learned to thirst afier that which all other men despise, the answer is pluin — he is born from above, and he wants to breathe his native air, and to share in the en- joymer^ts of his native land. 2. The text reminds us, secondly, that heaven is a promised place, *•' We are journeying unto the place, of which the Lord said, * 1 will give it you.' " The heavenly Canaan is as much a land of promise, as the earthly Canaan was. It has been as often and as so- lemnly promised to the spiritual seed of Aljraham, as that goodly land was to his natural seed. " This is the promise," says the apostle, " that he hath promised us, even eternal life." And this promise has been made to the Promised Land. 171 not onlv to the believer, but to a greater than he on his behalf. In the councils of eternity, heaven was pro- mised to the anointed Saviour, as an eternal dwelling- place fv)r his ransoified church. •• In hope," says Saint Paul, " of eternal liff, which God, that cannot lie, pro- mised before the wor!d began." This divine promise is the ground, on which the Christian rests all his hope of life and immortality. The light of nature and the dictates of reason tell him in- deed that there may be a world beyond the grave, but it is the Bible, which assures him that verily there wa reward for the righteous ; it is the promise given him in the Bible, which leads him to look, with Saint Peter, for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dv\elleth ' ighteousness. He knows that if he has really fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before him in the gospel, he is the heir of a promise, which has been con- lirmed by the oatlv of Jehovah, and which has the im- mutability of his counsel to ensure the fulfilment of it. He draws from it therefore strong consolation, and de- rives from it a hope, which is as an anchor to his soul, sure and stedfdst. But wiiv has the Almighty given to the Christian this exceeding great and precious promise of everlast- ing life ? Not because the Christian has merited this or even the smallest blessing at his hands, but simply for this purpose, to magnify the riches of his grace. 3. Hence we may observe that the country, which is promised to the believer, is the free gift of God. It is a place, concerning which the Lord has said, " I will give it you." The Israelites were repeatedly warned against supposing that the land of Canaan was marked out for them on account of any goodness which the Lord saw in them ; and the people who are travelling 172 The Christian journeying to the heavenly country, are as often reminded that it is not in consequence of any merit or righteousness of theirs, that they will be allowed to enter into it. Eter- nal life is always represented in the Scriptures as the gift of God through Jesus Christ, our Lord ; not as a gift partly merited, but as a gift wholly undeserved, given to the believing sinner as freely as the rain, which falls down from heaven, is given to the earth. " By grace are }e Scued," says the apostle, " through faith ; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast." This is a very humbling truth, my brethren, and a truth, which ue are very unwilling to believe. We do not like the thought of entering heaven on such terms as these. We know indeed that we are sinners, and we are w illing to be treated in some degree as sinners, and could even consent to be saved partly through grace ; but then we are not willing to be sunk so low, as to be accounted utterly undeserving, utterly worthless ; yea, it is to be feared that the greater part of mankind would rather lose heaven, than receive it solely as a gift of mercy. This truth however is as important, as it is humbling. All the other truths of the gospel rest on it. It lies at the very foundation of all true religion, and no man is a Christian, who has not a heart-felt conviction of it. It must find its way into the understanding and aifcctions, or the soul must be lost, if we would ever see the kingdf)m of God, we must not only perceive the neces- sity of entering it in the same humiliating way, as the pardoned criminal on the cross entered it, but be will- ing to enter it in this way, rather than in any other. We must ypprove this way, love it, yea, glory in it. But though heaven is thus a free gift to the Christian, to the Promised Land, 173 it Is still, in one sense, a purchased possession. It was obtained for him by a costly price, even the blood of him, who now reigns in its courts and gives it all its joys. Christ purchased the church with his own blood, and with the same price he purchased for his church an inheritance incorruptible, undefikd, eternal in the heavens. This then is the place spoken of in the text. It is a much wished for place, a promised place, and a place, which is the free gift of God. II. Let us proceed to consider, secondly, the con- duct of the Christian with regard to this place. It is evident that this heavenly country has litde or no influence on the hearts and lives of mankind in gene- ral. We profess to believe that there is such a land somewhere in the universe, but we think and act just as though it could no where be found. If heaven were to be blotted out from the creation, or if an impassable gulph were to be fixed between it and the earth, our dispositions, our afiections, and our conduct would in too many instances remain the same as they are now. But this promised land has a real and abiding influence on the people of God. They seek it ; they travel to- wards it. " JFe are journey hig unto the place, of which the Lord said, * 1 will give it you.' " 1. To be journeying to heaven implies, first, an ac- tual entrance into the path^ which leads to it. The Christian'^ desires after this goodly land have not enat d in a few lazy wishes and languid prayers. They have excited him to action. The man has been roused from his spiritual unconcern ; he has been led to see the va- nity of the world and all it possesses ; he has begun to make enquiries about a way to some better country ; he has been shewn and taught this way by the Spirit of 174^ The Chrutian journeying God ; in the strength of the same Spirit he has actually entered in at its strait gate, and btcome a traveller towards Zinn. Hence it is plain that the Christian, at the very com- mencement of his course, gives up the world, turns his back upon Egypt, and sets his face towards Canaan. No man n)ust think himself a Christian traveller, till he has done this. Heaven and th.e world are places di- rectly opposed to each other in the holy Scriptures. We are repeatedly warned against the folly of seeking both at the same time. We are plainly told that it is impossible to be travelling to the one, while we are dwelling contentedly in the other. 2. To be journeying to heaven implies, further, per- severance in seeking it. It is not the entering into a right road, that will bring a man to the end of his jour- ney, but an acrive and' continued travelling along it. Nothing less than forty years of patient labour and ex- ertion brought Israel to Canaan. The kingdom of hea- ven must be sought with the same perseverance, or we shall never arrive there. We must travel on in the nar- row way, which leadcth unto life, as well as enter it. We are too apt, my brethren, to forget this truth. We seem to think at seasons that religion is the work of a few days or weeks only ; that when we have passed through a certain train of feelings, and embraced a cer- tain system of doctrines, all is done and over ; that the work of conversion is finished, our salvation completed, and heaven made our own. But yet how unscriptural are these thoughts ! The Bible plainly tells us that our whole life must be a life of faith, of repentance, of wrestling, and of warfare. It intimates to us that the oldest and strongest servant of God has just as much reed to uork out his salvation with fear and trembling, to the Promised Land. 175 as the yougest and weakest ; that he has just as much need of sorrow for sin^ of earnest prayer, of continual application to the cross, of the most striving exertion. The Bible goes still further. 3. We are uarranted to infer from it, that if we arc journeying to heaven, we have not only kept in the road which leads to heaven, but have actually made a progress in it ; that, instead of declining, we are grow- ing in grace ; that we are gradually becoming more and more meet to be partakers of heaven, the nearer we draw to it. " The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more untn tlie perfect day." The righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands, shall be stranger and stronger. There is no standing still in religion. We are either slowly climbing up the hill of Zion, or rapidly hurrying down it. If we are conscious that we are not gradually ascending it, we can surely have no reason to hope, that we shall ever reach the city of God on its summit. It is however an easy thing to be aware of having lost our first love, and yet to retain our presumptuous confidence. It is an easy thing to be for years strangers to the tear of penitence, and to feel nothing of the energy of faith, and" vet to rank ourselves still in the number of the elect. But the only religion, brethren, which will bring peace to a man's heart in the hour of affliction and death, and bear the fiery trial of the day of judg- ment, is that, which is on the whole a growing religion ; which deepens day by day the workings of repentance and faith within us ; which enlarges year by year our views of our own depravity, and of Jehovah's grace; which makes the fire of devotion burn with a purer and a brighter flame the longer it remains on the altar of the heart, and fixes the soul more and m(^re closely on 176 The Christian journeywg its God. We are not indeed to suppose that this reli- gion never receives a tempcjrary check, ror that the ipan who poss' sses it, is always aware of its progress in bis mind ; but we have the authority of Scripture for conckiding that, notwithstanding occasional declen- sions, it is habitually going on unto perfection ; that it is a plant, wh;ch will strike its roots deeper, and send its branches higher, and bring forth in its season more abundant fruit, till it is removed to the paradise of God. 4. There is implied, fourthly, in journeying to the heavenly Canaan, a fixed determination to arrive there. The exjiresbion implies decision of character; a will- ingness to sicrifice every thing, so that the soul may be saved, and heaven won. Now this is not a common frame of mind, and yet the Scriptures give us no reason to think that we are going to heaven, if we do not possess it. It is true that the Bible says, that heaven is the free gift of God, and that no man can do any thing whatsoever towards me- riting it ; but yet this sacred volume as plainly declares that the gift will be bestowed on him only, who is making it the great business of his life to obtain it. Half measures are seldom attended with the desired success, even in the common affairs of life; but how much less likely arc they to succeed, when flesh and blood are to be wrestled with and overcome, when the immortal soul is to be saved, and a crown of eternal glory to be obtained ! Are we then, my brethren, making it the one thing needful, the great object of our hopes and fears, to enter into the kingdom of God ? If this be indeed our conduct, we shall find that we have no time to trifle, as the world around us is trifling ; that the work we are to the Promised Land, 177 engaged in, will not allow us to enter into the vanities which amu5:e mankind in general. We shall act like men on a journey, which requires diligence and haste. We shall appear among our brethren as strangers and pilgrims, and declare by our conduct that we are seek- ing another country. We shall obey that command of the Bible, which calls upon us to •' lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and run with patience the race that is set before us ; looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." III. In thus prosecuting his sacred journey through the world to the kingdom of heaven, it is evident that the Christian must necessarily separate himself fronl many of his brethren, with whom he would otherwise have contentedly associated. But, although he is con- strained by the command of his God and the very na- ture of the work in which he is engaged, to come out from among the ungodly and worldly, he does not con- sider liimself as unconnected with them, nor does he cease to regard them as brethren. Moses dared not to return with Hobab to his idols, yet we find him mani- festing the greatest anxiety for Hobab's happiness. " Come thou with us," says he, " and we will do thee STood." 1. If we regard this invitation as the advice of the Christian traveller to his fellow sinners around him, it implies, first, that he has a sincere and earmst desire to bring them into that path to heaven, into zvhich he him- self has entered. Tiie Christian is not, he cannot be, a selfish being. That very love, which saves him from spiritual and eternal death, constrains him to live no longer unto himstlf ; it enlarges his soul, and fills it with the purest and most exalted benevolence. As soon therefore as he begins in good earnest to seek heaven Z 17S The Christian jour neyi7ig for himself, he begins to desire that others may seek it iilso. He wishes for companions in his pili^rimas^e, and he invites and urges all around him to join him in his journey ; yea, there is not a human being on the earth, ■whom lie would not rejoice to see treading the same way of pleasantness, in which he is walkinji^, and sha- ring with him the blessedness of the path of peace. \Vc are sadly negligent, brethren, in the performance of this duty. We seem indeed to have almost forgotten that it is our duty to be deeply and tt nderly concerned for the eternal happiness of our brethren. We think it wrong to suffer their bodily wants to remain unrelieved,^ but as for the wants of their souls, we hardly think of them. We seem as though we could suffer them to perish for ever, without a single effort to snatch them from destruction. We lament perhaps at seasons their ignorance and folly, and when they die, we wish that they had died Christians ; but sighs and wishes are not all that Christ requires at our hands. He reminds us of what he has done for our own souls. He points to the manger and the cross? and tells us to let the same mind be in us, that was in him. He bids us deny ourselves fop the salvation of others, to labour in the work, and, if need be, to suffer contradiction, shame, and reproach, rather than desist from it. And even if this command had not been given us, a regard to our own happiness and spiritual prosperity might have suggested it to us. If we succeed in per- suading others to join us in our journey to Canaan, we win souls not only to Christ, but to ourselves also ; we increase the number of those who are the fellow helpers of our joy. Those, whom we prevail on to travel with us, " may be to us instead of eyes ;" they may guide us, assist and comfort us in our wearisome pilgrimage. to the Promised Land, 179 We shall take sweet counsel together, and walk to the house of God in company. Who can tell how much we shall be animated by their love and zeal ? how much the languid spirit of devotion within us will be qnick- ened by their burnii)g hearts ? how mucli we shall be cheered in our spiritual trials by their sympathy and prayers? And O who can say what our reward will be ivhen we enter heaven ? " They that be wise," says the Scripture, " shall shine as the brightness of the firma- ment ; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever." Neither is success in this labour of love so difficult to be attained, as our slothful and faithless hearts some- times represent it. It is true that the chain, which ties our brethren to the world, is too strong to be broken by our feeble arm ; but there is a Holy Spirit, who has strengthened niany an arm weak and feeble as our own, and enabled it to deliver many a wretched sinner from his bondage. A sense of our weakness is indeed one of the very best qualifications, with which we can begia this arduous work ; but then let us remember also, that with the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength ; that this almighty Being is himself interested in our success ; that he desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live ; that he has said to every one of us, who is seeking his glory and the salvation of hij^ sinful creatures, *' Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel ; I will help thee, saith tne Lord and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel. U'hou shalt thresh the mountains, and beat them small, and shalt make the hills as chaff." We may remember too for our encouragement, that many, who have at first turned a deaf ear to the invita- tions and warnings of pious friendship, have at length 180 The Christian jouvjieijhig listened to them, and begun to seek the Lord. The bread has been cast upon tlie waters, and we have thought it lost, but after many days it has been found again. We are told J hat Hobab refused at first to ac- compauy Moses to Canaan. He said unto him, " I will not go, but I will depart to mine own land, and to my kindred ;" yet Moses was not discouraged by this re- fusal. He still entreated, and reasoned, and promised ; and there is some ground to suppose from a passage ia the foiirdi chapter of the book of Judges, that he finally prevailed. Let his success encourage us to be as zea- lous and persevering as he was, and to be as unwilling to take a denial. Our feeble efforts may be blessed at a time Vvhen we least expect a blessing ; yea, though we may go down to the grave without seeing the fruit of our labours, our labours may not be in vain. Our words may be remiembered when we are almost forgotten, and the soul of our friend may be saved; our child or pa- rent, our husband or wife, may be snatched as a brand from the burning, and may be through eternity our companion in glory, our joy, and our crown. 2. The invitation of Moses implies also, that the Chris- tian is tenderly concerned/or the spiritual welfare and hap- piness of his fellow travellers^ as well as for the repentance and salvation of the wandering sinner. Moses not only said to Hobab, *' Come thou with us," but he adds to this invitation a promise, " We will do thee good;" we will not make light of you nor neglect you; we will not regard you as a stranger, afteryou have joined the camp of Israel, but we will treat you as a brother and a friend. " And it shall be, if thou go with ub, yea, it shall be, that what goodness the Lord shall do unto us, tlic same will we do unto thee." The spirit, which dictated these words, is the same .spirit; that reigns in every Christian's heart. He desires to the Promised Land. 18 i to do good, not in an ungodly world only, but also in his Saviour's church. Hence he watches over his fel- low pilgrims in their journey, not that he may i^nitify a proud and censorious spirit by the discovery of their failings, but that he may decide the wavering among them, warm the slothful, comfort the feeble minded, and support the weak. Like his compassionate Master, he enters into the difficulties, fears, and sorrows of those, who are travelling with him to Zion ; he bears their burdens, and so fulfils the law of Christ. 3. We may infer, lastly, from this invitation, that if we would ever reach the kingdom of God, we must joi?i ourselves fiow to the people of God. " Come thou -with ?^^," was the advice given to Hobab. It was only in company with the Israelites, that he could share their privileges and enter into the land, which had been marked out for tiieir inheritance ; and it is only in the society of those, who fear the Lord, that we can taste of the consolations of our God, and draw near to hia kingdom. There is no going to heaven in company with those, who are going to hell. Here then is a lesson for the young. In forming your connections and choosing your associates, take those only for your friends, who will consent to walk with you in the way to heaven, and who give you reasona- ble ground to hope that they are already seeking that better country, and will help you forward in your jour- ney to it. Jt is quite sufficient, my young friends, to have the workings of your own evil and worldly hearts to struggle with on the road. You will always find <;;nough in their temptations to lead you from the path, vvithout calling in to their aid the example and entice- ments of frivolous and ungodly companions. And even if this were not the case, even if v/c could 162 The Christian journeying take the thoughtless and sinful as the friends of our youth, without being impeded by them in our course, would it be wise to choose for our most beloved asso- ciates upon earth, those whom we should dread to meet in another w^orld? with whom we should tremble to have our portion in eternity ? It is painful to say fare- well even for a short season, to those whom we love ; is there no pang then in bidding an eternal adieu to our bosom friends at the grave? is there no anguish in shuddering at the very thought of meeting them again? We may see in some of the lovers of pleasure around us, much to admire and something perhaps to com- mend ; their conduct may be decent, their dispositions amiable, and their society pleasing ; we may love their cheerfulness and mirth ; but in a few fleeting ) ears all these things will have passed away, and nothing will be left to us from our intercourse with them, but the mournful const:iousness that we have friends in eter- nity, whom we shall see no more ; that we have friends gone into a world, where no sound of joy has ever yet been heard, nor one ray of hope ever dawned. It is evident therefore that our present happiness, as well as our future safety, is connected with the compa- nions to whom we unite ourselves. Our duty then is plain. Let us love our fellow sinners, and seek to do them good ; but, if they are determined not to accom- pany us to heaven, let us not, for the sake of their so- ciety and friendship, accompany them to hell. It may sometimes be difficult to avoid connecting ourselves with them ; many reasons may be brougiu forward to persuade us that it is impossible ; but let us oppose to all the dictates of cowardice, indifference, and w orldly policy, these plain words of the Scripture, " The friend- ship of the world is enmity with God. Whosoever to the Promised Land, 183 therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God. Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbe- lievers, for what fellowship hath ng;hteousness with un- righteousness, and what communion hath light with darkness, and what agreement hath the temple of God '\vith idols ? for ye are the temple of the living God. Wherefore come out from amon^^ them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and nill be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." Such are some of the truths, of which the words of Moses in the text, are calculated to remind us. It now remains that we may apply them to ourselves. There is one enquiry, which seems to be at once suggested to us by the things, which we have heard. We are called upon by them seriously to ask, whither we are journeying? We know that we are going to the grave. This is a journey, which u'e began as soon as ■we were born, and we have been ever since unceasingly pursuing it. But what is the grave ? It is not the final end of our journey ; it is not our home. It is only a narrow pass out of time into eternity. There are two other worlds lying beyond it, a world of everlasting blessedness, and another of never ending misery. To the one or the other of these worlds, we are all hourlv drawing nearer. We shall soon arrive in one of them, and be lodged in it as our eternal home. O then, bre- thren, let us put this question seriously to ourselves — whither arc we journeying ? Which of these kingdoms of eternity are we approaching ? Are we standing on the borders of heaven, or on the brink of hell ? If we are living as mankind in general live^ this question is very easily answered — we are hastening to a world of 184 The Christian journeying, i^c. misery. " Wide is the gate," says the Scripture, '' and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be, which go in thereat ; because strait is the "gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto hfe, and few there be that find it." The def>truction, to which the broad way we are treading in will lead us, is not indeed the destruction of our being, but it is the destruction of our well being ; it is not the loss of our existence, but the loss of every thing, which can make that existence a blessing. It is the utter, the everlasting destruction of our happiness, and the beginning of an eternity of unmixed misery. O what a gloomy end to his journey, for a weary traveller to re[!ch ! what a wretched home ! But have we reason to think that we are not walk- ing in this broad way of destruction ? Have we turned from it with fear and tren^.bling, and are we journeying along that narrow path, which leadeth unto life ? Then let the promise in the text animate us, and excite us to diligence in our Christian course. We are journeying to the place, of which our Lord has said, " 1 will give it you." The way may be narrow, desolate, and dreary; our difficulties may be great, and our weakness still greater ; but if we lean on that everlasting arm which is 'placed underneath us, and run v/ith patience the race that is set before us, we are sure of heaven at the tnd of our journey. Neither can that end be f.ir distant. A few swiftly flying hours will soon bring us to it, and then we have only to pass over Jordan, and the heavenly Canaan will be curs. Though our course may be wea- risome, ye shall finish it with joy. As the ransomed of the Lord, we sh^ll return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon our heads. We shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall for ever flee awav. SERMON XIII. THE CHRISTLiN S SONG IN HIS PILGRIMAGE. PSALM CXIX. 54. Thy statutes have been my songs in the hozise ofmyfiUgrimage. J. HE author of these words appears to have been Da- vid. They were probably written towards the close of his life, and seem to have been drawn from him by a review of his past trials and mercies. Happy is the man, who can look back on the years which are gone, and take this declaration as his own ! That man's sorrows will soon be ended; his songs of joy will last for ever. He may be an afflicted, weeping pilgrim, in a wilderness now ; but he will be a rejoicing inhabitant of a para- dise soon. The words of the psalmist naturally suggest to us three subjects of consideration; the light in which every good man regards the world ; the cheerfulness, which he enjoys as he passes through it ; and the source, from which this cheerfulness is derived. I. The light, in which David regarded the world, was that of a foreign country, through which he was travelling to his native land. He speaks of it as the house or place of his pilgrimage. The world is often represented under this image in the sacred Scriptures, and every man, who is a Christian indeed, feels the justness of this representation. It comes home at once to his heart, and he wishes always to cherish the feel- A a 186 The Christian'' s Song ings, which it is calculated to excite within him. It tells him of something, which he loves to hear — his small connection with this world, and his deep interest in another. 1. We may learn from this representation of human life, that the world is a place^ which the Christian has ceased to love. He once loved it. Its maxims and pur- suits, its vanities and pleasures were suited to his de- praved affections. He felt himself at home, in a house which he loved, and only wished that he could dwell in it for ever. The dream however is ended. The man is now awake, and views the objects around him in their proper colours. A great moral change has ta- ken place within him. His principles, his dispositions, and his affections, have undergone a radical alteration. He loves not the world, neither the things that are in the world. They have lost their charms. Pleasures, amusements, and pursuits, which were once the first objects of his esteem, are now sickening to his soul. But whence lias this change proceeded ? From the disappointments that embitter, and from the calamities that harass the life of man ? No ; these indeed he feels, in common with other men ; but these things have no power to wean the soul from the world. They have made monks and hermits, but they have never made one Christian. 2. The follower of Jesus regards the world as a place, which cannot make him happy. The reason why he has ceased to love it, is simply this — it is not suited to his taste ; it cannot provide t!)e food, which his renewed soul desires. He wants the bread and the water of life, and cannot feed on the husks, which the world offers him. The taste of that man, my brethren, who is a Ciiris- i?i his Pilgrimage. 187 tian indeed, is set very high. He has desires in his heart, which reach to heaven, and which nothing short of the happiness of heaven can satisfy. Even in this life, he must be made happy, in just the same way as that, in which the angels are made happy, or lie is a stranger to blessedness. He must eat of the same spiritual bread that tiiey eat of, and drink of the same cup that they drink of, or he is still hungry and thirsty, and his soul is fainting within him. He is born from above, and he wants the pleasures of his native land. The world can satisfy the brutes that perish ; it can satisfy at seasons the sensualist and the lover of plea- sure ; but it cannot satisfy the Christian. If then we profess to be the followers of Christ, let us remember, not only that we must not seek our chief happiness here, but that we cannot. It is not enough to be sepa- rated from the world ; we must be weaned from it, lose our love of it, be transformed by the renewing of cur mind. 3. The words of the psalmist teach us, thirdly, that the Christian regards the world as a place, in -which he must expect to meet with trials and difficulties- A pilgrim in a foreign country reckons on inconvenien- cies, and prepares to meet them. If he cannot have things altogether to his mind, he submits. If he is treated with neglect, it gives him not inuch con- cern. He is but a pilgrim ; and he looks forward to home as the seat of his comfort and the place of his rest. Thus also the Christian expects trials in the house of his pilgrimage, and prepares to experiejice them. He makes up his mind, when he first enters the narrow path which leads to God, to deny himself and take up his cross. Looking on the world as a sinful and 188 The Christian's Song fallen world, he wonders not that he finds it a scene of suffering and misery ; and he citiims no exemption from the common lot of man. The Bible gives him no promise of worldly ease and prosperity. It places his paradise in scenes beyond the grave, and plainly tells him that he must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of heaven. 4. We miiy observe, further, tliat the world is a phce, -which, the Christian expects soon to leave. It is the house of his pilgrimage, not his home. He not only knows that he must die, but he acts consistently with his knowledge; he prepares to die. He endea- vours to loosen the cords, which attach him to the world, and to be ready to quit it at a moment's warn- ing. Nay, he is anxious to quit, it. He is a weary pil- irrim, who longs to be at home. How often does his h^art ache for rest, and sigh for the peace of his father's house ! And yet he travels on in his wearisome jour- ney without a murmur. He is indeed heard at sea- sons to breathe a wish for the wings of a dove, that he may fly away and be at rest ; but, the next moment, he checks the impatient prayer, and his language is, ** All the days of my appointed time will 1 wait till my change come." My brethren, are these feelings ours ? Is this the light, in which we regard the world ? is it the house of our pilgrimage ? Have we ceased to love it, and to expect happiness from it? Do we look on it as a place of trial and difficult} ? Are we willing to leave it, that we may go home to heaven ? if we are Christians in- deed, the world is really thus crucified unto us, and we unto the world. Though living in it, we are not of it. We are travelling to heaven, and so travelling tliere, as to make the world see that we regard the in his Pilgrimage. 189 earth merely as our dwelling-place for a season ; that we are seeking a better country than any, which occu- pies their thoughts, even a heavenly. O that these dis- positions abounded in all our hearts, and had a greater influence on our conduct ! We cannot be Christians without them. This deadness to the world and this heavenly- mindedness are not merely ornamental gra- ces ; they are absolutely essential to the Christian cha- racter. Nothing can supply the want of them, no zeal for the truth, no form of godliness, no fancied experi- ence of its power. And yet by nature we are utterly destitute of these dispositions. There is nothing spiritual and heavenly in us. We are altogether earthly and sensual. Heavenly- mindedness is as much the gift of God, and as much the work of his Holy Spirit, as regeneration, repentance, or faith. It must be sought for also in the same way. If we would possess it, we must first learn to feel our need of it, and earnestly to desire it; lind then we must go and ask for it, as a gift of mercy, at a throne of grace. II, Let us now go on to our second subject of con- sideration, the cheerfulness, which the Christian enjoys in the house of his pilgrimage. The text tells us that he has songs in it ; *' Thy statutes have been my songs in the house of my prilgrimage." It has been supposed that there is an allusion in these words to one of the Jewish customs. We arc informed that the Israelites repaired three times in the year, from the extremities of their country, to worship the God of their fathers in the temple at Jerusalem ; and that they had songs composed for these occasions, which they sung at certain intervals as they travelled along. Thus the Christian pilgrim is represented as sing- 190 TJie Christian's Sojig ing in his pilgrimage, as journeying on to Zion with song.-i and everlasting joy upon his head. It may in- deed seem strange that such a pilgrim in such a world should find any cause for joy, yet we know that he does at seasons go on his way rejoicing. He takes down his harp from the willows : and, even in this strange land, he can sometimes sing a song of the sweetest jo\', and gratitude, and love. 1. His song is, first, a heart-fdt song. True religion is something more, than a round of ceremonies, or a cold system of doctrines. It has its seat in the heart, and calls into exercise all the affections of the soul. Hence the Christian's joy is a deeply seated joy. It is not a smile on the countenance, whilst sorrow is striving to hide itself in the breast. It is not that light- ness of njind, that dissipation of thought, to which worldly amusements give rise. Neither is it a merely intellectual gratification. It is the joy of the mind ; the peace of the soul ; a joy, which can live in retirement, and which flourishes the most, when it is removed at the greatest distance from the gaiety of the world. Serious reflection dashes to pieces the worldling's happiness. It cannot bear the secrecy of the closet and the darkness of midnight. But the Christian's God gives him songs in the night, and as for retire- ment, it increases his blessedness. He loves his closet, and is sometimes so happy there, that he almost forgets that he is an inhabitant of a suffering earth. " But," it may be asked, " is not this joy of a very suspicious nature? We admit that some, who profess to love the gospel, seem to be peculiarly cheerful and happy, but does not their cheerfulness proceed from a distempered imagination, from heated passions, from delusive fancies? In short, is it not the effect of enthu- in his Pilgrimage. 191 siasm, rather than of sober' piety ?" If enthusiasm, my brethren, can make a man holy and happy in a world so sinful and wretched as this, it would be well for us all, if we were this very hour to become decided en- thusiasts. But the Christian's joy is not an enthusi- astic joy. 2. His song is a rationaly as well as a heart-felt song. He has really cause for joy. He can give a so- ber, rational account of the sources of his happiness. He can tell us of tiie pardon of sin, of reconciliation with God, of salvation from hell, of a promise of hea- ven. If the poor exile is allowed to exult, when he has escaped from captivity ; if the condemned criminal is permitted to leap for joy, when he receives the news of a reprieve ; why do we require the perishing sinner to stand unmoved, when he hears of redemption and a pardon ? It cannot be. Infidelity and ungodliness may require this at a pardoned sinner's hands, but rea- son calls upon him to sing aloud with joy ; to be zea- lously affected always in that good thing, which he has chosen as his portion ; to *' joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom he has received the atonement." Reason tells him that the religion, which gets into a man's affections, and warms his heart, and makes him habitually happy, is the only rational reli- gion, the only religion, which is worth contending for or seeking:. While she calls upon the atheist and the sceptic to indulge gloominess, perplexity, and fear ; to look on death with horror, and on eternity with dis- may ; she says to the humble, praying, belie\ ing church of Christ, ^' Ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace ; the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." 19S The Christian's Song *' But of what nature," it may again be asked, *' is this heart-felt, rational joy, which the Christian is said to feel ? We see those, who seem to possess it, ab- staining from every thing likely to make them happy. They condemn and avoid whatever is cheerful, and appear to welcome every thing, that is wearisome and gloomy. As for those innocent and rational amuse- ments, which constitute the chief pleasures of life, they appear to pour contempt on them, and to regard them with a feeling bordering on disgust." But here we mistake the Christian's character. He will never be found to despise those pleasures, which are really innocent and rational. He is as much attached to them as other men ; and draws from them a much greater degree of delight, than they afford to others. But then he can never think those amusements ra- tional, which are adapted solely to the sensitive part of man, and many of which a brute may emoy in com- mon with himself. Neither can he deem those plea- sures innocent, which directly oppose the precepts of his Bible and his God ; which have a tendency to ex- cite those affections and lusts, that he has been com- manded to crucify, and has solemnly promised and vowed to renounce ; which are accommodated to the pomps and vanities of this wicked world ; which have been applauded by all the foolish and wicked, and con- demned by all the wise and pious, in every age of the church ; which bring him into the society of the most profane and vicious, and. separate him from the com- pany of the most godly and virtuous of mankind ; pleasures, from which he himself would tremble to be summoned to the grave and the judgment-seat of a holy God. 3. As for the nature of his happiness, we may ob- in his Pilgrimage. 193 serve, further, that the Christian's song is a divine song. The joy, which fills his heart, descends from heaven, and comes down from the throne of God. It has its origin in things above the world, and is but little affected by the changes and chances of this mor- tal life. Poverty cannot silence the song, which it pours forth. It can sing the praises of its God as loudly and as sweetly in a prison and at midnight, on a bed of sickness, and in the hour of death, as in the day of gladness and the hour of health. It must indeed seem strange and mysterious in its nature to the mere man of the world, for a stranger intermeddleth not with it. He has no capacity for receiving it or com- prehending its nature. Even if he were taken to hea- ven, where this joy fills every heart, he would wonder at the happiness around him, deem himself in a strange and stupid place, and v.'ish again for the vanities and pleasures of the world, which he had left. To make this subject plain to us, let us take our Bibles, and read the account, which is there given us of heaven. After seriously contemplating the glowing ^ descriptions set before us, let us ask ourselves what ideas of heaven we have obtained. We think it a happy place perhaps, because we read that there will be no sorrow there, no crying, nor pain ; but this is nearly all we have learned of it. Were we to be asked in what the positive happiness of heaven consists, we should find a difficulty in answering the question, and perhaps could give no answer whatever to it. Now if the Bible had spoken of riches and honours in hea- ven, of houses and lands, of vain amusements and sen- sual delights, of the song and the dance, of festivity and mirth ; in short, if the Bible had exhibited to our view a iMahometan paradise, there would have been B b 194 The Christian'' s Song something tans^ible in the description, and we should have been able to form some conception of its happi- ness. Apply this observation to the subject before us. The Christian seems to be destitute of joy ; and why ? Not because he is really destitute of it, but be- cause his joy is a divine, and not an earthly or a sen- sual joy. It is a joy of exactly the same nature, though inferior in degree, to that, which reigns in heaven ; and it must therefore be altogether hidden from those, who are not heavenly-minded. We cannot be too often reminded, that true religion makes a great change in the heart. It takes from it many old desires and affections, and implants in it many new ones. It opens the mind to receive spiri- tual things and spiritual enjoyments. It gives it a new taste. When therefore the really rtligious man takes his Bible in his hands, and reads the descrip- tions, which the Hc^ly Spirit has there given him of heaven, he sees something real in them, something in- finitely desirable. He understands something of the meaning, and tastes something of the sweetness, of be- ing for ever with the Lord ; of standing before the throne of the Lamb and worshipping him day and night in his temple ; of seeing him as he is ; of awaking up in his likeness and being satisfied therewith. To what conclusion then does this bring us ? It brings us to this conclusion, that if we have no joys but those which the world affords us, if we have no taste for spiritual delights, we have no true religion, no connection with Christ, no meetness for heaven. O brethren, it is awful not to find religious things plea- sant things. It is an awful thing to find the sabbath a weariness, the worship of God irksome, the sound of the gospel joyless. O let this simple and oft repeated in his Pilgrimage. 195 truth reach every ear, and sink deeply into every heart — there is no plainer mark of an unrenewed, unpar- doned soul, than a love of the vanities of this present evil world, and an indifference to the great realities of eternity. III. " But how," it may be asked, " is this heart- felt, rational, and heavenly joy communicated to the Christian's soul? Whence does he derive it?" The text answers this enquiry, and reminds us of our third subject of consideration, the source of the Christian's joy- " Thy statutes," says David, " have been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage. I have found thy sta- tutes to be right, rejoicing the heart. The precepts and promises of thy word have been the source of my bless- edness, and the theme of my song.'* Here however it must be observed, that the holy Scriptures have no power in themselves to make the Christian pilgrim happy. Thousands read and hear them without deriving, or expecting to derive, happi- ness from them. To the Holy bpirit all the j.^y of the Christian must be traced as itsauihor, but one of the principal means, which he makes use of to communi- cate this gift, is the word of God. 1. The Bible rejoices the Christian's heart by tell- ing him, first, that though a pilgrim in a foreign land, he shall have all his wants supplied. He finds in this blessed book the sweetest promises of all he can need or wish for in his journey. Wearied and dispirited by its toils and difficulties, he reads here that he is not alone in the world ; that his heavenly Father is with him; that his Saviour is bearing apart of his trials and sharing all his sorrows ; that the angels of heaven are commissioned to watch over him, and to keep him 196 The Christian's Song in all his ways. With these assurances he is satisfied, yea, he is refreshed, comforted, and enlivened. Hb goes on his way with joy in his heart, and this song in his mouth ; '^ The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures : he ieadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul ; he Ieadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his names' sake. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and 1 will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever." 2. The Bible brings joy to a Christian's heart by reminding him of the end of his pilgrimage^ even his home, and that a peaceful, a glorious, a heavenly home. How sweet is the thought of home to the traveller, who has been long absent from it ! How does the hope of again beholding it and its beloved inhabitants sup- port him in his journey, and enable him, though wea- ried, to travel on with cheerfulness ! With such a prospect as this, the Bible supports and chi^ers the Christian traveller. He learns from it that heaven is not a fable ; that there is something real beyond the grave ; that there is a mansion prepared for him, yea, a throne and a crown awaiting him in the realms of eternity. He is told too that he shall soon take a last farewell of this strange land, with all its cares, and sins, and sorrows ; that he shall see face to face that Saviour, whom his soul loveth ; press to his heart the fellow pilgrims, whom he has parted with on earth ; join the great company of ransomed, purified, and re- joicing saints, and have robes white as their^s, and palms as green. Who then does not love the Bible, that can read in it of such a home as this, and look forward to it as his own ? 3. But the Scriptures not only tell the Christian of 171 his Pilgrimage. 197 this heavenly home ; they cheer his heart by pointing out to him the xvay which leads to it. The word of God is a lamp unto his feet, and a light unto his paths. He feels that he is very ignorant and needs a guide, and he finds in the Bible just such a guide as he needs, one, that is designed for the ignorant and able to make wise the simple. He takes it therefore as his map through the wilderness of the world, as his chart across the troubled sea of life. 4. The same Scriptures too, that tell the Christian of his home, and point out to him the way that leads to it, give him the assurance that he shall soon be there. They remind him of the love, the power, and the faith- fulness of him, who has said, " My sheep shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." They assure him, that if only he will lean sim- ply on the almighty arm of Christ, he shall hold on his way, and grow stronger and stronger as he advan- ces in his course. In the midst of his weakness and fears, they tell him of a multitude of pilgrims, who were once travelling the same path, in which he is treading, and travelling it too with the same trials and fears, but who are now walking the streets of the new Jerusalem, and rejoicing in its glorious temple. The Bible is not leading him through an untrodden path. It says to him, " Be followers of them, who through faith and patience inherit the promises. Take the pro- phets, who have spoken in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction and of patience. Con- sider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds." The subject, which we have thus briefly considered, shews, us, first, the reason, why so many professors of 198 The Christiaii's Song Christianity are habitually gloomy and comfortless. They do not love the Bible ; they do not seek their happiness in it. There is a well of consolation near them, but they turn away from it. They seek happi- ness in themselves, and forget to seek it in their Bible, and their God. The only way to be happy, my bre- thren, in such a world as this, is to have the Bible often in our hands, and still oftener in our hearts ; to medi- tate upon it; to understand what David means, when he says, " O how 1 love thy law ! it is my meditation all the day. I will meditate on thy precepts, and have respect unto thy ways. 1 will delight myself in thy statutes, I will not forget thy word." The text calls upon us also highly to value the sa- cred Scriptures, to esteem them more precious than gold, yea, than much fine gold, sweeter also than honey and the honey-comb. If David and Job, who had but a very small portion of the word of God, esteemed it more than their necessary food, and took it as their heritage for ever ; if these ancient saints so highly valued this precious book and so much rejoiced in it, how ought we to prize it, who have it enriched with the clear, the exceeding great and precious promises of the prophets, of the evangelists and apostles, and of Christ himself! Surely we should bind it about our neck, and write it upon the table of our heart. We are reminded also in the text of the extent^ to which we should endeavour to circulate the Scriptures. They are designed to bring comfort to the sorrowful and peace to the wretched. V\'here\cr therefore sor- row and wretchedness are found, thtre the Bible is wanted, and there it is our duty, if poj^sible, to send it. Wherever a sigh is heaved or a tear shed in the habi- tation of misery, there we are called on to send the word of consoiulion and the gospel of peace. in his Pilgrimage. 199 We may infer, lastly, from the subject, on which we have been meditating, that the spirit, which becomes the Christian pilgrim., is a cheerful and rejoicing spirit. Let the infidel and the ungodly man be gloomy and wretched; but let not that man be cheerless, who has the Bible for his comforter, Christ for his Saviour, God for his Father, and heaven for his home. Let the hum- ble and praying Christian examine the book, which contains the charter of his privileges ; let him turn over its leaves, and not a word of sorrow can he find ad- dressed to him throughout its sacred pages. Pardon and peace, hope and joy, comfort in death and triumph in eternity — these are the blessings it pours- into his bosom and tells him to call his own. It is true that it reminds him that he is a pilgrim on the earth, and teaches him to cherish within his breast the remem- brance of this fact ; to let it moderate his desires after earthly things, wean him from the world, and enable him to bear with fortitude his sorrows and his trials : but then it tells him also. that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the; glory which shall be revealed in us ; that, though we may receive the word in much affliction, we should receive it also with joy in the Holy Ghost. The Bible makes spiritual joy our duty, as well as our privilege. It calls upon us to serve the Lord with gladness, and come before his presence with a song ; to let the world see that we have found that peace of mind in the gos- pel of Christ, which they cannot find in vanity and sin; that there is something real in religion, something which can enable a man to spurn the pleasures of time and sense, and to rejoice in a crucified Jesus with joy un- speakable and full of glory. SERMON XIV. THE BREVITY AND V^VNITY OF HUMAN LIFE, PSALM XXXiX. 5. Behold, thou hast made my days as a hand-breadth, and mine age is ait nothiJig before thee ; verily ^every man, at his best state, is altogether vanitt(. I HESE simple words, my brethren, have an energy in them, which none but a dying man can fully un- derstand. We mav indeed have felt somethins: of their meaning, as we have heard them read over the corpse of a beloved friend, but then this feeling has been neither deep nor lasting. We have heard the death- bell toll, we have followed the ashes of a fellow mortal *' to the tomb, and we have perhaps breathed a sigh or shed a tear to human vanity ; but we have not long retained the impression, to which the mournful scene has given rise. The cares or pleasures of the world have again called for our whole attention, and we have again given it them. In one short day perhaps we have forgotten that man is mortal and that his life is vanity. We have forgotten that the words we' have heard read over our departed friend, must soon be read over our own cold remains; that the same death-bell will shortly toll* for us; that our poor bodies must soon be the tenants of a grave as silent and as dark as his. Ill compassion however to our thoughtless hearts, the Almighty sometimes steps out of the track of his ordinary dealmgs with mauKind, and forces these truths The Brevity and Vanity^ &c. sot upon our recollection. By some sudden and awful stroke, he makes his providence preach them to us in a voice so loud, that all must hear it, and so plain, that all must understand it. Such a blow has been lately struck within our own borders.* That dark and mysterious Providence, which the mind neither of men nor of angels can penetrate, has sent death in one of its most affecting forms into one of our palaces ; and now calls upon a whole nation to look on, and remember that man, even in '^ his best state, is altogether vanity." The sad particulars of this solemn event are familiar to us all. They have fastened themselves on all our minds, and have deeply affected all our hearts. Of its consequences to our country we know nothing. They are all hidden behind the veil of futurity, and no hu- man sagacity can foresee them. There may indeed be mercy in the afflictive dispensation, but as far as our feeble eyes can reach, we see nothing but judgment for England in the stroke. O how loudly does it call upon every inhabitant of this sinful land to humble himself before the Lord, and •' to turn to him in weep- ing, fasting, and in praying!" It is not however my wish to recal your attention to the political consequences of this event. Neither will 1 pain your feelings by attempting any panegyric on her, vv^ho has been made the subject of this mysterious providence. She is now removed far beyond the reach of any praise of ours ; or if her departed spirit is still permitted to hover over the country that she loved, she will find a panegyric, stronger than words can give, in * This sermon was preached on November 19, 1817, being the day, on wliich the lamented Princess Cjuulotte of Wales was interred. Co 203 The Brevity and Vanitij the throbbing hearts and streaming eyes of a mourning land. Instead of dwelling on that conjugal affection and filial piety, that train ot virtues, whicli graced her character and endeared her to our hearts, let us rather strive to see our own nearness to that world, whither she is gone. Let us view this solemn visitation as dying men. It addresses us in this character, and speaks to us a language, which affects not a nation only, but a world ; not time only, but eternity. O may the Spirit of God send its sacred lessoiis home to every heart! May he lodge this solemn truth, in all its ener- gy, within our souls ; *' Behold thou hast made my days as a hand-breadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee ; verily, every man, at his best state, is altogether vanity !" The psalmist's words lead us to consider, j^rjf, the reasons, why the fleeting days of life are called our days ; secondly, the shortness of these days ; and, thirdly, their vanity. I. Why then does the psalmist call the days of life our days ? 1. There is not one of them, which we can strictly call our own. The stream of time keeps rolling on, and not the smallest portion of it can we hold within our grasp. But still the fleeting days of life may be called our days, because they bring to us innumerable mercies as they hurry on. We cannot stop them, but there is not one of them, that is not commissioned to drop many mercies on our heads as it passes over us, mercies for our bodies, mercies for our families, mer- cies for our country, mercies for our souls. 2. These days too may be called our days, because they are days in which we are allowed to work for eternity. We shall live for eycr^ but we shall not for of Human Life. %oz ever have the power of benefitting or injuring our souls. Ihcre is no " soul work" be)ond the grave. There is no work of conversion, no work of salvation, in eternity. There are no means of grace in that unknown world, no Bible, no ministers, no renewing Spirit, no inviting Saviour, no saving cross. All our work must be done before we come to the grave, or all beyond it is one never ending '' night, in which no man can work." All, that a poor sinner can do for his immortal soul, must be done in that short span of time, which intervenes between the cradle and the grave. 3. The days of our life may be called our day^s because they are clays, for which ive must hereafter give an account. We have no real property in their hastening hours. Tliey are one after another lent to us to be returned again. They are lent to us to be employed for their master's use, *' Take this," says he with every hour that he gives us, •' and occupy till I come." Every moment, that fills up the measure of our time, comes to us like a messenger from another world, marks our conduct, and then hastens back with its report to the throne of God. Before that throne, brethren, is an ever open volume, in which all our sad abuse of time is recorded. Every sinful act of our lives, is written there, every hasty word, and every unholy thought. Thousands of sins, which we have long forgotten or never thought of, are slill as fresh in that awful record, as at the very moment when they were committed. They are all waiting there to meet us again at the bar of God. Where then is the man among us, who can seriously think of such a book as this, and feel no searchings of heart at the thought ? O if we could but be allowed to take one glance at one page of this crowded book, with what trembling haste SO-t The Brevity and Vanity should we fly to a dying Saviour, and cling to his cross! The record of his sins, for only one day, would be enough to fill the heart of the most careless among us with fear and trembling for his whole life. II. Let us proceed to consider, secondly, the short- ness of these days, which the psalmist calls our own. " Behold, thou hast made my days as a hand-breadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee." We all know that when we speak of the shortness of any thing, there is always implied in the term a compa- rison with something else of longer duration. 1. Hence we may observe, first, that our days are short, when compared with the period once allotted to the life of man. Immediate death was the sentence de- nounced against the sin of our first parents. " In the day, that thou eatest thereof," said the Lord, *' thou shalt surely die ;" but the patience of God lingered nine hundred years before he demanded of the first criminals their forfeited lives. Their immediate successors too, enjoyed for the greater part, nearly as long a respite. We count our years at the most by scores, .but the men before the flood, reckoned their's by centuries. At an age when we are sinking into the grave, they were but just entering upon life. Their glass generally ran on for nearly a thousand years, while " the days of our age are three score years and ten ; and though men be so strong, that they come to four score years, yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow ; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone." 2. Our life too seems short, when compared with the duration of many objects around us. The same sun, that now shines upon us, shone more than five thousand years ago upon our fathers. The moon, that enlivens our nights, has seen nearly two hundred generations of of Human Life. 205 men rise and fall. Even the works of our own hands remain much longer than we. The pyramids of Egypt have defied the attacks of three thousand years, while their builders sunk perhaps under the burden of four score. Our houses stand long after their transient pro- prietors are gone, and their names forgotten. Where is now the head that planned, and the hands which built this house of God? They Avere all reduced to ashes five hundred years ago. The very seats we sit on have borne generations before they bore us, and will proba- bly bear many after us. The remains of those, who once occupied the places we now fill, are underneath our feet, and we must soon join them in their vaults to make room for other generations. Before another cen- tury has begun its course, these walls will resound with other voices, other feet will tread these courts, and an- other race of men will say of us, " Our fathers ; where are they ?" 3. How striking too does the shortness of life ap- pear, when compared with the eternity of God! '' Mine age is as nothing before thee," says the psalmist ; no- thing in comparison of thee. The existence of the Al- mighty never had a beginning, and can never have an end. "From everlasting to everlasting he is God." Compared with the eternity which he inhabits, the longest life shrinks into a mere point, a nothing. Indeed no duration of time, however long, will bear the com- parison. Thousands and millions of years are no more here, than a day or an hour. If we take as many years as there are grains of sand upon the sea shore, and as many more as there are particles of dust in this huge globe of earth, and bring into one reckoning all these multi- tudes of years, the mighty sum bears no more propor- tion to eternity, than a moment, a twinkling of an eye 206 Tlie Brevity and Vanity bears to ten thousand ages. Such a calculation con- founds the mind by its immensity ; but the whole amount would be a mere point, yea, less than a point, in the reckoning of eternity. 4. We may see something also of the brevity of life, if we compare it, lastly, xvith the work we have to do» The eternity, which we have just been speaking of, is our own. When God gave us life, he made us heirs of it. The injmense inheritance has been entailed upon every one of us, and we must spend it either in the height of happiness, or in the depth of misery. Now the present life is given us to lay up a treasure for this eternity ; to work out, by the power of divine grace, a salvation, which shall stretch itself through its countless ages. Great as this work is, multitudes of the human race have performed it. They have been strengthened by Christ, and, though utterly helpless in themselves, they have now obtained a treasure in eternity, with which the collected riches of a world cannot for one moment be compared. We ourselves also must work out this great salvation, and work it out too in this short life, or live for ever in hopeless misery. Viewed in this solemn light, as the only season of preparation for eternity, to what a fearful importance does time at once rise ! How ought we to value its fleeting hours! Its shortness makes it infinitely pre- cious. Tell a man that he has only a day to labour in order to secure food, and ease, and happiness, for a hundred years, and mark how that man will prize eVery moment of that short day ! how intent he will be upon his work ; hov/ dead to every other object ! Invite him, under such circumstances, to the song and the dance ; call him to scenes of revelry and dissipation ; offer him the richest baubles the world can give .: and the man of Human Life, 207 will spurn them from him; all the haunts and pursuits of vanity will be sickening lo his soul. How is it then, brethren, that we, who have but a few short days to live, and to prepare for eterniiy, can be so idle and so easy ? How is it that we have so much time to spare for the world, for vanity, and for sin ? This view of life shews us too the vast importance of every thing we say and do in it. All our words and actions are connected with eternity by a chain, which never can be broken. We shall hear of every one of Them again in an eternal world. They are seeds planted in heaven or in hell, and are producing for us there, this very hour, either the sweetest or the deadliest fruits. if we thus compare human life with the period once allotted to it, with the long duration of many objects around us, with the eternity of God, and the all impor- tant work of laying up in Christ a treasure for eternity, we shall be constrained to acknowledge, that the psal- mist's complaint is not an unmeaning one ; that our days are indeed as a hand-breadth and our age as nothing. Observe too that in making this comparison, we have given to life its longest duration. We have said nothing of the countless thousands of the human race, who are daily cut down in the maturity of manhood and the bloom of youth. One half at least of those, who enter this world of death, are called out of it be- fore they have seen seven of its years. We have said nothing of the stroke, which can reach the infant before it sees the light, and lay the mother in the dust, though shielded by health, and strength, and youth. Neither have we said any thing of the time, that is consumed in sleep, and in procuring the supplies necessary for our 208 The Brevity and Vanity existence. Many hours of all our nights are hours of oblivion, and many of our days are days of nothingness. Take these from human life, and how poor a pittance is there left! If however we pass over all these things in silence, and give to life all the hours and advantages it can lay claim to, the conclusion is the same ; it is " a shadow that departelh; a flower, that in the morning is green and grovveth up, and in the evening is cut down, dried up, and withered ; it is a vapour, that ap- peareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." Plain as this truth appears, it is by no means easy to get it permanently lodged in our minds. We acknow- ledi^e the shortness of life, and yet, when we look for- ward to years to come, our feelings strangely belie our words, and life seems to stretch itself out a long ex- tended line. But what do we know, brethren, of the years that are to come ? We must go for an estimate of life to the years that are past. We know something of them from experience. What then is their language ? Ask the man who is bending under the weight of four score years. He will tell us, that the days of the years of his pilgrimage have been few and evil; that his lengthened life appears to him only as a tale that is told. Mark too the silence, with which the few years al- lotted to us pass away. They make no noise as they roll over our heads. The stream of time flows on with the profoundest silence. It passes by us, and we see it not. All that we know is, that it has passed us ; and we can only wonder that it should be so soon gone. If we look back to that part of our life, which has already run its course, we can retrace but very little of it ; we re- member it only as we remember a dream. It is full of confused images which we cannot distinctly recollect, and which serve only to perplex and bewilder the mind. of Human Life. 209 And yet the events of these years, which we now so indistinctly remember, once called into exercise all the energies of our minds ; some of them filled us with de- light, and some harassed us with vexation and grief. All hou ever from our cradle to the present hour, seems now but little better than one humiliating blank: and just the same, a few months hence, will the present time appear to us, crowded as it now is with pleasures, and cares, and fears. There is another painful thought too connected with the silent rapidity of time. The longer we stay in the world, the swifter does its flight appear. A year to a man is not more than six months to a child. Our days seem to rush on with a more silent and rapid motion, the ne'lirer they draw to the goal of death, as though they were eager to bear us away to our destined eter- nity. The f^ict is, that time, correctly speaking, is no- thing more than a succession of ideas ; these ideas are less numerous, and the impressions they make on the mind less deep and permanent in old age, than they are in youth ; and consequently the road of life has fewer stones to mark our progress along it. 111. But here perhaps it may be said, " What, if the period of life be thus transitory ? Man is a great and noble being, and has powers that enable him to crowd into this short existence, a consequence and a dignity, suited to his greatness." The words before us however, speak no such language as this There is another hu- miliating truth in them., which pours contempt on all human greatness. They tell us, not only of the short- ness of life, but of the vanity, the utter nothingness of man. This is the testimony they give ; " Verily, every man, at his best state, is altogether vanity." And is the Bible the oJilv teacher of this humiliatini*: y iff Dd %t 210 Tlie Brevity and Vanity truth? No. The events of every day, the observation and experience of almost every hour, speak the same language. With what a mighty voice, my brethren, is the solemn truth now sounded in the ears of every in- habitant of this land ! There is a tomb opened to-day, that sends it home to our very hearts. 1. If we would see something of the nothingness of man, we have only to remember the precariousness and little worth of all the earthly blessings we call our own. There is not one of them, which we can be sure of re- taining even for an hour. Have we a beloved child, our only hope and solace in the world ? Death, before W'Q. are aware, may have struck a blow, which may leave us childless. Have we a wife, endeared to us by innumerable offices of love ? She may be a corpse to- morrow. O how loudly does such a stroke as this call upon us to have no idols upon earth, to sit loose to the dearest earthly connections, and to cling closely to our God ! A husband or wife, parents or children, are wretched substitutes for the rock of ages. We rejoice over them in the morning, " but the wind passeth over them in the evening, and they are gone." The same mournful scene shews us too the little use, which earthly blessings are to us, while we retain them. W^ho more blessed wuth all the world can give, than she, whose loss has filled our land with weeping ? And yet what could it all do for her in the hour of need ? Neither the skill of physicians, nor the tears of a beloved husband, nor the prayers of a trembling nation, could keep off even for an hour the stroke of death, or miti- gate its terrors. Why then do we so much love so weak and vain a world ? 2. We may be reminded of the nothingness of man, by looking, secondly, at the titter vanity of all his of Human Life. S 1 1 schemes and prospects. We are creatures of the most extravagant hopes, and the most visionary prospects. We are the mere creatures of a day, but ages would be wanting to execute, what we amuse ourselves with planning. But how often are we forced to observe the abrupt termination of human schemes ! Man dies, and his expectations perish. Years were wanting to com- plete his plans, but they are all cut off in a moment. The thread is snapped asunder, almost before he has begun to wind it. We daily see that one man builds, but another inhabits the house ; one sows, but another reaps the corn. Man heapeth up riches, but he cannot tell who shajl gather them ; and as for his honours, the laurel fades, as soon as it is placed upon his brow, and the applauses of a world, if he obtains them, are soon 110 more to him, than the wind that blows over his grave. Who can tell how many hopes and projects will be buried within that tomb, which has been opened to- day ? The hand, that was so often stretched out in deeds of mercy, is now motionless; the head, that seemed destined to wear a crown, is now encircled by a shroud ; the generous heart, that once glowed with the thought of scattering blessings round a nation, is cold as a stone. Ail the thousand fond anticipations connected with the name of ^* Mother," are buried in the tomb. O let the thoughtless young among us, who are planning schemes for the time to come, look here, and see the utter vanity of all human expectations. They may say within themselves, " To-day or to-mor- row, I shall go here or there, and do this or that ;" but what answer does this coffin send them ? " Thou knowest not what shall be on the morrow. Thou may- est die to-day." O my young friends, press this answer S12 The Brevity and Vanity home to your hearts. Which of you is thinking with de'ight of the hour, that simll again bring you to the arnrib of some much loved Iriend or parent ? The next tidings, which that parent hears of you, may be, that yon are numbered with the dead. Which of you is expecting with a trembling hope, to hear the name of *^ Motlier?" Before that sound may reach your ears, you and your babe may say to corruption, " Thou art my father ;" and to the worm, " thou art my mother and my sister." The very general terms, in which the psalmist speaks hi the text, are also deserving of our notice. He does not Sciy that some men are vanity, but every man ; not the poor and the ignorant, the feeble and the old only, but man in his best state ; and not only is every man vanity, but a/together vanity. The psalmist's language is as strong too,- as it is general; '^ Verily ^''^ says he, "every man is vanity."" He speaks of it as an incontestable fact, as the result of his own actual experience. The young and the healthy then, the wise and the learned, the rich and the great, are all included in this saying. Every man is ready to think himself exempted? but we are all on an equality here. No rank, however elevated, can lift us above the common vanity of man, nor any degree of poverty sink us below it. The palace is as much the habitation of disappointment, infirmity, and disease, as the cottage ; and the robes of royalty and the tattered garments of beggary, are alike preludes to the shroud. " All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass." The flower may be finer in its texture than the common grass ; its colours may be jnore gay, and its properties more useful ; but it grows in the same soil, it has a common root, a common nature, of Human Life, 213 and a common end. It is exposed to the same scorch- ing heat, the same frost, and the same scythe. When " the grdss withercth, the flower fadeth." We have thus taken a hasty review of the picture, which the psalmist has given us of human life, li would, under any circumstances, suggest to us the same infe- rence ; but when viewed in connection with the mourn- ful occasion, which has brought us here, how forcibly does it remind us all of the great duty of consideratmi ! W^e are all most awfully careless, brethren, about every thing, which relates to the soul and eternity. This care- lessness is inherent in our nature, and no power but that of God can root it out of our hearts. And yet we could not have within us a more fatal enemy-than this. Inconsideration is as ruinous to the soul, as any sin can be. The God of mercy is acquainted with this bane of our nature; and in compassion to our souls, he employs his providence to awake us out of this dreadful sleep. Has then the mournful stroke, which is yet fresh in our memories, produced this effect on our minds ? It has filled our eyes with tears, and our hearts with grief; l;ut has it made us feel the precariousntss of all our earthly blessings ? the vanity, the shortness, the uncer- tainty of our own lives? the nearness of eternity to our own souls? Has it made us think and act as dying men? Has it led us to put such questions as thest; to out- hearts ? — Am 1 prepared to die ? !s the great business of life begun ? Have I made the days, which have passed over me, my days, by employing tliem in seek- ing the treasures of salvation ? I see that I must soon be in eternity ; Vv'hat have I to hope for there ? What is stored up for me in that everlasting home ? My Bible tells me that the pursuits of the world, and vanity, and sin, can only lay up wretchedness in eternity for my 214 The Brevity and Vanity soul; in what other pursuits then have 1 been engaged? Have I been making a serious business of religion? Has it occupied more of my thoughts, than all earthly objects have ? Do I knovv what is meant by that deep humility, that self-renunciation, that renewal of the heart, that simple trust in the cross, that deadness to the world, that dedication of the whole man to God, which my Bible tells me must be found in me, before I can be prepared to die ? If 1 knovv nothing of these things, what is my state ? what are my prospects ? My life is vanity ; what will be my eternity ? A few such simple questions as these, brethren, pressed home to the heart in the secrecy of retirement on our knees, would make us all confess, that a thought- less sinner in such a world as this, is a wonder in the universe. To see the daily ravages of death around us ; ' to be standing on the brink of the grave ; to have our feet on the borders of eternity ; and yet to be uncon- cerned about the never ending realities of that world, which stretches itself before us, and to be absorbed in the wretched vanities of that little spot of earth, which lies behind us — where is the being, that is not a par- taker of our thoughtless nature, who does not wonder at our folly and mourn over our wretchedness ? The subject we have been considering reminds us, secondly, of the great evil of si?i. Transgression and death both came into the world together ; the one is only the appointed wages of the other. " T/wu hast made my days," says David, " as a hand-breadth." He tells us here, that it was not mere chance which made our years so few, and our life so full of vanity. He traces up the shortness of our days to the anger of an offended God. That Holy Being, who inhabiteth eternity, will not suffer creatures such as we, to insult and violate of Human Life. 215 with impunity his sacred law. No sooner had man sinned against him, than he made a solemn display of his infinite holiness and awful justice, by passing a sentence of mortality on his race. It is sin, which has sowed the seeds of death in our frame and corrupted our nature. It is sin, which fills our graves and lays generation after generation in the dust. O how great must be the evil of that iniquity, which could make a God so rich in mercy, display such fearful vengeance ! Let us then ever connect our sin with our mortality and nothingness. Let every pain that we feel in our mortal bodies, let every sick bed that we visit, let every corpse we see, and every knell we hear, remind us of the malignant nature of this evil, and teach us to regard it as the great enemy of man. Another serious thought follows closely upon this. If sin is so dreadful a thing in this world of mere}-, what will be its terrors in a w^orld of unmingled justice? If it has brought disease and pain, corruption and death, into my body here, what will it bring into my soul there ? Brethren, lay this thought to heart, and may it lead you, through grace, this very hour, to that long heard of, and long despised fountain of a Saviour's blood, which only can cleanse the soul from sin. This great evil requires a great remedy ; and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has provided one of nfever failing and boundless efficacy. " He hath sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins;" and this mournful pro- vidence is a call to us from his throne to hasten to the Saviour, whom his love has provided. O may the Holy Spirit incline our hearts to listen to the call ! Mav none of us despise this great salvation ! We may infer, thirdly, from the words before us, the necessity of a simple, undivided trust i?i God. We *16 The Bretity and Vanity all feel that we need a helper, and we are prone to look to one another for the help we need ; but how unwise 3S it for an immortal being to place his dependence on a creature, who is so near the grave, and who, in his best state, is altogether vanity ! We go to a broken cistern, when we need a fountain. We place our arm on a feeble retd, when we need the support of an ever- lasting rock. The natural consequences of this conduct are obvious; we are daily experiencing them. Our lives are' filled with disappointment and vexation. Either our prop is knocked from under us, or it sorely pierces the hand which leans on it. But no man ever yet trusted in God and was disappointed. There is no weakness, no vanity, no death, in him. How loudly is the Almighty now calling us off from every earthly ground of dependence, by that solemn dispensation, which has assembled us here to day ! He has laid in the dust one, who seemed destined to be a blessing to our land. He appeared to have formed the instrument with peculiar care, and yet we have seen him dash it to pieces in an hour. The language of this afflictive stroke is plain. It calls upon us to " cease from man, whose breath is in his nostrils.'^ It say^ to us, "Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help. His breath ffoeth forth ; he returneth to his earth : in that very Bay, his thoughts perish. Happy is he, that hath th^ God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God." It is true indeed, that the man who has the strongest trust in the Almighty, cannot fathom this mysterious act of his providence ; but then it is enough for him to know that Jesus,* his Saviour, sits on the throne of the universe, and makes all things of Human Life. S17 work together for good to his beloved church. Though he cannot see his God, he can trust him. If we are partakers of this spirit, if we have attained this simple dependence upon God, the blow, which our country has sustained, however grievous, will not disquiet us. The kingdoms of the world are as much under the care of God, as the sheep of his own little flock ; yea, as his own eternal heavens. They are not outcast orplians, discarded by their heavenly Father, but provinces of his immense em- pire ; and he constantly watches over and manages all their aflfairs. Our own England is the object of his tenderest care. " He has graven her upon the palms of his hands; her walls are continually before him. God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved. God shall help her, and that right early." True, we have lost an arm of flesh, but the ever- lasting arms of Omnipotence are still underneath us. Let it be our concern to be the reconciled children of Jthovah in Christ Jesus, and amidst all the changes and chances of this mortal life, we shall be safe. " God will be our refuge and strength ;" and this shall be our song; " The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge " . The subject we have been considering reminds us, lastly, of the folly and danger of indecision. The period of life is too short, and the work we have to do in it is too great, to allow us to hope any thing from half measures. The case calls for the most prompt and unqualified decision. It tells us that to defer, is to be in danger; that to hesitate, is to be undone. How then shall we bring our worldly hearts to this entire devotediiess to God, to this earnestness in religion ? Experience tells us that Ee 318 The Brevity mid Vanity^ &c. no resolutions of ours can effect the work. It bids us trust to no resolutions ; but to lie low, as weak, helpless, and guilty sinners, before the Saviour's cross. There is the source not only of pardon, but of ever- lasting strength. There may be found victory over the world, temptation, and sin ; a life of happiness, a death of peace, and an eternity of joy. SERMON XV. THE GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. % CORINTHIANS 111. 7, 8, 9, 10, H. If the tninistration of death, written and engraven in stones, was glo- rious, so that the children of Israel could not stcdfastly behold the face of Moses for the ghry of his countenance, which glory was to be done away ; how shall not the ministration of the Sjiirit be rather glorious ? For if the miiiistration of condenmati'j?i be glory, much more doth the ministration of righteousness exceed iji glory. For even that which was made glorious, had no glory in this resfiect, by rea- son of the glory that excelleth. For if that which is done away was glorious, much more that which remaineth is glorious. J. HE authority of Saint Paul, as a minister of Christ, was so much undervahied by some of the Corinthian, converts, that he was often obliged to vindicate his own personal character among them, and to magnify the dignity of his office. The epistle before us v/as written partly with this object in view. In furtherance of it, the apostle draws in the text a contrast between the Mosaic and Christian dispensations, and shews how far the ministry of the one excels that of the other, by proving the superior glory of the gospel above that of 'the law. In endeavouring to derive instruction from his words, let us consider, Jirst, the description, which the npostle has here given us of the law ; secondly, his description of the gospel ; and, thirdly^ the superior glory of the one, when compared with the glory o( the other. 320 The Glory I. The words of the text afford us, first, a descrip- tion of the law. We are not however to understand by this term that original law only, which is the universal law of God's kingdom, the law of the creation ; but ra- ther that particular modification of it, which was given to the Israelites on mount Sinai, and which formed a principal part of the Mosaic dispensation. But as there is no essential difference between the moral part of this dispensation and the original law of God, they may with the greatest propriety be spoken of as one and the same law ; and the words before us may be applied to the one with as much propriety, as they may to the other. 1. Now the apostle calls this law the ministration of condemnation. Not that it at once condemns all, who are under it, irrespective of their obedience or disobe- dience to its commands. The angels have been under it from the hour of their creation, aiid yet we know that a great part of them have never been condemned by it. But being a holy, just, and good law, it cannot con- nive at sin. It requires perfect, sinless obedience in all, who are under its authority ^ and it consequently con- demns the creature, as soon as the creature becomes a sinner. Its plain and unequivocal language to the Is- raelites was this, and it is the same to every rational being in the universe, " Cursed is every one, that con- tinueih not in all things which are written in the book of the kiw, to do them." it is evident therefore, that the Israelites, and all who have been partakers of hu- man nature since it was first defiled by sin, must be subject to this curse, must be under the condemnation of this law, must as sinners be brought in guilty before God, and stand before him as condemned criminals. 2. liencc the apostle calls this law, secondly, the of the Gospel. 22 i ministration of death. Its sentence is a sentence of death. All, who are condemned by it, are condemned to die. This is its invariable decree ; " The soul that sinneth, it shall die." Natural death, the death of the body, is a part of the sentence, but it is not all of it. A more dreadful part is the death of the soul; not its annihilation, but that spiritual death, which makes us so careless about spiri- tual and eternal things in this world, and that eternal death, which includes in it the utter loss of all, that can render existence a blessing in the world to come. This death is nothing less than being cut off for ever from God, the fountain of happiness ; and connected by an eternal chain with that dreadful being, who is the source of misery and sin. Now from this death, from the execution of this sentence, the law provides no resource. It flows indeed from the divine goodness, and was instituted and is maintained for purposes, which, in their ultimate con- sequences, are purely benevolent ; but then it has nothing to do with mercy ; it is a law of pure, un- mingled justice. Sacrifices for sin, it is true, were added to this law under the Mosaic dispensation of it ; but these must not be considered as possessi/ig any inherent power to remove its curse, or to atone for the transgressions committed against it. They were merely typical of that great sacrifice for sin, which was to form a part of another and a more glorious dispensa- tion. They could not expiate guilt, they could not save the soul. Saint Paul declares in the plainest terms, that it is not possible th.at the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins; and even the more en- lightened of those, vv'ho lived under this dispensation, saw that it was in vain to come before the Lord '^22 The Glory with burnt offerings; that the high God could not be pleased with thousands of rams, or ten thousands of rivers of oil ; that he would not take even their first- born for their transgression, the fruit of their body for the sin of their soul. The sinner therefore, under this law, becomes on his very first transgression, a condemned sinner, a pe- rishing sinner, a hopeless sinner. He has the curse of a holy God upon his head, and he is without any means whatsoever of removing it. Justly therefore does the apostle call it a ministration of condemnation and of death. II. But what names docs he apply to the gospel or the Christian dispensation ? He calls it the ministration of the Spirit, and the ministration of righteousness. 1. It is the ministration of righteousness. We all know what righteousness implies. It is a conformity to some moral standard, to some law ; and the law here alluded to by the term, is the very law we have been considering ; not that modification of it merel)-, which was given to the Jews, but that universal and eternal law, on which the Mosaic dispensation was built, and agreeably to which all the dealings of God with his rational creatures are regulated. It has indeed been supposed that the Scriptures speak occasionally of some other law, of some new and less rigorous rule of life, which God has given as a remedial law to fallen man ; but this opinion must be traced to mean and erroneous ideas of the Deity, and to an un- humbled and ungodly state of heart. It is opposed to the whole tenour of Scripture, as well as to many of its plainest declarations ; and when brought to the test of reason and common sense, it appears altogether ab- surd ; yea, it is blasphemous ; for what does it imply ? of the Gospel 223 Nothing less tlian this, that the all- wise Governor of the universe made some grand mistake, when he ori- ginally gave his law to this part of his creation ; that in consideration of our depravity, he is now constrained to repeal it, and to issue a new one. It makes the sup- posed ability or rather the inclination of a corrupt and changeable creature, the rule of his duty and the stan- dard of his obedience. In fact, it removes from the throne of the universe a God of infinite wisdom, .good- ness, and purity ; and places on that glorious throne a mutable and capricious being, who can look on sin with indifference, and tolerate and almost sanction that dreadful evil, which has filled so fair a part of his crea- tion with wretchedness. A very little serious reflection on this subject, my brethren, will be sufficient to convince us, that God could never give to any one of his creatures any other law, than that which requires perfect obedience and spotless purity ; that this is the only law of his moral government, and must be as unalterable and eternal, as his own unchangeable throne. This law and no other is alluded to in the text, and it is in reference to this law, that the apostle calls the gospel a ministration of righteousness. He does not call it so simply or chiefly because it enjoins and secures the practice of righteous- ness among men, but for another and a higher reason ; because it provides for the penitent aud believing sinner a complete satisfaction for the offences he has com- mitted against the law of God, and an obedience per- fectly commensurate with its demands. It tells him of one, who has redeemed him from the curse of the law, being made a curse for him. It assures him that God has set forth his own eternal Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under 224 The Glory tnc law, to remove its sentence from them, and to save thcni from condemnation and from death. But the gospel goes still further. It tells the ranso ned and par- doned penitent that he, who endured the curse of the law for his sinful soul, fulfilled its demands in his stead; that thoupjh his God regards him, and must ever regard him as a sinner, yet for the sake of an obedience, wrought out by another greater and holier than he on his behalf, he will treat him as though he were righ- teous, and raise him to heaven. If we ask the name of this great and gracious friend, this he tells us, is the name whereby he shall be called, ^' The Lord our righteousness." And he has taught his apostle to give us this testimony concerning him, that " Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that be- lieveth." Thus the gospel reveals to us a way, by which sin may be pardoned and the sinner saved, in perfect con- sistency with the undeviating rectitude of Jehovah's moral government, and the honour of his inviolable law. This way of pardon and salvation is not opposed to the law ; it does not make it void ; so far from it that it is grounded on it ; it establishes its authority ; it magnifies it and makes it honourable ; it gives it the highest and the most awful sanction, which it is capa- ble of receiving. 2. But the apostle applies another name to the Chris- tian dispensation, and calls it the ministration of the Spirit. He gives it this name on account of the great out-pouring of the Spirit, with which this dispensation commenced, and the abundant communication of the same Spirit, with which it has ever since been attended. Not that we are to suppose that the church under the dispensation of the law was entirely destitute of this of the Gospel, 225 Spirit. It was solely through his gracious and power- ful influence, that Enoch walked with God and Noah feared him, that Abraham believed in him and Moses served him. It was he, who filled the souls of the prophets, and enabled them to foretel with such won- derful accuracy the advent, the death, and the glory of the Messiah. But the great and general effusion of the Spirit was reserved for a brighter and more glorious day of grace. The Son of God, as the Mediator of his church, purchased on the cross all the fulness of the Spirit; and when he ascended into heaven, he obtained the ministration of it, and gave that full dis- play of its power, which filled Jerusalem with astonish- ment on the day of Pentecost, and added to his per- secuted church in one hour three thousand souls. He has ever since been bestowing the same gift, in a greater or less degree, on the world ; and has proved his gos- pel to be the ministration of an almighty Spirit by the moral wonders, which it has wrought among mankind. And this thought, my brethren, should much endear the gift of the Holy Spirit to all, who are made par- takers of it. It is the purchase of Christ ; his donation ; the legacy, which he bequeathed to us when he left the world ; the gift, which is to be our comforter in his absence, and to abide with us till he comes again to take us to heaven. HI. Let us now proceed to our third subject of con- sideration, the superior glory of the gospel, when com- pared with that of the law. The apostle does not assert that the Jewish dispen- sation had no glory. He speaks of it on the contrary as a very glorious dispensation. It had a glorious author, even tiie King of heaven and the Monarch of myriads of worlds. The object oi it was glorious. It Ff 'n 25 The Glory was designed to unfold many of the attributes of the Almighty, which the works of creation were not calcu- lated to display; to shew forth his infinite justice, purity, and majesty. It was published in a glorious manner, in the midst of thunderings and lightnings, and all the mcigiiificLnce of terror; and when it was first written, it was not suffered to be transcribed by any human hand, but it was written by the finger of God on tables of stone hewn out by himself. The Israelites, as they heard it published, feared and trem- bled ; and after it was writ! en, it reflected so bright a lustre on him, who wjs appointed to carry it to them, that the children of Israel could not stedfastly behold the face of Moses for the glory of his countenance. But notwithstanding all this display of magnificence, the glory of the law sinks into nothing when compared with the gospel. The star of morning shines brightly, as long as all around it is darkness, but when the sun has begun to rise, we no longer admire nor perceive its faded beams. " That which was made glorious," says the apostle, " had no glory in this respect, by- reason of the glory whicli excelleih. " The names, which are here applied to the law and the gospel, shew us at once the piopriety of this lan- guage. The one is the ministration of righteousness and of the Spirit ; it provides for the justification and sanctification of the sinner, while the other provides for neither; ii is the ministration of condemnation .md death, and leaves the sinner to perish. But the s -perior glory of the gospel may be elucidated by other considerations. 1. It offers greater blessings to man, than were of- fered by the law. The Mosaic dispensation had a re- ference principally to the present life, and most of its promises were temporal promises. And if we go back to the original law, on which this dispensation was of the Gospel S27 founded, we shall find that it had not those blessings to offer even to the most righteous, which are offered in the gospel to the most sinful. Its language to the creature is, " This do, and thou shalt live ; thou shalt remain in thy present state of blessedness, and shalt still enjoy the same degree of divine favour, of which thou art now possessed." It is useless to ask what the present condition of man would have been, if he had never broken the law given to him. It would undoubtedly have been a state of happiness. But the gospel offers to his fallen race far richer blessings, than were forfeited by the sin of Adam. It offers us not an earthly paradise, but a heavenly one ; not the trees of Eden, but the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of God. The covenant of works found man in a state little lower than the angels ; and it promised him, as long as he was obedient to its precepts, to keep him there. The covenant of grace finds him degraded almost to aa equality with the devils ; and yet it offers to i^aise the meanest of his race to a participation of the glory and happiness of the Son of God. The gospel tells us not merely of the pardon of sin, of deliverance from the curse of the law, of salvation from hell ; it lifts up our eyes to the everlasting hills of heaven, and tells the redeemed sinner to hope for a mansion there, a crown, and a throne. It bids him stretch his imagination to the very utmost ; and when he has heaped together all the joys which his imagination can suggest, it tells nini that greater joys than these may be his own ; that his heart has not even yet conceived the things, which God has prepared for the repentant sinner, who loves him. It places within his reach a share of that very joy, which satisfies the Redeemer for the travail of his soul, and S28 The Glory more than compensates the many woes of liis life, and the bitter sufferings of his death. Well therefore may it be called " a better covenant, established upon better promises." 2. We may see more of the comparative glory of the gospel by recollecting, secondly, that it not only offers to man richer blessin^js, than the Mosaic dispen- sation had to offer, but it offers these blessings more ex- tensively. The promises of the lawr were confined to one nation only, and that not a numerous one ; and even of this nation, it was but a little remnant, that in- herited the spiritual benefits of the dispensation, under which they lived. The blessings of the gospel, on the contrary, are thrown open to all the world, without dis- tinction of nation, sect, or person ; and there is not a single sinner breathing on the earth, who may not come and take its richest mercies freely, without money and without price, as soon as he hears of them. The field of the law was the land of Judea ; the field of the gos- pel is the whole world. Already has the publication of it been the means of saving unnumbered myriads, whom the Jewish law, had it continued to the present day, would have left to perish. In every part of the globe thousands have experienced the saving efficacy of its redeeming grace, and multitudes are daily ascending from the once dark corners of the earth to the light of heaven, and are swelling there its chorus of praise. And yet extensively as the gospel has diffused its blessings and its conquests, the faithful word of pro- phecy assures us that it will diffuse them still more extensively. It has already spurned the narrow sphere of a single land, but all the kingdoms of the world are designed to be the scene of its triumphs, and its glory. of the Gospel. 2^9 A time is rapidly approaching, when the King of Zioii shall be the King of the whole cirth ; when every knee shall bow to him, and every tongne confess him to be the Lord. How many years and ages must roll away before this period arrives, we know not; but there is reason to hope that we ourselves have seen the dawn of this glorious day. In our own honoured land, a Spirit has been excited, and a voice has gone forth from it, which have filled the Christian church with the liveliest expectation. In the troublesome times of contention and of v\'ar, England has lifted up the banner of the cross, and has been calling a perishing world to sal- vation and to God. The ignorant and the vicious, the hikewarm and the selfish, have beheld her efforts and decried them ; they have deemed her labours of love the mere phrenzies of an enthusiastic age; but the hand of the Lord has been with her to strengthen her, and God, even her own God, has given her his bless- ing. Already have her own borders been gladdened with more abundant means of grace, than ever land possessed ; and she has received many an earnest of future triumphs on foreign shores. Only let the sacred flame, which Christian love has enkindled, be kept burning on her altars, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in her hand. Her success cannot be doubtful. It may be distant, but it is sure. The wav of the Lord shall be known upon earth, and his saving health among all nations. The people shall be glad and sing for joy ; and all the ends of the earth shall praise and fear their God. 3. The gospel has a greater injiuence on the hearts of men ^ than the Mosaic dispensation ever had, and is consequently more glorious. That dispensation pub- lished to the Israelites a pure and holy law, but it had S30 The Gloi'Tj no power to touch their sinful hearts and to cause them to love and obey this law. It gave them pre- C( pts, promises, and threatenings ; but it could do no more. It was not the ministration of the Spirit, and the consequence was, that it left the greater part of them as rebellious and idolatrous as it found them. The gospel, on the contrary, was no sooner published, than it made glorious and surprising changes in the characters and lives of nHillitndes, who embraced it. It was preached by poor and illiterate men, but it made the ungodly tremble and the hard-hearted weep. It induced the proud to give up the pmiscs of men, and to take in exchange for them the reproach of Christ. It selected its friends out of the fiercest ranks of its enemies ; and they, who were violent persecutors one day, were made willing martyrs the next. Under the influence of the Spirit, the gospel still proves itself possessed of unconiroulable power over every one, who really receives it. It pierces the con- science ; it softens the heart ; it purifies the soul. The lover of pleasure hears it, and becomes a lover of God. The thoughtless trifler is struck by it, and for the first time in his life begins to think and to pray. The sensualist, as he listens to its sayings, tears his lusts out of his heart ; and the man, who before loved and served the world, turns his back on it, tramples its sins and follies underneath his feet, and fixes his eyes on heaven. Thus has the gospel brought thou- sands to righteousness, whom the mornl law could not have reclaimed ; and thus has it proved its superior glory by its superior influence over the hearts of mankind. 4. The glory of the gospel is greater than that of the Jewish dispensation, because it is a glory -which will last for ever. This appears to be the principal ground of superiority, on which Saint Paul insists in the text. He tells us, in the seventh verse, that all the glory of mount Sinai was to be done away ; and again, in the eleventh verse, he says, " If that, which was done away, was glorious ; much more that, which re- niaineth, is glorious," Not that we are to infer that tlie moral law of God is or ever will be abolished. The apostle d(>es not refer in these words to the law itself; but to that ministration of it, which was established by Moses, and to those peculiar rites and ordinances, which were connected with it under the Jewish di^spensation. This dispensation was in fact designed to be introductory to the gospel. It was intended, as the Scriptures inform us, to be our schoolmaster to bring us to Christ, to shew to the Israelites their need of a sacrifice and a Saviour, and to point out the Messiah to them as the great atonement ior sin. When therefore the Mejssiah aj)peared, the design of the ceremonial law was an- swered, and it became a useless and lifeless form. But the go^jpel is not thus temporary in its nature. Its duration will be commensurate with the exibtence of the world, yea, with the ages of eternity. It is called an everlasting covenant ; a perpetual covenant, that shall not be forgotten. It is described as a covenant built on Christ, who abideth for ever, and partaking of the stability of its foundation. 5. The gospel is a brighter display of the divine per- fections than the iaxv^ and is tliercibre more glorious. AH tiie attributes of Jehovah, which were displayed in the one, are displayed also in the other, and that in £1 clearer and more glorious light. In this point of view, the mount of Sinai, with ail its dreadful magniii- 232 The Glory cence, sinks into nothing-, when compared with the hill, on which the Son of God gave up the gliost. The cross of Christ threw a lustre over the justice, the holiness, and the majesty of God, which these attri- butes never had before ; and gave them a glory, which the destruction of a whole world of sinners, under the curse of the law, never could have given them. It was on this cross also that divine mercy was first displayed to a wondering universe; and it was here that re- deeming grace seemed to burst into existence. These perfections had been from eternity in the mind of Je- hovah, but his creatures saw them not ; they knew nothing of them, till they were discovered on the cross of their suffering King, in all their infinite extent and boundless magnificence. Here also was seen unsearcha- ble wisdom, glorifying itself in a plan of salvation, by which all the perfections of the Deity are called into exercise, and all acting in perfect harmony, none of them eclipsing or darkening the others, but all ming- ling their beams and shining with united and eternal splendour. These then are some of the points, in which the gospel excels the Mosaic dispensation. It is the mini- stration of righteousness and of the Spirit, while the law is the ministration of condemnation and of death. It offers greater blessings to man, than were offered by the law ; it offers these blessings more extensively ; it has a greater influence on the hearts of mankind ; its glory is of longer duration ; and it is a brighter display of the attributes of God. It now only remains that we deduce from this subject a few of the reftections, which it naturally suggests. Huw honourable an ujfice is that of a minister of Christ. The contrast in the text was drawn to shew of the Gospel. S3 3 the greatness of the dignity conferred on him, and the title which it gives him to the respect and love of man- kind. They, who brought to the Israelites a law of condemnation and of death, were thought worthy of honour; but of how much greater honour shall they be thougiit worthy, who are commissioned to make known to their brethren the gospel of peace ; that gos- pel which discovers to the universe the glory of God, and opens to a perishing world a way to heaven ! Tiiere is not an angel above us, who would not rejoice to come down to the earth on such an errand as this, and deem himself honoured above his fellows by the work. O t*iat every minister of Christ made his dignified employment the great source of his happiness ! O that his brethren were ready to give him the affection and reverence, which God has made his due ! May all the people of our Zion learn to value the faithful minister of the gospel ! and to all her ministers may this grace be given, that they may love to preach among her peo- ple the unsearchable riches of Christ ! Hnw great is the privilege which we enjoy in living under the dispensation of the gospel! We have often heard of the great love of God to his people of old, and we have sometimes almost envied them the pecu- liar privileges they enjoyed ; but what were their privi- leges, when compared with ours ? They lived under a ministration of condemnation and of death, but we are living under a ministration of the Spirit and of righ- teousness. Tliey had to learn all that they could learn of the way to heaven from types and figures ; but we with open face behold as in a glass the glory of the Lord, and see plainly marked out before us the path of life. Noah and Abraham, Moses and David, had promises to hope in ; but to us these promises have Gg S34 The Glory been fulfilled. A rod has come forth out of the stem of Jesse, and u branch has grown out of his roots. The Messiah has been lifted up as an ensign to the people. He has risen as the sun of righteousness on a be- nighted world, and in him the nations of the earth are blessed. Our eyes see and our ears hear what many prophets and righteous men, age after age, desired ta hear and to see, but were not able. Let us rejoice then in our superior privileges. Let us be thankful for them. Let us be concerned to im- prove and dread to abuse them. Let us remember these words of the apostle. *' See that ye refuse not him that speaketh ; for if they escaped not, who re- fused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven." How great a debt of gratitude and praise does every Christian owe to his crucijied Lord! It was Christ, who turned the ministration of death into a ministration of life and peace. It was Christ, who brought down glad tidings of good from heaven, and purchased the influence of the Spirit for mankind. All our spiritual blessings flow from him. Our adop- tion is by him. Our redemption and remission of sins are through him. Through , Christ God hears our prayers, and gives us freedom of access to his throne. Through Christ he justifies and sanctifies us. Through Christ he blesses and saves us. Our freedom from the law too must be ascribed tp the same source. We were not free born, but Christ with a great price, even the price of his own blood, purchased our free- dom. It was he, " who blotttd out the hand writing of ordinances, that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross.'" of the Gospel. 235 Let us therefore exalt the Saviour, aud be ever ready to testify our obligations to him. Let us shew by the love and honour we bear him, that he is dear to our licartb ; that we are not ashamed of him ; that we have learned to glory even in his reproach. How unwise are they, who hope for pardon and sal- vation on the ground of their partial and defective obe- dience to the law of God ? This law has nothing to do with pardon ; it has no salvation to confer. Condem- nation and dea'.h are the only boons it has to bestow on the sinful. Its unvarying language from the moment in which time first began to the present hour is this, and through eternity it will remain the same ; '' The soul that sinneth it shall die." Have you then never sinned ? Can you appeal to the great searcher of hearts, and call him to witness that you have never left un- done that, which he has commanded ? that you have never done that, which he has forbidden ? Can you say before him, that no one action of your life has been sinful ? that no word of your lips has been an idle word? that no thought of your heart has been malicious, envious, or unclean ? You feel that you must shrink" from such an appeal as this ; and yet the law requires this appeal from you, before it can bless you. It can sanction and reward none but the spot- less. The angels may hope in it, and be happy ; but the sinner, who would be saved and blessed, must seek the salvation he needs far from this law. He must flee from mount Sinai to the hill, on which the Son of God suffered and died. He must see that blackness, and darkness, and tempest surround the one, while mercy and grace dwell only on the other. Renounce then, brethren, the hope you have so long and so fondly cherished, and seek another and a better 236 The Glory hope in the glorious gospel of the blessed God. Pray for an humble and believing heart ; and that, which the merit of all the angels in heaven could never pur- chase, shall be freely given you by God. Your sins shall be blotted out ; you shall be reconcikd and brought nigh to God by the blood of Christ ; you shall be saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation. How Ignorant are they of the gospel of Christ* who make the influence of the Spirit the object of their scorn ! The words before us plainly imply, that from the mini- stration of this Spirit the gospel of Christ derives much of its glory ; and yet what do some among us deem this Spirit ? A glorious reality ? No ; a fancy, a dream, a thing to be scoffed at, ridiculed, and despised. We acknowledge here, perhaps that its sacred influence is a reality and a blessing, and we profess to pray for it j and then we go home and teach our children and our neighbours to deny and deride it. Now what is this conduct, but wretched hypocrisy and deplorable folly ? It is treating wiih contempt that, which God esteems glorious. It is mocking at that, which is the greatest blessing of heaven. Let the starving man scoff" at the food offered him ; let the dying man ridicule the only medicine which can save his life ; let the sinking mari- ner jest with the rope thrown out to save him ; but never, brethren, let us scoff' at the influence of the Spirit. Never let us do despite to the Spirit of grace. How anxiously should every hearer of the gospel de- sire that it may be made the min.stration of the Spirit to himself: that he may experience its softening and puri- fying influence in his own heart ! What is the ministry of the gospel without this influence ? An empty sound; a cold, lifeless, powerless thing. But what is it with it ? The power and the wisdom of God : the awakcncr of of the Gospel, ^37 the thoughtless, the sanctifier of the ungodly, the com- forter of the sorrowful, the saviour of the soul. With- out this influence, we shall hear the gosptl, trifle, and perish. With this influence, we shall hear it and live. There is no blessing, that we need so much as we need this, and there is none, which God is more ready to give. He sits on a throne of grace, that he may bestow it on the sinful children of men, and there is not a sin- ner upon earth, who is not warranted to approach his throne, and to supplicate it at his hands. May we have a heart to seek it ! May we be enriched by its fruits ! May our experience and conduct prove the gospel to be the ministration of the Spirit and of righteousness, the power of God to salvation. SERMON XVI. THE CONSTRAINING INFLUENCE OF THE LOVE OF CHRIST. S CORINTHIANS V. 14, 1. '5. The love of Chrint constraineth us, because ive thus judge, that if one died for all, then w^re all dead ; and that he died for all, that they, ivhich lix'c, should n'4 hrnci forth live unto themselves, but unto him, ivhich died for them and rose again. .1 HIS text may be considered as a summary of Chris- tian faith and practice. All the great truths of the gos- pel are comprised or implied in it, and it delineates the practical efftcts, which a sincere reception of these truths never fails to produce. Happy is the man, who can enter into the meaning of these words, and has a heart- felt knowledge of their truth ! I. Among the many subjects of consideration, which the text suggests to us, the condition, to which sin has reduced man, appears to be the first. This the apostle describes, first, as a condition oj^ peculiar wretchedness. *' if one died for all," says he, '^ then were all dead." Now this testimony concerning us, sends us back to the scene of man's first transgression, and brings to our remembrance the sentence, which was passed on him when he first became a sinner. " in the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die," was the plain declaration of God, but man despised it; he ate and died. He did the dreadful work, which his enemy The Constraining I/ifluence, &c. S3 9 had given him to do, and he and all his posterity have received its wages. We are dead. The death, which sin has thus brought on our fallen race, is something more than the death of the body ; it is a moral death, the death of the soul. The Scriptures often describe our spiritual state under this figure, and they could not have employed a more natural or ex- pressive one. It is a figure too, which is easily un- derstood. We all know that a man, when dead, is incapable cither of action or enjoyment. He might yesterday have been possessed of much strength of body, and have piided himself on great energy of mind; we might have seen him happy in the enjoyment of a thousand blessings; but now all is over. The objects which busied him, and the things he delighted in, still remain unchanged around him, but he heeds them not, and lies unmoved in the midst of them all. The occu- pations of the world cannot reuse him to action, nor the pleasures of life wake him to joy. It is thus with our souls. They are dead. Thev have lost their spiritual life, and are become incipable of spiritual employments and delights. Tiiey still retain all their original faculties, as the dead body retains for a season its original members, but then the living prin- ciple, which once animated them and called them into exercise, is gone. Heaven and hell are still awful reali- ties ; the one is as desirable as ever, and the other as fearful ; but the sc.ul has lost its feeling, and we are become alike indifferent to both. We hear of them, and we believe their existence, but this is all. They do not move us ; they have no practical influence on our minds. The figure, which the apostle makes use of, shews 340 The Constraining Influence us also the hopelessness of our condition. We are not dying, but dead. We are not like a tree, which, though withered, may be brought into a situation, where the sun may shine and the rain descend on it, and revive it. We are rather like those trees, of which it is said that they are twice dead, and plucked up by the roots. The spiritual life of the soul is utterly ex- tinct. Matter of flict proves that it is totally gone. We have all the nieans of spiritual restoration, which a dy- ing sinner could ask for. We have sabbaths and bibles to awaken us; we have ministers to quicken us; we have afflictions to arouse us ; we have mercies innu- merable to affect us. And what eflPect have these means of grace produced ? Do the dry bones live ? Are our souls quickened, and forced to think and to feel ? Alas, no ! We are, for the greater part, still dead, as dead to spiritual and eternal things, as though there were net a sabbath in our year, nor a Bible in our land. But this spiritual insensibility is not all, which the Scriptures mean by the death of the soul. It is an earnest of the fruit we are to reap from our transgres- sions, rather than the fruit itself. There is a day ap- proaching, in which the full wages of sin will be given us. The spiritual death, which now incapacitates us for the services and enjoyments of heaven, will end in eternal death ; not in annihilation or nothingness, but in a living death ; in those unknown and bitter pains, to which no earthly sufferings can be compared, but the pangs of the dying. These will at once call into action the dormant powers of the soul. These will employ all its strengthened faculties in the eternity before us, and leave not a moment for peace or for joy. Observe too, that it is not some nor a small part of mankind, who are in this wretched and hopeless con- of the Love of Christ. S4l dition. The language of the apostle extends to all. It includes the decent and the virtuous, as well as the profligate and the vicious; the man, who calls himself after the name of Christ, as well as the heathen, who has never heard of his name. " If one died for all, then were all dead." The death, which the great Governor of the universe has made the wages of sin, is not the consequence of great and complicated iniquities only. It follows sin of every description, and guilt of every degree. The first act of transgression we ever committed, brought this curse upon our souls.; so that the condition of any one of us is, by nature, the condition of us all. We are all criminals condemned to die, and left for execution ; respited indeed for a season by the clemency of our Judge, but still liable every moment to be called on and hurried to judgment. II. The words of the apostle lead us to notice, se- condly, the interposition of Christ on the behalf of man. " He died for them, and rose again." Observe who it is, that is here said to have had com- passion on man. This Christ was no other than the eternal ISon ; the Being who framed the world, and built the skies, and gives to his own glorious heaven, all its joys and splendours. It was he, who had existed from ail eternity enthroned in light, and had never known in that eternity, one moment's humiliation, pain, or sorrow. Observe how this Being interposed for man; what he did for him. He died. And how much, brethren, is comprehended in this expression ! what mysteries of grace and love ! If we would see something of its meaning, we must lift up our eyes to the heavens above us, and behold the Son of God descending for H h 242 The Constraining hifiiience the first time from his throne atnidst wondering angels, and withdrawing himself from their sight. We must then bring down our e3es back again to the earth, and behold the high and lofty One, who had hitherto inha- bited eternity, dwelling here ; appearing on our own sinful globe, in our own degraded form. He is seen at first lying in a manger as a helpless babe. A few years afterwards, we find him in a state of suffering as well as of degradation ; wandering about on the earth, which his hands had formed, without a place in it where to lay his head ; despised and rejected by all who behold him, and persecuted by thousands, who pour contempt on his greatness, and thirst for his blood. And how did this degradation and these sufferings end? Did he at length throw off the form which concealed his divinit}', and shew himself to an astonished world in the glory of his greatness? No. We see him wounded and bruised, crucified and slain ; ending his sorrows as a malefactor, and expiring on a shameful cross, in agonies unknown to the' children of men. Observe further, for whom this death was endured. He died for man. Not that he died in the same spiri- tual sense, in which we are described as dead ; or that he endured those pains of eternal death, which are the desert of our sin. It was a natural death only, which he underwent; and though his soul was troubled and racked with anguish greater than man could have borne, there were some of the peculiar torments of the accursed, which he did not taste. He died on the be- half, and in the stead of man. His sufferings effectually rescue those, who believe in him, from the punishment due to their guilt, and are therefore spoken of in the Scriptures as an equivalent, and are called a ransom and a price ; but we must not give a pecuniary mean- of the Love of Christ. 243 ing to words, which were designed to convey only a moral signification. We must not infer from this lan- guage that Christ suffered on the cross just the same agonies, that his people must otherwise have suffered in the kingdom of despair. The Scriptures no where warrant such an inference ; and it would not be difficult to shew that it involves in it at least a moral, if not a natural impossibility. It becomes us to speak with the greatest caution on every subject connected with this great mystery of godliness ; but we may perhaps ven- ture to assert, that if only one sinner was to have been redeemed by the blood of Christ, it would have pleased the Father to have laid just as much grief on his be- loved Son, as he laid on him for the salvation of all the world. He would have made just as grand a display of his holiness, and as fearful a manifestation of his justice. Hence we are told in the text that Christ died yor all; in other words, that " he made on the cross by his one oblation of himself once offered, a full, perfect, and suf- ficient sacrifice, oolation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world." Not that we are to infer that the sins of the whole world, or of any one sinner in the world, are necessarily pardoned in consequence of the death of Christ. All we are to conclude is this ; that in con- sideration of the sacrifice of Christ, the Almighty can now pirdon every sinner, whom his infinite goodness leads him to pardon, without sullying the glory of his character as tlie Governor of the universe, or impairing the authority of his law. 1 am aware, my brethren, that it has been asserted, and by some who proftss to have peculiarly clear and exalted ideas of the glory of Christ, that the atonement, which he has offered for sin, was an atonement of S44 The Constraining Influence limited worth ; that it was an imperfect sacrifice ; of sufficient efficacy indeed to enable the Ahnig-hty to pardon all the transgressions of a few sinners, but insufficient to enable him, consistently with his at- tributes, to blot out the iniquities of others. No opinion however can be more unscriptural than this, nor more dishonourable to the Redeemer. It militates against many of the plainest declarations of the Bible ; it impeaches the veracity of him, vv'ho calls a whole world of sinners to the cross of his Son ; it impairs the glory of the gospel ; it limits the Holy One of Israel. The humble Christian, he whom an attachment to hu- man systems has not yet corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ, shrinks from an opinion so bold and strange, and wonders that any of his fellow Christians can have so faint a sense of the dignity of their Re- deemer, as to allow it for one moment to be harboured in their breasts. He presumes not to mark out the men, who will be savingly benefitted by the death of his Lord ; but he knows that his blood cleanseth from all sin; that it is able to justify the ways of Jehovah to his creatures, though he were to pardon and save ten thousand sinful vvorlds. " What then," it may be asked, ^^ becomes of those declarations of Scripture, which seem to imply that it is only a chosen people on the earth, who will be made partakers of the saving efficacy of the cross? Are they to be blotted out of our Bibles ; or are we to wrest them from their meaning and explain them away before we receive them ?" In no wise. All the declarations of the Bible are the faithful and true sayings of God ; and none of them, however oflfensive they may be to human pride, are to be disbelieved or qualified by man. The doctrine, which ascribes unlimited, infinite efficacy to of the Love of Christ. 54-5 the atonement of Christ, is not opposed to one of these declarations. It is perfectly consistent with them all : with those, which tells us that the fluck of Christ is a little flock chosen out of the world ; as well as with those, which call on all the ends of the eartii to look to the cross and be saved. It is plain that there may be treasures in the mines of the earth sufficient to enrich all, who live on it; and yet but few of the inhabitants of the earth may be en- riched by these treasures. And is it not equally possi- ble that there may be undiscovered riches in Christ, a treasure of grace in an infinite God, sufficient to save a universe of sinners, though many are sufl:lred to de- spise his salvation and perish ? Is the balm of Gilead unable to heal, because the wounded sufferer refuses to have it applied ? Shall the deep and overflowing river of life be said to be empty, because we refuse to drink of its waters and perish with thirst ? Is the Holy One of Israel to be limited, because his creatures pour con- tempt on the glories he offers them, and choose instead of them the pleasures and wages of sin ? As well might a man contend that the sun has ceased to shine around him, because he closes his eyes against its light ; or that food is unable to support his body, because he re- fuses to receive it. The sufficiency of a remedy to re- move an evil is one thing j the application of tlie reme- dy to that evil is another. The death of Christ is able to save every sinner, but it is the will of God that the contrite and believing sinner only should be interested in its saving power; therefore the penitent believer only is saved. Christ died for all ; he made on the cross so awful a display of the divine holiness, that the Most High can now pardon sin wherever he finds it, without militating; 346 The Conslraimng Influence against the honour or authority of his moral govern- ment. This is the doctrine taught in text. In dispens- ing his mercy, the Almighty passes by the angels that sinned ; he leaves them as awful monuments of his jus- tice, while he sets his love on a people on the earth, and carries them to heaven as monuments of his redeeiming grace. He chooses them in Christ out of mankind, and he brings them by Christ to everlasting salvation as vessels mjde to honour. This is the doctrine of sove- reign grace. Both these doctrines are plainly taught us in the Scriptures ; tiiey are both the doctrines of our church. Whatever contrariety we may see between them, he, who wrote the Scriptures, sees none. He has left them upon record in his word, and he calls upon us to receive and believe them ; not to contend for them as the tenets of a sect or the badges of a party, but to embrace them as the faithful sayings of God ; not to view them merely as subjects ol speculation and controversy, but as designed to produce a practical and holy effect on our hearts and lives. But the interposition of Christ on the behalf of man, was not con(ii)ed to dying for him. lie rose again. Had Christ only died for us, his death would not have mate- rially profited us, at least it would not have effectually rescued us from our lost condition. It might have saved us from eternal death, but we should still have been spiritually dead. It might have procured heaven for us, but we should have been incapable of sharing in its services and joys. The blessed Jesus therefore, after he had opened a way for the salvation of his church by his death on the cross, began to prepare and qualify his ciuirch for the enjoyment of that salvation. He rose again to complete the work, which he had be- gun. He returned to heaven in the same character, in of the Love of Christ, 247 which he left it, as the Saviour of sinners. Nearly two thousand years have passed since he gave up the ghost on Calvary, but not a moment has passed, in which he has not been employed in the salvation of his church. God exalted him to be a Saviour, and he is faithful to the office he has received. He delights in communicating to sinners the spiritual life, which they have lost ; in calling them out of the world, convincing them of sin, leading them to his cross, comforting them in their sor- rows, making them meet for their eternal inheritance, and leading them by a way which they know not, to the kingdom he has purchased for them. III. The next subject of consideration sugsj^ested by the text is the principle or motive^ from which the inter- position of Christ on our behalf proceeded. The apostle traces it in the text to love. " The love of Christ con- straineth us." It was not an act of justice. VVe had no claim whatsoever on the compassion of Christ. Instead of expecting him to come down from heaven as a Sa- viour to die for us, we have reason to wonder that he had so long delayed to come down as a Judge to con- demn, and as an Avenger to destroy us. Neither did his interposition proceed from a regard to his own honour only. He was glorious in holiness and fearful in praises long before we were created; and as for the lustre, which he has shed around his throne by the redemption of man, there were other sinners in the universe, for whom he could have died, and whose salvation would perhaps have shewn forth his praise as gloriously as ours. He has never yet needed the aid of any of his creatures to make him a glorious God. It was love alone, free and unmerited love, vvhicli brought Christ down to the earth. It was love, which caused him to dwell on this accursed world as a man of 248 The Constraining Influence sorrows, and to take so large a share of its degradation and miseries. It was love, which made him so willing to be despibcd and rtjcctcd by men, and to be bruised and put to grief by his God. It was love, which ena- bled him to bear the exceeding great trouble of his soul in the garden, and the racking agonies of the cross. All that he suffered for us when on earth, and all that he has been since doing for us in heaven, he has done and suffered solely for this one reason, because he loved us. This is the divine attribute, to which all the bless- ings of redemption must be traced. This is the attri- bute, which shines with the brightest lustre in the gos- pel of Christ. The work of redemption reveals to us treasures of wisdom and power. Matchless wisdom de- vised its stupendous plan, and infinite power executed it; but it was love, which called this wisdom and this power into exercise. It was love, which made these attributes so glorious to God, and the instruments of such rich blessings to man. IV. But although the interposition of Christ on our behalf proceeded solely from love, it was nevertheless designed to answer a great and gracious purpose. The apostle accordingly points out to us in the text, the end, which Christ had in view in dying and rising agai?i for man. It was this; '< that they, which live, should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him, which died lor them and rose again." This language plainly implies that by nature we are all living to ourselves ; that our own will is the law of our actions, and our own gratification, our own in- terest or pleasure, the end of them. It is not thus with some of the rational creatures of God, neither was it ^dways thus with man. The selfish and independent of the Love of Christ, "M9 principle within us is one of the sad fruits of our de- pravity. It is a part of that spiritual death, that aliena- tion from God, which sin has spread over the soul, and which nothing but a new birth to righteousness can remove. It is directly opposed to our happiness, for all the happiness of the creature is derived from the ser- vice of the Creator, and all his blessedness flows from a conformity to the divine law and will. It is also in the higiiest degree hateful to God. We shew by it that we do not consider him as having any claim on us or our services. It is an open denial of his authority as the Sovereign of the universe, it is an act of rebellion. Now the design of Christ in dying for rnan was to root out this selfish principle from his heart ; to save him from it ; to bring the rebel back again to the for- saken service of his heavenly King. The gospel finds us in a state of bondage to Satan, and it delivers us from it ; but it does not leave us lawless ; it does not make us our own masters. It sanctions and strengthens all the original obligations, which we are under as crea- tures to serve the God who formed us, and it gives him a new and more endearing claim to our services. He has bought us with a price ; he therefore deems us his own, and calls upon us to glorify him in our body and in our spirits, which are his. He points to the cross and the tomb, and tells us that it was *' for this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the dead and the living." Shall we then hesitate to admit the lawfulness of a title, obtained by so much degradation and suffering? Shall we rob the blessed Jesus of the purchase of his blood ? Shall we keep back from its proprietor so worthless a possession, after it has been purchased by him at so costly a price ? No. We are not our own. li ^50 The Constvaiiiing Injliience We cannot be our own. If we have ever tasted of re- deeming grace, we bhall not even wish to be our own. As for living to ourselves or to the world, the very thought will be our grief and our shame. It will be the first wish of our heart to be entirely devoted to God ; to consecrate to him every action of our life, and every thought of our heart ; to give to him every moment as it flies. V. Such was the end, v.hich Christ had in view in dying for man ; but has this end been answered? Have the sinners, whom he has redeemed, ceased to live unto themselves? and are they really living unto him, which died for them and rose again? The text answers this enquiry, and reminds us, lastly, of the influence, which the inttrrposition of Christ on the behalf of man has on his people ; of the effect, which his dying love produces in the hearts and lives of those, who really believe in him. The apostle says that it constraineth them. " The love of Christ constraineth us." There is a meaning and a force in this expression, which it is not easy to explain. It signifies to bear away, to carry on with the force and rapidity, with which a resistless torrent hurries along whatever it meets with in its course. As the word is used here, it implies that the love, which Christ has manifested for man, has a mighty and irresistible influence on the hearts of his servants ; that it fills their whole soul, and forces them, as it were, to obey its dictates. It intimates that it lays hold of their affections ; that it touches their hearts, and calls into the liveliest exer- cise every feeling of their souis. It has indeed been contended that the religion of Christ has nothing to do with the affections ; that to look on his cross and be moved by the sight, is enthusiasm and weakness ; that of the Love of Christ. 351 a sinner, who is going into eternity, ought to hear the tidings that hell is escaped and heaven won, with as ^ much indifference and coohiess, as a man at his ease would examine a mathematical problem. But what are we to think of such an opinion as this *? In what light are we to regard the men, who maintain it? Shall we say that they are sober-minded, rational Christians? Reason and Christianity disclaim the alliance. They tell us that that religion only is rational, which calls into action the hopes and the fears of a m.an ; and that that Christianity only is genuine, which fills the heart with feeling, and puts into it a love, which many waters cannot quench, nor many floods drown. He, who can look with cold indifference on the blessed Jesus lying on the ground in the garden of Gethsemane, and crying out in the extremity of his anguish for deliverance from death ; he, who can see him patiently bearing his cross, and quietly yielding his sacred body to be tor- tured on it ; he, who can hear him uttering his myste- rious complaint to his Father, and piercing the air with his dying groans ; he, who can contemplate such a scene as this, and remember that all these sufferings were endured for his worthless, rebellious soul, and yet remain unaffected at the thought; — such a man, brethren, may be a decorous, an upright, a useful man, but he is not a Christian. He may have a form of god- liness, but he knows no more of its power than the ground he treads on. He may have a high reputation for wisdom in the world, but in the estimation of God he is a very fool. But while we do not undervalue lively affections in religion, let us not overrate them. It is possible for the heart to be affected by the love of Christ in dying for sinners, just as it is affected by the contemplation of 252 The Constraining Influence any other noble and generous act, and yet the heart re- main a stranger to itself and to God. The feeling may be strong, but it may be merely a natural, and not a spiritual feeling. There may be no more religion in it, than in the feelings which are excited, and in the tears which are drawn forth, by some of the narratives of history, or the pictures of imagination. Hence we must observe, further, that the love of Christ influences the conduct of his servants, as well as excites their affections, it not only makes them feel, it makes them act for Christ. It teaches them to do good, as well as to praise and to pray. It changes their life, as well as their heart. There was a time, when they thought that religion required of them only a certain degree of devotedne^s to God. They thought it possi- ble to serve him too well, as well as to love him too much. But now nothing appears too afflictive to be endured for his sake ; no act of self-denial too painful to be undertaken ; no labour of love too arduous to be performed. They were before cold and formal wor- shippers of the Lord, or at best lukewarm and hesita- ting ])rofessors of the gospel ; but now the love of God has been shed abroad in their hearts, and gives a deci- sion, a life, and a soul to their religion. It has made them active Christians, decided Christians, laborious Christians. There is no more halting between two opi- nions ; no more striving to serve God and mammon; no more conferring with flesh and blood. There is an open avowal of their attachment to their crucified Lord; a glorying in his reproach; a holy reverence for his laws ; a willingness to spend and be spent for his sake. Will any one say that these things are not to be found in tlie world? that the love of Christ never has of the Love of Christ. 253 produced, and never will produce such effects as these ? Look at the history of the man, who wrote the words in the text. Follow him through the course of his life. Contemplate the sacritices he made, the trials he en- dured, the labours of love he performed. Behold him suffering the loss of all things, and taking the loss with joy. Hear him singing at midnight in a prison the praises of his God. View him boldly preaching Christ in his chains. Trace him through his scourgings, ship- wrecks, and perils ; hear him exclaiming in the midst of them all, " None of these things move me ; neither count I my life dear unto myself." Behold the man ; and see what a triumph for the gospel was here ! And what was it, that obtained this glorious triumph? What made Saul of Tarsus so noble a spectacle to angels and to men ? It was love ; love for the Saviour, who had died for him, and the God, who had redeemed him. And is the power of this principle lost ? No. It is reigning in the hearts of thousands around us, and pro- ducing the most blessed effects in a thousand places, where we little suppose it to exist. We may know nothing of the men, whom it governs ; and may hear nothing of their zeal for the Lord. They may never be found in the societies, in which we delight ; and may be treated by us and our associates, as the very refuse of mankind, and the offbcouring of all things ; but the influence of the love of Christ is felt, in all its energy, in their houses and cottages ; the voice of prayer and of praise, of peace and of joy, is heard in their habitations. There the power of religion is seen, and there the works of righteousness abound. There man is holy and happy, and there God is worshipped and feared. These then are the principal subjects of meditation afforded us in the text; — the wretched and hopeless S54 The Constraining Inftuence condition, to which sin has reduced man ; the interpo- sition of Christ in his behalf; the principle or motive, from which this interposition proceeded ; the end, which Christ had in view in it ; and the influence, which it exercises on the liearts and lives of his fol- lowers. The first practical inference suggested to us by the consideration of these subjects is this ; the conduct of a Christian is closely connected with his principles^ with his religious opinions, with the doctrines he believes. The text represents it as influenced by the judgment which he forms of the great truths of the gospel, and produced by the reception which he gives to these doc- trines in his mind. And yet it is often asserted that it matters not what doctrines we believe, nor what creed v/e embrace, so that our dispositions are holy and our lives sober and righteous. In one sense the assertion is true. We admit that holy dispositions and a godly life, constitute the sum and substance of genuine re- ligion ; that the man, in whom these are found, is a servant of God and an heir of heaven. But how arc these holy dispositions to be produced ? How is the life to be made thus conformable to the righteous law of God ? This is not a trifling work. These effects are too great to be produced without an adequate cause. Where then shall we look for this cause ? Can we find it in carelessness, in ignorance, in unbelief? No. It can be found only in a right knowledge of God and of ourselves ; in a simple and heart-felt belief of the Bible ; in an unfeigned reception of the great truths of the gos- pel. Right dispositions and right conduct can proceed only from right principles. These are the springs of action ; and as long as we are destitute of these, neither our tempers nor our conduct will bear to be tried by the standard of God's holy law. of the Love of Christ, S55 Tlie reason, why many of us hold the great truths of the gospel in such low estimation, is simply this ; we are not striving to do the will of God ; we are not practical Christians ; we are indulging unhallowed dis- positions, and living careless and worldly lives. We desire not the fruit, and the consequence naturally is, we pour contempt on the tree, which produces it. The Christian, on the contrary, highly values these doc- trines, because he has been taught their practical effi- cacy. He desires to be holy, and he therefore prizes the springs and the means of holiness. He has felt the constraining influence of the love of Christ ; and as long as he knows that his happiness is centred in the service and enjoyment of his God, he will hold fast the profession of his faith ; he will rejoice in the glorious gospel of the blessed God. The text leads us also to infer, that they are not Christians, whom the love of Christ does not influence. They ma}^ call themselves after the name of the Sa- viour, who bled for them, but they have not the dis- tinguishing characteristic of the people, who belong to him ; they are not constrained by his love ; they are not living unto him, which died for them. This de- votedness to Christ is essential to the Christian cha- racter.. Nothing can supply the place of it ; no cor- rect system of opinions ; no zeal for doctrines ; no lively feelings ; no tears nor prayers. As long as we stop short of this, we are destitute of spiritual life; we are dead in trespasses and sins. ^' Every one that loveth," says Saint John, " is born of God and knoweih God ; he that loveth not knoweth not God." The end of Christ in dying for us cannot be defeated. If throngli faith we are become savingly interested in his death, the effect of the love, which he manifested in it, is cer- 356 The Constraining Influence tain. We are affected by it. We are constrained by- it. We are alive unto God, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Are we then thus influenced by the love of the dying Jesus? We may admire the character, which this love has a tendency to form ; we may delight in tracing its effects in the apostles and martyrs of the primitive church ; we may be gratified by contempLiting its quickening and transforming efficacy in those around us ; but these are not the turning points. Is my own soul affected ? Does the love of Christ force my own hard heart to feel, and my own dry eyes to wet-p? Have I experienced in my own breast its enlivening, warming, constraining power? fias it sanctified my dispositions, and changed my conduct ? Am J making the glory of my Saviour the great business of my life ? Are his people dear to me ? Do 1 make his cause my cause ? In the midst of my many infirmities and sins, is my family, are my neighbours constrained to see that I am not acting, as though 1 deemed myself my own, but as though 1 regarded myself the servant of a holy Redeemer, who has bougin me with his blood ? Happy are we, brethren, if we can press home such questions as these to our hearts, and have the testimony of our conscience that our Christian profession will bear to be tried by them. These are the things, which ac- company salvation. These are the things, which will bring a man peace at the last, and bear the fiery trial of death and of judgment. The words of the apostle remind us, further, of the superior excellence of the religion of Christ ; its excel- lence, not only as it saves the soul, but as it affords to man a new, a nobler, and a more powerful moiive to obedience. This motive is love, love to a dying Lord ; of the Love of Christ. 257 a motive unheard of in the world before the publication of the {gospel of Christ. And what motive can be nobler ? It appeals to the finest feelings of the soul, to the most generous emotions of the heart. As for the efficacy of this motive, it is stronger than that of all other motives combined. The world has heard for ages of the beauty of virtue, and the deformity of vice. The hopes and the fears of mankind have been ap- pealed to by promises of reward and threatenings of punishment in eternity. And what has been the result ? Men have lived, for the greater part, just as they would have lived if these things had never been heard of. Here and there indeed an exterior appearance of vir- tue has been produced ; even a form of godliness has been put on, and man has become superstitious and wretched. But has the heart been touched? Have the sins of the heart been restrained ? Has passion been subdued ? Has pride been rooted out ? Has self- ishness been overcome ? Has there been a single hu- man being prevailed on by these motives to live no longer unto himself, but unto the God who created him ? Not one. it is the love of Christ only, which can effect such a work, and win such a triumph as this. It is the love of Christ only, which can reach the heart of a man ; root out its sins ; and give its affections to God. Our duty tiien is pUiin. It is to get the love of Christ shed abroad in our hearts, and when we have received this gift, to seek that it may be preserved to us and increased. We profess to lament our selfishness, brethren, and to mourn over our unfruitfulness and coldness. Here then is a remedy provided. Here is a principle, which will make our hearts burn within us, and brinq; forth in our lives all the fruits of the Spirit. If your profes- Kk 25S The Constraining Influence sions and sorrow are sincere, seek this principle. Have recourse to this remedy. Apply for a sense of this love at the throne of grace. Contemplate the riches of the Saviour's grace, his life of suffering and his death of anguish, that it may be poured out on your hearts. You cannot obtain a more useful gift from heaven, nor a sweeter comforter. It will enable you to face any difficulties, to weather any storms, and to endure any sufferings, so that your God may be honoured and the name of your Saviour praised. It will overcome ini- quity and lusts within you ; it will render even self- denial easy ; it will make your duty your delight. It will soothe your soul in affliction, strengthen it in trials, cheer it in death, and exj)and it with joy in eternity. The text also plainly accounts for the peculiar con- duct of Christians. In whatever age or country he may live, the man, who is a Christian indeed, will always have something peculiar in his conduct. There will be an outward, as well as an inward difference between him and others. Now this difference cannot be con- cealed from the world. It will be marked and visible, and the men of the world will be sure to discover it. The most ignorant and vicious of them will be offended, and perhaps incensed by it. They will impute it to hypocrisy, to enthusiasm, to fanaticism; to every source, which they deem dishonourable and base. Others will view it with a mixture of pity and admiration. They cannot altogether approve it ; they are forced to ascribe it in some degree to mental weakness ; but they are at the same time convinced that the men are sincere and in earnest, and that they are acting under the influence of some secret and powerful motive peculiar to them- selves. They cannot ascertain the nature of this mo- tive. They are sure it exists, but it baffles all their of the Loxe of Christ, 259 efforts to discover and comprehend it. Now the text points out the secret spring of the Christian's conduct and solves the difficuhy. Indeed it was written for this very purpose. Influenced by the arts of the false apostles, who by tolerating their corruptions had introduced themselves into their church and obtained their confidence, some of the Corinthians began to cool in their attachment to their early and faithful teacher. His earnestness in re- buking iniquity offended them, and they first ceased to love, and then proceeded to censure him. The character of Paul was not however a very vulnerable character. They could not accuse him of hypocrisy. His spotless integrity and disinterested zeal would have at once repelled such an accusation. They charged him therefore with being beside himself; vvith acting under the influence of enthusiasm and madness. The apostle did not directly deny the charge. With an address and dignity altogether his own, he seems to admit it, and then traces the conduct, that filled them with so much wonder and displeasure, to a cause, which at once vindicated his earnestness and reproved their lukewarmness. This was the answer, with which the noble apostle repelled their accusation ; " Whether wt be beside ourselves, it is to God ; or whether we be sober, it is for your caubc ; for the love of Christ constraineth us." Here then the source, from which the peculiar con- duct of the Christian originates, is laid open to our view. It is the constraining love of Christ. It is this, which bears him away like a torrent, and leads him to feel and to act, v/hile others are coldly speculating and disputing. It does not make him an enthusiast or a fanatic ; it does not deprive him of humility and meek- 360 The Constraining Influence ness, prudence and wibdom ; but it burns like a fire within liim, warming him to energy and zeal ; and it renders him a blessing to the world, and an honour to the religion of his God. Dare not then, brethren, to censure the conduct, which flows from so hallowed a principle as this. Con- demn the fruits of fanaticism and intemperance where- ever you find theai, but revile not the zeal, which has the love of God for its source. It is a sacred thing, and there is danger as well as folly in assailing it. Instead of rashly condemning the warmth of the Christian, en- quire how it is, that so much indifference and apathy are to be found in your own temper and conduct. Ask how it is, that professing to serve the same God and to hope in the same Saviour, you are spending your days in worldly vanities and sins, while he is spurning all the follies of the world, denying himself, taking up his cross, and following Christ. The conclusion, to which such enquiries will bring you, will be humiliating. You will discover, that while you have been suspecting the religion of your neighbour, you ought to have sus- pected your own. You will find that your conduct has been different from his, because the state of your heart has been different ; because you have wanted that spi- ritual life, which has quickened and animated him. You will feel yourselves to be dead in trespasses and sins; strangers to pardoning grace; strangers to the power of redeeming love; strangers to religion, to Christ, and to God. But what, if these conclusions be humiliating and painful ? Is it not better to be humbled here, than to be condemned hereafter? Is not the pain of a broken and contrite spirit easier to be borne, than the pains of eternity ? Paul himself was once forced to open his mind to such convictions as these. He too was oj the Lorve of Christ. S61 constrained to see himself ungodly, unpardoned, and perishing, after having for years deemed himself righ- teous and blameless. And did he ever regret the dis- covery ? Never. As long as he remained on earth, he alu'ays spoke of it as a marvellous instance of mercy ; and when he thinks of it now, the thought adds fresh warmth to his gratitude and gives a new burst to his song. Could he now speak to us from his heavenly throne, he would tell us that the convictions, against which we are struggling, are the very convictions, which were once lodged in his own soul ; that they were the beginning of his spiritual existence, the fore- runners of his present blessedness and joy. He would tell us that there is not a redeemed sinner rejoicing around him, who has not tasted of their bitterness and shame ; and he would call upon us to welcome them into our hearts, as messengers sent to us on an errand of mercy from heaven. Why then should we refuse them admission ? Why should we any longer resist the Holy Ghost ? Let us cease to cavil and dispute, and learn to pray. Let us entreat the Father of mercies to open our hearts to the humbling influence of his life- giving Spirit. Then shall we experience the transform- ing power of the love of Christ ; the efficacy of that grace, which brings to the soul righteousness and peace, pardon and salvation. SERMON XYII. CHRIST THE HEALER OF THE BROKEN HEARTED. ST. LUKE IV. 18. He hath sent ?7ie to heal the broke7i-heartecl. 1 HESE gracious words proceeded out of the mouth of Jesus in the synagogue of Nazareth. He declares in them the errand, on which he came down to the earth, and points out to us the work, which, as Mediator of his church, he still delights to perform. Never was any messenger sent forth from heaven on so merciful an errand as this. Never was the eternal Son employed in a more blessed and honourable work. In meditating on the words, which the Saviour has here applied to himself, we may consider, Jirst^ the distressed condition of the persons spoken of in the text; secondly i the reasons, why they are brought into this condition ; and, thirdly, the encouragement, which the declaration before us is calculated to afford them. And may that Holy Spirit, who has caused this gra- cious saying to be written for our learning, so bless our meditations on it, that all the mourning and con- trite amongt us may be enabled to bear this testimony concerning it, " This day is this Scripture fulfilled in our ears !" I. The condition of the persons spoken of in the text, is a condition of extreme distress and misery. Christ the Healer, &'c. S63 They are broken-hearted. All their happiness is gone. All their hopes are blasted. Nothing is left to them but wretchedness and despair. The world has many such sufferers in it. The cala- mities of life are daily breaking a thousand hearts, and bringing down multitudes of the children of men with sorrow to the grave. Now all these sons of affliction Christ is ready to heal ; but the greater part of them refuse his aid, and choose despair and death, rather than the healing balm provided for them in his gospel. It is however the spiritually broken-hearted, who are the special objects of the Saviour's compassion ; they, who are brought by spiritual trials into the same state of grief and despondency, as that, into which others are brought by worldly disappointments and calamities. These are the sufferers, to whom the text principally refers. It seems to speak of them as labouring under a painful disease, as fiiinting and sinking beneath the power of sin, that spiritual malady, which has polluted, racked, and destroyed so many immortal souls. 1. It implies that tkei/ have a sorrowful consciousness of the existence of this evil within them. They feel sin to be deeply lodged in their hearts, and they are filled with shame and grief at the thought of having so loath- some a disease raging in their breasts. But it was not always thus with them. They were once light-hearted and careless. They had the same cause for spiritual sorrow, which they have now, but they were not sensi- ble of its existence. They thought but little of their iniquities, and when they did think of them, it was without feeling or seriousness. They were dead in trespasses and sins, and they were consequently stran- gers to spiritual sorrows and joys. But now the Holy Spirit has quickened their souls, and awakened them to ^64 Christ the Healer a sense of their sinful and wretched condition. They find that there is no heahh in them. They feel them- selves to be miserable sinners. They are pricked to the heart by a consciousness of their transgressions, and are wear}' and heavy laden with the burden of their sins. 2. Thei/ are also dissatisfied with their condition, and earnestly desire deliverance from it. Like men op- pressed with sickness, they are not in a state, in which they can be at ease. They want health, and nothing but health will satisfy them, or give them relief from their sufferings. In other troubles earthly comforts may be of some avail, but in this they are of none. They have lost all their power to delight. In the midst of them all, the heart still throbs and aches, and is dead to every thing but a sense of its misery and sin, its sor- row and its shame. Deliverance from sin is the mercy they sigh for, and as long as this grievous burden pres- ses them down, they must still, like the contrite publi- can, smite upon their breasts ; they must still, like the psalmist, go mourning all the day long. 3. The?/ are sensible likewise of the deadly nature of the disease under which they are suffering. They know that it is a mortal disease ; not merely debasing and loathsome, but daiigerous and fatal; a disease, which has already brought spiritual death upon their souls, and is hourly bringing them nearer to everlasting de- struction. The dread of final perdition is not indeed the only reason, why they look on iniquity with hatred. Were death to be no longer its wages, it would still be the object of their abhorrence. But they know that sin has a curse and a wrath connected with it, which thev are not able to bear ; and they never look forward into eternity without shrinking with fear. of the Broken-Hearted . 365 4. To this sorrowful consciousness of their depra- vity, this dissatisfaction with their condition, and this dread of futurity, is added a despair of healing their spiritual diseases by means of their own ability or strength. There was a time, in which they imagined that their case was not altogether hopeless. They felt themselves to be sinners, and they knew that the wrath to come was the just desert of their transgressions ; but they still hoped that by their prayers and contrition this wrath might be averted. They accordingly wept and prayed. Day by day they cried for deliverance, and night after night they watered their couch with their tears. But still they were sorrowful. They still seemed as far from pardon and heaven as they were before, and condemnation and hell appeared as dreadful and as near. They had recourse to other expedients, but these were found to be equally ineffectual to remove the guilt of their transgressions or to bring peace to their souls. Driven from refuge to refuge, from one ground of hope to another, they are at length forced to abandon them all ; and find themselves to be not only guilty, but helpless and hopeless. It is this feeling of despair, which breaks the heart, and which, if not counteracted by a rising hope of deliverance in the gospel of peace, would end in the anguish of Cain, and in the horror of Judas. Such is the afflicted condition of the persons spoken of in the text, and all who are Christians indeed have tasted of its wormwood and its gall. They have been broken-hearted with spiritual sorrows. Not that they have all suffered in the same degree, but they have all suffered from the same cause. They have all felt that there is no health in their souls, and have mourned over the deadly disease, which they have found thcm- Ll 366 C^hrist the Healei- selves unable to heal. Yea, many of them are still at seasons mourners in Zion. The feelings of penitence, even in the mind of the renewed Christian, are not always mingled with the workings of faith. A hope in infinite mercy does not always brighten the eye, which is wet with the tears of contrition. The grace of the Saviour is sometimes forgotten, and the repentant be- liever thinks only of his own depravity and gnilt. Sometimes too he suffers himself to be overcome by the power of temptation, and he yields, at other times, to the influence of spirituol sloth. Watchfulness and prayer lose their hold on his mind, and worldly-mind- edness and unconcern take possession of his heart. These seasons of declension he must expect to be suc- ceeded by bitter convictions. He must look for a par- tial return of that painful remorse, which once har- rowed up his soul, and must deem himself peculiarly favoured when peace is again restored to his mind. Temporal afflictions are often made the means of re- newing this work of repentance, and sometimes mate- rially increases the penitent's despondency. In days that are past, he has rejoiced in tribulation, and viewed it as the chastisement of a Father, who loved him ; but now he regards it as a token of wrath, and infers from it that the divine mercy towards him is clean gone for ever, and that his God will be fevourable to him no more. The believing Christian then, as well as the return- ing and repentant sinner, may often be numbered among the broken-hearted. The spiritual sorrow of both is of the same nature, and flows from the same source. It is a godly sorrow, divine in its origin, and the immediate work of the Spirit of God. The calami- ties of life cannot produce it. In one sense they may of the Broken-Hearted. 267 break the heart. They may put into it that sorrow of the world, which worketh death ; but they cannot soften it ; they cannot fili it with spiritual mourning. They may lead us to madness or suicide, but they cannot draw from our eyes the tears of Peter, nor lodge in our souls the contrition of David. Neither have sermons nor ordinances any power in themselves to accomplish this work. Thousands, who habitually hear and attend them, remain altogether unaffected by them, and can even laugh at the penitence, which they seem calcu- lated to produce. The outward means of grace are as unable to discover to the sinner his disease, as they are to heal it when it is discovered. The work of convic- tion is as much the work of the Spirit, as the work of conversion and consolation. It is God, who teaches the heart to feel and the eye to weep. It is he, who makes the hard-hearted trifler, a thoughtful, serious, and con- trite mourner. II. But why does the Physician of souls thus deal with the sinful children of men ? Why cannot he apply his healing balm to their wounds, without first afflict- ing them with so much sorrow and wretchedness? "Why must they be brought into so distressed and dis- consolate a state, before they are made partakers of pardon and peace ? 1. In answer to these enquiries we may observe, first, that God thus afflicts his penitent children, that sin may be embittered to their souls ; that they may have a heart-felt knowledge of the misery and shame, which it is able to implant in the mind, and thus learn to regard it with hatred and fear. By nature we love sin; we think it calculated to make us happy; and all the representations of Scripture, and all the sufferings under which the world is groaning, though strength- S68 Christ the Healer ened by our own experience and the testimony of the wisest and best of mankind, cannot change our opinion concerning it, nor cause us to regard it in any other view, than as an ol^ject of dehght and a source of hap- piness to man. It is the will of God therefore that we should be taught the real nature of sin by feeling some- thing of its spiritual consequences. Hence he fixes the arrows of conviction in our hearts, and makes us taste of the bitterness of iniquity. He causes us to feel the smart of our wounds, that we may no longer love and caress the hand which inflicted them. He lays upon us spiritual troubles, and in the midst of them, he causes the voice of conscience to address us in these words of his prophet, " Thy ways and thy doings have procured these things unto thee. This is thy wickedness, be- cause it is bitter, because it reacheth unto thine heart." 2. The sinner is made broken-hearted, that he may he willing to be healed by Christ in his own way, and on his own terms. Before a sickman can be prevailed on to apply to a physician for his aid, he must feel the sickness, which has seized on him, and know that he stands in need of a physician. If the remedy which is prescribed to him, be a painful remedy, or repulsive to his prejudices or feelings, he must undergo much un- easiness and suffering before he will consent to submit to and apply it. Thus no sinner will ever seek the sal- vation of Christ, till he sees something of the sinful and perishing condition of his soul. It is not a way of sal- vation suited to our taste. It is opposed to our fancied goodness, and it pours contempt on our imaginary greatness. It wounds every proud and self-righteous feeling of our hearts. Nothing but a deep conviction that our state is desperate will bring us as suppliants to Ihe cross of such a Saviour as Christ, Like seamen in of the Broken-Hearted. S69 a storm, who see that they must sink if they do not cast every thing out of their ship, we give up our be- loved merits only when we see that we must give them up, or perish eternally with them. Christ therefore, before he heals us, shews us our lost condition, and thus makes us willing to submit to whatever method of restoration he may prescribe. The soul becomes humble and obedient, and is ready to welcome whatever may save it from hell and lead it to heaven. Thus was/iti with the Jews, to whom Saint Peter preached on the day of pentecost. Before they were pricked to the heart, they mocked and reviled ; but when their guilt and their danger were laid open before them, they said with one voice unto Peter and to the rest of the apostles, " Men and brethren, what shall we do ?" Thus was it with Saul. He was no sooner con- vinced of the enormity of his conduct in opposing the gospel of Christ, than he also asked, '' Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" It was the same with the gaoler at Philippi. As soon as he was made to tremble under a sense of his sins, he fell down before Paul and Silas, and said, " What must I do to be saved?" 3. A further reason, why the returning sinner is thus torn and smitten, may be this ; that the deliverance vouchsafed to him may be more highly valued. We con- sider the removal of a disease, which has brought us to the gate of death, a greater instance of mercy, than re- storation to health from a slighter attack. So likewise the more a sinner sees of the danger and horror of the state, into which sin has brought him, the more will he value the grace, which has rescued him from it. We do not know how to estimate the worth of salvation, till we have seen ourselves standing on the verge of destruction, and find ourselves snatched as brands from 270 Chinst the Healer the burning. Never is the news of a pardon heard with so fervent a joy, as when the sentence of death has been passed, and the prisoner has arrived at the place of execution. 4. It may also be the will of God to give the peni- tent a deep sense of his wretchedness, that the great Physician of his soul may be more warmly loved. 'J'he man who has been made the means of raising from the bed of sickness a sufferer, who thought hiy condition desperate and who had applied in vain to other physi- cians, will be thanked with greater ardour of gratitude, than one who has rendered assistance in a less dange- rous case. It is the same with the spiritual sufferer. He, who has felt the plague of his heart the most keenly, will value most highly the heavenly friend, who has healed him. His love will be proportioned to the depth of his penitence, and the sense which he has of the greatness of his guilt. Hence it is generally found that they, whose convictions of sin have been the deepest and the most abiding, have manifested the greatest zeal in the service of Christ, and become his most eminent servants. They love much, because they feel more than others have felt how much has been forgiven them. They have seen more of the unsearchable riches of Christ, more of his suitableness to their necessities, more of the tenderness of his heart, more of his power and his goodness, more of the greatness of his salva- tion. Thus was it with Paul. He deemed himself the chief of sinners, and the consequence was, that he be- came the very chief of saints. It was the same with the woman, who had been a sinner. Simon received the Redeemer into his house, but he gave him no water for his feet and no oil for his head. This woman on the contrary '< stood behind him weeping, and began of the Broken-Hearted. 271 to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with ointment." III. These then are some of the reasons, why the feelings of repentance and sorrow are wrought in the soul before it pleases the heavenly Physician to heal its diseases. Let us proceed to consider, thirdly, the encouragement, which the declaration before us is cal- culated to afford to every contrite and broken-hearted mourner. 1. The declaration of Christ plainly implies, first, that it is the will of his heavenly Father that the broken- hearted should be healed. He has sent a messenger from heaven to bring peace to their hearts, and parted for a season with the delight of his soul, that his sorrowful children may be healed and cheered. When the mind is filled with despondency under a sense of its guilt, we are apt to look upon God as tak- ing pleasure in our anguish, and rejoicing as an enemy in the bitterness of our grief. We hear of his mercy to the sinful, and of his compassion for the wretched, but we cannot be persuaded of our interest in either. We see in him only a God of inexorable justice, in- censed against us by our manifold provocations, and treasuring up for us wrath and fiery indignation. And yet this dreadful Sovereign is a God of unbounded benevolence and love. His tender mercies are over all his works, and there is not a creature in his universe, whom he does not wish to see holy and happy. His indignation against iniquity springs from his love, and even his justice is a modification of his benevolence. He hates and discourages sin, because sin is calculated to destroy the happiness of his creatures, and to involve them in wretchedness. He willeth not the death of the 273 Christ the Healer most rebellious sinner, neither does he delight in the misery of the vilest. When therefore the transgressor is anxious to be saved from his sin, from its guilt, its power, and its bitterness, he may think of the general benevolence of God, and learn to hope in his mercy. He may think of the text, and be taught that the Lord is waiting to be gracious to his soul ; that he wishes its wounds to be healed, and its grief to be changed into joy. Yea, he may even take encouragement from his present sor- row, and draw hope out of his misery. Why has the Almighty vouchsafed to him a discovery of his wretch- edness ? Why has he broken and softened his heart ? That he may fill it with fear in this world and rack it with pain in the next ? No. It is a work of compas- sion, and not of vengeance ; the forerunner of mercy, and not an intimation of wrath. He has shewn the man his disease, that he may seek a remedy against it ; he has opened his eyes to his danger, that he may escape it. He has torn him, that he may be healed ; and smit- ten him, that he may bind him up. The assurances of God in his word seal, as it were, the most exalted views of his compassion and mercy, which a returning sinner can form. He claims the work of consolation as his own peculiar work ; and represents himself as delighting as much in comforting the mourner, as a mother delights in chasing away the fears and the sorrows of a beloved child. This is his language to all his broken-hearted children, ^' As one, whom his mother comforteth, so will 1 comfort you ; and ye shall be comforted." He is indeed a wise, as well as a tender-hearted parent ; and he will not sacri- fice the future and permanent happiness of his children, for the gratification and ease of the present hour. He of the Broken-Hearted. 273 will send them for a moment any light affliction, which is likely to work ont for them a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. He will sow in their hearts any seeds of sorrow, which are likely to produce for them a harvest of joy. 2. The declaration in the text teaches us, secondly, that God has given to Christ authoritij and powen to heal all the broken-hearted. He has given him authority. Long before he was born, he was set apart for this work, and when he was sent into the world, these were the words, with which he opened his commission. " The Spirit of the Lord God is upon mc, because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek. He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and the opening of the prison to them that are bound ; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God ; to com- fort all that mourn ; to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Christ has received j&oz^eT also to comfort the mourn- ing Israel of God. His Father has not only sent him on this gracious errand, but furnished him with all the qualifications, which are necessary for the faithful dis- charge of it. " It hath pleased the Father," says the apostle, " that in him should all fulness dwell ;" a ful- ness of pardon for the guilty, a fulness of comfort for the sorrowful, a fulness of strength for the weak, a ful- ness of life for the dead. The persons, to whom he is sent, are lying under a sentence of condemnation ; and before they can be happy, this sentence mu;.t be repealed and the criminals pardoned. God therefore M m 37-* Christ the Healer ** has given his Son power over all flesh, that he should give eternal life to as many as he has given him." He has promised that whosoever believeth in him shall be saved; shall have the curse of the law removed from him, and all his multiplied transgressions freely and completely pardoned. He has given to the blood, which flowed from his cross, such infinite virtue, that it can cure the deepest and deadliest wounds, and save to the uttermost all who are sprinkled by it. He has given also to his Son the ministration of his Spirit, and empowered him to bestow on mankind his enlightening, quickening, sanctifying, and comforting influence. By this sovereign remedy the great Physi- cian breaks the power of sin in our souls, and implants within them a principle of holiness. By this he com- municates faith and gives birth to hope. By this he enables us to rejoice in the exceeding great promises of his gospel, and shews us our interest in his special favour and love. By this he makes his word and ordi- nances eftectual to cheer and enliven us, and causes even the afflictive dispensations of his providence to be helpers of our joy. 3. The declaration before us assures us, lastly, that Christ is willing to heal all the broken-hearted, who apply for his aid j that he is ready to exercise the au- thority and power, which he has received. The Father has sent him from heaven to execute this gracious work, and he will not be unfaithful to the trust com- mitted to him. As Mediator of the church, he is be- come the servant of Jehovah. In this character he is spoken of by the prophet, and called " a righteous ser- vant." ^' Though he were a sort," says the apostle, ^' yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered ; and being made perfect, he became the author of eter- of the Broken-Hearted. %*t5 nal salvation unto all them, that obey him." In the councils of eternity he voluntarily took on him the office of Messenger of the covenant, and fulfils all the duties of it with faithfulness and delight. '^ Sacrifice and offering," says he, " thou didst not desire ; mine ears hast thou opened : burnt-offering and sin-offering hast thou not required. Then said I, 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. I have declared thy faithfulness and thy salva- tion. I have not concealed thy loving kindness and thy truth from the great congregation." But the readiness of Christ to heal all the broken- hearted must be traced to a still more encouraging source, than obedience to his commission. His heart is as full of love for the sorrowful sinner, as of reve- rence for the commands of his Father. The work, which has been given him to do, is consequently a work, in which he delights. The errand, on which he came down from heaven, is an errand congenial to the desires of his heart ; an errand, which brings to him more honour and happiness, than all the services and worship of his angels. He voluntarily left the praises of eternity to be employed in it. He came down to the earth, and bore our griefs, and carried our sor- rows ; he was stricken and afflicted, wounded and bruised ; and yet he is satisfied. His infinite mind is filled with unspeakable satisfaction as he contemplates the fruit of his labours, and through eternity he will never look back without joy on the travail of his soul. And whence does this satisfaction arise ? From the mercifulness of his nature ; from the delight, which he takes in the happiness of his creatures ; from his great love to his people. S76 Chrut the Healer Here then is a ricli source of encouragement and peace to every desponding mourner. The God, against whom he has sinned, has sent a messenger from hea- ven to heal him ; and he, whom he has sent, rejoices to bind up the broken-hearted and to pardon the guiltj'. He has infinite compassi(m to pity, as well as infinite power to relieve. He has assumed our nature and par- taken of our sorrows, that he may know by experience how to discover and feel for our miseries ; and he has had his soul pierced with unutterable anguish, that he might procure a balm for our wounds. Tliis balm he freely communicated to all who came to him for it, when he was on earth, and the Bible tells us that he has lost none of his compassion and tenderness by going to heaven. He has commanded his apostle to assure us, that he is still a merciful and faithful i^igh-Priest, and thousands of his suffering people are daily experi- encing his sympathy and love. The}- are all ready to testify that he delighteth in mercy, and knows how to pour consolation into their sorrowful souls. A review of the subject, on which we have been meditating, points out to us, first, the persons, to whom the tninisters of the gospel are to administer comfort. Some of their brethren would have them speak peace indiscriminately to all, and are sometimes ready to cen- sure them, because the careless, the worldly, the proud, and the ungodly, derive no comfort from hearing them. But where, brethren, can we find in our Bibles any consolation for such characters as these ? Where is our warrant to speak peace to their souls ? Our commission is in substance the same as our Master's. We are sent on the same errand of mercy, and to the very same de- scription of persons. We have a message of consola- tion entrusted to us, but then it is to be delivered only of the Broken-Hearted, §77 to the poor in spirit, the broken in heart, the bruised. In proportion as we are faithful and skilful ministers of the word, and as God blesses our labours, these humble sinners will be comforted and others disquiet- ed ; the poor and the hungry will be. filled with good things, while the rich will be sent empty away. Indeed there is no greater proof of the faithfulness of a minister of Christ, than his being made a son of consolation to some of his brethren, and the means of disturbing the false peace of others. He, who has a message of com- fort for all, may be caressed by men, but he will not be commended by God. Me may quiet the conscience of the worldly and lukewarm professor of the gospel, but he will not be the instrument of saving his soul. He will not advance the glory of the Redeemer, nor the spiritual prosperity and salvation of his fellow sinners. The text affords us, secondly, a test by which we may try our spiritual comfort. Whence did it spring? Did your light arise out of darkness ? Had your spiri- tual joy its origin in godly sorrow ? Did your heart bleed, before it was healed ? Then be thankful to that gracious Saviour, who has given rest to your soul. But if your religious consolations were not preceded by the deep workings of contrition, if your conscience was quieted before sin was embittered to your heart, you have no cause to rejoice. Your peace is not the peace of God ; your joy is not the joy of the Holy Ghost. It is the joy of the man, who eats, drinks, and is merry, while his habitation is on fire over his heud. It is the peace of the mariner, who slumbers while his vessel is sinking in the storm. Not that every Christian can retrace all the various steps of spiritual sorrow, through which he has passed ; nor that all, who have been brought to the great Phy- 278 Christ the Healer sician of souls, were led to him by precisely the same degree of disquietude and fear. In some cases it has pleased God to carry on his work of grace in the heart by such gentle and insensible degrees, and so to modify the feelings of repentance almost from the first by a hope in his mercy, that the mind has been saved from that acuteness of suffering, which has been the portion of many repentant prodigals, when returning to the Lord. But in every case there has been some sense of guilt and some deep and humbling apprehensions of the danger and misery, in which it has involved us. In every case the heart has effectually been broken. There has been a mourning for sin, and a conscious- ness that without the interposition of Christ, fear and despair must be the everlasting portion of the trans- gressor. We may infer also from the text, that true contrition of heart is one ofthe greatest blessings^ which God can bestoiv on 7nan. Not that it is in itself a blessing, for no affliction for the present is joyous ; but it will even- tually terminate in all the blessedness, which the Al- mighty can give or his creatures receive. It brings the sinner within reach of the commission of a gracious and powerful Saviour. It opens his mind to receive all the healing and cheering influence of the Spirit of grace. It is the first step by which a God, who loves him, is guiding him to heaven and preparing him to share in its joys. We have no reason therefore to mourn over those of our friends, whom the Lord has taught to weep over their manifold sins. Their spiritual sorrow sends up, as it were, a new ray of joy into the king- dom of the blessed, and if we were holy and wise like the angels, we too should rejoice over the sinner that rcpentcth, and his complaining and siglis would be as music in our ears. of the Broken-Hearted. 279 And yet, brethren, it is painful to think how many of us would rather see our children and friends trifliiig m the most humiliating scenes of folly and sin, than see them retiring from the crowd, as the stricken deer retires from the herd to mourn and to bleed alone. In the one case we commend and applaud them as inno- cent and wise ; in the other we harass and deride them, as though they had no hearts to be wounded, nor we any pity to bestow. Cruel as this conduct is to our friends, it is still more cruel to ourselves. They can find in their closets something, which can bear them up against all the revilings of men ; but we shall soon have nothing to bear up our souls under the aggravated displeasure of God. They can go and read in their Bibles, that though their father and mother forsake them for righteousness' sake, the Lord taketh them up ; while we are forced to read and understand these prophetic words of the psalmist, *' Pour out thine indignation upon them, and let thy wrathful anger take hold of them. Let their habitation be desolate, and let none dwell in their tents ; for they persecute him, whom thou hast smitten ; and they have talked to the grief of those, whom thou hast wounded." But here it may be asked, " Is all spiritual sorrow to be accounted a blessing ? Is there no spiritual suf- ferer, over whom they who love him may be allowed to grieve and to weep ? We saw our friend in the midst of gaiety and youth retire from a world; which courted his friendship. We saw him burst asunder bands, which we once thought too strong to be broken. We beheld him meekly and resolutely devoting him- self to the service of the God, who had redeemed him. With mingled feelings of anxiety and hope, we watched his conduct after he had openly taken the side of thr 380 Christ the Healer Lord, and we witnessed in it an ardour of love and of zeal, which is seldom surpassed. Many of his former associates thought him gloomy and wretched, but he opened his heart to us, and we found it to be as full of peace and of blessedness, as heart could hold, buch was year after year his enviable state ; but now all his happiness is gone. His harp has been long hung upon the willows, and his mind overwhelmed with dej,pon- dency and anguish. We see in him the same holy fear of the Lord, that shone in him in his happiest days ; the same deep humility, the same hatred of sin, the same love for his Saviour, the same benevolence to man ; but we no longer hear from him the song of trembling joy, nor see his countenance brighten with a sacred delight. His soul is afflicted, tossed with tem- pests, and not comforted. May we not then be allowed to mourn over such a sufferer as this ? Can such spiri- tual sorrow as this be esteemed a token of mercy, a blessing of grace ? We dare not arraign the dispensa- tions of the Holy One, but we are constrained to say, * Verily, thou art a God that hidest thyself, O God of Israel, the Saviour.' " In reply to such enquiries as these, it must be ad- mitted that the dealings of God with his saints are often dark and mysterious, and that the mind which attempts to fathom them, will often ache and be faint. It must be acknowledged also that the servant of God is some- times left for a season a prey to despondency, even when his despondency has not been preceded by a re- lapse into sin. But let us not blindly impeach the loving kindness and truth of Jehovah, nor rashly sus- pect the healing efficacy of his gospel of peace. Are we sure that the sorrow we deplore has its origen in spiri- tual causes ? On the contrary, have we not abundant of the Broken-Hearted. 281 reason to suppose that it must be traced principally or solely to natural causes ? In almost every instance, it will be found to have been preceded by bodily indispo- sition, long continued affliction, or excessive mental exertion ; and to be uniformly attended with a greater or less degree of debility of mind. The bewildered and throbbing head, the languid eye, the pallid countenance, the failing voice, the shivering frame, plainly tell us that the anguish of the mind must be ascribed to the weakness and wretchedness of the habitation, in which it is lodged ; and that the efforts of the bodily physician must be blessed in restoring strength to the frame, be- fore the spiritual physician can bind up and heal the soul. The gospel of Christ was never designed to re- move natural diseases, nor the apparently spiritual dis- eases, which are connected with them, and which are in reality a part of them. It can do no more in some cases to keep off the pressure of melancholy, than it can to enable a man to resist the attack of a fever. While therefore we weep with our disconsolate friend, and endeavour to lessen the burden of his grief and to pour balm into his wouiids, let us not harbour any suspicion against the mercy and faithfulness of the great Physician of souls, though he may still go on mourning in the heaviness of his soul. He has not de- serted the sufferer, though he may seem to have for- saken him. Even the bitterness, which has been poured into his cup, may prove to be a salutary medicine. It may be the means of saving him from many dangers and sins, into which he would otherwise have fallen ; or of raising him to a degree of holiness, usefulness, and happiness, to which he would not otherwise have attained. It may make him patient and gentle, tender- hearted and pitiful ; the soother of the sorrowful, and Nn tS2. Christ the Healer the skilful comforter of the mourner. The same work may be going on within his heart now, which we once saw going on in the day of his blessedness. Yea, he may be growing still more rapidly in grace than he ever was before, and may soon come forth out of the furnace rejoicing and purified. The rising sun is not impeded in its course, when its glory is obscured by clouds. We see not its progress, but while concealed from our view, it climbs higher and higher, and at length bursts forth from the mists, which concealed it, shining in meridian splendour. And what, if the friend whom we love should never again rejoice in the hope of salvation ? What, if he should go down to the grave bowed down with sorrow ? One moment of heaven will recompense him for all the bitterness of his life ; and one smile from the throne of Jehovah will raise him to the summit of joy. The text reminds us, lastly, of the sin and folly of despair, if God has sent his Son from heaven to heal the broken-hearted, and if the Son whom he has sent is a faithful servant and a merciful and skilful Physician, where is the broken-h.earied sinner, who has not a ground for encouragement and hope ? Where is the dejected penitent, who will look on the compas- sionate Jesus, and dare to pronounce his case to be hopeless ? Your condition may be pitiable and sad. No heart but your own may know half the depth of your iniquity, nor half the greatness of your fear. But do not make your guilt and your wretchedness greater by adding the sin of unbelief to all your multiplied transgressions. Christ has again and again invited all the weary and heavy laden to come unto him for rest. lie has promised that he, who cometh unto him, shall in no wise be cast out. He has said that whosoever of the Broken-Hearted. 283 shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved. Now you cannot treat these invitations and promises as in- sincere and unmeaning declarations, without impeach- ing the veracity of him, who is more faithful and true than any of his creatures, and who in all the ages of eternity has never once altered the thing, which has gone out of his mouth. Why then should this faithful God single you out to mock and deceive you ? He has healed many sinners as great as you, and comforted many as sorrowful ; and he is as ready to heal and com- fort your hearts, whenever you apply for his aid, as he was to put away the iniquity of David, or to pardon the transgression of Peter. The greatness of your guilt is no obstacle in the way of his bestowing a pardon upon you ; neither is your unfitness to receive it any dis- qualification for asking it. Do you need it? Do you desire it ? Do you find that you can never be happy without it ? Are you ready to sacrifice all your lusts and sins to obtain it ? Then this is the language, which a God of infinite mercy addresses to you from heaven, " Return unto me, for I have redeemed thee. Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord ; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." SERMON XVIII. niE TEARS OF JESUS AT THE GRAVE OF LAZARUS. ST. JOHN Xi. 35. Jesus nvejit. 1 HE history, with which these words are connected, is familiar to us all. It is the history of the resurrection of Lazarus from the dead. Never perhaps was a more interesting narrative penned. It is crowded with the most affecting incidents ; but still the most affecting of them all is that recorded in the text. It exhibits the Saviour to us in so lovely and endearing a character, that it seems as though it must constrain us all to ad- mire and esteem him, and lead us to count all things but loss, so that we may have an interest in his favour, and call this blessed Jesus our friend. In proceeding to enquire into the probable causes of the Saviour's tears, it will perhaps be well to consider him in two points of view ; first, as the Friend of La- zarus and his sisters ; and then, as the Redeemer of mankind. I. 1. As the Friend of Lazarus and his family, our Lord certainly wept from compassion to the sorrowing mourners^ whom he saw around him. He was never a hard-hearted spectator of human misery. It was com- passion for a wretched world, which prevailed on him to leave his heavenly glories the only time he ever left The Tears of Jesus, &c. 285 them, and to take in exchange for them the degradation and miseries of the earth. It was the same principle, that led him to shed tears over the impending miseries of Jerusalem, and to weep on the present occasion with his sorrowful friends. His tears are expressly ascribed to this source in the thirty third verse of this chapter. " When Jesus therefore saw Mary weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit and was troubled." The original expression signifies, "he troubled or afflicted himself ;" that is, he yielded to the power of that sympath}% which was waiting to bring grief into his heart, and suffered com- passion and sorrow to take possession of his soul. Observe too that it is said in this verse, that the sor- row of the Jews affected him, as well as the sorrow of Mary. " When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and tJie Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit." Now we have no reason to think that these Jews were either believers in his Messiahship, or friends to his person. We may infer therefore, that the compassion of Christ is as extensive as human misery ; that while the sorrows of his beloved church touch his heart the most deeply, and draw forth its most lively tenderness, he has a soul, which can feel for the sor- rows of his enemies, and compassionate the wretched- ness even of the most guilty. What rich encouragement then is here for every af- flicted sinner ! What a source of consolation and hope ! What, though I cannot persuade myself that 1 am one of the renewed people of God ; yet if my heart is bro- ken with godly sorrow, and I feel a desire- to take the burden of my grief to Christ, let not a consciousness of guilt keep me from prayer ; let not my sin hold me back from the throne of grace. Only let me go to this 386 The Tears of Jesus compassionate Saviour, as a care-worn, helpless, perish- ing sinner, and I shall be sure to find a welcome, yea, and something more than a welcome at his throne. He, M'ho once wept on earth, has still a heart as tender as ever. He will be sure therefore to give me pit}-, and may give me pardon and rest. 2. Another cause of the tears of Jesus was the loss of a friend. The brother, for whom Mary and Martha were weeping, was not a stranger to Christ, but one, who was peculiarly dear to him, and had been particu- larly distinguished by him. The evangelist tells us, in the fifth verse of this chapter, that Jesus loved Lazarus, and, in the eleventh verse, he describes him as an- nouncing his death to his disciples under the name of a friend, " Our friend Lazarus sleepeth." The word slcepeth, which he here uses, may shew us perhaps the strength of his affection for his departed friend, as well as the greatness of his grief at his loss. He does not at once say " Lazarus is dead;" but, '" Our friend Laza- rus sleepeth," as though he knew not how to connect the idea of death wiih a name so dear to him. The Sa- viour felt perhaps as we feel, wlien we are bereaved of a much loved friend. We cannot at first persuade our- selves that the loss is real. As we look on the quiet corpse, we almost expect the eye-lids again to open, and the lips to move. And after we have seen our friend buried in the earth, the same strange feeling is still alive. We know that he is dead, but it seems at seasons as though he were only gone on a journey, and would soon return to us to take his usual share in our sorrows and joys. This feeling aggravates rather than ameliorates our grief, but it shews the strength of our affection for the friend we have lost. As we trace it working in the breast of Jesus, we may not only behold at the Grave of Lazarus. 287 with the Jews how he loved Lazarus, but we may infer that there is a sorrow of the acutest description, which is not forbidden us, when we are bereaved of those, whom we love. We are indeed forbidden in the gospel to sorrow as they that have no hope ; but we are no where com- manded to root out of our hearts that feeling and ten- derness, which for the wisest of purposes our merciful Creator has implanted within us. Insensibility forms no part of Christianity. The religion of Christ has no- thing to do with hardness of heart. It exalts us to the dignity of children of God, but it does not destroy in us those natural affections, which are common to the children of men. While it modifies and governs, it strengthens them, and bends them to its gracious purposes. Hence the liveliest feelings of sorrow, are not incon- sistent with the Christian character. Abraham was an eminent servant of God and full of faith in his promises, and yet when his beloved wife died in Kirjath-arba, " Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her." They were devout men, who carried Stephen to his burial, and yet " they made great lamentation over him." A want of feeling under affliction, a despising of it, is as much to be guarded against, as fainting or despair. *'■ My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord," is as much the language of God, as the command not to faint when we are rebuked of him. To be stricken, and yet not to grieve, is to expose our- selves tQ the displeasure of the Almighty, and to the sharpest arrows of his quiver. While our grief therefore is mingled with resignation, and a child-like submission to the will of that heavenly ^ Father; who has smitten us ; while it is not suffered to 288 TJie Tears of Jesus impair our spiritual comforts, our hopes, and our graces ; let the heart mourn, let the tear flow. The man of the world may condemn us as childish and weak, and here and there an inexperienced professor of reli- gion, may suspect the sincerity of our faith ; but Jesus will neither condemn nor suspect us. He will remem- ber his own tears, and will not be offended by ours. 3. The tears of Christ might be occasioned, thirdly, by the instance noxv before him of the instabihty^ of all human happiness. The habitation, which he now found a house of mourning, he had often found a house of peace. The friend, whose grave he was approaching, had been but a short time before the member of as happy a family, as ever the sun arose on. Formerly Mary used to sit at his feet, listening with the most profound attention to every word that he uttered, and treasuring up his sayings with gratitude and reverence in her heart ; now she lies prostrate before him, bathed in tears, unable even to welcome him to her sorrowful home, and only able to say, " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." Thus short-lived and precarious is all the earthly happiness of man. The scene before us is an every day scene. It is only a picture of what is happening con- tinually in the habitations around us, and what may soon happen in our own. Our family may be as united, as the family of Mary and her sister and Lazarus once was ; we may, like them, honour the blessed Jesus, and Jesus may love us and take up his abode with us ; but mutual love and heart-felt piety, though they may heighten the joys of our household and alleviate its sorrows, will not keep sickness and death away from us. Our children are still subject to the stroke of death, and are as liable as others to become orphans and fa- at the Grave of Lazarus. 289 therless. We may still be called on to follow our bro- ther to the grave, or our brother may soon have to shed his unavailing tears over us. The wife of our bo- som may be as pious as Ruth or as Hannah, but her piety will not exempt her from that mortality, whicbis the common lot of man ; nor will her love for her hus- band cause him to live for ever. It is a difficult lesson to learn, brethren, but it is one which can never be learned too soon, that all our earthly comforts are merely lent to us for a season, and that an uncertain season ; that we may be required to part with them long before we have ceased to love and need them ; that the prop may be knocked from under us, at the very moment when it seems the strongest, and we most need it to bear our weight. Thus it ever has been, and it is for our good that thus it ever should be. We are ready to make idols of our blessings, even though we are aware of tiieir frailty, but we should cleave to them still more sinfully if we knew that they were never to be removed. Our duty then is plain. We must cease to make flesh our arm. Let us love our children and our friends, but let us not lean on them ; let us not deem them essential to our happiness. God can make the Christian happy without the help of any of his creatures, and he must not deem himself a Christian, who is not satisfied with his God ; who is not content to lay his head on his heavenly Father's bosom and say, This is my rest for ever. Here is my hiding-place and my refuge. Here is the source of my blessedness, and the spring of my joy. What, though I be left childless and friendless on the earth ? My Saviour is not dead ; my Father has not ceased to be with me. What, though all the streams be dried up ? The fountain of living waters is full, and as long as this Oo :S90 The Tears of Jesus fountain is open to me, I can be happy. I can drink of it, and forget my poverty, and remember my misery no more. Here also is a lesson for those, in whose families God is not feared nor loved ; and it is awful to think how many such families there are in this Christian land. The name of the Being, who made us, is not honoured in- many of our houses. We do not call upon our household to worship him in the morning, nor to praise him in the evening. But this conduct is as much op- posed to our own interest, as it is cruel to our families and ungrateful to our God ; for what shall we do, bre- thren, when trouble, disease, or death comes into our habitations and strips us of every thing we love ? What shall we do, when we look around us for consolation, and, like Noah's dove, find no resting place even for the sole of our foot? It is an easy thing to laugh at the Bible, and despise the gospel in the hour of health and of ease ; but health and ease will not last for ever. An hour of tribulation may come 5 an hour in which we would give the world to have the faith and hope of tlic Christian ; to have that ark to flee to, which shelters him so peacefully amidst the storms of life; to have but that simple belief in the Bible, that simple depen- dance on God, which we now make light of, and per- haps turn into a jest. O if there be a foolish being in the universe, it is the man who finds himself living in a world so full of trouble as this, and yet despises the only thing, whioJi can support and comfort him under its sorrows. II. Let us now proceed a step further, and view the tears of our Lord, not merely as the tears. of a tender- hearted and benevolent man, but as the tears of the great Ucdci^mcr of mankind. at the Grave of Lazarus. S91 His sorrow undoubtedly arose in part, and perhaps principally from those feelings, which he possessed in common with his brethren ; but we must not forget that he was the Son of God, as well as the Son of man, and must consequently have had thoughts arise in his mind, as he looked on the grave of the departed Laza- rus, into which no merely human mourner could have entered. 1. Of many of these sources of sorrow we are una- ble to form the faintest conception ; but we may rea- sonably suppose that the tears of the Saviour were drawn from him partly by the view here afforded him of the degradation of human nature. He was standing near a grave, and with a mind such as his, he could not for- get the original condition of the creature, who was there turning to rottenness and dust. His thoughts must have gone further back than the house of Mary. He must have contrasted the scene now before him with that, which he once beheld in the garden of Eden, the earthly paradise of God. He remembered what man once was ; he thought of what he might still have been ; and as he looked on the tomb of Lazarus, he wept. And who, brethren, can seriously think of the grave, and not see it to be in this point of view a mournful spectacle indeed ? It was not originally the house ap- pointed for all living. God did not design it as the end of all men. We chose it for ourselves. It was our own hand, which implanted the seeds of death in our frames, and made our poor bodies liable to corruption. When also we look on the two worlds, between which the grave is situated, and view them as the ha- bitations of our fallen race, our painful searchings of heart are not diminished. It is not a flowery path, S93 The Tears of Jesus which leads us to the tomb, neither is the country be- yond it always found to be a land of rest. We pass through, many a scene of sorrow to this dreary home, and in many instances we find it to be only the way into a world of greater suffering and still keener an- guish. Who can contemplate the multiplied millions of mankind, thus going century after century to the grave, and thus issuing out of it, and not drop a com- passionate tear over the awful degradation of our state? Man indeed is guilty. No load of misery will ever out- weigh his sinfulness. But then the guilty may be pi- tied, and our compassion may be extended even to the sinful. It must be remembered also that our degraded state was more likely to affect Christ, than it is us. None can bthoid a stately building beat down by violence, without being moved ; but it is the architect, the man whose skill and industry raised the fabric, who weeps the most bitterly over its ruins. Now man was the workmanship of Christ. He built him at first a pure and holy temple for the residence of God. How then must his soul have been grieved, when he saw the work of his hands laid waste ; when he saw the build- ing he had raised, forsaken by its great inhabitant, and made a desolation, retaining indeed amidst its ruins some faint traces of its original glory, but only enough to shfAv the greatness of its degradation I 2. Christ might have been ltd to weep at the tomb of Lazarus, by the unbelief and obstinacy of many, xvhe surrounded him. He had already performed many mira- cles and done many mighty works, in order to con- vince the Jews that he was indeed their promised Mes- siah ; but they still called him the carpenter's son, and refused to receive him as the Son of the Highest. But at the Grave of Lazarus. S93 Jesus did not abandon them. He was now about to perform in their sight a miracle of a still more extra- ordinary nature, than any they had witnessed before ; one, which seemed calculated to overcome the most deeply rooted prejudices, and to remove the most stub- born infidelity. He foresaw however that even this ex- ertion of his power would be lost on the greater part of the multitude around him ; that while some of them would be led to believe on him, others would only have their hatred against him increased, and be more earnest to effect his destruction. Hence he was troubled in spirit and wept. It might indeed have been supposed that even the compassionate Jesus could not have wept over such obstinate sinners as these ; that he would have left theni to the misery they chose with emotions of indignation rather than of sorrow ; but Jesus tenderly loved the Jews. He remembered that they were the children of Abraham, his ancient friend ; and he could not see them madly rushing on to ruin without shedding over them the tear of pity. Though they were his ent- mies and were thirsting for his blood, he could not willingly abandon the house of Israel to the miseries prepared for them ; but, like a merciful judge he wept over the obdurate criminals, whom justice required him to give up to destruction. Indeed one of the chief sources of the Redeemer's sorrow while he dwelt upon the earth, was the ingrati- tude, which he received from the sinners, whom he was enduring so much to save. He came unto his own, and his own received him not; and when he went to others, he experienced the same treatment. Tiiey poured contempt on him, and would not take him for their Saviour and their Lord. He was despised and re- 294 The Tears of Jesus jected of men, and it was this, which made him so much a man of sorrows, and so deeply acquainted with grief. We know not how much our own thoughdessness and unbehef contributed to fill up that cup of bitter sorrow, of which the Redeemer drank. He foresaw how many of us would make light of him, and of all he was about to do and suffer for our sakes ; how con- temptuously we should treat his gospel, and how cru- elly we should throw away our souls. Who can tell but that even when wet ping at Bethany, he thought of some careless sinner now in this house of prayer; some poor trifler, who is now hearing with unconcern of his love and tears ; some hard-hearted transgressor, who, rather than part with his follies and sins, will con- sent to lose heaven and his soul ? Who can tell but that some of us might have caused the blessed Jesus to heave an additional sigh in this sorrowful hour, and have given to his troubled breast an additional pang ? How is it then, brethren, that we ourselves are so litde affected by that folly and guilt, which affected Jesus so much ? How is it that while he wept over our contempt of his gospel, we can so often be warned of it, and yet never be moved ; we, who are so deeply concerned in it, and on whose heads it is bringing down so much misery and wrath ? The reason is plain. We know not the value of salvation. We know not the worth of our souls. Sin and the world hold undi- vided possession of our hearts, and we have not a seri- ous thought to spare for eternity. These then were some of the probable causes of the tears, which the Saviour shed at the grave of Lazarus. He wept as a man over the sorrows of his brethren, at at the Grave of Lazarus. 295 the loss of a friend, and from a contemplation of the instability of all human happiness. He wept as the Re- deemer of men over the degradation of mankind, and the guilt and wretchedness of impenitent sinners. The first and most obvious inference we may draw from the tears of Jesus is this ; tenderness of heart is not inconsistent with greatness of mind> We see both these graces exemplified in the highest degree in the history before us, and throughout the whole course of the Saviour's life. And yet many of the followers of Jesus have represented the lively emotions of sympathy as a weakness, which as Christians and men we ought not to encourage. It is true that these emotions ought to be modified, and duly regulated ; but as for sup- pressing the warm feelings of friendship, the workings of compassion, or the tears of pity, the religion of Ciirist requires not this at our hands. On the contrary, it calls upon us to cherish these affections ; to send every cavil- ler against them to Bethany and Calvary, and bid him look on the Being, who is weeping and dying there. How lovely a character is the character of Jesus Christ! Nothing more endears to us a man of exalted rank, than to see him entering into the sorrows of the poor and the mean ; but here is one weeping with the sorrowful, who is higher than the highest angel, and in comparison with whom the greatest of the sons of men is but as a worm or as a moth. How is it then, brethren, that many of us think so meanly of this Jesus? The great reason is this ; we love sin, and we therefore hate every thing which is opposed to it. If Christ did not wound our pride and condemn our practices ; if he sanctioned our opinions, our follies, and vices in this world, and promised us something like a Mahometan paradise in the next, all would be well j we should ad- S96 The Tears of Jesus, &c. mire his character, and instead of pouring contempt on his gospel, his nninisters, and his servants, we should uphold and applaud them all. We may infer, lastly, from the text, that they^ who are the friends of the compassionate Saviour, may find in the tenderness of his heart, a never-failing source of encouragement and consolation. Where is that Jesus now, who once wept with Mary and Martha at the graxc of their brother? " He is exalted to the right hand of the Majesty on high." How is he there em- ployed ? ^' He ever liveth to make intercession for us." But does he remember the feelings and workings of his mind, when on earth ? Does Bethany still live in his memory ? It does, and all the sorrow and anguish he experienced there. The Bible tells us that he still re- tains the same human nature, that he had then ; and is touched as deeply with all our infirmities, and can enter as experimentally into all our sorrows. This thought is a sweet and encouraging one, my brethren, and cannot hold too high a place in our minds. The more it is cherished within us, the more shall we enjoy of the blessedness of religion ; the more peaceful shall we be in tribulation, and the more thankful in prosperity. It will make our heavenly Friend still dearer to our hearts, increase our longings after the heaven in which he dwells, and give a new and unspeakable sweetness to our communion with God. SERMON XIX. GOD THE ETERNAL DWELLING PLACE OF HIS SERVANTS. PSALM XC. 1, 2. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. As we contemplate the world we inhabit, we are often tempted to conclude that its firm foundations never can be moved, and its scenes of beauty and magnificence never be destroyed. But while we are admiring and speculating, the fashion of this world is rapidly passing away, and its glory hastening to an everlasting end. The heavens above us too must perish. The sun and the stars in their courses are measuring out their own appointed years, as well as ours ; and when their num- bered revolutions are completed, the sun will cease to rise and the moon to shine, the stars of heaven will fall, and the place thereof know them again no more. And yet, brethren, we who are surrounded by these fading worlds are not thus limited in our duration. We shall be alive ages and ages after the earth has been con- sumed, and the heavens dissolved, and shall still want a habitation to dwell in, a refuge, and a home. Where then is this habitation to be found ? The psalmist tells us. He bids us lift up our eyes to the throne of God, and shews us a dwelling-place there, standing on ever- lasting foundations, and able to receive and shelter ^98 God the Eternal Dwelling-Place every immortal soul. *^ Lord," says he, " thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God." The subjects of consideration suggested to us by these words, are three; — the eternity of God ; the rela- tion, in which this eternal God stands to his servants ; and the feelings, which the contemplation of him as their everlasting dwelling-place, ought to excite in their minds. I. Our attention is directed, first, to the eternity of God. And here we perceive at once that we have a subject before us, which baffles all our enquiries. We use the wc»:d eternity, and we seem to understand it, but no sooner do we strive to comprehend its meaning, than we are startled to discover how little we can know of it. Like men attempting to fathom a bottomless sea, or to trace the shores of a boundless ocean, we enquire and labour; but all the fruit of our labours is an hum- bling conviction of our own weakness, and an over- powering sense of tlie divine greatness. But though our feeble minds cannot grasp the eternity of the Al- mighty, there is nothing presumptuous or sinful in making it the frequent subject of our meditations. The Scripture allows, yea, invites us to think of it, and has connected with the thought of it, some of the svveetest and richest consolations, that the gospel can bestow. The psalmist evidently speaks of it in the text as a subject of contemplation, delightful and cheering to his soul ; and the elevating language, which he employs in describing it, is calculated to impress a deep and lasting conviction of its importance on our minds. 1. He tells us, first, that the existence of God never I of his Sei^ants. 399 had qr-hrginning. " Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting, thou art God." He here brings before our view the lofty mountains, which seem to oppress the earth with their v/eight j and while we are admiring their solidity and grandeur, he tells us that before these were formed his God lived. He then bids us look on the earth itself, and as we are thinking of the ages which have passed away since its foundations were first laid, he tells us again that before the earth was built, the living God was reigning on his throne. Neither does he leave us here. Our eyes are now di- rected to the rolling worlds around us, and when we begin to contemplate their number, vastness, and mag- nificence, we are ready to imagine that the day of their creation must have been the beginning of Jehovah's endless life ; but no ; " Before the world was made, thou art God." And here the psalmist stops. He leads us back as far as our imaginations can accompany him, and then intimates to us that we are no nearer the source of the Almighty's existence, than we were at first ; that if we would discover the beginning of his life and glory, we must seek it in the abyss of that eternity, which lies beyond the remotest boundaries of time. 2. But the text reminds us, also, that the existence of Godwin never have an end ; that it stretches into fu- turity farther than our minds can follow it, or angels trace it ; that it is an everlasting life, a deep and mys- terious stream, which never began, and will never cease to flow. '* From everlasting to everlasting, thou art God." And how can it be otherwise ? Who can de- prive him of his existence, who received it of none, and owes to none its preservation ? He is the incor- 300 God the Eternal Dwelling-Place ruptible God, and decay and death can never touch him. He is the Lord God omnipotent, and no arm can overcome him. He is the unchangeable Jehovah, and no variableness, neither shadow of turning can come near him. Hence says the psalmist, " Thou, O God, hast laid of old the foundations of the earth, and the hea- vens are the work of thy hands. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure ; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment, as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed ; but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end." Observe too, brethren, that the eternity, which the Holy One of Israel inhabits, is his own eternity. He sits on no borrowed throne, but " hath life in himself," and is the author of his own boundless existence. We ourselves are immortal beings, but we owe our eternity to another. We shall live for ever simply because it is the will of him, who gave us life, to preserve us in be- in jr. Without him our souls are as liable to be de- o stroyed as our bodies ; yea, let him for one moment be unmindful of an immortal spirit, and in that very mo- ment that spirit has ceased to be. This truth is not suf- ficiently remembered by us. We seem to think that our souls have some natural claim on the eternity be- fore us, and that omnipotence itself has no power to destroy them ; but the thought is vain. The God, who is the father of our spirits, could annihilate, as easily as he made them. Crowded as is the universe with the living heirs of immortality, a word from his lips would leave it for ever without an inhabitant, and turn his own heaven into a desert, without a spirit rejoicing in it, or an angel worshipping before his throne. How forcibly does this consideration remind us of our dependence on God, and of the mighty and incomprehensible exer- of his &ei^ants. 301 cise of power and of goodness, by which he is every moment preserving in existence the beings he has formed ! How low in the dust does it sink the most exalted of his creatures ; and with what overpowering feelings of humility, adoration, and gratitude, does it constrain them to cast down before his throne the crowns of their glory ! II. Such then is the view, which the psalmist has here given us of the eternity of God ; and faint as our conceptions may be of it, we must surely be ready to enquire, with no common degree of anxiety and earn- estness, what connection there is between this everlast- ing Being and ourselves, and in what relation he stands to the people, who love and obey him. The text an- swers this enquiry ; and how graciously does it answer it ! It represents the Creator of the heavens and the earth as the dwelling-place of his servants, as their ha- bitation, their refuge, the house of their rest. It might have been expected that this description of the divine eternity would have been employed by the Holy Spirit to shew forth the terrors of the Lord, and to make his enemies tremble before him ; but no word of terror accompanies it. He employs it to teach us how ready the everlasting Father is to shelter, and how able to bless us. We are reminded of the power, by which he formed the earth and the worlds ; we are reminded of the eternity, in which he dwelt before there was a creature to know and adore him; and for what end? — that a world of destitute sinners may be encouraged to consign themselves to his care, and to trust in his love. Neither is this the only passage of Scripture, in which we find the greatness of the Almighty brought forward to invite and to cheer, instead of to dismay and alarm. The twenty-ninth psalm supplies us with a re- 303 God the Eternal Dwelling-Place markable instance of this mode of reasoning with the suspicions and fears of the humble. It begins with calling upon the great and the mighty to give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name. He is described as a powerful king, thundering on the waters, breaking the cedars of Lebanon with his voice, making the moun- tains dance, shaking the wilderness, laying open the forests, and controulling the water floods. And for what purpose is all this magnificent imagery employed? Only to introduce and give force to this gracious pro- mise, "The Lord will give strength unto his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace." A similar instance occurs in the first chapter of the prophecy of Nahum. After a description of the power and majesty of the Deity, vvhi';h almost overwhelms the mind with its grandeur, the goodness of the I,iord is abruptly made the theme of the prophet's song. " The Lord," says he, " hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet ;" and then in the midst of trembling mountains, falling rocks, and a burning world, this small voice of mercy is heard issu- ing from his throne, " The Lord is good, a btrong hold in the day of trouble, and he knoweth them that trust in him." O brethren, how strange is it that so glorious a God should thus labour to strengthen and comfort the fallen children of men ! but how much stranger still, thcit there should be found among the people who know him, one heart desponding and aching ! 1. But let us proceed to take a somewhat closer view of the figurative description, which is given us of the living God in the text. He is called our dwelling-place, and the term obviously implies that he is to his servants a refuge from dangers. We are all encompassed by many and great dangers. Some of them we perceive of his Servants, 303 and feel, but there are innumerable evils besetting us every moment, of which we are altogether unconscious. Our situation too is as helpless, as it is perilous. Mountains are ready to fall on us, and yet we are so feeble, that a worm can destroy, or a moth crush us. But God can preserve us in the midst of all our dan- gers ; and if we have entered into that covenant which he has made by sacrifice with his chosen, he has pledged himself to watch over and shelter us, to make our situa- tion in this world of peril as secure, as though we were already standing in his own peaceful heavens. Even our worthless bodies are the objects of his care. He has commanded one of his servants to tell us that he keepeth all our bones, so that not one of them is bro- ken ; and he has sent his own Son from heaven to as- sure us that he numbers even the hairs of our head. As for our souls, they are as safe in his hands as om- nipotence can make them. We have only to take refuge under the shadow of his wing, and Satan cannot irijure nor temptation overcome us ; our corruptions may ha- rass, but they cannot prevail against us ; and the world, instead of triumphing over us and leading us captive, will be trampled underneath our feet. " 1 will say of the Lord," exclaimed the confiding prophet, as he con- templated the strength and safety of the habitation, to which he had fied, " 1 will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust. His truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by niglit, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at noon- 304 God the Eternal Dwelling-Flace day. Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation, there shall no evil befal thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." 2. But our houses are something more than places of shelter from the attacks of enemies, from winds and from storms. They are the abodes of our happiness, and the mansions in which we seek our peace and our rest. When therefore the eternal God styles himself our dwelling-place, he teaches us to regard him as the seat of our comforts. And there are thousands among his tried and afflicted people, who can testify with hearts glowing with gratitude, that there are indeed comforts in him ; such comforts as they who know not God have never tasted nor thought of; substantial and satisfying comforts ; comforts which can sweeten a world of mi- sery, and make the dreary desert around us blossom as a rose. How is it then, my brethren, that the blessings of our heavenly home are so little experienced and en- joyed ? We know that there is happiness with God, and there have been seasons, in which we have won- dtred at the blessedness he has imparted to our souls. The difficulties of life have lost all their power to per- plex, and its calamities to trouble us. Though chas- tened and afflicted, we have risen above our trials, and have been ready to bid an eternal farewell to fear and sorrow. And yet perhaps in one short hour this calm has been disturbed. Peace has forsaken us, and our harassed minds have again resembled the troubled sea when it cannot rest. We have been disappointed, and the disappointment has been more than we could bear ; we have received some unexpected stroke of our Fa- ther's rod, and Ave have fainted under it : we have lost ofhis Servants, 805 - the idol we had loved, and we huve felt as forlorn and comfortless, as though there were no God to be our helper, or we had never leaned on his arm. And to what cause are we to ascribe this painful change in our feelings ? We have forgotten our God. We have for- saken the seat of our comforts. We have been seeking abroad the blessings, whicli are to be found only in our home. Could \ye but constantly live above in the dwelling appointed us ; could we but abide hour by hour in the secret place of the Almighty, how little should we heed the storms that are now so often dis- quieting us ! The waves of this troubled sea, over which we are passing, might toss themselves, and the waters thereof roar and lift themselves up ; but we should be dwelling far above their reach, and should dread not their fury. The man, who is surrounded in a peaceful habitation by the comforts ofhis home, heeds not the tempests, which rage around him. He hears the winds blow, and the rains descend, but they disturb not his blessedness. Neither can the storms of life mate- rially disturb the peace of the Christian. He feels him- self to be sheltered in a secure dwelling, and in a quiet resting place, and the agitating scenes of life only make him value it the more, and sweeten its comforts. He may be afflicted and troubled ; he may be bowed down with sickness, and have not a lover or friend to pity or help him ; the world may persecute and harass him ; intricate and mysterious providences may throw many a cloud over his path; but none of these things move him. The man is in the bosom of his God, and he is happy there. 3. The figurative language of the text implies, thirdly, that the eternal God is not only a refuge to his people from their dangers and the seat of their comforts, but Qq 306 God the Eternal Dwelling-Place that he is also the place of their abode ; not merely a house in which they are occasionally found, but their constant residence, their home. It is this living in God? this habit of flying to him for protection and peace, which distinguishes the real Christian from the mere professor of religion, and makes his soul so unruffled and fearless. There are seasons, in which we are all disposed to seek refuge in God. The calamities of life force us to implore his aid. But then, brethren, let us not deem ourselves Christians, because sickness can alarm, and adversity trouble us. Let us not say that we are dwelling in a house, into which we have been unwillingly forced by a storm, and which we intend to leave, as soon as the fury of the tempest has passed. It is true that God is a refuge from the storm, and a hiding-place from the wind ; a near and open refuge, to which every helpless and wearied pilgrim is invited to fly, and where he is promised a welcome and a bless- ing; but to the Christian he is something more. The Most High is *' his habitation, whereunto he continually resorts." " He dwelleth in God" in the hour of secu- rity, as well as in the season of danger ; and in the brightest day of his prosperity he still " abideth under the shadow of the Almighty.*' Without this habitual communion with God and constant dependence upon him, the Scriptures plainly tell us that we shall be strangers to the safety and peace, which he vouchsafes to his children. And does not matter of fact tell us the same ? Who are the people among us, whom the world cannot move, nor temptation overcome ? whom disap- pointments cannot ruffle, nor afflictions depress ? The careless and inconsistent followers of Christ ? the men who give to prayer and the Bible one hour, and to va- nity and sin the next ? No ; the man, who is in thenar of his Servants. 307 of the Lord all the day long ; who is living, as it were, every hour at his footstool, and within sight of his throne ? How then, brethren, are we living ? with God or without him in the world ? Is he our dwelling-place, our home ? or is he as a strange and foreign house to us, the door of which we may have seen, but never en- tered ; and the comforts of which we may have heard of, but never tasted nor sought ? III. This then is the light, in which we are encou- raged to regard the everlasting God. If we are num- bered among the people who are seeking and serving him, he is our refuge in danger, the seat of our com- forts, and the abode of our rest. It becomes us there- fore to enquire, thirdly, what feelings the contempla- tion of our eternal dwelling-place, ought to excite in our minds. 1. The text may be considered, first, as the language of grateful acknowledgment. The psalmist seems to have been taking a review of the never-failing loving- kindness of the Almighty towards his beloved church, and he here acknowledges his hand in all the multi- plied mercies, which he and his fellow pilgrims had experienced. We too, my brethren, should imitate his conduct. Mercies are not given us merely to be re- ceived and forgotten. They are designed to be lasting blessings, to be treasured up in our memories, and to be made the means of warming our hearts, and renew- ing our confidence in every future season of despon- dency and coldness. The history of our own lives then is a history, which we are bound to study. God him- self has commanded us to remember all the way where- in he has led us, to keep all the events which have be- fallen us fresh in our recollection, and to connect them all with him. Some painful emotions must, it is true, 308 God the Eternal Dwcllhig-Place arise in every mind, as it retraces the past. Hours wasted in folly, and days in vanity : talents unimprov- ed, and duties left undone ; afflictions despised, and warnings slighted ; sins heaped upon sins must rush upon the mind as it looks back on the years that are gone, and excite many a sorrowful and almost sicken- ing feeling in the heart. But these are not the only things, which a retrospect of life recals to our remem- brance. It forces us to see that the eternal God has in- deed been our dwelling-place; that in the midst of our iniquities goodness and mercy have been hourly pre- venting and following us ; that blessings exceeding in multitude the hairs of our head, yea, numberless as our sins, have been poured into our bosoms. Indeed it seems to us at seasons as though we had been from the day of our birth the only objects of Jehovah's care and regard; as though he had forgotten all the concerns of the universe to help, support, and comfort our sinful souls. 2. The words of the psalmist may be regarded also as the language of satisfaction. They imply that, in all generations, the people who have dwelt in God have been abundantly satisfied with the goodness of their house ; that thev have found in it all that their wants needed, and more than their souls desired. Some of us perhaps have been tempted to pity the Christian, and to regret that he should deny himself the comforts and joys, which we find in those pursuits and delights of the world, that he has abandoned. \\^e are ready to think that he has been disappointed in his expectations, and that were it not for the workings of obstinacy and pride, he would again rejoice to share our society and to enter into our pleasures. But could we once see the intense earnestness, with which the most sorrowful of his Servants. 309 Christian desires to cling to his God, and the rich and full satisfaction, which he finds and enjoys in him, we should learn a lesson, that would astonish and humble us. That man disappointed, who has the eternal God for his dwelling place ? That heart unsatisfied, which is lying on the bosom of Jehovah ? Never. You, bre- thren, who are thirsting for pleasure, and seeking it with all the energies of your souls in a deceiving and changing world, you are the men whose hearts ache with vexation and sicken with disappointment ; you are the men, to whom solitude is irksome, existence itself often a' burden, death dreadful, and eternity apalling. 3. We may consider the text, thirdly, as the lan- guage oi humility. The contemplation of the divine eternity humbles, as well as elevates, the mind. It in- voluntarily leads us to compare ourselves with him, who is reigning on his everlasting throne, and almost overwhelms us with a sense of our own littleness and vileness. No sooner has the psalmist spoken of God as the eternal dwelling-place of his people, than we find his thoughts passing abruptly to the frailty of man, and afterwards to his sinfulness. He speaks of him as fading away suddenly like the grass ; as traversing the earth in the morning, and in the evening returning again to the dust, from which he was taken. How mysterious then is the condescension of the Lord in setting his love on a creature so mean ! And how fearfully bold is the pride of that creature, when he presumes to sit in judg- ment on the actions, and to censure the counsels of an eternal God ! And yet how prone is man to cherish this foolish and presumptuous pride ! Though born yester- day, and dying to-morrow, so ignorant that he cannot comprehend the nature of his own existence, and so short-sighted that he cannot tell what a single hour will 310 God the Eternal Dwelling-Place bring forth; yet is he continually lifting up himself against the incomprehensible God, and daring to bring the Lord of eternity to the bar of his own poor little mind. We glory in the intellect of man, when it is ex- ercised in submission to the word and ways of him who is its author, but we tremble and blush for it, when it is striving to exalt itself against the Majesty of heaven. The eternity of God sets him far above the reach of our feeble comprehension ; and he who would act agreeably to the rational nature, of which he is so willing to boast, must struggle with the workings of his own proud heart, must labour to cast down its high imaginations, and never rest till every thought within him is brought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. But the words of the psalmist remind us of another ground of humiliation. We are sinful as well as frail beings ; and the same eternal God, who has taught us to regard him as our refuge, has " set our iniquities be- fore him, and our secret sins in the light of his coun- tenance." Many of these sins yve have seldom or never thought of, and many more we have long since for- gotten ; but not one of them is forgotten in heaven. They are all as fresh at this very moment in the mind of the Lord, as in the hour when they were committed. Though infinite mercy may pardon, infinite wisdom can never forget them. A thousand years in his sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and ten thousand more could not efface from the book of his remem- brance a single sin. How solemn is this thought, bre- thren ! Who can press it home to his heart, and dare to make light of his past transgressions ? They may be pardoned, fully and eternally pardoned, so completely remitted that they may be said to be cast into the depths of the sea ; but where is the Christian, who is not con- of his Servants. 311 strained to mourn over them, as he thinks of the eter- nity of God, and to humble himself in the dust at the footstool of his throne ? 4. The language before us may be regarded, fourthly, as the language of trust and confidence. If God has been the dwelling-place of his people in all the genera- lions that are past, we are warranted to conclude that he will continue to shelter and bless them in all the generations that are to come, even to everlasting. His eternity assures us of his unchangeableness. It tells us that such as he was millions of ages before the moun- tains were brought forth, such is he now, and such he will be millions of ages after the world has been de- stroyed ; the same all powerful and mysteriously gra- cious God. We sometimes however, find ourselves tempted to doubt his unchangeableness. As we think of the mighty works vt^hich his hands have formed, and of the rich streams of mercy which have flowed through so many generations from his throne, we are ready to imagine that the treasures of his power and love must be diminished ; but no. His arm is as strong now, as when he created the heavens and the earth, and as for his love to his people, it is as great as when he gave his only begotten Son, and sent him to the manger and the cross to redeem their souls. It is a heart-felt conviction of this truth, which makes the Christian prize so highly the refuge, to which he has fled ; and renders his confidence in it so strong and unshaken. Stability stamps a value upon a habitation. We may be satisfied v»'ith the accommodations of a house and admire its beauty, but if we are told that its foundations are giving way, we never think of taking it for our dwelling. Thus the Christian dares not rest his hope$ of safety or happiness on worldly objects^ 3 IS God the Eternal Dwelling-Place however dear they may bcto him, because he knows that they are hastening to destruction. He is an im- mortal being, and the rock on which he sets his foot, must be an everlasting rock ; and the arm on which he leans, an everlasting arm. The eternal God therefore is the ground of his confidence, and he is so because he is an eternal God ; because he knows that '^ his throne endureth for ever in heaven, and of his years there shall be no end." If this attribute of the Almighty were more frequently made the subject of our meditations, brethren, if wc thought more closely and habitually on the eternity of God, we should, find our reliance on him less liable to be shaken, and the joy we derive from his gospel ftweetened and increased. The troubles of life would lose much of their power to perplex and distress us. We should remember that before the foundations of the world were laid, our wants were all foreseen by him whose goings forth were from everlasting, and all pro- vided for in his covenant of peace ; that the very afflic- tions, which are now filling our hearts with fear and amguish, are parts of a stupendous plan, formed in the councils of eternity to throw a new lustre around the throne of Jehovah by purifying a peculiar people unto himself from among our fallen race, and placing them in his heavenly temple as monuments of his incompre- hensible mercy. He himself assures us that the love, wherewith he has loved us, had its origen in eternity. " Yea," says he, " 1 have loved thee with an everlast- ing love ; therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee." And when is this love to end ? Not till eternity itself is past. " The mercy of the Lord," says David, "is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him." And what is the language of God him- of his Servants. '3 13 self to his fainting people ? " For a small moment have 1 forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I ga- ther thee. In a little wrath 1 hid my face from thee for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer. For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed ; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee." Are we then sincerely and heartily seeking this mercy ? Let us rejoice in it as a mercy that endureth for ever, the riches of which a whole universe of pardoned sinners could never ex- haust. There is no fear of rejoicing in it too much, nor of relying on it too confidently. The love of an eternal God can never fail nor disappoint us. We have had other friends indeed, who have loved us, and sweet has their friendship been to our souls, but where are they now ? Where is the father who begat, and the mother who bare us ? Where are the companions of our childhood, and the associates of our youth ? Where are they, who once ate of our bread and drank of our cup ? They are dead. The greater part of them are gone far from us, and have left us to weather the storms of life alone. But God is not gone. Death cannot dash him into the grave, nor separate us from his love. Our dwelling-place is still standing firm on its everlasting foundations, and though lover and friend be put far from us and our acquaintance into darkness, we will confide in its strength, and fill our hearts with its blessedness. ^' The Lord shall comfort Zion ; he will comfort all her waste places, and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord ; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving and the voice of melody. Hearken unto me, my people, and Rr 314 God the Eternal Dwelling-Flace give car unto me, O my nation. Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner ; but my salvation shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished." 5. There is yet another lesson suggested to us by the words of the text. While they are calculated to excite in the hearts of the righteous the liveliest feelings of gratitude, satisfaction, humility, and confidence, they speak to the careless and ungodly the language of alarm and terror. The eternity of God makes his favour in- finitely desirable, but then it adds a fearfulness to his displeasure, which thrills and appals the soul. Other enemies may be incensed against us, but while they are preparing to execute their purposes of wrath, their breath goeth forth ; they die, and there is an end of their terror. But an avenging God never dies. The weapons of his indignation are as lasting as they are strong. The sentence he pronounces on his adversaries is an " eter- nal judgment ;" the punishment prepared for them is ** everlasting destruction ;" and the smoke of that pit, wherein they are cast, ascendeth up for ever and ever. The worm which torments them, is a worm that dieth not ; and the fire which burns within them, is a fire that can never be quenched. O brethren, it is a fearful thing to fiUl into the hands of a living, an ever living, an eternal God ! And yet how rapidly are many of us ap- proaching this fearful fall ! While we are suffering our minds to be occupied solely by the business of the world, or enslaved by its vanities, while our hearts are unsanc- tified and our sins unpardoned, while mercy Ls despised and grace forgotten, year after year is passing silently away, and death, judgment, and eternity all drawing near. of his Sei^ants. 315 A few more of these silent years will soon have run their course, and we shall have reached our everlasting home ; yea, some of us may even now be standing on the verge of an unseen and unthought of eternity, and before another sabbath dawns, may be hurried into its mysterious and awful scenes. To trifle in such a situa- tion is madness. To rest satisfied with forming resolu- tions of seeking at some favourable season a refuge in Christ, is no better than pitiable folly. There is only one line of conduct, which a rational being under such circumstances can pursue. It is marked out for him bv the God who is willing to receive, and longing to bless him. '* Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrigh- teous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord." " Turn ye to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope." *' Flee from the wrath to come." SERMON XX. THE FORBEARANCE OF BAYID TOWARDS SHIMEL 2 SAMUEL XVi. 13. .-fwrf as David and his men went by the ivay, Shimei went along on the hiWs side over against him, and cursed as he nvent, and threw stones at him, and cast dust. 1. HE justice of God never perhaps appears so awful, as when he is visiting with judgments his beloved peo- ple. He makes his power to be known and his name to be feared, when he curses a Cain, or overthrows a Pha- raoh ; but when we see him laying his hand on a Da- vid, and following year after year with his severest chas- tisements the man after his own heart, because he has sinned against him, who does not stand in awe of his holiness and tremble at the terrors of his justice ? But even in his wrath, the Lord thinketh upon mercy. Though he visits the transgression of his children with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes, yet in the midst of their chastisements he manifests the greatness of his love towards them, and his jealousy for their honour as well as for his own. He makes their sufferings the means of calling their graces into exercise, and removes from them much of the shame of their guilt by tlie pa- tience, with which he enables them to bear their punish- ment. Thus did he deal with his servant David. He smote him fearfully and pierced him through with the sharpest sorrows, but he strengthened him in his afHic- The Forbear ance of David, &c, S17 tions ; and the troubled saint not only brought glory to his God by his self-abasement and submission, but covered himself with an honour, which has made him the admiration of succeeding ages. Who can read the part of his history now before us without reverencing the man, and almost longing to share his injuries, so that he might be made partaker of his meekness ? In contemplating the bright example he has here left us, we may consider, Jirst, the provocation he received ; and, secondly^ the forbearance he manifested. I. 1. The provocation, which David received on this occasion, was one of the most irritating, by which the patience of man was ever tried. It was offered to a person of the most exalted rank, by one who was much his inferior, and it was continued without intermission till he was beyond the reach of his malice. And what must have given peculiar keenness to this insult was the extraordinary respect, with which the monarchs of the east were accustomed to be treated. They were almost worshipped as gods by their subjects, and yet we here find one of the best and greatest amongst them reviled and cursed to his face. *' When king David came to Bahurim," says the sacred historian, " behold, thence came out a man of the family of the house of Saul, whose name was Shimei, the son of Gera; he came forth and cursed still as he came. And thus said Shi- mei when he cursed, ' Come out, come out, thou bloody man, and thou man of Belial. The Lord hath returned upon thee all the blood of the house of Saul, in whose stead thou hast reigned, and the Lord hath delivered the kingdom into the hand of Absalom, thy son ; and behold thou art taken in thy mischief, because thou art a bloody man.' And as David and his men '.Tent by the way, Shimei went along on the hill's side 318 The Forbearance of David over against him, and cursed as he went, and threw stones at him, and cast dust." The reason, why God was pleased to allow this in- sult to be added to the other trials of David, is obvi- ous. He wished to teach him how low his iniquities had sunk him, and to shew him that the cup of the di- vine indignation was not even yet exhausted. The lesson it is calculated to teach us is equally plain. It tells us that the servant of God must expect to meet with visults and provocations from his fellow sinners. We are not dwelling among angels, but among men. We are living in a fallen world, in a world that has re- nounced the authority of the God of peace, and thrown itself under the dominion of the prince of discord. It would be madness then to think of passing through it, as though it were a world of concord and love. The wonder is, not that there is so much selfishness, and malice, and wrong amongst us, but that there so little ; not that so many thorns and briers are springing up on this accursed ground, but that we are so seldom harassed and torn by them. Instead therefore of look- ing with surprise and almost murmuring on the con- fusion, which hatred and revenge are exciting around him, let the Christian remember on what a world he is standing, and be thankful tliat his own hand is not lifted up against every man, and every man's hand against him ; let him adore that grace, which restrains the raging passions of his fallen brethren, and leads so many amongst them to mitigate by their meekness and active benevolence the evils of our state. While Shimei was cursing, David was surrounded by friends, who were minghng their tears with his, and who would gladly have shed their blood for his sake ; and where is the reviled and afflicted servant of God, who has not towards Shimei. 310 some eye to weep for him, some tongue to bless, and some heart to love him ? But let us not expect too much from the friendship of mankind. We have made our hearts the seats of malignant dispositions, and though God in his mercy controuls their violence, yet he is determined that we shall know something of their evil and taste their bit- terness. Hence he exposes every man, in a greater or less degree, to enmity and injustice ; and as for his own people, he generally measures out to them a double portion of the world's hatred and scorn. He acts thus that he may conform them to their despised and re- jected master ; that he may manifest to angels and to men the ardour of their love to him, and the power of his grace ; that he may remind them of their sins, wean them from the earth, and sweeten to them that world of harmony and rest, for whicli he is preparing them. 2. The conduct of Shimei was criieiy as well as irri- tating. The condition of David at this period appeared calculated to disarm by its misery the most inveterate of his enemies. The hand of the Lord was heavy upon him, and had raised up evil against him out of his own house. One of his sons, after a crime which must have made the heart of his father sink within him, had been slain by his brother's hand, and now another of his family, his beloved Absalom, was heading a rebellion against him, and had already driven him from his throne. Attended by a few faithful followers, he leaves Jerusa- lem, and passes on weeping and barefoot to seek a re- fuge from the violence of his own subjects in the wil- derness of Judea. Wherever he came, his humiliation and sorrows excited the compassion of all who beheld him ; for who does not feel for a father, oppressed by the cruelty of his children and mourning over their 320 The Forbearance of David vices? But his afflicted condition moved not Shitnei, David had offended him. He tliought that now in his adversity he might gratify his resentment with impu- nity ; and while others are following hirn with tears and blessings, he pursues him with reproaches and curses. The Christian therefore must not expect that the troubles of life will skreen him from persecution. This history teaches him that thet/ will expose him in a pe- culiar degree to the revilings of the ungodly. We are ready to suppose in the hour of affliction that every heart must feel for us, and that the malice of our bit- terest enemies must now for a season be changed into pity. But experience proves that the most afflicted are generally the most persecuted. Their calamities leave their adversaries nothing to hope for from their favour, and little perhaps to dread from their displeasure. The consequence is, that they indulge without restraint the enmity, which before they suppressed. Men are also prone, as Shimei was, to ascribe the afflictions of the righteous to the divine indignation against them, and think that they are furthering the work of God and doing him service, by covering them with shame. Thus David found it in the present instance, and in the time of his old age, when his strength failed him, he found it the same. His enemies spake against him, and they that laid wait for his soul took counsel together, say- ing, *' God hath forsaken him ; persecute and take him, for there is none to deliver him." The Saviour himself experienced the same treatment. In the hour of his agony, he seemed to cry from the cross in the words of his prophet, '* Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by ? Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me, wherewith towards Shimei. 321 the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of ms fierce fin- ger." And what was the pity he obtained ? ^^ They mocked and derided him. They gave liim gall for his meat ; and in his thirst, they gave him vinegar to drink." And is ?20t 7naUce ahvays cruel? We may not be bowed down by tliose heavy calamities, under which the insulted David was suffering, but where is the man, whose condition does not give him a claim on the for- bearance of his brethren ? Innumerable evils are com- passing us about. Pain and sickness, disappointments and trials, losses and troubles, are day by day the por- tion of our cup ; and when we have struggled through a few more years of care and sorrow, we shall lie down in the darkness of the grave. Shall we then in such a situation as this, delight in harassing each other ? Shall the mariners, whom a raging tempest is tossing, and whose vessel is about to be dashed to destruction, spend the few fearful moments of life that are left them in mutual animosities and insults ? Is man so happy and is his life so extended, that he needs our persecutions to remind him that he is fallen and guilty ? Alas, no ! So wretched is his condition, that the very God, who is afflicting him, pities him in his sufferings, and calls upon his brethren to pity him also ; to be tender- hearted towards him, and, for his sake, to share his burdens and weep with him in his sorrows. Let our common miseries then put an end to our contentions. Let us regard each other as suffering and dying, and be anxious to lessen, instead of aggravating, the ilis which assail us. Let us not wound the criminal, who is groaning on the rack ; nor bruise to-day the worm, that will be crushed to-morrow. 3. The provocation, which David received, was also Ss 332 The Furbeurance of David undeserved. There was indeed blood, which cried from the ground for vengeance on his head ; but he had never injured Shimei ; and as for his having been guilty of the death of Saul and his family, no charge could be more unjust. He had repeatedly spared their lives when they were in his power ; and ^vhen they were slain b}^ the Philistines, he lamented them as though they had been his own brethren. But the ungodly are always selfish, jJi^y judge of others, not by the laws of im- partial justice; but by the standard of self-interest. The man, who upholds their opinions and furthers their schemes, though he trample under foot all that is virtu- ous and sacred, is applauded ; while the most excellent of the earth, if they stand in the way of their interest or honour, are exposed to their revilings. David was called a usurper, a man of Belial, a murderer ; and why ? Because he had made himself the slave of lust, and had cruelly slain the noble Uriah ? No ; because he had l^een elevated by God to the throne of Israel, and thus marred the prospects of the ambitious Shimei. Innocence then is no protection against malice, neither can the most upright conduct prevent us from being charged with those very crimes, from which we have been the most anxious to keep ourselves free. When the views of the ungodly are opposed and their passions inflamed, a devout David is a son of Belial, a blame- less John has a devil and is mad, and the holy Saviour himself is a wine-bibber and a glutton. II. But let us turn from the cruel and irrritating con- duct of this disappointed Israelite to a more pleasing subject of meditation, and consider, secondly? the for- bearance which David manifested. 1. He received the provocation of Shimei with the meekest silence. He heard his accusations, and he knew tSwards Shimei. 323 them to be false ; but he answered him not a word. And herein he acted wisely, as well as meekly. There are indeed cases, in which it becomes absolutely ne- cessary to vindicate our characters at any risk from the calumnies of the ungodly ; but these occasions do not often occur. When our enemies are much incensed against us, it will generally be found that to reply to their aspersions serves only to increase their violence, and perhaps to give them an advantage over us. And even were it not so,, where is the man, who is sure that he can bridle his tongue, when he has once suffered it to undertake his defence ? We may begin with vin- dicating our own integrity, but, we shall generally end with retorting the railings of our persecutor. Silence under provocation is safety. To govern our lips is, in most instances, to govern our hearts. How did the wise Hezekiah command his servants to act, when the officer of the haughty Sennacherib spake against him in the hearing of his subjects? *' They held their peace, for the king's command was, 'answer him not.'" And what was the conduct of a greater than Hezekiah, when his enemies whetted their tongues like a sword against him, and shot forth their arrows even bitter words? *' Many false witnesses testified against him, but Jesus held his peace." When they oppressed and afflicted him, he opened not his mouth ; and when they led him forth to torment and crucify him, " he was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth." 2. But there may be silence where there is no meek- ness. No railing word may proceed from the lips, while the deadliest revenge is rankling in the heart. It is necessary therefore that we should observe, secondly, that David forgave the provocation of Shimei, as well as 324 'Flie Forbearance of David received it with silence. His friends around him were incensed greatly by his conduct, and were eager to vin- dicate the honour of their insulted monarch with their swords. ^' Why should this dead dog, curse my lord, the king?" said Abishai. " Let me go over, I pray thee, and take off his head." But David reproved, as well as repressed his zeal. *^ What have I to do with you," says he, " ye sons of Zeruiah? Let him alone and let him curse." Now this was not the language of insensibility nor of cowardice. It was the language of self-denying greatness, patiently enduring the injuries it keenly felt, and rising superior to the insults it might with safety have revenged. It was dictated by the same spirit, which led his exalted Son to rebuke those who were eager to call down fire from heaven on his per- secutors, and to restrain the impetuous disciple who wished to defend his beloved master with the sword. Would the conduct of David then have been either unlawful or sinful, if he had commanded his attendants to have taken immediate vengeance on Shimei ? It might not have been unlawful, for the laws of Judea would undoubtedly have condemned the traitor to death, and the power of carrying them into execution was vested in David's hands ; but laws were not de- signed by God to gratify the vindictive passions of the human heart. It is as sinful to seek revenge by the arm of the law, as to seek it by the violence of our own arm. Not that every appeal to the tribunals of our country is necessarily sinful. God has erected them among us for the very purpose of redressing the in- jured; and the injured are warranted, under some circumstances, in demanding satisfoction for the wrongs they have received. But what is it, that must lead us to the seat of justice ? Malice and resentment ? a dc- towards Shimei. s^5 sire of giving pain to the man, who has wronged us, and of bringing down shame and vengeance on his head? God forbid ! Our cause maybe just; but in seeking justice with such feelings as these in our hearts, we are sinning against God. An earthly judge may sanction our conduct, but the great Judge of all will condemn us. Amidst the exultations of victory, and all the dreadful pleasure which satiated revenge can af- ford, this voice from heaven is directed to our ears, *' Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." The king of Israel therefore dared not use the power he possessed against his insulting enemy, though he might have lawfully used it. He spares Shimei, when a word from his lips would have laid him dead at his feet, and leaves to the world an example of forbearance, which has forced even the ungodly, to honour him, and endeared him to the hearts of the righteous. But it is not enough that we admire the meekness of David. It is recorded here to be imitated. It may have arrested our attention and even affected our hearts by the elevated spirit, which it manifests ; but if this be all, if we leave this house of prayer with minds as proud and revengeful as they were when we entered it, what will the most earnest attention, and what will the liveliest feelings profit us ? A man parched with thirst does not rest contented with gazing on the clearness of the water before him ; tlie hungry man is not satis- fied with admiring the splendour of the banquet, to which he is invited ; neither does he, who is hunger- ing and thirsting after righteousness, content himself with merely contemplating the graces, which the Holy Spirit has exhibited to his view. He desires to make them his own. He adds to attention and feeling, prayer and exertion. He strives, in dependence on almighty 3^6 The Forbearance of David aid, to clothe himself with the beauty of holiness. Is this your desire, brethren ? Let this then be your con- duct. Pray that you may be numbered among the meek and long-suffering, the tender-hearted and for- giving ; and show the sincerity of your prayers by your actions. Have you enemies ? Give no rest to your eyes nor slumber to your eye-lids till you have prayed for them, who have despitefully used you 5 and before another sabbath has dawned, let some act of kindness convince them that you are determined to return them good for their evil. Remember the command of your Lord : ^' Agree with thine adversary quickly^ whilst thou art in the way with him." There is no time for a protracted struggle with the workings of resentment. Pride must be conquered to-day. or your offending brother may be sleeping in the dust before the victory is won. The time is not far distant, when the hand of death will be upon us, and all the friendships and ha- treds of life come to an end. And when this period arrives, what shall we think of the jealousies and con- tentions, which are now suffered to harass us ? We shall wonder at the weakness, which made us so liable to be affected by them ; and supplicate pardon for the depravity, which rendered it so hard to forgive them. If then there be any root of bitterness springing up among us, this very day let it be plucked up ; and if our enemies will not be won by our meekness, amidst all their reproaches and curses let this be the most re- vengeful feeling that is cherished in our breast, and this the hardest saying that proceeds from our lips, ^* Fa- ther, forgive them. Lord, lay not these sins to their charge." A review of the history before us, as far as we have considered it, is calculated to impress on our minds a towards Shimei, 327 conviction of the power of real religion ; its power, not only to touch the fears and hopes of the soul, and to fill it with a train of varied and deep emotions ; but the mighty power, which it exercises over the dispo- sitions, the temper, the heart. What if the patience of a suffering Jesus prove nothing as to the efficacy of his grace, we have here a man of like passions with our- selves, tried by insults and provocations to the very utmost, and yet silent in the midst of them all, un- moved by passion, and dead to every feeling of revenge. AVhy then is the power of divine grace so often ques- tioned and denied ? Why are we so frequently told that the very constitution of their nature prevents some men from suppressing the risings of anger, and subduing the workings of resentment ? The conduct of David condemns and confutes all such assertions. It shows us how much provocation real religion can enable a man of the strongest passions to bear ; what a complete victory it can give him over the most powerful of all enemies himself — his own proud and revengeful heart. It takes up the language of Paul, and while it com- mands us to forbear one another and forgive one another, it tells us that we can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth us ; that his grace is suf- ficient for us ; that it can subdue and soften the most impetuous mind, and mould it into the image of a pa- tient God. When therefore we are commanded to love our ene- mies, to bless them that curse us, and to do good to them that hate us, instead of replying that nature for- bids it, let us remember that God requires it. He suf- fers the brute beasts, that have no understanding, to follow the law of nature ; but he calls upon man to be conformed to a higher and nobler law. He points to 338 The Forbearance of David the cross of his persecuted Son, and while we hear hini praying with his dying breath for his murderers, he offers us his grace and says, " Let the same mind that was in Christ be in you." And what is the language of Jesus himself? Though he is full of gentleness and mercy, he reminds us of the torments of destruction, and tells us in terms too plain to be misunderstood, " So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses." This history reminds us also of the dignity^ which a -meek and forgiving spirit imparts to the Christia?i. The Bible tells us that it is the glory of a man to pass over a transgression, and it gives us in this chapter a con- firmation of the saying. We have here two men before us differing, almost as much as men could differ, in their dispositions and conduct ; the one indulging with- out restraint the resentment he had long cherished in his breast, the other receiving the most cruel and irri- tating provocations in silence, enduring and forgiving them. Now could we have witnessed the scene, which the Holy Spirit has here described, and been at the same time altogether ignorant of the character and rank of the persons before us, which of these two men should we have pronounced the most honourable, the cursing Benjamite or the patient David ? If we have the feel- ings of men, we should have turned with pity and dis- gust from the one, and been ready to prostrate our- selves with admiration and reverence at the feet of the other. Here then is a lesson for those, who are striving to raise themselves to honour. You wish to be highly esteemed among men, and, in order to procure their respect, you imagine that no real or supposed insult towards Shimei. 329 must pass unrevenged, and that you must commence an arduous struggle for superiority in rank and in con- sequence. Is then the object of your wishes to be at- tained by such means as these ? Will pride, anger, and turbulence, make a man honourable and great ? Im- possible. This vvould be to seek honour in a way, which God has determined shall never lead to it ; and all the fruit of such disquieting labours will be the pity of the good, and the contempt of the unfeeling. Cease then from the foolish attempt. Go and sit at the feet of David, and let him teach you that the readiest, the surest, the safest way to exalt yourselves, is to lie low and be humble, to be meek and lowly in heart, to triumph over the pride and the folly, which have hi- therto been leading you captive. The path to real great- ness is pointed out to you in this history. It is- the path of self-denial and meekness. The indulgence of passion and resentment, can lead only to shame. What being in the universe is the most degraded and vile ? That unclean spirit, who is the proudest and most ma- licious. And in whom may be found the highest dig- nity and greatness ? Even in him, who is the most long- suffering, the readiest to forbear, and the most willing to pardon. The high and lofty One, who inhabiteth eternity, esteems that spirit of patience and forgiveness, which is so much despised upon earth, the chief glory of his name, and the brightest gem in his wonderful crown. " I beseech thee show me thy glory," said Moses; and what is the answer, which the Lord returns to his servant ? Do we see him bowing the heavens, and coming down in his majesty ; making the clouds his chariot, and flying upon the wings of the wind ? Do we hear the host of his angels proclaiming, amidst thunders, and lightnings, and blackness, and darkness, Tt 330 The Forbearance of David, &c, and tempest, that the Lord God almighty is a consum- ing fire ? No ; he takes no other symbol of his presence than the cloudy pillar, by which he was protecting and guiding his people, and in a still small voice he pro- claims from it the name of the Lord ; " The Lord, the Lord God ; merciful and gracious ; long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth ; keepmg mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin." Where is the penitent sinner, who does not give his despair to the winds, as he listens to such v/ords as these ? And where is the persecuted Christian, who does not long to forgive his enemies as freely and fully, as this glorious God has forgiven him ? SERMON XXI. THE GROUNDS OF DAVID'S FORBEARANCE TOWARDS SHIMEI. :3 SAMUEL xvi. 11, 1^. .Ind David said to Abishai, and to all his servants, " Behold, my so?i which came forth of my bowels, seeketh my life; how much more now maij thifi Benjamite do it ! Let him alone, and let him curse, for the Lord hath bidden him. It may be that the Lord will look on mine afflictlo7i, and that the Lord will requite me good for his cursing .this day." E are all disposed, in a greater or less degree, to trace effects to their causes. As soon as we begin to think, we begin to make enquiries concerning the ope- rations of nature, and to examine the productions of human skill. But amidst the many objects which en- gage our attention, it is strange that the structure and workings of our own minds, should so little occupy our thoughts. Next to the contemplation of the glorious Jehovah, there cannot be a more profitable subject of investigation than the human heart; and he may un- doubtedly be considered the wisest among men, and will generally be found to be the best, who is the most acquainted with its varied movements. God himself has commanded us to commune with our own hearts ; and to excite and encourage us to look into ourselves, he often lays open to our view in the Scriptures the hearts of others. He unfolds the hidden causes, from which their actions have proceeded, and thus points out to us 333 The Grounds of David's the principles and feelings, which must be cherished in our own breasts, if we would imitate their virtues. The words of the text afford us a striking instance of this method of instruction. They exhibit to us one of the noblest triumphs, which almighty grace ever ena- bled a feeble sinner to obtain over the corruptions of his nature ; and while we are admiring and almost en- vying the conquering servant of God, they show us the ' weapons, by which the victory was won. David in his adversity, receives from Shimei an undeserved, a cruel, and most irritating provocation ; he reviles him, and curses him, and casts stones at him : but the afflicted monarch bears all his insults with silent meekness ; he forgives and protects his railing enemy ; and here in the text he discloses to his wondering attendants the feel- ings, which actuated his conduct towards him- "Be- hold," says he, " my son, which came forth of my bowels, seeketh my life ; how much more now may this Benjamite do it ! Let him alone, and let him curse, for the Lord hath bidden him. It may be that the Lord will look on mine affliction, and that the Lord will re- quite me good for his cursing this day." These affecting words evidently direct our attention to the grounds of David's forbearance towards Shimei : and they convince us at once, that this forbearance did not proceed from a want of feeling, or a natural hard- ness of heart. Some men seem to bear provocations, as a stone may be said to bear them. They excite no re- sentment in their minds, for they are not felt. But this insensibility is not Christian meekness. We must feci before we can forgive ; and that forgiveness is the most exalted in its nature, which is accompanied with the keenest sense of the injuries it pardons. Neither was this the meekness of David. His was one of the warmest Forbearance towards Shimei. 333 hearts, which ever beat in a human breast. Every act of kindness had power to move it, and he himself tells us that reproach could almost break it. I. His forbearance must be traced, first, to the soften- ing infiuence of affliction. " Behold," says he, " my son, which came forth of my bowels, seeketh my life ; how much more now may this Benjamite do it !" He here reminds his servants of the trials, under which he was suffering; and intimates to them, that the father, who had to bear with the cruelty of a beloved son, could find but little difficulty in pardoning the insults of a reviling enemy ; that the greater affliction had pre- pared his mind for the less, and enabled him to be sub- missive under it. *'^ Tribulation," says the apostle, " worketh patience." It calls the patience of the Christian into exercise, and consequently strengthens it. It enables him to bear even the indignation of an almighty God ; much more the reproaches of a feeble man. And what is the lan- guage of daily experience ? It confirms the testimony of the apostle. Who are the proud and revengeful among mankind ? They, who have known but little of the calamities of life, and been tossed by few of its storms. But where shall we look for the meek and long- suffering ? Among the children of affliction ; among those, whom the archers have sorely grieved, and the shafts of adversity deeply wounded. The afflicted Christian then must remember, that the more he is called on to bear, the more he is expected to be able to bear; that his heavenly Father sends him troubles to soften the fierceness of his nature, and to make him meek and lowly ; that no sorrows, however severely felt, and patiently borne, have done their appointed work in his heart, unless they have taught him to love 334i The Grounds of David's his enemies, to bless them when they curse him, and to pray for them, when they despitefully use him. 11. We may observe further, that David was assisted in subduing his resentment bi/ tracing the persecution he received^ to God. " Let him curse," said he to the indignant Abishai, " because the Lord hath said unto him, * Curse David.' Who shall then say, ' Wherefore hast thou done so V Let him alone, and let him curse, for the Lord hath bidden him." Had Shimei then really received a command from God to persecute his sove- reign ? No ; his duty was to have honoured and assisted him. But David looked above the instrument, to the hand which ern ployed it, and he bowed with reverence to the stroke it inflicted, regarding it as coming, not from the scourge of man, but from his Father's rod. Here then we are taught that the revilings of the un- godly, as well as the natural evils of life, must be ascribed to a chastising God ; that the malice and cru- elty of the world are no less the instruments of work- ing his will, than the diseases which assail our bodies, or the storms which lay waste our dvveUings. He maketh even the wrath of man to praise him. Holding all things in his mighty grasp, and bending them to his will, he forces the wild passions of the human heart to do him service, to minister to his glory, and to humble and sanctify his beloved saints. Not that he excites men to acts of injustice, or that evil ceases to be evil when he overrules it for good. The people of Jerusa- lem, when they slew the Lord of glory, were only ga- thered together to do what the hand and counsel of God had determined before in the riches of his grace, to be done ; but it was the prince of this world, who came and instigated Judas to betray the holy Jesus, and the Jews to crucify him. Millions of the perishing have Fm^bearajice towards Shimei. 335 been saved through their crime ; but the guilt of it rested on their heads, and still rests on the heads of tlieir wretched children. But while the words of the persecuted king of Israel teach us to ascribe the injuries we receive to God, his conduct shows us the advantage of thus connecting them with him. We shall be enabled to bear them with tranquillity and patience. While we consider any of our trials as proceeding solely from the hostile and evil dispositions of our fellow creatures, it is impossible to be submissive under them. They must disturb our peace, and excite our resentment. But let us once re- gard them as coming from the unseen hand of a Being, who loves us, and these agitating provocations seem to change their very nature ; they appear in another light, and the feelings, which accompany them, are of a new and altogether different kind. Anger against the offend- ing creature, gives place to humiliation before the of- fended Creator, and the thirst for revenge is succeeded by an earnest seeking after mercy. When therefore our enemies speak evil of us, here lies the secret of pos- sessing our souls in patience, — to look through second causes and human agency, and to say with David, " The Lord hath bidden them." When they oppress and afflict us, this is the source, from which we must draw our meekness, and this the reasoning, by which we must silence all the suggestions of revenge, " The cup, which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" 111. Hence the forbearance of David may be ascribed, thirdly, to a sense of sin. This is not indeed expressly mentioned by him in the text ; but the abrupt language, which he uses, evidently implies it. Shimei accused him of the death of Saul, and of this charge his con- 336 The Grounds of David's science acquitted him ; but the accusations of his enemy brought the murdered Uriah to his mind, and while he hears himself called a bloody man, he submits with re- signation to the reproaches, with which an avenging God permits him to be assailed. And what provocation is there, which a deep sense of sin will not enable us to bear ? To have a broken and contrite heart, is to have a heart prepared for every provocation, and unable to be overcome by any. Go to the man, whom a heavenly instructor has made ac- quainted with the hidden depravity of his nature; who is day by day retiring to his closet to mourn over his sins, and who often waters his couch with tears by night, as he thinks of his transgressions ; try the patience of the stricken penitent, by insults and revilings, and what is the result ? Does his eye flash with rage, and is his tongue heard to call for fire from heaven to avenge his wrongs? " No," says the wounded Christian, " 1 am a sinner, and wrath must not lodge in a sinner's soul. I may be reviled, but what a miracle of mercy is it that I am not consumed! Men may reproach me, but how ought 1 to wonder that my God forbears to curse and destroy me ! Am 1 not hour after hour provoking iiis indignation, trying his long-suffering to the very ut- most? And shall 1, in the midst of all the sins 1 am committing, and all the patience and mercy I am re- ceiving, refuse to bear with the fellow-sinner,' whom he sends to me to call my guilt to remembrance ? Shall the never-dying worm be withheld, and yet the wretch, who deserves its anguish, make a reviling word an oc- casion of malice? Shall the righteous judge be so ready to pardon, and the criminal, whom he has saved from execution, so quick to revenge ? O let me struggle with the answer, that is so often rising withip me. Let a sensp Forbearance towards Shimei. 337 of my guilt drive it from my soul, and cause me to adore the patience, which keeps me from destruction !" Is this the language of your hearts, brethren, when you are tried by provocations ? It surely ought to be their language ; for which of you can say that you have lived a single hour without incurring the displeasure of God, and experiencing his forbearance ? We are all the children of wrath ; our multiplied sins have made it our portion ; and yet where are we ? Lifting up our eyes in the torments we have merited ? No ; v/e are living in a world of mercy, upheld by the power of the very Being whom we are hourly offending, and fed by his bounty. And why does he keep us here ? That he may make us an offer of reconciliation ; and when we despise and spurn his mercy, that he may offer it to us again, and beseech us to accept it j that we may be softened and won by the love, which sent his Son to the cross, and lay hold of the glorious salvation which he has pur- chased for our race. And can we be really aware of our situation, can we be really mindful of our sinfulness and the stupendous mercy that bears with it, and yet indulge wrath and resentment? Can revenge dwell in the same heart with penitence, or malice reign over the soul, that is affected, and warmed, and constrained by the reconciling love of Jehovah ? As soon might the gloom of midnight mingle with the noon-day bright- ness, or the storms of winter rage in the summer calm. IV. The forbearance of David proceeded, fourthly, from an humble expectation of a recompense from God. Though he had sinned against him, and was suffering under his righteous displeasure, he knew that the Lord had not utterly taken away his loving-kindness from him; that he was his Father still, pitying him in his sorrows, and making his chastisements blessings to his Uu 338 The Grounds of David's soul. " It may be," said the confiding saint, " that the Lord will look on mine affliction, and that the Lord will requite me good for his cursing this day." And was he disappointed in his hope ? No ; the throne, which had been wrested from him, was soon restored to him again, and he saw tlTe persecuting Shimei kneel- ing at his feet. Neither was this all. The God, in whom he hoped, recorded in his word the patience of his ser- vant, and is giving him at the present moment, its peaceable fruits. What a povv'erful motive to patience and forbearance is here ! When we are persecuted, the Lord looketh on our afflictions. *' He knows our reproach, and our bhame, and our dishonour; our adversaries are all be- fore him." Not one step can they take, but he marks it well ; not a reviling word can they utter, which he does not hear. Nay more ; not a reproach can they offer us, which he will not recompense. There is a blessing connected with every curse of the ungodly ; and when we arrive in heaven, we shall wonder to see how much their revilings have added to the brightness of our crown. What is persecution then ? An evil to be en- dured and forgotten ? It is a blessing to be prized. It may be grievous to flesh and blood ; but he, who re- vealed himself to the persecuted Stephen, still looks down on his suffering people, and gives them from the throne of his glory the same cheering assurance, which he gave them on earth, "Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven." But llie language of David does not concern the per- secuted only. It calls upon the despiteful and injurious Forbearance towards Shimei. 339 to consider their ways. You feel perhaps, brethren, a strong and ahuost unconquerable enmity against some professors of religion. Their principles appear to you degrading, and their conduct absurd. You consequently think yourselves warranted in directing heavy censures against them, and too often their fnconsistencies appear to sanction your reproaches. But what, if the men you are reviling should be really holier than you ; and, though poor and afflicted, the beloved servants of the living God ? Will their meanness stop your revilings from ascending to heaven, or their infirmities prevent your hard sayings from being registered there? Not even though they themselves should pray that these sins may not be laid to your charge. And what will be the fruit of all the railings you have so thoughtlessly and cruelly directed against them ? Like waves dashing against a rock, they will return on yourselves, and overwhelm you with shame and confusion. The Chris- tian dares not avenge the wrongs he receives, but every injury that he pardons, God will resent. The day of vengeance is already in his heart, and he will soon ap- pear in the terrors of his majesty, to avenge his abused and despised elect. Before an assembled world he will plead their cause. '' He will be with them as a mighty and terrible one, and then shall their persecutors stum- ble, and shall not prevail ; they shall be greatly ashamed, and their everlasting confusion shall not be forgotten." The words, on which we have now been meditating, warrant us to infer, in conclusion, that David was not of a revengeful disposition, A mind so softened by af- fliction, so fixed on God, so full of contrition and of faith, could not be revengeful. What meaning then must we assign to the charge, which this injured mo- narch gave to his son. when the days drew nigh that he 340 - * TJie Grounds of David's should die? "Behold," says he, " thou hast with thee Shimei, the son of Gera, a Benjamite of Bahurim, which cursed me with a grievous curse when I went to Mahanaim ; but he came down to meet me at Jor- danj and 1 sware to him by the Lord, saying, * I will not put thee to death with the sword.' Now therefore, hold him not guiltless, for thou art a wise man, and knowest what thou oughtest to do unto him ; but his hoar head bring thou down to the grave with blood." These words have often been represented as proceeding from a long-cherished and inveterate desire of revenge; but into what an inextricable difficulty does this inter- pretation bring us ? We behold a man of warm pas- sions grossly and cruelly insulted ; and, though armed with lawful authority to punish the injury, and urged by those around him to exercise it, yet quietly submit- ting to the insult, sparing and even protecting his enemy. We follow him a little farther, and we hear him publicly declaring the pardon of the offender, and con- firming it with an oath. Hitherto all is consistent, but now the mystery begins. When this same man is brought to the bed of death, in the very hour when the prospect of eternity generally causes the most revenge- ful to lay aside their malice, we find him suddenly thirsting for vengeance, and without any fresh provoca- tion, coolly ordering the death of the enemy, whom he had long ago pardoned. And not only this, but the conduct of Solomon is as mysterious as that of David. Instead of at once con- demning the traitor to death, agreeably to the dying command of his father, he allows him to remain for three years unmolested in Jerusalem ; and when he is at length ordered to execution, he sufiers, not for his former crime, but for a new act of disobedience. Forbearance towards Shiinei. 341 How then are we to account for such inconsistencies ? They cannot be reconciled ; and the language of David not only admits, but absolutely requires a different in- terpretation. We must consider it as dictated, not by a desire of revenge, but by a regard to justice, and a wise and pious concern for the peace of the kingdom, which Shimei wished to disturb. We have reason to think, that the enmity of this ambitious man against the fa- mily of David, was not overcome by the lenity he had experienced, and that after his pardon he still continued his seditious eftbrts to reinstate the family of Saul upon the throne. When therefore, the sceptre of Israel was about to pass into the hands of his inexperienced son, it was natural and necessary that David should warn him of the treacherous designs of his enemy, and give him his full permission to inflict on him the punish- ment he merited. " Hold him not guiltless," says he. *' Remember his conduct towards thy father, and re- gard him as the base and determined enemy of thy fa- mily and throne. I do not command thee at once to take away his life; for though it has long been forfeited, thou art a wise man, and knowest what thou oughtest to do unto him. Only marKf his conduct; and as soon as he is detected in any fresh act of rebellion, let not the oath 1 have given him withhold thine hand. The peace of thy kingdom requires that thou shouldst surrender him to justice, and thou must bring down his hoar head to the grave with blood." Agreeably to this ad- vice, Solomon sends for Shimei as soon as he has ascended the throne ; orders him to remain in Jerusa- lem, where all his movements might be watched, and never touches a hair of his head, till he had broken the command of the king, and again forfeited his life. Now if this be a faithful interpretation of the words 34^ The Grounds of David's of David, why is this afflicted servant of God so often followed to his death-bed to be censured and reviled ? The reason is obvious. The pretended believer in the Bible accuses him of malice, that he may lower the standard of Christian holiness to his own ungodly prac- tice, and vindicate the indulgence of the fiery passions, which he cannot be prevailed on to subdue ; while the infidel delights in ascribing vices to the man, whose virtues he is too feeble to disprove, and too unholy to imitate. But let the hypocrite remember that one sinful disposition habitually indulged, though sanctioned by the example of all the creatures in the universe, will assuredly ruin his soul ; and let the deluded sceptic be- ware how he cavils at that, which he is either too thoughtless or too prejudiced to understand, lest in attempting to show his superior wisdom, he manifest only the greatness of his folly. There is a noble care- lessness in the inspired writings, which seems to invite the attacks of the blasphemer, but a hidden strength, which is sure to repel them. We may infer also from the text the reason, -why so much importance is attached in the Scriptures to a for- giving spirit. It is impossible to read the New Testa- ment without being struck with the frequency, with which this Christian grace is inculcated, and the pecu- liar sanctions, by which the practice of it is enforced. Not only the sincerity of our religious profession, but even our eternal salvation is made to depend on our possessing it. " If ye forgive men their trespasses," says Christ, " your heavenly Father will also forgive you ; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." Why then, it may be asked, is this duty so earnestly and so solemnly urged on us ? And why are conse- Forbearance towards Shhnei. 343 quences so fearfully important, connected with the breach of it? The text answers these enquiries. It shows us the grounds, from which Christian forgive- ness proceeds ; and consequently it discovers to us the dispositions, of which the revengeful are destitute. And what are these dispositions ? A mind softened and subdued by the chastisements of heaven, and cherish- ing a firm and ever active belief in a superintending providence ; a heart deeply conscious of its guilt, and yet stedfastly hoping in the mercy of its God. Now it is plain that these spiritual gifts lie at the very founda- tion of true religion ; that the sinner, who is destitute of them, can offer to God no worship which he will ac- cept, nor have one feeling in his heart which he will approve. And is not this inference also equally plain, that as long as we remain the slaves of passion, malice, and wrath, we are utter strangers to that grace, which bringeth salvation? that our convictions of sin, however deep, are not the fruits of genuine contrition, but the mere workings of a guilty conscience ? that our foith is presumption, and our hope a delusion ? Will your religion then, !)ear to be brought to this test? Has it subdued the malignant passions of your nature ? It found you irritable and revengeful ; has it made you patient and forgiving ? In your daily inter- course with your fellow-sinners, are you seen to be walking as the disciples of a meek and lowly Saviour, and the children of a long-suffering God ? It is vain, brethren, to turn away from such questions as these. It is vain to despise them as legal, or to slight them as righteous over- much. That holy Jesus, who will one day call us to his bar, will never forget nor despise these tests of our faith. On the throne of his glory, he will try us by them ; yeai he is trying us by 344 The Grounds of David's, &c. them now, and deciding by them whether we are among the people, whom he has purchased with his blood. Judge yourselves then by the standard, by which you are judged of your Lord. Bring your dispositions and tempers, as well as your opinions and feelings, to the test of Scripture. What is that religion worth, which does not sweeten the temper and reign over the heart ? It may clothe a man with the form of godliness ; it may give rise to many lively emotions within him ; it may quiet his conscience ; it may even send him out of the world tranquil and fearless : but it cannot make him meet for a kingdom of peace and of love ; it cannot save his soul. The wisdom, which is from above, is first pure, then peaceable and gentle ; but that, which leaves bitter envying and strife in the heart, " descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, and devilish." He who is under its influence, and yet calls himself a be- liever in Jesus, lies against the truth, and his glory shall be turned into shame. But what shall be the portion of those, whom a consciousness of guilt, and a sense of pardoning love, have made the followers of peace ? " They shall be called the children of God.'* The God of peace shall be with them, and bless them while they live ; and when they die, they shall see the Lord. They shall go to a world, where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest. They shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting-places ; and be filled with that abundant and everlasting peace, which passeth all un- derstanding. SERMON XXII. THE REWARDS OF THE CONQUERING CHRISTIAN. REVELATION 11. 17. To him that overcometh will I give to cat of the hiddeii manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it. A HIS is one of those encouraging promises, which were given by our ascended Lord to the persecuted churchea of Asia. But the blessings of which it speaks, must not be confined to those primitive saints. At this very hour they are possessed and enjoyed by many an hum- ble follower of Christ, and there is not a penitent sinner breathing on the earth, who may not seek and obtain them. He then that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches ; and may that glorified Saviour, who has sent us this gracious message from heaven, give us a heart to receive it with reverence, and to embrace the mercies it offers us with gratitude and joy ! In proceeding to apply these condescending words to ourselves, we may consider, Jirst, the description they give us of the person to whom they are addressed j and, secondly., the blessings they promise him. I. 1. The text is addressed to 'Miim that overcometh." Now the man, to whom this description can be applied, is obviously one who knows that he has spiritual ene- mies assailing him. He has discovered that he has in- X X 346 The Rewards of terests at stake, which the world, the flesh, and tlie devil unite in opposing; that he has objects to attain, which he cannot accomplish without exposing himself to their attacks, and overcoming their influence ; that if he would be holy in this world, and happy in the world which is to come, he must be prepared to make the re- mainder of his life one continued scene of watchfulness and warfare. There are very few among us, brethren, who are really come to such a conviction as this. We hear of spiritual enemies, and we profess to give their existence n place in our creed ; but the greater part of us are not conscious of being continually subject to their assaults. We have lived in the world, and mixed perhaps with- out hesitation in its pursuits and its pleasures ; but we have not found either the one or the other injurious to the concerns of eternity, or hindering us in the least in our journey to heaven. Neither have we been mate- rially harassed by the lusts of the flesh. It is true that we have often cherished thoughts and desires, which we should have blushed for even a child to have known ; but then we have ascribed these secret workings of our mind, to the frailty of our nature, and they have never drawn one tear from our eyes, nor given one pang to our hearts. As for the influence of Satan, we have neither dreaded nor felt it, and we hesitate not to rank it among the reveries of enthusiasm, or the imaginary terrors of superstition. It is plain then that as long as these are our opinions and feelings, wt cannot be the persons addressed in the text. We have not so much as beheld an enemy, and can have no pretensions to liir the rewards of him, who has fought and overcome. 2. But the idea of a victory nepessarily presupposes a contest. The language before us must imply there- the Conquering Christian. 347 fore, that the man, to whom these blessings are pro- mised, is contend'mg with the enemies, by whom he sees himself surrounded. It describes the Cnristian, not as the friend of the world, but the determined opposer of its corrupt maxims and customs ; not as the obedient slave of the prince of darkness, but his decided and vigilant foe. It intimates also that there is a warfare going on within the man's own breast ; and what war- . fare can be compared with that, which the Christian is secretly carrying on there ? When Satan and the world trouble him, they are opposed and silenced ; but his own heart, though it may seem subdued one hour, makes him weep and tremble the next. Here the flesh is ever lusting against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh ; here the law of sin wars against the law of grace ; here heavenly and holy affections contend with earthly and sensual desires. Here an unceasing and painful battle is fought, and here the victory and the crown are w^on. It is this habitual conflict with evil, which constitutes the great diflference between the servant of God, and the man of the world. The one is at peace with sin and willingly yields to its dominion, while the other no sooner feels himself tied and bound in its chains, than he begins to strive against it, and to struggle for free- dom. It is this, which proves us to be sincere and earnest in our religious profession. It is this, which testifies that our understandings are enlightened, that our conscience is on the side of God, that our affec- tions have been touched by his grace, and a principle t>f a new and spiritual life sent down from heaven into our hearts. 3. But we must not stop here. The text leads us to infer, thirdly, that the Christian is actually overcoming 348 The Rewards of the enemies of his soul. And this is an inference, bre- thren, which cannot be too plainly and earnestly pressed on our notice. The truth it involves is of the very highest importance to our eternal interests; and yet there is no truth, which we seem so determined to for- get and so anxious to discredit. Whence arise the many strange and unscriptural notions of religion, which prevail among us? and to what cause must we ascribe the multiplied errors, which in every age have deceived and harassed the Christian church ? Is the gospel so hard to be understood, or the book which contains its glad tidings so vague and obscure ? No. Our spiritual ignorance must be traced chiefly to our spiritual wickedness. We have cherished cavils and doubts, we have applauded the wildest and most con- tradictory tenets ; and why ? Because they have super- seded the necessity of practical holiness, or tended to lower its standard ; because they have taught us that a man may be the slave of his lusts, and yet the friend of his God ; that we may take our share of the follies and sins of this world, and yet when we die enter into all the purity and joys of the next. But how plainly does the text we are considering condemn such notions as these ! It speaks of religion as an arduous conflict, and it promises its blessings to none but a conqueror. To be contending with our spiritual enemies is not enough. It tells us that we must be overcoming, as well as re- sisting them ; triumphing over evil, as well as opposing and hating it. Not that the foes of our peace can ever be destroyed, or that we on this side the grave can be exempt from their assaults. Through all the changing scenes of our life they will follow us, and even on our dying bed they will strive to harm us. But though pursued and harassed, the Christian is day by day beat- the Conquering Christian. 349 ing down his enemies. The world is gradually losing its power to tempt and disturb him ; Satan is bruised underneath his feet ; and as for his lusts, they are one by one weakened and subdued. He may not indeed be always conscious of the progress he is making in holi- ness ; he may often be found weeping over his defeats, instead of rejoicing^ in his triumphs ; yea, there may be seasons, in which he may deem himself an utter stranger to the spiritual warfare ; but the victories he is obtain- ing, though hidden from himself, are visible to others. Angels see them and rejoice. His Christian brethren behold them, and pray for the grace, which has enabled him to win them. In the midst of his many infirmities, and fears, and occasional declensions, he is seen to be perfecting holiness in the fear of the Lord ; becoming- more humble, more submissive, more earnest, more spiritually-minded ; longing more for heaven, and grow- ing in a meetness for its pure and exalted joys. O what a blessed victory is this ! Who docs not long to share in its honours and receive its rewards ? But these rewards are not easily attained, neither is this victory easily won. No mortal power can achieve it. We may form the most sincere and stedfast resolutions, and prepare for the most vigorous efforts ; but the first assaults of temptation will discover to us that we have entered on an unequal contest, and leave us wondering at our own weakness. Even if the world and the devil had ceased to be our enemies, we are no more able to over- come the rebellious passions of our own hearts, than we are to bind in chains the waves of a raging ocean. The mere professor of religion may cavil at this state- ment ; but he, who is actually striving to subdue his lusts, will soon be constrained to admit its truth. He ivill soon be heard to confess that he can do nothiners 350 The Rewards of that he is absolutely helpless, and must either give up the conflict in despair, or seek the aid of an arm stronger than his own. The victory must be ascribed to God alone. It is he, who gives us at first a disposition to struggle with our adversaries j it is he, who crowns that struggle with success. " Not unto us," has ever been the language of the Church in its warfare, " not unto us, O Lord, but unto thy name be the praise;" and its language in the day of its triumph is the same ; ** Salvation to our God, which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb." IL But though the victory be the Lord's, he often condescends to speak of it as though it were attained by the Christian himself; and to strengthen his arm and stimulate his exertions, he promises him in the text, a gracious and rich reward. " To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna; and 1 will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it." 1. One of the blessings comprehended in this pro- mise is pardon. Does the Christian conqueror then need pardon? Yes, brethren, as much as the most guilty of his race can need it. In the midst of all the honours, which the Captain of his salvation puts on him, and all the trials, which he endures for his sake, he feels that he is an unworthy sinner still, and is con- strained to be continually mourning over his sinfulness, and supplicating forgiveness at the footstool of his throne. The text addresses him as a sinner. " To him that overcometh will 1 give a white stone." In this expression, there is evidently an allusion to the custom, which prevailed in the ancient courts of justice, of declaring the acquittal or condemnation of a criminal by delivering to him or one of his judges, a the Conquering Christian. 351 stone. If acquitted he received a white, if condemned a black, stone. Here a white stone is promised to the overcoming behever ; and no figure can more clearly express that complete absolution from guilt, which is conferred on the contrite sinner, as soon as he applies by faith to the Saviour of sinners. The God, who created him, gave him a law, and he has a thousand times daringly broken it. He consequently stands at his bar as a base and heinous transgressor. The black stone of condemnation is about to be given him, and the dreadful sentence of the violated law to be pro- nounced by his judge. But no curse proceeds from the awful throne before him. One wearing his form and clothed in all the glories of the Godhead, becomes his advocate and pleads his cause. " I," says the glorified Jesus, " am that trembling sinner's friend. He has fled to my cross for refuge, and sooner shall heaven and earth fail, than a sinner shall perish there. There was indeed a time, when he made me to serve with his sins and wearied me with his iniquities ; but the vengeance which he merited was poured out on mine own head, and there is now no condemnation remaining for him. Behold my hands and my side. In this body, I was wounded for his transgressions, and bruised for his ini- quities. I ransomed and bought him with my blood ; and though my enemies may blaspheme, and my friends may wonder, I will give him a white stone, a free and full discharge." And is not this a great, and unspeakably precious blessing, to have our guilt cancelled ? to have those manifold iniquities, which are so often filling our hearts with fear and sadness, all pardoned and forgotten ? to be in no more danger of the fearful sentence we have incurred, than as though we had never been defiled b}- 35S ' The Hewards of one transgression ? Who, that has felt the anguish of a guilty conscience, will not say with the pardoned psal- mist, *' Blessed is he, whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man, unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity." 2. If pardon then were all that the Christian con- queror received from his Lord, we might still say that never conqueror was so richly rewarded as he ; but pardon is not all. A mere acquittal is too poor a gift for the Captain of his salvation to bestow, and he adds to it the blessing of adoption. ^' To him that over- cometh will I give a white stone, and on the stone a new name written." And what is this new name ? Here again we must refer to the customs of the ILast. When a prince raised any of his subjects to extraordinary dignity, or adopted them into his family, it was usual to give them a new name, expressive of their elevation and their connexion with their benefactor. Thus Pharaoh changed the name of Joseph, when he raised him to honour ; and thus also the three Hebrew youths were called by new names, when they were received into the house of Nebuchad- nezzar. When therefore the exalted Jesus promises to his triumphant people a new name, he promises them all the blessings of his Father's house, all the happiness and the glory, which are the portion of the sons of God. When he first began to look on them in mercy, he found them the members of another flmiily, and the children of another parent. In love with folly and with sin, they had wandered far from God, and had joined themselves to a family, of which the prince of darkness is the head. But he determined to bring back the wretched prodigals to their forsaken home. With his own blood he reconciled them, even while they were the Conquering Christian. 353 yet enemies to his Father ; by his obedience unto death, he wrought out for them a righteousness, which gives them a name and a place among his children ; and by his Spirit he renews their souls, restores them to his forfeited image, and makes them meet for the employ- ments and joys of their heavenly habitation. " As many as receive him," says Saint John, '* to them hath he given power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in his name." Yea, so anxious is he to re- veal to them the honour, to which he has raised them, and to gladden their hearts with a prospect of its hap- piness, that he sends down the Spirit itself from heaven, to bear witness with their spirit that they are the chil- dren of God ; and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ. The manner, in which this new name is given to the acquitted criminal, is also remarkable* It is written or engraven in the stone, which declares his pardon, and is consequently inseparable from it. The inference is obvious. Adoption into the family of heaven, is inse- parably connected with the forgiveness of sins. As soon as the penitent sinner is justified by faith, he has peace with God, and from that hour is regarded by -him as his beloved child. He may not indeed have immediate evidence of his adoption ; fearfulness and* distrust may for a season weigh him down ; yea, he may sometimes mourn over himself as an unpardoned heir of wrath ', but notwithstanding his fears and doubts, his fetters have been broken. Satan has lost a servant, whom he never will regain. He is no more a stranger or foreigner, but a fellow citizen with the saints, and the household of God. The angels rejoice over him as a monument of infinite mercy, and a future partaker of their bliss. The gloriiied Jesus regards him with a love, that passeth Yy 354 ne Rewards of knowledge. God himself is not ashamed to be called his God, and prepares for his long-lost but now reco- vered son, a never-ending feast of joy. 3. Hence spiritual provision is another blessing com- prehended in this promise. " To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna." By a reference to the sixteenth chapter of the book of Exodus, we find Moses commanding Aaron to fill a vessel with the manna, which the Israelites had received from heaven, and to lay it up in the tabernacle, as a memorial to suc- ceeding generations of the power and goodness, which had fed their fathers for forty years in a wilderness. The manna was accordingly placed in the ark of the covenant in the most holy place, where it remained hidden or secret, as none but the High-Priest could ever look on it, and he once only in the year. To this hidden manna the words before us undoubtedly allude ; and the blessing intimated by it is that spiritual provi- sion, with which the bountiful Jesus feeds, and strengthens, and blesses his adopted sons. To eat of it, is to have the soul nourished and refreshed with the bread of life ; to have all its wants supplied ; to taste of those divine consolations, which even in this world of trouble can make the sinner's heart overflow with bless- edness ; to live upon the fulness of an infinite God, and to be abundantly satisfied therewith. Nay more ; to eat of this hidden manna, is to partake of the bread of heaven ; to be admitted, when the wilderness of life is passed, into the immediate presence of Jehovah ; to dwell before his throne in the holy place of his heavenly temple ; to hunger no more, and to thirst no more ; but to have the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, to feed us, and to lead us unto living fountains of water, and to wipe away all tears from our eyes. the Conquering Christian. 355 The manna, of which the Christian is permitted to eat, is said to be hidden manna; and the new name, which is given to him, is a secret name, a name which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it. Now this language implies, that the blessings of adoption and spiritual consolation can be comprehended by those only, who have been made partakers of them. No other man can have any adequate conception of their sweet- ness or their value ; for he has not a taste adapted to them, nor an understanding capable of estimating their worth. He is dead in trespasses and sins, and can know nothing of the spiritual life of those, who are born from above. Their life is hid from an ungodly world with Christ in God. A stranger intermeddles not with their joy. " The secret of the Lord," says the psalmist, " is with them that fear him, and he will show them his covenant." " Now we have received," says the apostle, " not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God ; that we might know the things that are freely- given to us of God. But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him ; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." And now, brethren, let us turn to ourselves. We have heard of the blessings offered by our ascended Lord to the sinners of mankind, and we have the cha- racter of those, who are inheriting these blessings, plainly marked out to us. Is it our character ? Can we trace in it a resemblance to our own feelings and con- duct? Are we striving against our spiritual adversa- ries ? Are we overcoming sin ? Has the world lost its power to entice and govern us ? Is Satan vanquished? Are our neighbours, are the inmates of our habitations ready to testify of us, that there is a reality in our reli- 356 The Rewards of gion, a consistency in our character, an increasing holi- ness in our dispositions and conduct ? Then, brethren, the promise before us ought to be to us as hfe from the dead. Its sound ought to chase away our fears, to ani- mate our courage, to fill our souls with love, to put a new song in our mouth, even a thanksgiving unto our God. In every season of despondency, let us think of it, and be comforted. It was written to comfort us in our warfare ; and why should we refuse to take the cup of consolation, which a tender-hearted Father has put into our hands? In every season of coldness, let us remember it, and strive to warm our hearts to grati- tude and praise. It tells us of guilt cancelled, of hell escaped, of God reconciled, of heaven won ; and where is the perishing sinner who can think of such blessings as these, and not be constrained to feel and to love ? The criminal, condemned to die, would think that he could never sufficiently testify his gratitude to the man, who should obtain for him a reprieve. And shall that friend be forgotten, who delivered us, even while we were yet his enemies, from the wrath to come, by lay- ing down his life in our stead ? How would the starving and houseless beggar thank the benefactor, who should receive him into his flimily, and give him food and raiment among his children ! And shall we be cold and thankless towards that exalted Being, who stooped down from his throne when he saw us perishing, and lifted us up from the dust, and made us the children of God, and the heirs of his glory ? No, brethren ; the reprieved criminal may be joyless, the adopted beggar may be thankless ; but the pardoned sinner must go on his way rejoicing, and make even a life of wrestling a life of praise. There is also another class of persons, whom the the Conquering Christian, 357 gracious words before us were designed to cheer. You have reason to hope, perhaps, that you are not altoge- ther strangers to true religion. Your principles, your feelings, your conduct, have undergone a great change. You are anxiously seeking to win Christ, and to be found in him. As you hear of the blessings promised to the conquering Christian, you feel them to be the very blessings that you need, and would think them cheaply purchased by a whole life of conflict and trial : yea, you would rejoice to part, not only with every sin, but with every earthly comfort that is dear to you, and welcome the deepest poverty and tribulation, so that you might inherit these precious promises. But you dare not hope that you have any interest in them. Though struggling with your enemies, and praying, and striving, and longing for a victory over them, you • have not yet vanquished them, and you deem it pre- sumption to claim a conqueror's rewards. The human heart is exceedingly deceitful, brethren, and its deepest emotions must be regarded with suspicion ; but if these are the sincere feelings of your heart, and if they are habitually influencing your life, making you humble, watchful, prayerful, there is not a blessing in this pro- mise of your Lord, nay, there is not a blessing spoken of in the Scriptures, which you are not warranted to rejoice in as your own. You may weep and tremble ; there may be fightings without, and fears within ; but the white stone, the new name, the hidden manna, are already yours. The promise is made, not to him that has overcome, but to him that is overcoming ; not to him who has completely gained the victory, but to him who is gaining it, whose enemies are not destroyed, but weakened and gradually yielding. If you are thus warring a good warfare, the promise is made to you ; 358 The Rewards of and though you deem yourselves condemned and perishing, the God, before whom you tremble, regards you as his pardoned and adopted children, and will 1 soon give you, belorc an assembled universe, a victor's crown. Ignorance and unbelief may rob you for a sea- son of your comfort ; but continue humbly and reso- lutely fighting the good fight of faith, persevere in watchfulness and prayer, let a sense of your own utter weakness, keep you still flying for help to your almighty Saviour, and after a few more years of conflict and trou- ble are passed, your warfare shall end in the shouts of triumph, and your tears shall be turned into songs of everlasting joy. Think not that these assurances are more encouraging than the Scriptures warrant. They are the very assurances we are commanded to give you. *' Strengthen ye the feeble hands," said the Lord lo his prophet, "and confirm the feeble knees; say to them that are of a feeble heart, * Be strong, fear not ; behold your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompense ; he will come and save you.' Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye com- fortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her war- fare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned ; for she hath received of the Lord's hand double for all her sins." But the language of the text is calculated to excite enquiry, as well as to impart consolation. It speaks of blessings, and it ofliers them freely to the unworthy and the guilty, but then it tells us that none but the warring and overcoming will receive them. What then is your religion? Is it a conflict? a wresding? an incomplete, but a visible and progressive victory ? If it is not a warfare, brethren, it is nothing. It is a profession, a name, and nothing more ; a form, which is no more the Conquering Christian. 359 like the religion that saves the soul, than a statue is like a living man. Your disposition may be peaceable, and even amiable ; you may be as blameless in your outward conduct, as the unconverted Saul, and as warm in your zeal ; you may hear the sound of the gospel, and approve and defend its peculiar doctrines ; it may even play about your imagination, and at seasons reach your heart ; but if you are not habitually withstanding and overcoming the corruptions that are in the world, if there is no struggle with sin going on within your breast, if Satan is not feared and resisted, you have no more part nor lot in the salvation of Jesus, than the man who has never heard of his name. Your sins are un- pardoned, your sentence of death unrepealed, your soul perishing. Where there is no conflict, there can be no victory. Where there is no victory, there will be no white stone of absolution, no new name, no hidden manna, no crown. SERMON XXIIL THE ISRAELITES RETURNING FROM BABYLON. JEREMIAH L 4, 5. In those daijs and in that time, aaith the Lord, the children of I&racl shall come, they and the children of Judah together, g'^^^^S "^'^ ii>ee/!~ ing : they siiall go and seek the Lord their God. They shall ask the way to Zion wifh their faces thither-ward, saying, " Come, end let us Join ourselves to the Lord in a /ici-peiual covcnaJit, that shall not be forgotten." 1 HESE words may be considered as a prophecy of the future conversion and restoration of the Jews ; but this was not tlieir primary meaning. They are con- nected with a striking prediction of the overthrow of the Chaldean empire, and evidently relate to the libera- tion of the Israelites from their long captivity in Baby- lon, and their consequent return to their own land. They however are not the only people, who have been enslaved by enemies. We ourselves are in a state of still more wretched bondage, and may learn from the contemplation of their captivity and deliverance, a use- ful lesson of humiliation and of hope. Adapting the subject before us to our own spiritual situation and circumstances, let us consider, Jirsty the state of the Jews in Babylon ; secondly^ their deliverance from it; and, thirdlij^ the feelings, with which they be- gan their return to the land of their fathers. \. 1. The captive Israelites were obviously in a de- The Israelites Retiirnwg^ ^c. 361 graded state. They were once a great and free peo- ple, secure under the special protection of God, and honoured by his pecuHar favour. They are now stran- gers in a foreign country, obeying the will of their proud conquerors, and visited with the judgments of heaven. And what is the state of man, but a state of degrada- tion ? He boasts of the dignity of his nature, but an angel might weep over its baseness. He is prouder than the inhabitants of heaven, but he has brought himself almost to a level with the brutes that perish. The image of God, in which he was created, has been de- faced, his friendship forfeited, his favour lost. The soul, that once ruled over the body in which it dwelt, is now become its slave, held in captivity by its lusts^ tyrannized over by the most vile and hateful dispositions, lost to all sense of its own original excellence, and sunk so low as even to love its degradation. 2. But the condition of the Jews in their captivity , was as wretched^ as it was degrading. Though treated by their conquerors with more than usual lenity, they appear to have been reduced to the lowest state of de- spondency. At a distance from Jerusalem, their beloved temple destroyed, their holy convocations and solemn sacrifices passed away, they sit down by the waters of Babylon and weep. Their harps, which in Zion had ever been attuned to joy, are now hung upon the wil- lows; and their songs are turned into bitter lamentations. We too are a suffering, as well as an abased people. Once indeed the world was a paradise, but sin has en- tered it, withered all its bloom, and robbed it of its happiness. Thorns and briars, toil and care, pain and sorrow, have completely overspread it, so that there is not a spot on its surface, on which we can set our foot and say, " Here is rest." On every condition of man, Z z 36)3 The Israelites on every nation, yea, on every family, have been written, in characters more or less legible, " Lamentation, mourning, and woe." And what is to follow the years of misery, which wc are spending here ? The agonies of death, and the darkness of the grave. 3. Our state also, like that of the captive Jews, is a guilty state. It was sin, which caused them to be de- livered into the hands of their enemies ; and it is sin, which has made us base and wretched. Our first father transgressed and died ; but the vengeance, which fol- lowed his transgression, deterred not his children from treading in his steps. They inherited his depraved na- ture, and they have obe3'ed its lusts. Since the hour, in which the prince of darkness first erected his throne in the world, it has been his kingdom, and its inhabi- tants have willingly obeyed his dreadful laws. We our- selves have shared in the common guilt. We cannot look into our own bosoms, nor examine the history of our own lives, without finding there the most distress- ing reasons to mourn over ourselves, as rebels who have revolted from the most gracious of sovereigns, and as children who are daily sinning against the most tender of fathers. To say nothing of the follies of our childhood and the sins of our youth, how many iniqui- ties have we willingly and daringly committed, since we attained the age of manhood ! How many words have we uttered, which ought never to have passed our lips ! How many thoughts have v/e indulged, which we should shudder to make known ! How many evil dispositions have we cherished ! How many afflictions have we despised ! And how many mercies have we slighted ! Yea, brethren, which of us can look back even on the week, that has just passed over our heads, and not find in the retrospect abundant and irresistable Returning from Babylon. 363 evidence of our apostacy from God ? Which of us is not constrained to cry out, " Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O Lord, for in thy sight shall no man living be justified ? 4. But this is not all. The enslaved Jews were in a helpless state. Though prophecies of deliverance were given them, they saw not how these predictions could be fulfilled. Their enemies were too much in love with power willingly to liberate their captives; and their own number had been so much reduced by the sword, that they could never hope to regain their liberty by force. And what power have we to rescue ourselves from that state of guilt and of wretchedness, into which we are fallen ? The law, which we have violated, de- nounces misery on our heads, a misery as great and as lasting as our guilt, and who can resist its authority or repel its curse? We have yielded our souls to the do- minion of sin ; we have debased and polluted them ; and who is he that can cleanse them and deliver them from their bondage ? We have lost even the desire of being made free from sin, and would rather perish than cease to obey its laws. Our guilt has made our situa- tion desperate, and our inveterate depravity has con- firmed its hopelessness. The Bible accordingly de- scribes us as lost and helpless, destroyed and perishing, utterly undone. Have we felt this to be our condition, brethren ? Are we really sincere and in earnest, when we acknowledge that we are titd and bound by the chain of our sins, and call ourselves miserable sinners ? Do we heartily believe the account, which the Scriptures give us of our fallen state ? And are we day by day mourning over our degradation, our misery, our guilt, and our help- lessness ? Then we, as well as the enslaved Jews, have 364 The Israelites a promise of deliverance, and may contemplate their liberation as a representation and pledge of our own. II. 1. In proceeding therefore to our second subject of consideration, we may observe, first, that the delive- rance of the Israelites from their bondage was effected Jbr them by the power of another. They themselves were not the authors of it, and contributed nothing to- wards it. The appointed years of their captivity were come to an end, and they were as powerless and help- less as they had been at first ; but the God, against whom they had sinned, raised up a deliverer for them. He directed Cyrus to lay siege to the city of their ene- mies, and crowned his arms with success. Babylon was taken, and the Jews were permitted by the conqueror to return to their own land, and to dwell in the inhe- ritance of their fathers. Now this Cyrus was a type of Christ, the great spiri- tual deliverer; and if we are ever brought out of our spiritual bondage, we must be content to owe our liberty solely to him, to disclaim all the glory of it, and to give him all the praise. It was he, who unsolicited and un- expected came and wrought out redemption for his ruined people. He saw them guilty, prisoners to divine justice, and about to be consigned to destruction ; and though they spurned his help, he made his own soul an offering for their sin, silenced the thunderings of the law by the sacrifice of his own blood; and now, when they fly to him for refuge, he sets them as free from its eursc, as though they had never sinned. He beheld them in subjection to sin and Satan, and trembling under the power and fear of death ; he came and over- threw their enemies, and burst their bonds. He made an end of sin; he destroyed death; he bruised Satan underneath their feet. Their degradation too was not • Returning from Babylon. 365 overlooked by him. They were in exile, and they were wretched there ; but he raised them up from their low estate, and recovered for them the blessedness they had lost. He is now employed in restoring them to their forfeited inheritance ; in leading them, not to a city lying desolate, and whose walls are to be rebuilt in troublous times by their own wearied hands, but to a city, which has been for ages prepared and adorned for them ; a city, " which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." He is bringing those nigh to God, who were once far oif ; he is guiding a com- pany of wretched aliens back to their long lost country ; yea, he has already restored a countless number of pro- digals to the home, from which they had wandered, and made safe in a father's house, and happy in a fa- ther's arms. And who, brethren, has been his helper in effecting this wondrous redemption ? Review the deliverance you have obtained, and say where in its varied and mighty labours, you have aided your deliverer. There is no part of the work, that you can claim as your own. You have done nothing, absolutely nothing. You feel and confess your insufliciency ; and there are seasons when you value your redemption the more, because it is not the work of your own hands, because you have received it from the free and unmerited bounty of the Friend whom you love. Act then upon this conviction. Have no confidence in the flesh. Think not of completing by your own strength, a work which your own power never could have begun. Rely simply and stedfustiy on Christ. Rejoice in him. Live to his praise. 2. The deliverance of the Israelites ivas also openly proclaimed, and freely offered. Long before it took place, it was made the frequent subject of prophecy ; .166 The Israelites and when Cyrus had determined on liberatin,^ the cap- tives, he ordered a proclamation of freedom to be cir- culated in every part of the land, and to be published by the voice of watchmen on the tops of the mountains, that none might be ignorant of it ; and he excluded none from the joyful tidings of deliverance contained in it. To this proclamation Saint Paul alludes in the tenth chapter of his epistle to the Romans, and speaks of it as a representation of the preaching of the gospel to the enslaved nations of the earth. No sooner had man sinned, than a promise of redemption was given him ; and through many succeeding ages, this promise was frequently renewed, and more extensively made known. At length in the fulness of time, the great deliverer came, bringing good tidings of good, and publishing salvation and peace. He himself preached his gospel to the poor. He proclaimed liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound. And when he was about to leave the habitation of men, he commanded his disciples to carry the news of salvation throughout a perishing world ; to suffer no poor cap- tive to remain ignorant of the redemption wrought out for him, but to call upon all to flee from destruction, and to return with penitence and faith to their recon- ciled God. From that period to the present hour, the voice of mercy has never ceased to be heard. We have had the bread of adversity, and the water of affliction, but the heralds of Jesus have still been going to and fro in the earth; aiid the time, we trust, is rapidly approach- ing when the eyes of all men shall see their teachers ; when the name of the Lord shall be proclaimed on the top of every mountain, and every valley resound with his praise. And to whom are the rich blessings of this Reiiirning from Babylon, 367 salvation offered? To all who hear of them. Not a sinner on the earth is excluded. Among the thousands, who are groaning in bondage, there is not one too guilty to be ransomed, nor too wretched to be redeemed and blessed. Sinners, the cliief of sinners, the lost, the perishing, are the very persons, to whom the proclama- tion of mercy is addressed ; the very captives, for whom a wa)'^ of escape has been opened. We ourselves, bre- thren, are interested in these tidings of deliverance. Salvation from sin and its consequences, is at this very hour freely and most graciously offered us. Have we ac- cepted it? Are we rescued, ransomed, made free? No enquiry can be more important than this, and there is none to which some amongst us are more anxious to obtain a satisfactory reply. The text will aid us in an- swering it. III. The proclamation of Cyrus Vv^as received by the Jews with very different feelings. Some of tliem re- garded it with indifference. They had obtained pro- perty and formed conuexions in the land of their cap- tivity, and were content to remain there; while others welcomed the tidings it brought them with the most exulting joy, and immediately began their journey to their native land. The prophet in the words before us, describes the feelings with which this journey was com- menced ; and they are the very feelings with which every redeemed sinner begins his pilgrimage to the heavenly Zion. O that we may be able to trace in them the workings of our own minds, and have reason to re- joice over ourselves as the ransomed of the Lord, and travellers to his kingdom ! 1. As we behold the Israelites leaving in a body the land of the Chaldeans, the first circumstance, which arrests our attention, is their penitence. The children 368 The Israelites of Israel and the children of Judah are described as goinj^ and zveepi?iq: But why do they weep ? The mercy they have received has softened their hearts. It has shewn them the tenderness of their heavenly Father towards his rebellions children, and taught them to view the sins, which they have committed against him, in their proper light. They once regarded him as their avenging Judge, and the thought but little affected them ; but now they regard him as their pardoning and redeeming God, and a sense of his love causes them to be ashamed of their past ingratitude, and to weep as they remember their guilt. This godly sorrow is, in every instance, one of the first fruits of genuine religion. By nature our hearts are hard, so hard that the most awful judgments can make no abiding impression on them ; but when we are roused out of our spiritual unconcern by the Spirit of God, and begin to look with the eye of faith on the great Saviour of sinners, a train of new and deep emo- tions is excited in our minds. Our religion immediately assumes a new character. There is a feeling, a life, an energy in it ; and we comprehend, for the first time, what is meant by the religion of the heart. Our former associates are as gay, perhaps, and as thoughtless as ever, but we can no more forbear to weep, than the stricken deer to bleed. When we contemplate the greatness, the majesty, and wonderful purity of the Being against whom we have so daringly sinned, we are filled with shame and sorrow : but when we think of his forbearance in sparing us so long in the world notwithstanding our rebellion against him, and of the grace which stopped us in our dreadful course, and snatched us as brands from the burning ; when we look back to the misery from which we have been delivered, Returning from Babylon. 369 and extend our view forward to that heavenly Jerusalem of which we now cherish the hope that we shall ere long be the inhabitants, our hearts must overflow with the liveliest and sweetest emotions, and the tears of contrition and trembling joy must burst from our eyes. O that the world were filled with such mourners ! Then would peace come down from heaven and dwell in it, and the God of peace take up his abode in our hearts. 2. The next remarkable circumstance in the conduct of these liberated Jews, is their anxiety lest they should mistake the xvay^ that is to lead them to Jerusalem. '^ They shall ask the way to Zion." And is not this fearfulness, this spirit of enquiry, found in all who have fixed their heart on heaven ? There was a time when they were destitute of all anxiety on the subject. They thought themselves sufficiently acquainted with the way to God. They deemed it broad and plain, and looked on him as an enthusiast, who asked what he must do to be saved. But now all this self-confidence and ima- ginary security are come to an end. A conviction of their ignorance has forced itself on their minds. They see themselves to be far off from God, and unacquainted with the road, which will lead a sinner back to him. They know too that mistakes in religion are not trifling errors ; that there is but one way, in which they can obtain the salvation they need, and that to seek it in, any other way is to be for ever undone. Hence they are now as ready to ask for instruction, as they were before to repel it. The once despised Christian friend is sought, and his words treasured up in the heart. The long neglected Bible is searched. The throne of grace is approached, and that enlightening influence, which was once spurned and contemned, is now sup- plicated with all the energy of the soul. 3 A m^ 370 The Israelites 3. We may notice, thirdly, the decision of these re- turning captives ; the earnestness and resolution, with which they seek the Lord. *' They ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherxvarcl. This expression evidently denotes strong desire, fixed determination, a mind pre- pared to endure and to overcome every difficulty. And no man ever arrived at the heavenly Zion, without pos- sessing such a mind as this. Religion may occupy our attention, it may interest our feelings, and excite our enquiries ; this attention may be close, these feelings deep, these enquiries sincere; but till Babylon is left, till a sinful world is forsaken, till sin is renounced, till the desire of salvation becomes the ruling principle of the soul, we must not, we dare not regard ourselves as walking in the path of life, nor look on heaven as our home. And yet, brethren, how many of us are contenting ourselves with a religion, which leaves us worldly- minded, hesitating, and undecided ! We ask the way to Zion, but we do not walk in it ; or if at some sea- sons we appear to enter in at its strait gate, it is soon forsaken, and we are again hurrying along a more be- loved and an easier road. We seem to desire heaven, but we desire the vanities of the world more. We think that we love God, but when our love is put to the test, what is the result ? We pour contempt on his favour ; we trample on his laws ; we write this name on our foreheads, *"' Lovers of pleasure, more than lovers of God." Were we really Christians, there would be an end of our indecision. We should see its danger, and we should see also its utter inconsistency with the nature of the Christian life. We should be convinced that we could not yield to it, even were it lawful to yield ; that •«y»> Returning from Babylon. 371 the riches of eternity not only demand, but absolutely engage, the warmest aflfections of every man^ who is acquainted with their worth. Rest not satisfied then till religion is made your first concern, and the salvation of your soul your first pur- suit ; till, like Paul, you are willing to suffer the loss of all things, that you may win Christ, and be found in him ; till, like Peter, you rejoice to be counted worthy to suffer shame for his name; till, like Moses, you esteem his reproach greater riches than all the treasures of the world. Having thus far considered the description, which the prophet has here given us of the feelings and con- duct of these liberated Israelites, let us for the present pause, and enter on the work of self-examination. Can we trace in this picture a resemblance to ourselves ? We profess to be seeking heaven ; are we seeking it, as the returning Jews sought Zion, with a tender heart, a broken and contrite spirit ? Are we humble and earnest enquirers after God ? though fearful and trem- bling, yet resolute and decided Christians ? Are we acting like travellers, who are passing through a fo- reign country to a long wished for home? Is it our desire to be joined to the Lord, and to be entirely and for ever his ? If these things, brethren, be in you and abound, you are warranted to conclude that your bon- dage is come to an everlasting end, and that your deli- verer is guiding you by the right way to a city of habi- tation. Walk worthy then of the high vocation, where- with you are called. Cultivate the spirit which becomes a ransomed captive. And what is this spirit ? A mind yielding to the influence of gloom and despondency ? looking back on the past without thankfulness, and to the future without hope ? No ; it is a grateful and con- 37S The Israelites fiding spirit, a spirit of the liveliest joy, that ever filled a glowing heart, or moved a praising tongue. It is true that they, who are seeking heaven, begin to seek it weeping; but there is a blessedness, which mingles itself with their sorrow ; a feeling of security and hope, which often changes their tears of penitence into tears of joy. The children of Israel wept as they left the con- fmes of Babylon, but the prophets are constrained to employ the strongest language to express the greatness of their exultation. " They go out with joy, and they are led forth with peace. The mountains and the hills break forth before them into singing, and all the trees of the field clap their hands " And what is their own account of the matter ? Read it in the hundred and twenty-sixth psalm. " When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing." And with what was this joy ac- companied ? With praise ; with an open acknowledg- ment of the power and goodness of their God. " Then said they among the heathen, ' The Lord hath done great things for them.' The Lord hath done great things for us," is the answer of the rejoicing people, " whereof we are glad." But in the midst of their gladness, we hear from them the voice of prayer. Though delivered from bondage, they are still at a distance from Jerusa- lem, and they beseech him, who had begun, to com- plete their redemption. " Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south." But there was no distrust in this prayer. It proceeded from a lively and stedfast faith in the divine promises. " They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goedi forth and weepcth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Returning from Bahjlon, 373 Here then is your model, brethren. Strive to be con- formed to it. Rejoice in your deliverance from sin and wretchedness, and be fervent in the praise of him, who pitied you in your low estate, and redeemed you from the hand of the enemy. O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good, and his mercy endureth for ever. For he hath broken the gates of brass, and cut the bars of iron in sunder." You are thankful for earthly blessings, for health, for liberty, for peace ; you would deem it sinful to receive even your daily food without some slight acknowledgment of that bountiful benefactor, who filleth the hungry with goodness. Be thankful also for spiritual mercies. While the preserver of your bo- dies is remembered, let not the redeemer of your souls be forgotten, nor the wonders of grace, which he has wrought for you, be buried in perpetual oblivion. When he formed you at first, and made you his pecu- liar people, it was that you might show forth his praise ; when he bought you with the costly price of his own blood, he made you his own that you might glorif}'^ him ; when he delivered you out of the hand of your enemies, he sent you deliverance that you might serve him in holiness and righteousness all the days of your life. O give him then the poor service, w^hich he has so dearly purchased. Render him the worthless praise, which he so highly values. Live habitually as those, who are not their own, but a redeeming Lord's ; and consecrate to his service all you have, and all you are, your health and strength, your time and property, all the members of your body and all the faculties of your mind. But you arc called to watchfulness and prayer, as well as to joy and praise. You have left the kingdom of darkness, but you have not yet entered on the mhe- ritance of the saints in light. The city of your God is 374 The Israelites still at a distance before you, and you must pass to it through an enemy's country, where thousands arc lying in wait to deceive, and seeking an opportunity to de- vour. Tribulation therefore must be expected, difficul- ties and dangers, temptations and conflicts. These things will be daily reminding you of your weakness, and causing you to deplore with many bitter tears, the remaining earthlincss and desperate wickedness of your hearts; but while they keep you humbic, prayerful, and vigilant, let them not trouble you. He, who has redeemed, is able to protect you, and has pledged him- self never to leave nor forsake you in your pilgrimage ; to uphold you by his power, and guide you by his couns»:rl, till you are walking the streets, beholding the glory, and sharing the joys of the heavenly Zion.. " Fear not," is his language to Cdch of the people, whom he has set apart for himself, " for I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name ; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee ; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burnt, neither shall the flame kindle upon "thee; for I am the Lord, thy God ; the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." " The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads ; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." How encouraging are these promises ! How well cal- culated to strengthen every feeble knee, and to raise ever}' sinking heart ! But while our souls are refreshed by them, it is p.inful to reflect that many around us, and some perhaps who are exceedingly dear to us, neither enjoy nor desire tlie cons(jlation they impart. It was the same among the Jews. When the messen- Returning from Babylon. 375 gers of Cyrus proclaimed liberty to their enslaved na- tion, thousands of them refused the offered freedom, and for the sake of the property and connexions, which they had acquired in Babylon, were content to give up for ever their country and their God. They were in fact indifferent about liberty, and consequently refused to incur the sli,qhtest loss or difficulty in order to ob- tain it. Who does not pity the folly, and condemn the baseness of their conduct ? But how much more pitia- ble is that folly, which gives up the glories of an eter- nal heaven, for the vanities of a fading world ! and how much more worthy of condemnation the baseness, which prefers the shameful bondage of Satan to the service of God ! Such a mind must indeed have fallen most awfully low, and might force an angel to weep over its degradation. It is however the very same mind, which is natural to fallen man, which we ourselves once possessed and may still possess ; the very mind, which some of you, brethren, may have carried about with you all your life long, and to the debasing influence of which you may at this very hour be yielding. The Scriptures tell you that you are by nature in a state of the most abject subjection to sin ; that it is fettering, debasing, destroying you ; and the evil dispositions you are daily manifesting confirm the testimony ; but no feeling of humiliation enters your mind, and you treat the liberty offered you in the gospel with contempt, or at best with cold indifference. The truth is, you know not that you are slaves. You love your captivity. Its employments and pursuits are adapted to the desires of your corrupt hearts, and though they weary, and agi- tate, and at seasons torment you, not one sigh for free- dom have you ever breathed, not a single real struggle for deliverance have vou made. It is this awful insensi- 37 (^ The Israelites Returning, &c. bility, which renders your situation so pitiable and dan- gerous. O be persuaded to strive against it ! Force yourselves to enquire seriously and closely into your present condition and future prospects. Pray for the aid of that Holy Spirit, who can rouse the most careless, and teach the most ignorant, and free the most enslaved. The language, which this almighty Spirit addresses to you, is the same animating and gracious language, which he addressed to Israel of old. " Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion. Shake thyself from the dust ; arise and sit down, O Jerusalem. Loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion. For thus saith the Lord, ' Ye have sold yourselves for nought, and ye shall be redeemed without money.' " This free and complete redemption is this day urged on your acceptance. The way to the heavenly Jerusalem is set open before you, and there is not one poor captive here, who is not invited, nay, commanded to enter it- Avail yourselves then of this great salvation. Seek in Christ pardon and deliverance. Believe the record, which God has given you of his Son. Embrace his of- fered mercy. Come out from a perishing world. Take the Lord for your God, and join yourselves to him in that covenant, which he has made with his chosen ; a covenant, which he is ready to make with you, and which can secure to you all the blessings of time, and all the glories of eternity. SERMON XXIV. THE REDEE^IED SINNER JOINING HIMSELF IN A COVENANT WITH GOH. JEREMIAH 1. 5. Come, and let us join ourselves to the Lord in a /ler/ielual cox'ena72t, that shall not be forgotten. JLN our intercourse with the world, such language as this seldom reaches our ears, or proceeds from our lips. But a kinder invitation could not possibly be addressed to us, nor could we offer to those, whom we love, more friendly advice. The prophet ascribes it in the first in- stance, to the children of Israel and of Judah, as they were commencing their journey from Babylon to their own land. Previously to their captivity, there had existed between these two nations an inveterate enmity ; but a fellowship in the same afflictions had materially softened it, and now by a participation in the same deliverance, it was entirely removed. They are described in the passage connected with the text, as a company of libe- rated captives, forgetting in the emotions of penitence and joy every private and national animosity, and testi- fying the sincerity of their reconciliation by urging each other to an immediate and entire dedication of them- selves to their redeeming God. '^ In those days and in that time, saith the Lord, the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together, going and weeping ; they shall go and seek the Lord their 3 B 378 The Redeeriied Sinner joining God. They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces tliithervvard, saying, * Come, and let us join ourselves to the Lord in a perpetual covenant, that shall not be forgotten.' " Regarding the words of the prophet in a spiritual light, they lead us to enquire, j^rj^, why the Alniighty condescends to enter into a covenant with his redeemed people ; and, secondly, what is implied in their joining themselves to him in a covenant. I. Our first subject of consideration must not how- ever, be entered on with rashness ; for who are we, that we should presume to be acquainted with the designs, and account for the actions of an incomprehensible God? An inspired apostle, when contemplating the wonders of his grace, soon found that the subject was too vast even for his powerful mind to grasp it, and was constrained to end the most comprehensive de- scription of the gospel that was ever penned, with a declaration of the infinite greatness of Jehovah, and his own litter inability to fathom his judgments. " O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out ! For who hath known the mind of the Lord : or who hath been his counsellor ?" But while a recollection of the divine greatness should restrain every presumptuous effort to be wise above that which is written, it ought not to deter us from endea- vouring to learn all that this unsearchable God has re- vealed of himself and his ways, in his holy word. May he give to us now a serious and humble mind, and en- able us to discover some of the wise and gracious mo- tives, which have made him so willing to enter into a covenant with the ^vorthless sinners, whom he has redeemed ! himself in a Covenant with God. 379 We all know what is meant by a covenant. It is an agreement between two or more parties, by which each binds Iiimself to the performance of certain promises on certain conditions. Such an agreement did the Lord enter into with Adam in his state of innocence. He promised to him and his posterity a continuance of the happiness he enjoyed, on the condition of perfect obe- dience on his part to the law, which he had given him. It is evident however, that this cannot be the covenant which God is now ready to foni\ with us. Sin has altered the condition of man, and rendered him totally unable to ofi'er to God anv comnensation for his benefits. No compensation therefore is required of him. The covenant, into which he is now invited to enter, is a new covenant of grace ; a collection of exceeding great and precious promises, by which the Most High en« gages to bestow on his people, all the blessings of saU vati6n on this one condition, if such it may be called, that they are willing to apply for and receive them. Mere promises however do not content him. He binds himself by the most solemn engagements to receive every sinner, who comes to him in the name of his cru- cified Son ; to pardon his iniquities, to restore him again to his favour, to write his holy laws in his heart, to give him all that he needs during his pilgrimage on earth, and to take him at the end of it to his own hea- venly kingdom. 1. He has thus pledged himself to his people to show how greatly he honours them. " Since tliou wast pre- cious in my sight," says he to his church, " thou hast been honourable;" and he appears determined that all the universe shall see the honour, with which he has covered them. Though they can offer him nothing in return for all his benefits, though they are sunk so low 380 The Redeemed Sinner joining as to be unworthy to lift up their eyes unto the heaven where he dwells, vet he deals with them as thou2:h he greatly valued their services, and deemed them worthy to treat with him, and to stand in a near and endearing relation to iiinibelf. Hence he often represents the mer- cies he bestows on them, as the rewards of their obe- dience, and calls them in his covenant, his friends and his children. The name of sinners seems to be almost erased from the charter of their privileges, and the name of the sons of God written in its stead. 2. But this gracious God has entered into a covenant with his people, that he may bind them more closely to himself^ as well as clothe them with honour. He well knows how unstable our hearts are ; how prone we are to wander from him, and to return to our former cap- tivity. He therefore binds us to himself by a covenant, which he causes each of us personally and for himself to enter into with him. Thus he has not only a claim on us as our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier; we are his by a voluntary surrender of ourselves to him, by our own bond and obligation, by promises and vows. In his address to the Jews after their public dedication of themselves to the God of their fathers, Moses re- peatedly reminds them of this bond of union between them and the Lord ; and in the conclusion of the twen- ty-sixth chapter of Deuteronomy, we find him telling them that Jehovah had formed a covenant with them for the express purposes of putting an honour upon their nation, and sanctifying them to himself. " The Lord hath avouched thee this day to be his peculiar people, as he hath promised thee, and that thou shouldst keep all his commandments ; and to make tliee high above all nations, which he haih made, in praise, and in name, and in honour; and that thou mayest be an holy people unto the Lord thy God, as he hath spoken." himself 171 a Covenant with God. 381 3. But the chief reason, why it has pleased God to enter into a covenant with his servants is this, — to show them the sureness of his mercy^ the certainty of. their receiving pardon, grace, and salvation at his hands. It might indeed have been supposed that the promise of an unchangeable God, was a sufficient foundation for the confidence of his creatures ; but he knows the diffi- culty, with which our unbelieving hearts are brought to give credit to his word, and in compassion to the sinful infirmity, which dishonours him, he has conde- scended to add to his promises the sanction of an oath. " Men verily swear by the greater," says Saint Paul, " and an oath for confirmation is to them an end of all strife. Wherein God, willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of promise the immutability of his coun- sel, confirmed it by an oath ; that by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, we might have strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us." The penitent sinner therefore, when he flies for refuge to the atoning Saviour, is not left to mere conjecture. There is some- thing more than a possibility or probability of his sal- vation. The covenant of God makes it certain. He need not say with the repentant king of Nineveh, " Who can tell if God will turn, and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger, that we perish not?" but he may say with the prophet, " Surely in the Lord have I righ- teousness and strength." hie may take up the words of the confiding Paul, " 1 know whom 1 have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." He is warranted, not only to hope in the mercy of the Lord, but to rejoice in his truth, and to plead his fliithfulness at his throne. He still stands at the door of heaven as 383 The Redeemed Sinner joining a beggar, but then he is a beggar, whose wants the master of the house has pledged himself to supply, and whom he cannot suffer to perish without tarnishing the lustre of his own glory. II. Such are some of the reasons, which may have induced the Almighty to enter into a covenant with the sinners, whom he has ransomed. Let us now proceed to enquire, what is implied in their availing themselves of his condescension, and joining themselves to him in a covenant. It is plain that this act of dedication is something of an inward and spiritual nature, ra.her than an outward and visible act. It is true that baptism and the sacra- ment of the Lord's supper, are symbols and seals of the covenant, but it is equuUy true that we may be bap- tized in the name of Jesus, and be frequent guests at his table, and yet have formed no alliance with God, and have no interest in the most precious of his pro- mises. These rites are useful and solemn, so useful that no good man will neglect them, and so solemn that no wise man will speak lightly of them ; but what is the value of these ordinances, if there are no corresponding feelings in the heart j if there is no spiritual transaction between the soul and its God ? They are useless. They are not acceptable to God, and bring down no blessing on our own heads. 1. The spiritual union spoken of in the text implies, first, a renunciation of every covenant which is opposed to this covenant with God. We have all many covenants of this nature to break through. We have all joined ourselves to Satan, unconsciously perhaps, but sincerely and closely. We have sold ourselves to sin, and have long been doing its works, and receiving in return its pleasures. As for the world, our consciences tcli us himself in a Covenant with God. 383 that it has been our god. It has claimed us as its own, and we have admitted the claim. We have given it our warmest affections, our most unwearied services. We have consented to conform ourselves to its laws, to act upon its principles, to court its smiles, to dread its frowns. To enter into covenant with God implies there- fore, that we renounce the devil and all his works ; that we begin to hate and strive against the lusts of the flesh ; that we rise superior to all the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and resolve to be no more governed by its laws. It implies an utter abhorrence of these ty- rants of the soul; a restless anxiety to escape from their thraldom ; a willingless to endure any hardship, to en- counter an}' risk, so that we may break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us. 2. But before we can enter into covenant with God, we must proceed a step further, and accede to the terms of his covenant ; we must obtain a Scriptural knowledge of them, approve, and embrace them. Now these terms are so simple, that a child may comprehend them ; and so gracious, that they fill the minds of angels with won- der ; but because they are opposed to the imaginations of our depraved hearts, thousands daily reject them, and perish rather than accept them. The flict is that God in his new covenant of grace deals with man as a destitute, perishing, helpless beggar ; and man will not bear to be thus dealt with even by the almighty God. He could bear to be treated as a sinner, and would in many instances be willing to pay the price of re- pentance and tears for his pardon ; yea, when he feels the terrors of an awakened conscience, he would give his first-born for his transgression, the fruit of his body for the sin of his soul ; but to be addressed as one who is altogether worthless, as one, who in the expressive. 384 Tlie Redeemed Sinner joining language of the Spirit, is wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked — this is too humiliating for haughty man to endure. He rejects with scorn the mercies so degradingly ofl'ercd him, and determines to obtain pardon and heaven in some other way, or perish in the attempt. And in such an attempt he must inevi- tably perish. God will confer the precious blessings of his gospel on his own terms only. Though he has ma- nifested the riches of his grace in offering to enter into covenant with sinners, yet by fixing unalterably the terms of this covenant, he has preserved his own ho- nour, and acted with the dignity of a sovereign. And what are the terms, which man so much despises, and to which the Holy One of Israel so stedfastly ad- heres? They are so gracious, that if we were in our right mind we should leap with joy as we heard of them, and CLiuse the earth to resound with our praises. This is the language of the covenant, " He that believeth shall be saved." It asks of us no merit : it demands of the penitent sinner no righteousness. It tells him to cast away all dependence upon every thing that he can feel, or suffer, or do ; and upon this one condition, that he heartily believes and embraces the promises of the gospel, it assures him that all the blessings of the ever- lasting covenant are his. When therefore the soul, wounded with a sense of its sinfulness, and deeply con- scious of its inability to save itself from its sins, wearied with its efforts to establish its own righteousness and longing for a righteousness such as God can approve ; when the soul thus comes and casts itself on the free mercy of the Lord in Christ Jesus, pleading only the merit of his blood, and regarding him as its almighty and willing Saviour, in that moment a covenant of peace is entered into between the sinner and his God : a himself in a Covenant xvith God. 385 covenant, which will never be forgotten and cannot be destroyed. 3. And what follows? Is the believing sinner hence- forth at liberty to live as he will ? to be disobedient and lawless ? No, brethren ; the man who flies to the gospel as a refuge from his iniquities, is the only man in the world, who is really mindful of the obedience he owes to the Being, who formed him. As he joins himself in a covenant to his redeeming Lord, he gives himself up entirely and for ever to his service. This self-dedication is the necessary consequence of the faith, which has made him an heir of the promises. By its powerful energy, the enslaving influence of the world and worldly things is overcome ; the heart is purified ; its aflfections are withdrawn from the objects which before engaged and defiled them, and fixed on that infinitely holy Being, from whom they ought never to have wandered. ^' Faith worketh by love." It pro- duces in the soul an overpowering sense of its vast obligations to its pardoning God. It fills the heart with the tenderest emotions, as it thinks of the riches of his goodness, and it kindles a love for him, which con- strains the sinner to fall down before him and say, " Truly, O Lord, I am thy servant ; I am thy servant ; for thou hast loosed my bonds. O Lord, our God, other lords beside thee have had doniinion over us, but by thee only will wc make mention of thy name." Neither is it a partial surrender of himself, which he thus makes. God v/ould not receive it if it were. Though he is a God of incomprehensible grace, he is still an awfully jealous God, and will not bear a rival even in a sinner's heart. He knows indeed how to bear with the corruptions of that heart; he can patiently endure its occasional wanderings, and pity even its sin- 3 C 386 The Redeemed Sinner joining ful infirmities ; but its supreme affections must be ha- bitually his, or he will not regard the sinner as his own. The Christian, therefore, when he devotes himself to him, makes an entire surrender of himself, of all he is and all he has, to his service. He henceforth regards nothing as his own. His time, his substance, his influ- ence, all the members of his body and all the faculties of his soul, are viewed in a new light, as the property of God. He before did with them whatsoever he would ; but now he regards them as talents entrusted to him by their great proprietor, and he employs them to his glory. He determines also to cleave for ever to the Lord. ^* Come," said the ransomed Israelites, " and let us join ourselves to the Lord in a perpetual covenant, that shall not be forgotten ;" and, in a limited sense, they have kept this covenant. Before their captivity they were continually forsaking the God of their fathers, and bowing the knee to idols ; but never, since the words before us passed their lips at the gates of Babylon, have they as a nation worshipped strange gods. Dispersed throughout all the world, living among idolaters of every class, and often cruelly persecuted for their at- tachment to their ancient faith, they have notwithstand- ing never fallen into the idolatry, to which they were once so prone, and are at this very hour acknowledging no other God but the living Lord. If such a people then, in the midst of such heavy judgments, have re- mained so faithful to their vows, how close, how con- stant, how permanent ought that union to be, which exists between the redeemed sinner and his God ! And it will be permanent, brethren, wherever it is real. He who sincerely devotes himself to the Lord, and is once brought within the bond of his everlasting covenant, himself in a covenant with God. 387 will never be suffered wholly to depart from him. He may be prone to leave him, and may partially forsake him for a season ; but by his Spirit and his word, by judgments and afflictions, the Lord will bring back his erring servant, remind him of his forgotten vows, and bind him by the bitterness of his wanderings more closely to his throne. " This shall be the covenant, that I will make with the house of Israel, saith the Lord ; I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts, and will be their God, and they shall be my people. And 1 will make an everlasting covenant with them, that I will not turn away from them to do them good ; but I will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me." The subject, which has thus occupied our thoughts, is calculated to afford admonition to us all. It calls upon t/ioss, who have already joined themselves to the Lord, to meditate on their privileges, and to seek for a more enlarged view of their value and stability. They are more precious than their hearts have ever yet con- ceived, and more than the stars of heaven in multitude. They are secured to them also by promises, by a cove- jiant and oath, which leave them no ground for appre- hension, no room for despondency, no excuse for unbelief. But privileges, brethren, always bring duties with them. The covenant, which assures you that ail the blessings of time and eternity are yours, lays you under peculiar obligations to cherish the liveliest feelings of thankfulness, of love, of submission, of the most entire devotedness to the will of God. You are bound by your own vows, as well as by the exceeding riches of his grace, to do whatever he commands, to renounce whatever he forbids, to be grateful for whatever he be- 388 The Redeemed Sinner joining stows, to be content whatever he may withhold from you, and submissive whatever he may take away. How have these obligations been fulfilled ? Look back to the day, in which you first joined yourselves to God, and enquire whether your conduct since has corresponded with the promises and resolutions you then made. O what an humbling retrospect ! What cause have you for shame, and humiliation, and wonder ! And why have your deficiences been so many and so great? Why are you so often forced to mourn over your sins, instead of rejoicing in your mercies? Because you have forgotten that you are the Lord's. Because you have regarded yourselves as your own, instead of his chosen heritage, his purchased people, his covenanted servants. Strive then to forget his love and your own vows no 3-nore. He is ever mindful of his covenant ; be you mindful of it also. In every hour of temptation, in every season of declension, in every time of trouble, say to your soul, what David said to his, " O my soul, I have said unto the Lord, Thou art my God." There are others perhaps among us, who are desirous of join'mg themselves to God. They have tried tht^ ser- vice of sin, and have found in it nothing but disappoint- ment, vexation, and bitterness. They are therefore anxious to renounce it ; indeed they have already re- nounced it, and are determined to be the willing slaves of sin no more. But they have not yet given themselves up to God. Not that they are reluctant to forsake the world, or unwilling to bear the reproach of Christ. A sense of unworthiness keeps them back. In their pre- sent sinful and wretched state, they dare not lay hold on his covenant, nor take to his altar so vile an offering as their broken hearts. But is not your unworthiness known unto God ? And was it not known by him from himself in a Covenant with God. 389 everlasting ? And yet he invites you in his word to devote yourselves to him, and promises to receive and bless you. Polluted and desperately wicked as he sees you to be, he calls you by the endearing name of sons, and says to each of you with a voice of the tenderest mercy, " Give me thine heart. I know its vileness. I kaow all the evil which has defiled, and all the wicked- ness which has hardened it. 1 have seen its folly in the days of thy childhood, and its thoughtlessness in thy youth ; its pride in thy prosperity, and its rebellion in thine affliction. They have tried my patience to the uttermost, and I remember them still. But, O my son, give me thine heart. Only acknowledge thine iniquity, that thou hast transgressed against me ; only consent to receive pardon at my hands through the blood of the covenant ; and I will be faithful and just to forgive thee thy sins, and to cleanse thee from all unrighteousness. Thou hast made me to serve with thy sins, and wea- ried me with thine iniquities ; but I, even 1, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins. Come now and let us rea- son together ; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Incline your ear and come unto me ; hear, and your soul shall live ; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David." Others among us may have broken the covenant of the Lord. There was a time, when they appeared to be seeking his favour. They wept as they thought of their sins ; their hearts were affected as they heard of his love. They openly confessed his name, and went up to the house of God with his people as friends. But how are they changed ! Their eye has now forgotten to weep, 390 The Redeemed Sinner joining and their heart to mourn. The cares and pleasures of the world have driven the remembrance of a crucified Saviour out of their minds, and are reigning in all their former power over their souls. Prayer is neglected, the Bible is seldom searched, ordinances are slighted, hea- ven is no longer desired nor hell dreaded. They have still perhaps a name to live, but in the sight of God they arc dead. Your situation, brethren, is most perilous. There is more hope of the thoughtless sabbath- breaker, the dis- sipated trifier, the drunkard, than of you. The convic- tions you have stifled have hardened your hearts; the despite you have done to the Spirit of grace has caused him to abandon you to a fearful insensibility ; the vows you have broken and forgotten are all registered in hea- ven, and have a vengeance connected with them, which is ready to burst upon your heads. And dare you, in such a situation as this, talk of the everlasting covenant of grace, and harbour the pre- sumptuous hope that so holy a covenant can insure the salvation of a proud, worldly-minded, sensual de- spiser of the Lord ? Then listen to the solemn decla- rations of the Spirit; "The just shall live by faith, but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. Thus saith the Lord God, As 1 live, surely mine oath that he hath despised, and my cove- nant that he hath broken, even it will I recompense upon his own head. It is impossible for those, who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance ; seeing they crucify to himself in a Covenant with God. 391 themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame." But even while these awful sayings are sounding in your ears ; sayings, which seem to close for ever the door of mercy ; ue are warranted to hold out to }ou an offer of pardon. Though even in your best days you lied unto God with your tongues, your heart was not right with him, neither were you stedfast in his cove- nant; and though you have since incurred a guilt, which the ansrels who are accursed for ever never knew, vet if you tear out of your heart your bold presumption, smite upon your breast, and lift up a prayer for nrvercy, the blood, on which you have trampled, will cleanse you from all your sins, even from the sins, which have dishonoured him who shed it ; the Spirit, whom you have grieved, will take up his abode in your hearts, soften, purify, and heal them ; the God, whom you have forsaken, will receive you to his favour, and in the end to his kingdom, his house, and his arms. '* A voice," says the prophet, " was heard upon the high- places, weeping and supplications of the children of Israel ; for they have perverted their \vay, and they have forgotten the Lord their God." And what is the message, which is sent to this mourning people ? •' Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, and I will heal your backslidings ; and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon you ; for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and i will not keep anger for ever." But there is yet another and a more numerous class of persons among us — they who have never joined themselves to the Lord^ and never thought of his cove-^ nant. It may be true, brethren, that the guilt of apo^ Stacy rests not on your head ; that you have never been 393 The Redeemed Sinner joining hypocritical professors of religion, and never broken the vows, which you have vowed unto the Lord. You may have this ground for boasting ; but O what a dreadful boast! To have lived all your days upon the bounty of God, and yet never to have even pro- fessed to love him I To have heard year after year the invitations of his grace, and yet to have never thought of accepting them ! To know that there is a God of inhnite power and goodness, and to have no connection with him, no access to him, no desire of his favour, «o fear of his vengeance ! If a dying sinner can glory in folly such as this, who does not wonder and trem- ble ? In what will this madness end ? The day of judgment will show. In that great and terrible day, the Lord God Almighty will vindicate his claim to the creatures, whom his hands have made ; will assert his despised authority ; will force the haughtiest to hum- ble themselves before him, and the proudest to lick the dust. And what will your vain boasting avail you then, and what your carelessness profit you ? No more than his former songs of mirth avail the mari- ner, whose vessel is sinking in ihe waves ; or the slumbers of midnight profit the man, whose habitation is in flames. Acknowledge then the Lord to be your God. By an immediate surrender of yourselves to his authority, and an humble appeal to his mercy in Christ Jesus, escape the wrath to come ; lay hold of his great sal- vation ; obtain an interest in his love. Come ye, who are afar off, and by that new and living way which he has opened, draw nigh unto the Lord. Come ye, who have forsaken him, and taste again that he is gracious. Come ye, who are enquiring after him weeping, and himself in a Ccwejiant with God. 393 dare to hope in his mercy. Come ye, who have found him, and renew your covenant with him. Come, and let us all seek the same Lord, ask the way to the same Zion, share the same griefs, sing the same songs, bear the same cross, glory in the same reproach, and bind ourselves as a living sacrifice to the horns of the altar of the same God. 3 D SERMON XXV. THE WAY TO ZION. ISAIAH XXXV. 8, 9, 10. .^nd en liighnvay shall be there, and a ivay, and it shall be culled " The way qfholini'ss.'" The unclean shall not fiass over it, but it shall he for those. The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. JVb lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go uji thereon ; it shall not be found there : but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, with songs a7id everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtaai joy and glachicss, and sorrow and sighing shall Jlee away. J- HE chapter, of which these words are a part, testifies of Christ. The prophet, while foretelling in it the re- turn of the Jews from their captivity in Babylon, is enabled to look forward to a more spiritual and much greater deliverance. With the eye of faith he sees the kingdom of the Messiah established in the earth ; and, calling to his aid the most glowing and expressive figures which nature can supply, he describes the future blessedness and glory of the church under his reign. His gospel is represented as making glad the wilderness and the solitary place, causing the desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose, and covering it with the verdure and towering cedars of Lebanon, Carmel, and Sharon. He comes and publishes salvation, and the eyes of the blind are opened, and the ears of the deaf ar6 unstopped ; the lame man leaps as a hart, and the tongue of the dumb sings. He pours out his Spirit from on high, and then waters break out in the wilderness, and The Way to Zlon. 395 streams in the desert ; the parched ground becomes a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water. And what follows ? In the midst of this once dreary but now re- joicing scene, he casts up a high- way ; he opens a new and blessed road, by which a multitude of the enslaved and perishing save themselves from their miseries, and are led to his kingdom and his throne. Viewing this prophecy therefore as a description of the method of salvation through the atoning sufferings, and justifying righteousness, and regenerating grace of Christ, it calls upon us to consider, j^rj?, the travellers, of whom it speaks; secondly^ the way, along which they are journeying; and, thirdly, the home, to which it is leading them. I. 1. The travellers, who are described as walking in this way of holiness, were once journeying along a very different path. They are called; " the redeemed," and the term implies that they were once in boiidage, at least that they were in a state of degradation and wretchedness. And this, brethren, is the natural condi- tion of us all. We were created free and happy, free as the angels in heaven, and we might have been as blessed. We had but one Lord, and he was our owa Father, the most exalted and gracious of lords, whom it was our highest honour to obey, and whose service was perfect freedom. We dwelt in his presence, and shared his friendship, and were crowned with the gifts of his love. But man forfeited his liberty and his ho- nour. He entered into the service of sin, and sin threw its filthy chains around him, polluted his nature, de- based his affections, made him the slave of its unclean prince, brought him under the power of death, and drew down on him the curse of God. It entirely ruined him, and with him all his race. Among the many mil- i390 The Way to Zion. lions of his offspring, not one has been found, except the holy Jesus, who has not been carnal, sold under sin, serving divers lusts and pleasures, led captive by Satan at his will, and made subject to vanity, death, and condemnation. 2. But these travellers to Zion have been delivered from this state of bondage ; they have been redeemed. Their forsaken Lord sent to them in their misery a proclamation of freedom, and invited them to be re- conciled to him, and regain the blessedness they had lost. They obeyed the call, and are free. The guilt of their transgressions has been blotted out, and the chain of their sins broken. They are again the servants of God, and no power on earth or in hell can ever re- take them out of his hands. Not that their deliverance is at present complete. They have escaped from Baby- lon, but they are yet far off from Jerusalem. They are however walking in the path, which leads to it, and they shall hold on their way, and go from strength to strength, till every one of them in Zion appears be- fore God. But how were these travellers redeemed ? By an effort of their own power ? Alas, brethren, we are no more able to purify our own hearts, or to avert from our heads the wrath of God, than the Ethiopian is to change his skin, or the worm to throw from its body the rock which is crushing it. We owe our deliverance to another, and the prophet intimates to us in the text the manner, in which this deliverance was effected. 3. There are three ways of redeeming a captive, by exchange, by a forcible rescue, or by ransom. It is by the last of these that the people of God are here said to have been liberated. They are called " the ransomed of the Lord :" they xvere delivered from their bondage The Way to Zion, 397 by a price paid by God himself for their redemption. And what was this price ? The Scriptures tell us. '^ Ye were not redeemed," says Saint Peter, " with corrupti- ble things as silver and gold ; but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. " And Saint Paul uses the same language. Speaking of Jesus, he says that "he gave himself a ransom," for sinners, and that " we have redemption through his blood." The meaning of the metaphor is obvious. By the sacrifice of himself upon the cross, Christ so magnified the law and honoured the justice of his Father, that mercy can now be extended to the sinner, and yet the veracity of the great Governor of the world remain unimpeached, and his glory unsullied. Leaving the habitation of his greatness, the eternal Son of Jehovah took on him the form of his ruined people, put himself in their place, and bore the vengeance which was ready to burst on their heads. " He made his own soul an offering for their sin, and redeemed them from the curse cf the law, being made a curse for them." Thus the demands of the law were fully satis- fied, the ends of justice attained; and the criminal, on his appealing to this finished work of his Surety, and the mercy of his Judge, is consequently pardoned. The captive is set free. The blessed God recovers his lost servant from the tyranny of sin and the arrest of justice, takes him again into his family, and, like the father of the returning prodigal, he rejoices over him and is glad, for this his son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found. This, brethren, is the way, the only way, by which a sinner can obtain pardon and salvation. All the saints, who are now rejoicing in glory, are indebted to the precious blood of Jesus for every moment of their hap- 398 The Way to Zioii. piness; and all, who in future ages will be taken from the world to be added to their number, will owe their redemption to the same crucified Saviour, and acknow- ledge him in their everlasting anthems as the only Re- deemer of their souls. The prophet speaks of this way of salvation in the text, and describes it under the figure of a highway or road, along which the ransomed of the Lord are travel- ling to Zion. II. 1. In proceeding therefore to consider the striking description, which he has given us of this path to hea- ven, we may observe, first, that it is a safe way ; a way, which not only leads the Christian pilgrim to his desired home, but in which he may walk without danger. This is an important point for every traveller to ascertain. It is important in our own country, where there are no ferocious animals lying in wait to destroy ; but it was peculiarly iaiportdut in Judea. The banks of the rivers, which flowed through this country, are said to have been infested with lions and other beasts of prey, which frequently rushed from their places of concealment upon the passing traveller, and rendered the roads in some parts of the land exceedingly dan- gerous. Hence the prophet says of the way to heaven through Christ, that " no lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon ; it shall not be found there." Not that we are to conclude that the redeemed have no foes to combat, and no difliculties to surmount in their course. Like the Israelites returning from Baby- lon, they have to pass through an enemy's country in their journey to Zion ; their way is beset with innu- merable adversaries, and with many and great dangers. The Way to Zion. 399 The world and the devil are continually striving to harass, plunder, and destroy them ; and their own evil hearts are hourly tempting them to wander and forsake their God. But he, who has redeemed them, accompa- nies them in their pilgrimage ; and though they are called on to struggle and fight, he gives them the vic- tory ; and renders their path as safe, as though there were no dangers near it, nor any to hurt or destroy. He, strengthens them when they are weak, refreshes them when weary, and reclaims them when wandering. He so keeps them by the power of God, that among the multitudes, who have sought to obtain access to the Father through him, not one feeble sinner has perished, or failed to obtain the salvation of his soul. 2. But what, it may be asked, if the way to heaven be thus safe ? Is it a plain way ; a road which can be easily found ? The text tells us that it is exceedingly plain^ so plain that " the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein." It is an unspeakable blessing, brethren, that the plan of redemption through a crucified Saviour, requires no depth of learning nor great powers of mind to compre- hend it. A child may become acquainted with it ; and many of the most unlearned have so studied it, as to become wise unto salvation. They indeed, who are not wayfaring men, who study the gospel as a subject of cold speculation merely, will never rightly understand it; after all their enquiries it will baffle and perplex them ; while he, who in good earnest applies to God for instruction, and is sincere and in earnest in seeking salvation, though he be utterly destitute of all that the world calls wisdom, will discover a simplicity in the gospel, a suitableness and glory, which will astonish and delight his soul. Let a man once draw near the 400 The Way to Zion. way of life, and the cloud, which before appeared to bewilder and darken it, is rolled away ; darkness is made light before him, and crooked things straight, and the rough places plain. He may still be liable to err, and may actually fall into many mistakes; he may have yet much to learn ; he may be brought into scenes of perplexity, in which the path of duty and safety may be hidden for a season from his view ; but he has a guide, who is mindful of his ignorance, and can feel for him in his difficulties, and has pledged himself to uphold him in his goings, and to lead him in the paths of righteousness for his names' sake. " Behold I send an angel before thee," is the language of his God, " to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared for thee. Beware of him, and obey his voice." 3. But here another enquiry arises. Has not this plan of salvation a tendency to encourage licentious- ness ? And are not those, who have embraced it, the practical opponents of good works? What is their moral character ? Their character, brethren, is that of men, who know that they have been bought with a price for this very purpose, that they should glorify God ; of men, who are actually become a purified and peculiar people, zealous of good works. The way, in which they are seeking heaven, is a pure, a holy way. " It shall be called," says the prophet, "■ the way of ho- liness. The unclean shall not pass over it ; but it shall be for those," for those spoken of in the preceding part of the chapter, whose eyes have been opened to see the v holiness of God, and whose tongues have been loosened to sing his praise, and whose souls have been cleansed in the fountain, which he has opened for sin and un- cleanness. The Way to Zion. 40 1 And what other men could be prevailed on to walk in such a way as this? From the beginning to the end of it, there is nothing to allure a trifling or to gratify a sinful mind. Not one sensual gratification can be found in it. No gay and worldly society, no childish amuse- ments, no song nor dance, enliven its borders ; and as for rioting and drunkenness, chambering and wanton- ness, they are not so much as named along its path. Some, indeed, who profess to have entered it, have continued lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God ; but they are either deceiving themselves or striving to deceive others. In either case " destruction and misery- are in their paths, and the way of peace have they not known." It is true also that they, who are really travel- ling along this road, were once ungodly; but no sooner did they enter in at its strait gate and tread on its sa- cred ground, than they began to hunger and thirst after righteousness, to cultivate purity of heart, and to emu- late the holiness of the prophets, apostles, and saints, who have gone before them. Yea, brethren, while ani ignorant world is accusing them of undervaluing good works and loving iniquity, there is not one among them, who would not consent to endure any tribulation or to make any sacrifice, so that he might be a partaker of the holiness of the Lord, be holy as he is holy, and per- fect as he is perfect. 4. There is one question more still remaining to be answered. Though the road, in which we are invited to travel, be thus safe, plain, and pure, is it not dreary and cheerless ; and must we not, as we enter it, bid a long farewell to happiness and joy ? The prophet an- swers this enquiry also, and tells us that the way of salvation through a crucified Jesus is a pleasant way, a way of peculiar pleasantness, and a path of never-ending 3 F 402J The Way to Zion, peace. ^' The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads." There may probably be an allusion in this expression, to the ancient custom of wearing crowns or chaplets of flowers in seasons of peculiar rejoicing ; or it may per- haps refer to the practice of anointing the head with oil on festive occasions. In either case its meaning is the same. It declares a truth, which many of us are very unwilling to believe, that the self-denying, decided, and heavenly-minded Christian, so far from being of all men the most miserable, is of all men the most happy, yea, the only happy man. It is true that he is represented in Scripture as seeking heaven weeping, and arriving thither through a path of great tribulation ; but then, brethren in the midst of his tears, in the depth of his tribulation, he has a peace hid in his heart, which all the joys of the world could not purchase of him. Go to him, you who affect to pity, and are so ready to censure him ; ask him, when most afflicted and cast down, whether his religion has left him wretched and comfortless; and what is his answer? He will tell you that he would not exchange his most sorrowful hour for your happiest day ; that he has habitually within his afflicted soul, consolations which are more than earthly, that he has sometimes a joy, which is indeed divine ; a joy rational and sober, and yet so elevated and sweet, that it brings into his heart a foretaste of heaven. The worldly-minded indeed are not without their joys. You have your pleasures ; but you need not be told how- unsatisfying they are ; with what a feeling of degrada- tion they are olten accompanied, and by how many pangs they are sometimes followed. And what if the pleasures of sin were great and unmixed "? They would The Way to Zion, 403 soon come to an end, for death and the grave destroy them for ever. But death cannot destroy the joy of the Christian. It is an everlasting joy, imperishable as his soul. The same song which he is singing now, his en- raptured lips will soon pour forth in the courts of Zion before God, and it shall be sweet as the song of angels, and lasting as eternity. We might now attempt to follow the Christian pil- grim beyond the grave, and take a distant view of the home, to which the blessed path is leading him ; but reserving this for the subject of a future meditation, let us endeavour to impress upon our minds a sense of our own personal and intimate concern in the prophecy be- fore us. We are the inhabitants of the wilderness, of which it speaks. We are living in a world overspread with desolation, so entirely destitute of all spiritual sup- plies, that though millions have been for ages anxiously exploring it, it has never been able to satisfy the desires of one thirsty soul. But waters have at length broken out in this wilderness, and the most abundant streams are now flowing through it. God has sent his own Son from heaven to discover to us a way, which affords to all who enter it provision and safety, and which will conduct them in the end out of all their miseries to a kingdom of happiness. Now are we walking in this way ? Have we embraced the salvation disclosed to us in the gospel ? There is reason to hope that some of us have embraced it. Though fearlul and trembling, and weighed down at seasons with many sorrows, we arc asking the way to Zion and journeying towards it ; we are daily seeking redemption through the blood of Je- sus, and are manifesting by our conduct that we count all things but loss so that we may win Christ and be foun(J in him. To such the text speaks the language of 404 The Way to Zioii. encouragemeiit. Indeed the view of religion, which is here afforded them is peculiarly encouraging. It may not on the first view appear to the humble penitent in this light. It tells him perhaps of a gladness, which he has never experienced ; and of a song, which he has never sung. Like many other young disciples, he may attach an undue degree of importance to religious joy, and because he has never tasted, or has ceased to taste the happiness, which he deems inseparably connected with true piety, he is prone to deem himself an utter stranger to the way of peace. Hence it often happens that he hears of the pleasures of religion with disquie- tude, rather than with delight. He can comprehend something of their nature ; he listens with eagerness to the voice which speaks of them ; and, as he listens, his heart is sometimes affected and begins to glow with the liveliest desires and feelings ; but in the midst of these rising emotions, he remembers that the joy, of which he is hearing, has no place in his own breast, and the very Scripture or sermon, which was designed to ani- mate him in his course, perplexes and dispirits him. Now the text before us is well calculated to instruct and cheer such a mourner as this. It speaks to you of holiness, guidance, and safety ; and it promises you these blessings at your entrance on the way to heaven. Believe this promise and confide in it. It speaks also of joy and gladness ; but in what part of the road does it promise to crown you with songs, with the highest con- solaiions and richest joys of the gospel ? Not till you are far advanced in your pilgrimage, and are drawing near the abode of your rest. The ransomed Israelites are repeatedly described in other places as bciting out on their journey to Jerusalem weeping, as prosecuting it weeping, and not a word is said here of their songs The Way to Zion. 405 till they are almost entering Zion. The lessons you have to learn are plain. Cease to make spiritual joy a test of your sincerity. Cease to be disquieted, if you are for a season destitute of it. Resolve to wait for it more patiently, and to seek it more earnestly in the only way in which it can be found, the way of holiness. Have you a broken and contrite heart? Are you really seek- ing mercy as sinners through the atoning blood of a crucified Saviour ? Are you living a life of faith on the Son of God, praying to him, loving him, obeying him, bearing contentedly his cross ? Then be not discou- raged. '' The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." Your present conflicts and sorrows, your struggles with temptation, your humbling discoveries of your manifold corruptions, have all a blessedness connected with them. They are working out for you many an hour of -happiness on this side of the grave, and an exceeding and eternal weight of glory beyond it. Only keep close to your redeeming Saviour ; follow the Lord fully, and trust in him stedfastly ; and you will grow in peace as you grow in years. The months, as they roll over you, will leave you happier than they find you, and every hour that flies will carry you nearer to your wished-for home ; to that Zion, in which no sorrowful sigh has ever yet been heaved nor tear shed ; to that Christ, who is all your salvation and all your desire ; to that God, in whose presence is the fulness of joy, and at whose right hand are pleasures for evermore. But while the text is calculated to afford encourage- ment to some of us, it offers direction to all. Are vvc groaning under the slavery of sin, and enquiring with 406 The Way to Zioiu trembling solicitude how we may be saved from it? .Are we contemplating with fear the dangers which surround us, anxious to learn how creatures so weak may surmount difliculties so great, and triumph over enemies so mighty ? Conscious of our extreme igno- rance, are we seeking spiritual knowledge ? Haling the defilement of sin, weary and ashamed of it, are we thirsting for holiness? Fainting under the calami^ ties of life, and unable to bear its sorrows, are wc looking around in our wretchedness for support and consolation ? in short, is there a single evil which Ave wish to escape, or one real good which we desire to attain? The prophet directs us all to the same almighty Friend. lie bids us seek in the gospel of Jesus the mercies we need, and assures us that in that gospel we may obtain them. Let us believe and obey him. Instead of wearying ourselves in the pursuit of holiness and peace by efforts, which our own ex- perience has proved to be fruitless as well as harass- ing ; instead of spending our money for that which is not bread, and our labour for that which satisfieth not ; let this be our first concern ; to believe aright in the crucified Jesus ; to make a real and spiritual applica- tion to him for the salvation, which he shed his blood to procure. Let us begin with this. It may appear to us a strange way to the attainment of the blessing we desire, but it is the way of God's appointment, and the only way in which we can succeed. The di- vine goodness can be exercised towards sinners only through the sacrifice of Jesus, and he who would be saved, cleansed, or refreshed by its streams, must wait as a contrite and believing suppliant at his cross. It is there that tiie waters of salvation flow, and the fountain of life stands open. It is there that the guilty The Way to Zion. 407 are pardoned, and the ungodly sanctified. There the ignorant are instructed, and the weak strengthened ; there the tempted are enabled to conquer, and the fearful to hope ; there the weary and heavy laden tirst learn what is meant by rest, and there the afflicted first taste of a blessedness, which elevates them above their sorrows, and causes them to forget their poverty, and remember their misery no more. SERMON XXVI. THE HEAVENLY ZION ISAIAH XXXV. 10. The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, ivith sojigs and everlasting joy upon thtir heads; they shall obtain joy and gladJiess, and sorrow and sighing shall Jlee aivay. 1 HESE rejoicing travellers were once miserable cap- tives, in bondage to Satan and enslaved by sin. But Christ, by paying for tliem the ransom of his blood, set the prisoners free, and made them the beloved chil- dren of God, and the heirs of heaven. The method of salvation, to which they owe their de- liverance, is spoken of in the verses preceding the text as a highway, a plain and elevated road opened in the midst of a desolate wilderness, and affording to all who enter it security and peace. It is not, however, the safety nor the pleasantness of a path, which will induce a traveller to walk in it. It must conduct him to the place, at which he wishes to arrive. The prophet there- fore carries on the metaphor farther, and describes this highway as leading to a most blessed home ; to a mountain where sorrow and sighing are unknown, and to a city in which joy and gladness ever reign. " The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads : they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." The Heavenly Zion. 409 Zion, tlie place alluded to in these words as the fu- ture habitation of the redeemed, is a hill, on which a part of Jerusalem was built, and where the temple of Jehovah stood. Hence it is often used in the Scriptures to signify the church ; and it is undoubtedly thus used in the passage before us. To return to Zion implies therefore, to be admitted into the visible church of God, and to a full participation of all its privileges. But it implies also much more. It directs our eyes up- ward to that holy hill, on which the heavenly Jerusalem is built, the city of the living God. Of this unseen residence of the just the earthly Zion was a type ; and we may find it a profitable subject of meditation to trace, Jirstf the resemblance, and secondly ^ the contrast be- tween them. I. 1. The hill of Zion was the peculiar residence of God. There his temple was erected, and there the mercy-seat, the visible symbol of his presence stood. There he met his beloved people, communed with them,- and blessed them. '' In Judah is God known," says the psalmist ; "in Salem also is his tabernacle, and his dwelling-place in Zion." In heaven also the Almighty has a temple, and the way of holiness leads to it. It brings those, who once dwelt in this dreary wilderness, into the kingdom of God ; and not into his kingdom only, but into his resi- dence, the peculiar dwelling-place of his majesty. Neither does it leave them there. It carries them into the immediate presence of Jehovah, places them before his throne, where they see him as he is, and hold the most free, intimate, and uninterrupted intercourse with him, and enter into his joy, and are made partakers of his greatness. Even here at a distance from heaven, while beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, 3 F 410 The Heavenly Zion. they are changed into the same image from glory to glory ; but there they shall see him no more through a glass darkly, but face to face ; and have so much of the splendour of his presence reflected on them, as to shine like the brightness of the firmamentj and as the stars for ever and ever. If we enquire by what means the redeemed obtain admission into this mansion of blessedness, the apostle tells us. " We have boldness," says he, " to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us through the veil, that is to say his flesh." Saint John also speaks the same language. Referring to that great multitude, which he beheld clothed with white robes in glory, *' These are they," says he, which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple." 2. The Jews were taught to regard their sacred mountain as the source of all their blessings. When salvation was promised them, it was to come out of Zion, and when they were to be strengthened and blessed, the Lord out of Zion was to strengthen and bless them. Hence we find Daniel turning towards Je- rusalem when he prayed in Babylon, and Jonah looking towards the holy temple of his God when he cried amidst the waves for deliverance. And what real hap- piness is there, which comes not from above ? If we could look through the universe and search every re- joicing heart among its innumerable worlds, not a i-noment's blessedness could be found, which had not its origin in heaven. Means indeed are employed in imparting mercies and consolations to us, and we are The Heavenly Zion. 41 i often tempted to consider these means as the chief if not the only sources of our comforts ; but if we viewed them aright, we should regard them only as channels, through which it has pleased God to communicate his benefits, and which, were he to withhold his hand, would lose all their power to minister to our necessities. The great fountain is above ; and when we have reached the throne of Jehovah, we shall receive our happiness immediately from him, and wonder that we should ever have depended for it on any of his creatures. 3. Zion also was the place ^ in which the people of the Lord assembled. Three times in the year all the people came up to it from every part of the land, and formed one worshipping and praising assembly in its temple.^ " Thither the tribes went up, the tribes of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto the name of the Lord." The apostle therefore, when speaking of the spiritual Zion, fails not to remind his brethren of the society, into which they would be re- ceived there. ^' Ye are come unto mount Zion," says he, "and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem ; and to an innumerable company of angels; to the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to God, the Judge of all ; and to the spirits of just men made perfect ; and to Jesiis, the Mediator of the new covenant. And who can describe the blessedness, which will flow from communion with such a company as this? Our intercourse with the Saviour now, is sweeter than we can find words to express it. Unseen and some- times unexpected, he holds intercourse with our spirits; and our hearts burn within us as he draws near to our souls. But in heaven we shall behold his face, and talk with him as a man talketh with his friend. We shall sit 413 The Heavenhj Zion. at the feet of that very Jesus, who became a man of sorrows for our sakcs ; and hear the same voice pro- nounce us blessed, which chased away the fears of the disconsolate disciples at Jerusalem, and called the sleep- ing Lazarus from the dust at Bethany. The angels too will welcome us to their holy assembly ; and there also we shall behold all the patriarchs and prophets, of whom we have heard and read ; the glorious company of the apostles, and the noble army of martyrs ; all the re- deemed out of every kindred, nation, and language ; and among them the much loved friends, whom death has now removed from our sight ; the friends, with whom we once prayed and suffered, praised and re- joiced, and who are now waiting for the hour, which shall make us once more the inhabitants of the same world, and sharers in the same bliss. There the parent shall again behold the face of his long lost child, and there the child shall again rejoice in the smiles of his parent. There the husband shall once more bless the departed wife of his youth, and there brothers and sis- ters, who now lie together in the grave, shall sit on the same throne, and reign in the same endless life. The prospect of this re-union is soothing to the soul, and it ought to be profitable also. It is calculated to sweeten and cement our friendships, to make us deeply anxious for the welfare of each others' souls, to alleviate our griff when those whom we love go to their rest, and to make us long for heaven more ardently and seek it more earnestly. Let us view it as the general assembly of the saints, and be anxious to be made more meet for their undefiled inheritance in light. II. But it is in vain, brethren, that we endeavour to comprehend the glory and happiness of the future ha- bitation of the redeemed. The earthly Jerusalem was a The Heavenly Zion. 413 splendid city, beautiful for situation, and the joy of the whole earth was mount Zion ; but even in the height of her greatness, when the glory of the Lord rested on her tabernacle, when peace was within her walls, and prosperity within her palaces, she afforded but a poor emblem of the heavenly Zion. At the period however, to which the words of the prophet primarily relate, the contrast was peculiarly striking. The Zion, to which the liberated Jews so joyfully returned after their cap- tivity in Biibylon, was a wilderness, and Jerusalem a desolation. The holy and beautiful house, where their fathers worshipped, was burnt up with fire, and all their pleasant things were laid waste. And even when they had succeeded after years of toil and difficulty in again raising its walls, their joy was embittered by a re- membrance of the superior glory of their former tem- ple, and their peace was incessantly disturbed by the attacks of their enemies. And where is Jerusalem now ? Where is its temple ? Not a stone remains of either, which has not been cast down. And where are the people, who founded them, and dwelt in them, and loved them so well ? Wandering as outcasts on the face of the earth, scorned by men, and rejected by God. As for their country, it is desolate; strangers devour it in their presence, and it is desolate as overthrown by strangers. The heavenly Zion however knows no destruction, and fears no changes. It is a city, which hath founda- tions ; an abiding city ; a city, which the force of a uni- verse could not shake, nor the rolling ages of eternity impair. Its walls are not lying in ruins, waitiag to be rebuilt by the sinners whom sovereign mercy leads to them. Its builder and maker is God. Before the foun- dation of the world was laid, he prepared and adorned 414 The Heavenly Zion. it for his people, and to secure to them its blessedness and honours, his eternal Son has entered it as tlieir representative, and taken possession of it in their be- half; and he will soon come again with glory to take them to hiuisclf, and to lead them to the place he has prepared for them. Then indeed shall they obtain joy and gladness; a happiness, which will allow them to shed no tears at the remembrance of the bliss that was lost in paradise, but cause sorrow and sighing to flee, like misfs before the radiant beams of the sun, for ever away. Their joy shall be everlasting, without interrup- tion, mixture, or end ; for no enemies can come near to disturb the city where they dwell. No changes nor commotions are dreaded, no spectacles of woe are ever seen within its walls. No evil tidings are heard there, no fears known. " Look upon Zion," says the prophet, " the city of our solemnities. Thine eyes shall see Je- rusalem 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." Hear also the testimony of one, who was admitted to a nearer view of its glories. " And I John saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, ' Be- hold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are passed away.'' The Heavenly Zion. 415 Such, brethren, is the blessed home, to which the gospel of Christ is leading his redeemed people ; and if such be their future habitation, hoxv exceedingly glorious ii their condition / It is true that but little of their glory is visible here, for it has pleased God that most of them should be numbered among the mean and despised; but when we view them as the ransomed of the Lord and as travellers to Zion, when v\e look back on the wonders of mercy which have been wrought for their deliverance, and stretch our view forward to that splen- did inheritance, which is prepared for them in eternity, there is something unspeakably grand in their state and character ; — a grandeur, which casts a shade on all the greatness of the world, and elevates the soul above all its vanities. Men may pour contempt on the humble Christian, but the mercies of redemption have invested him with a dignity, which constrains the angels of God to regard him with wonder, and causes the eternal Je- hoviih himself to delight in him as the most splendid monument of his power and grace. ^nd how glorious also will be the future condition of the Christian church ! The prophecy before us yet waits to be fully accomplished. Though the sound of the gospel has already gladdened a part of our earth, yet there is many a wilderness in it where its joyful tidings have never yet been heard, and many a desert which has brought forth no fruits of righteousness to the glory of God. Many gentile nations still resemble the parched ground and the habitation of dragons, and the children of Israel and Judah are still far off from the spiritual Zion. But while we contemplate the scene of desolation around us, it is cheering to remember that ere long the desert shall rejoice and the wilderness be glad ; that the heathen shall hear the gospel and be en- 416 Tlie Heavenly Zio/i. riched by its blessings ; that the outcasts of Israel shall again be gathered into the church of God, be planted as trees of righteousness in the garden of the Lord, and " blossom, and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit." " It shall come to pass in the last days," says the prophet, "that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established on the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills ; and all nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say, * Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob ; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths : for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusa- lem.' " Glorious indeed will be the state of the church in the latter days, but how much more glorious still in that day, when this prediction shall receive its final ac- complishment ; when the everlasting doors of heaven shall be opened, and all the ransomed of the Lord shall enter with their triumphant Deliverer into the city of God ! Even now, while following him through a path of tribulation, and clothed in the polluted garments of the flesh, they are honourable and blessed ; what then will be their gladness when he leads them into his glory, and what their honour when he clothes them in the robes of immortality, and presents them faultless before the throne of his Father with exceeding joy ? Looking forward to such a glory as his own, how patient and diligent ought the Christian to he ! How sub- missive under his present troubles ! How full of hope in the contemplation of his future prospects ! How ex- ceedingly watchful lest he should turn back and lose so great salvation ! Other travellers have their thoughts constantly fixed on their home ; and it is the hope of reaching it, which enables them to bear all the difiicul- The Heavenly Zion. 417 ties of their way so contentedly, and to think so lightly of its many labours. And when the Christian's eyes are fixed on heaven, no pilgrim can be more joyful than he, none more diligent. The world assumes a new appearance. He does not love it more, but the anticipa- tion of his home enables him to enjoy its blessings more thankfully, and to be less harassed by its carcs- Like the rays of the sun shining on a roud which clouds had darkened, it brightens every scene around him, and fills him with gratitude and praise. It is as much our interest, brethren, as it is our duty to cultivate this heavenly spirit. Our happiness in this world must in a great measure be derived from the prospect of that glory, which we shall inherit in the next ; and until we have learnt to live in the habitual contemplation of this glory, we shall be more frequently uttering the language of despondency, than singing the songs of Zion. Hope is the constant companion of every rejoicing pilgrim, and under her influence he sings and presses forward, when others mourn and faint. Strive then to abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost. Meditate much on heaven, and on the stability of that covenant, which insures the posses- sion of it to those whom Christ has ransomed. Endea- vour to view every thing around you in connection with it. Live as the heirs of it. Be diligent, that when the Deliverer shall come out of Zion to carry his re- deemed home, you may be found of him in peace with- out spot and blameless, and dwell for ever in his holy hill, and abide in his tabernacle. The text suggests to us another reflection, — hoxv anxiously ought every man to enquire in what way he is seeking heaven ! Some of us appear to think that it is not a matter of much importance in what way we seek 3 G 4 1 8 Tlie Heavenly Zion. it : that it is a kingdom, which may be approached by many roads, and which few who hear of it will fail to reach. But is this the hmguage of the Bible? No Ian- guage can be more diflcrcnt. " Strait is the gaie,'^ says Cliribt, "and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." And as though this declaration were not sufficiently alarming to rouse us out of our unconcern, he adds to it another still more awful ; '' Strive to enter in at tiie strait gate, for many 1 say unto } ou shall seek to enter in and shall not be able." And why shall they not be able? Because they have not sought admission in the appointed way. In what way then are you seeking it ? Are you walking in that highway to Zion discovered to sinners in the gospel, or are you pouring contempt on it, and turning aside into some more frequented and easier road ? Is salvation by grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, the only salvation you desire ? Is your religion making you holy, delivering you from the bon- dage of bin, from the love and fear of the world, and elevating your afie'ctions to high and heavenly things? Is your soul thirsting for God, longing to be where he is reigning in his majesty, and panting for those exalted employ n^ents and pleasures which are at his right hand? This is the religion, brethren, which will lead a sin- ner to heaven, and make him happy when he arrives there. Has the Holy Spirit implanted it in your breasts? Is it increasing in activity and strength in your souls? The question is fearfully important. May you give no sleep to your eyes nor slumber to your eye-lids, till you have serioiisly and closely considered it. It is an awful fact, that through the exceeding deceitfulness of our hearts, we are most liable to err in tiiat matter, in which error is the most ruinous. Here it is absolutely The Heavenly Zion. 4 1 9 fatal. To mistake the way to lieaven is to sink into hell. " There is a way," says the Scripture, " which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof ic the way of death." There is however another truth, which is as cheering as this is appalling. Though there is only one way to heaven, yet that is a way, which all who are willing may enter. He, who opened it at so costly a price, stands at its entrance, and invites all tlie sinful, the wretched, and perishing, to walk in it, and share its safety and blessedness. While he calls them from all other ways by telling them that no man can come unto the Farther but by him, he encourages them to draw near to him in this by the assurance that ^' whosoever cometh unto him shall in no wise be cast out." ^' Stand ye in the ways then, and see, and ask for the old paths, and where is the good way, and walk therein ; and ye shall find rest for your souls ;" a peaceful rest in the house of your pilgrimage, and a glorious and eternal rest in the habitation of your God. SERIMON XXVII- THE PATIENCE OF GOD. ROMANS 11. 4. Desftisest thou the riches of hia goodness, and forbearance, and long'- suffering ; not knowing that the goodness of God Icadctfi thee to refientance ? A HIS question was first addressed to the Jews, and was designed to remind them of the long continued for- bearance of the Almighty towards their nation, and their sinful contempt of it. But it is a question, which can- not be too solemnly nor too closely applied to ourselves. The subject, to which it directs our attention, is the patience of God ; and it leads us to consider, jlrst^ its nature ; secondly^ its greatness ; thirdly <, the effect it is designed to produce; and, lastly^ the manner, in which it is often abused. May the Spirit of God bless our meditations on it, and cause them to excite a spirit of enquiry, prayer, and gratitude in every heart ! I. The patience of God is one of those attributes, which the sins of his creatures first called Into exercise, and which they are forced by his overruling hand to display. It evidently implies guilt and provocation on our part, and a readiness in God to spare us and keep back his vengeance. We arc not therefore to suppose that it proceeds from any ignorance or carelessness in the Almighty. It is not because he docs not see our iniquities that he does not punish them, for he tells us that " he has set all our misdeeds before him, and our secret sins in the light of his countenance." The Patience of God. 4S 1 Nor is it the fruit of indifference. On the contrary, it implies that " God is angry with the wicked every day," that he is exceedingly displeased with our sins, and with us on account of them. They are opposed to his pure and holy nature, to his just and good law, to the safety and happiness of his creatures ; and while we are contemplating them with cold unconcern, he regards them with an abhorrence which no mind but his own can comprehend. Neither must we ascribe the patience of God to weakness, to a want of power to punish. We some- times bear with provocations because we are unable to avenge them ; but the Lord God Omnipotent has at all times in his own hands the means of executing ven- geance. The angels rebelled against him ; and? though they excelled in strength, he bound them in everlasting chains under darkness; and as for offending man, he could in a moment consume him as a moth, level his body with the dust, and send his soul into a vvorld of anguish ; yea, the stroke of his arm would cause the foundations of the earth to tremble, and dash it in pieces like a potter's vessel. Hence the prophet Nahum con- nects the forbearance of God with his power ; his slow- ness to anger with his ability to destroy. " The Lord," says he, *' revengeth, and is furious; the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries ; and he reserveth wrath for his enemies. The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power, and will not at all acquit the wicked. The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind, and in the storm. and the clouds are the dust of his feet." While he as- serts the determination and ability of God to punish his enemies, he seems to intimate that he delays to punish, because he has power over his own wrath, and, though incensed to the utmost, can bridle and restrain it. 43a The Patience of God. To what then must we ascribe the riches of the AI- mighty 's patience? Solely to his goodness. We find these attributes mentioned together in the text, and the one must be regarded as the spring and origin of the other. Goodness, when exercised in withholding the vengeance denounced against transgressors, is forbear- ance, and when continued under repeated provocations it is termed long-suffering. There is however a distinc- tion to be made between the goodness and the patience of God. Man, as needy is the partaker of the one, while man, as guilty is the object of the other. Good- ness supplies our wants, patieuce bears with our sins. The one will endure for ever, and is inseparable from the divine nature ; the other is adapted only to the present scene of things, and may end to-morrow. The sacrifice and intercession of Christ first caused it to be manifested, and when his mediatorial work of mercy is accomplished, patience will be seen no more, but re- main hidden for ever in the bosom of Jehovah. II. Such is the nature of the divine patience ; the apostle reminds us, secondly, of its greatness^ its riches. Indeed every blessing, which Christ lias purchased for sinners, he has purchased in rich abundance. The mercy he has obtained for them is great and tender, the grace manifold and exceeding, the redemption plenteous, the joy unspeakable, the glory an exceeding great and eternal v/eight. But before we can discover all the riches of his Father's patience, we must be acquainted on the one hand with all the sins of all the transgressors who have experienced it, and on the other with the in- comprehensible purity of God, and the degree of hatred which sin excites in his infinitely holy mind. Enough however of its greatness has been displayed, and is still displayed in the world, to fill the enquiring mind with the deepest wonder, The Patience of God. 423 Consider how long it has been exercised. It was first exhibited to the universe in the garden of Eden. In that scene of blessedness man first spurned the authority of his Creator ; and what followed his daring trans- gression ? Did the earth immediately open its mouth to swallow him up, or did vengeful lightnings descend from heaven to blast him ? No ; he remained for nine hundred years a living monument of the forbearance and goodness of his insulted God. Age after age has since passed away, during every moment of which the multiplied millions of mankind have been in a state of open rebellion against their sove- reign, but the riches of his patience are not exhausted, nor the treasures of his mercy diminished. The num- ber and greatness of the provocations, which he is still bearing with, prove that he is as abundant in long-suf- fering now as in the days of old. Consider, brethren, hoxv many sins every man com- mits ; what a multitude of transgressions v/e all crowd into every period of our existence. We can number vast sums ; we can stretch the powers of our mind to take in the idea even of millions ; but our sins pass all numbering, and our errors all understanding. Sooner may the hairs of our head be numbered or the stars of heaven be counted, than we count the iniquities of our short lives or even number the transgressions of one of its hurrying years. Consider too how aggravated and daring many of our provocations have been. Sinning against conscience and convictions, against the warnings of friends, and the re- bukes of Providence, we have seemed at seasons to fly in the very face of the Almighty and to brave his vengeance. But we are not the only transgressors; who are pro- 424 The Patience of God, yoking the Lord to anger. The earth is full of the habitations of wickedness. Consider how many sinners there are in it. Go from province to province, from island to island, from country to country, and behold a thousand millions of creatures with hearts as despe- rately wicked as our own, lips as unclean, and lives as ungodly. And yet the earth is still suffered to keep its place in the creation. The sun still shines on it and the dews of heaven water it. Goodness and mercy still linger among its rebellious inhabitants, and testify to a won- dering universe the infinite patience of its God. III. But for what end are these amazing riches of mercy displayed ? What effect is this patience designed to produce in the sinner, towards whom it is exer- cised ? The apostle informs us that it is intended to lead them to repentance. It springs from goodness, and it makes mercy the end, at which it aims. 1. The forbearance of the Almighty ^zi^d"* us time for repentance. It affords us an opportunity of learning oar need of it, and of seeking it. It allows the disap- pointments of life to try what effect they can produce on our hearts, and afflictions to exert on us their awakening and softening power. It suffers the bitter- ness of sin to be tasted. It gives the criminal space to sue for pardon, and the ruined prodigal time to come to himself and return to the forsaken house of his lather, 2. It shews us also that the penitent may obtain for- giveness ; that the God who spares is anxious to be reconciled to us ; that he is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. The rebel, who is respited day after day and year after year, lias.no reason indeed to consider himself pardoned, but he is warranted to hope that his prince is inclined The Patience of God. 425 to pardon him, and willing to receive applications on his behalf. And when we behold the Almighty deferr- ing to execute on us the sentence of his violated law, sending us a reprieve and many mercies along with it every hour of our life, we are encouraged, nay, w^e are commanded to conclude that there is mercy with him, and that with him is plenteous redemption. His pa- tience bids us regard him as a relenting Father, as well as an offended Judge. It seals the gracious promises of his word, and assures us that his anger may be averted and his wrath escaped ; that however numerous our provocations may have been, however long persisted in and highly aggravated, we may obtain everlasting salvation, if we will seek it at his throne, and take it on his terms. 3. Nay more ; his forbearance has a tendency to pro- duce repentance in our hearts. This is the meaning of the apostle's language in the text, and the meaning also of the still stronger language of Saint Peter, when al- luding to this passage, he tells us " to account that the long-suffering of our Lord is salvation." Experience proves that the stubborn heart of man is much less likely to be subdued by the contemplation of ven- geance, than by the influence of mercy. The one, when accompanied with the power of the Spirit, excites a painful, though sometimes a salutary fear in the mind, while the other beats down the sinner in the dust ; fills his mind with a sorrow, deep, softening, and abiding; and lodges within his breast that broken and contrite spirit, which God will not despise : not that remorse of conscience which is the offspring of terror and the parent of misery and death, but that penitence which is the earnest of salvation, which causes the angels as they behold it to magnify with renewed ardour the rich 3 H 4;36 The Patience of God. mercy of Jehovah, and the enthroned Redeemer to see of the travail of his soul and rejoice. Taking him, as it were, by the hand and leading him aside. Patience pleads with the sinner, and says to him, " Come, and let us reason together. Remember how long and how grievously thou hast sinned against thy God ; how thou hast wearied him and tried his patience to the very utmost by thine iniquities. And yet he is still Wiiiting to be gracious unto thee, and is willing to pour into thy vile heart the joys of his salvation. How often when in want has he helped thee, when afflicted sent thee consolation, when sick restored thee ! How many dangers he has warded off from thee, how many evils withheld, how many blessings given ! And when for thy profit he has visited thee with chastisements, how tenderly has he corrected thee, mitigating thy troubles by many comforts, and mingling with thy trials innume- rable benefits ! That very power, which he might have employed to punish, he has exercised all thy life long^ to preserve and bless thee. No man has ever borne with his friend, no husband with his wife, no parent with his child, even for one hour, as God has borne for days and months and years with thee. O admire his patience and adore his love ! Return to thine injured but pitying Father. Lie low at his footstool. Mourn over thy transgressions. Plead for his mercy." IV. 1. Such is the effect, which the forbearance of the Almighty is designed and calculated to produce, but it does not always nor even generally produce it. The question in the text intimates that we are in dan- ger of despising the riches of the divine goodness, and we are undoubtedly guilty of this sin when we are un- mindful of the patience xulvch bears with us, when we cither think nothing at all about it, or think lightly of The Patience of God. ' 437 it. Many of us live day after day and year after year, and regard the continuance of our lives and comforts as a mere matter of course. If some extraordinary de- liverance is vouchsafed to us, we express perhaps a momentary feeling of gratitude for it; but as for thank- ing God for keeping us alive and out of hell, it hardly enters our thoughts. And when we are reminded by others of the long-suflfering of the Lord, it makes no impression on our minds ; it does not interest our feel- ings. While we acknowledge that it ought to excite our thankfulness, we think of it and talk of it, as though we had no personal concern, no interest in it. And yet, brethren, were the exercise of this long-suf- fering towards us to be for one moment suspended, we should be the very next moment in a world of un- mixed wretchedness. And it is a miracle of mercy that every one of us is not already there. Though we think so lightly of it, there is not a greater cause for wonder in the universe than the patience of God towards man, except it be man's unmindfulness and contempt of it. 2. But if the thoughtless and unthankful are guilty of despising the forbearance of the Lord, much more are they included in this charge, who draw encourage- ment from It to continue in sin. It is one of the sad consequences of our depravity, as well as one of the strongest proofs of it, that we are prone to turn every blessing into a curse, and to make our remedy our poison. Not content with mere in- -gratitude for mercies, we abuse them. Thus the Jews treated the long-suffering of God, and thijg are many of us at the present hour treating it. We hear of its riches and we experience its greatness, but instead of employing the hours it gives us in seeking reconcilia- tion with heaven, we go on adding sin to sin, and in- 458 The Patience of God. creasing the terrors of our future condemnation. Be- cause God is slow to punish, we eonchide that he never will punish; that he is unconcerned about our sins; that he either does not notice them, or, if he notices them, that he is too merciful and too mindful of our frailty and infirmities to call us to a strict account for them. The consequence is that we become more fear- less and hardened. Instead of forsaking our old sins, we plunge into new transgressions, and make that very- patience, which was designed to lead us to repent- ance, the means of inspiring us with confidence and presumption in our rebellion. " Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." No conduct, brethren, can be more base than this, none more dangerous ; but there is none more com- mon. There is an awful propensity to it in our very nature. We naturally reason from the past to the future, and we are prone to infer that the dispensations of the Almighty towards us will for ever continue the same as they have hitherto been, that mercy will ever be mingled with judgment, and patience never have an end. It becomes us then to look closely to ourselves ; to regard the question in the text as addressed to us in particular ; to consider the Holy Spirit as singling us out this very hour, and saying to each of us, *' De- spisest thou the riches of the Lord's goodness, and for- bearance, and long-suffering ?" Some of us need not hesitate a moment in answering this question. Our consciences testify that so fiir from having been led to repentance by the forbearance we have experienced, we have seldom thought of it, yea, that we have never in our whole lives seriously The Patience of God. 4S9 asked for what end we have been spared, nor spent our hour in enquiring whether that end has been an- swered. As long as we remain in a state of mind so careless as this we must take no consolation from the words of the apostle. He designed them to alarm, ra- ther than cheer us ; and in order to alarm us, he points out in the following verse the consequences of our desperate folly. To every one who is a stranger to heart-felt repentance he says, ^' After thy hardness and impenitent heart, thou treasurest up unto thyself wrath against the day of wrath, and revelation of the righteous judgment of God." The time of patience then will have an end. Not- withstanding all present appearances to the contrary, there is a day coming in which it will give place to wrath. And this wrath vvill be aggravated by the mercy, v/hich has preceded it. The fact is, that God exercises his long-suffering for his own glory, as well as for our salvation ; and though we may lose the advantages, he will not lose the honour of it. When patience has per- formed her appointed work, she will retire from our sight, and justice will ascend the throne, and have a solemn triumph in the final destruction of those, who have spurned at mercy. Now the justice of Jehovali magnifies his patience ; but then patience abused will magnify his justice, make it more fearful, and invest it with more awful splendours. His backwardness to punish, is now causing thousands of his enemies to suspect his purity and greatness ; but then the out- pouring of his treasured wrath will wipe off the re- proach, and force an assembled world to acknowledge the fearfulness of his holiness, and the terrors of his majesty. " O consider this, ye that forget God, lest he tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver." Be 430 The Patiefice of God. thoughtful. Be prayerful. Force your careless souls to reflect, and your stubborn knees to bend. At least be determined to live no longer utterly regardless of the patience, which spares you. Bring it before your mind in the morning, and in the evening meditate on it again, and strive to impress on your soul a sense of its great- ness and its design. O let not its inestimable riches be all wasted. Perish not while mercy so great and so free is waiting to deliver you. Harden not the heart, which the eternal Spirit is so ready to soften ; and destroy not the soul, which the everlasting Jesus died to save. To the fearful and penitent the subject before us is calculated to administer encouragement. You are con- scious perhaps, that you have long despised the pa- tience of the Lord, and you need no arguments to con- vince you of the heinousness and danger of your con- duct. The remembrance of your provocations is griev- ous unto you, and the burden of them is at seasons almost intolerable. Your preservation from day to day fills you with wonder. When you close your eyes in the evening, it is with an apprehension that you may open them in eternity ; and when you awake in the morning, your first thoughts are thoughts of surprise and thankfulness that you are yet among the living. You hear of the mercy of a dying Jesus, but you fear that for you the time of mercy is passed, and the day of grace ended. But these fears are groundless. The long- suffering you have experienced tells you, as plainly as God can tell you, that he is willing to be reconciled to you, that he is anxious to see you supplicating pardon at his throne, that he keeps you alive for the very pur- pose of giving you time and encouragement to return to him, and lay hold of his great salvation. You may learn the same lesson also from his for- The Patience of God. 431 bearance to others. If he extends his long-suffering year after year to the thousands of hardened sinners who de- file the earth, to the drunkard, the sabbath-breaker, the man who openly despises his authority, and glories in blaspheming his name ; surely his mercy can reach to those, who are mourning over their transgressions, and trembling at his word. Shall the rebel, who is in arms against him and setting him at defiance, be spared; and shall the returning penitent, prostrate at his feet, find no compassion, no grace ? You yourselves too, brethren, were once foolish and disobedient, full of enmity against God, and dead to his fear and love. Not one tear did you ever shed for sin. On the contrary it was for years your joy, and perhaps your glory. And yet the Lord bore with yon, and not only bore with you but gave you the means of grace, and has sent at length his Holy Spirit to warn you, to pierce your heart with a sense of your iniquities, and to fasten on your minds an apprehension of judg- ment. Now what conclusion are you warranted to draw from his goodness towards you ? If you were spared when sin was your delight, you may surely conclude that you will not be destroyed when it is your burden. If wrath were withheld when you were rebellious and daring, and withheld for the very purpose of leading you to repentance, you can have no reason to think that mercy will be denied when you are become submissive and trembling. God himself assures you that it will not. He declares in his word that he casteth out none that come to him ; and in order to remove all unbelief and suspicion from your mind, he has singled out some of the vilest of his enemies, reconciled them to himself through the blood of his everlasting covenant, and owned and loved them as his children. He reminds you^ 432 The Patience of God. of Manasseh and of Paul, and tells you that for this cause they obtained mercy, to show forth the boundless riches of his t^race, and to encourage you to come with humble boldness to his throne. Seize then the oppor- tunity. Accept his offered salvation : Believe in the re- cord he has given of his Son; and you, who are now the monuments of his patience, shall soon be witnesses to others of his readiness to pardon, and everlasting monuments of his ability to save. The pardoned also, the sinners whom the goodness of God has already led to repentance and righteousness, may learn much from the contemplation of his patience. It is to this that they are indebted for all their present privileges, and future prospects. Remember, brethren, the years that are passed. Look back to the days of your childhood and youth. How many, who were then your companions in folly, have since been summoned away ! And where are they now ? We dare not answer the question. But where are you ? Safe in Christ, cleansed by his blood, clothed in his righteousness, sanctified by his Spirit, living in the arms of merc}^, and rejoicing in the hope of glory. And to what must you trace the difference between your condition, and that of your lost companions ? Not to your less daring wickedness, for you perhaps were as thoughtless as they, but lo the forbearance of God, to that forbearance which kept you alive till grace softened and changed you. Nay, you are still indebted to the continued ex- ercise of his patience. Though pardoned and accepted, it is this, which keeps you hour by hour from destruc- tion. May a conviction of this truth affect and humble you ! May it attach you more closely to your long-suf- fering God, and endear to you that Saviour, whose blood purchased the mercy that spares, as well as the The Patience of God. 433 grace which enriches you ! In the midst of the bless- ings and honours, which are heaped on your head, re- gard yourselves as criminals offending every hour, and every hour receiving a pardon ; and show that you re- gard yourselves in this light, by the readiness with which you bear with the offences of others. Who should exercise mercy more, than they who have found it ? None will exercise it more. The pardon they have obtained disposes them to be willing to pardon, and the patience they are receiving makes them patient also. Be ye therefore followers of God as dear children, and prove your relation to him by resembling him in that, which he deems the chief glory of his nature — his slowness to wrath ; his ability to bear provocations, and his readiness to forgive them. SERMON XXVIII. THE REPENTANCE OF JUDAS. ST. MATTHEW XXVil. 3, 4, 5. Then Judas, which had betrayed him, ivhen he saw that he was con- demned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty fiieces of sil- ver to the chief priests and elders, saying, " / have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood." And they said, " What is that to us? See thou to that." And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went arid hanged himself. Among the various characters exhibited to our view in the holy Scriptures, the character of Judas is perhaps the most awful and alarming. We behold in this wretched man one who forsook all he possessed to follow the despised Jesus of Nazareth, exposing him- self year after year to persecution for his sake, preach- ing his gospel and working miracles in his name, un- suspected by his fellow-disciples and not disowned by his Lord ; and yet we are warranted to say that it would have been good for this man if he had never been born ; that he was all his life long a son of perdition, and is now in the land of darkness. The history of this extraordinary person is full of instruction and warning. Indeed every part of it is sufficient to make the most light-hearted serious, and the most hardened tremble. But confining our atten- tion to the closing scene of his life, let us examine the nature of that repentance, which he then manifested, and which, it is evident, bore a very strong resemblance The Repentance of Judas, 435 to genuine contrition, though at the same time it came materially short of it. We may be enabled to form a correct estimate of it by enquiring, ^r^?, wherein it re- sembled true repentance ; and, secondly, wherein it dif- fered from it. 1. 1. It is plain that the repentance of Judas resem- bled true repentance in that conviction of sin, from which it sprung. He knew that he had transgressed, grievously and daringly transgressed, so that while the priests and pharisees around him were trusting in them- selves that they were righteous, he, like the contrite sinner in the temple, saw and felt himself guilty, and justly exposed to the wrath of God. 2. This resemblance may be traced also in the open acknowledgment of guilt, to which his convictions led hhn. There was no attempt to conceal his crime, or to disguise its atrocity. He went promptly and uncalled for to the chief priests and elders, and openly acknow- ledged before them his own guilt, and the innocence of Jesus, Thus did a righteous God provide for the ho- nour of his persecuted Son. He had before forced un- clean spirits to declare his dignity, and he now con- strained him, who had been employed in their service and was soon to be numbered among them, to bear a public testimony to him, to bear it too at a time when its sincerity could not possibly be questioned nor its force gainsayed. 3. But it may be said, " Although Judas was thus convinced of his guilt, and thus openly confessed it, he was not perhaps much affected by a sense of it, and felt little or no regret on account of it." It appears however, that the sin which he had committed, wrung his heart with anguish so acute, that his existence became an in- tolerable burden. Hence we may observe another point ^-^3^ " The Repentance of Judaa. of similarity between him ajid the real penitent in the deep sorrazv xvith which his repentance was accompanied. The language of the sacred historian appears to warrant the supposition, that when he consented to betray his Master, he had persuaded himself that this act of . treachery would not prove fatal to him. He thought perhaps that he would, as on former occasions, deliver himself from the hands of his enemies b}' an exertioa of his miraculous power; and thus while his crime served to enrich himself, it would really prothote the interest of his Lord by giving him a signal and public opportunity of manifesting his greatness. When there- fore he saw that he was really condemned ; when he saw him, instead of passing through the surrounding mul- titude, or striking down by the word of his mouth the guards and soldiers around him, quietly submitting to be led to prison and to judgment; when he saw his friend, his guide, his benefactor, going as a lamb to the slaughter, a multitude of distracting thoughts crowded into his mind, his obdurate heart relented, and his former unconcern gave way to a sorrow as sin- cere and pungent, as ever wrung a guilty breast. 4. But a still more remarkable resemblance to spiri- tual contrition, may be noticed in the self-condemnation, with which the repentance of Judas was attended. We are all willing to confess that we have sinned, and there are seasons perhaps in which most of us feel some de- gree of sorrow at the remembrance of our transgres- sions, but then we are not willing to condemn ourselves on account of them. We are continually attempting to excuse and palliate our conduct, pleading in our de- fence the power of temptation, the force of example, the peculiar circumstances in which we have been pLaced, the frailty of our nature, and a thousand other The Repentance of Judas. 437 excuses which our depraved ingenuity has invented. Like our first parents in the hour of their shame, we throw the blame of our sins on Satan, on each other, on God, or in short any where, rather than take it to ourselves. Now this is not the case with the sincere penitent, neither was it the case with Judas. When he confessed his guilt, he made no effort to represent it as less aggravated than it really w-as. On the contrary, he appeared anxious to welcome the shame of it, and seemed ready to take up the words of the abased Job, and say, "Behold I am vile; what shall I answer? If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn me." 5. " But of what avail," it may be said, " are con- victions and confessions, anguish of spirit and self-con- demnation, if sin be not forsaken, and the fruits of it renounced, and the injury it has done repaired?" They are undoubtedly worthless, so worthless, that where these things are wanting, the most open humiliation and the most heart-rending sorrow are no more accepta- ble to God, than the self-reproach of the condemned, or the groans of the lost. But these things were not want- ing in the repentance of Judas, for mark, further, his extreme anxiety to counteract the evil consequences of his crime, and his entire renunciation of its fruits. " He brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders." The money, from which he had expected so much gratification, became now a source of remorse and misery. Regarding it as the price of his Master's blood, and the wages of his own unrigh- teousness, he could not look upon it without horror, he could not keep it without torment. Impatient to put it far away from him, he carried it back to those from whom he had received it ; and when they refused to accept it, he cast it down with abhorrence in the temple 438 The Repentance of Judas. and departed. And not only this, but he endeavours at the hazard of his life to prevent the execution of Christ. While one of his disciples was denying and the others deserting him, Judas openly declared his innocence be- fore the assembled Sanhedrim, and thus boldly con- demned their proceedings, and showed that he was ready to encounter any danger, to bear the utmost vio- lence of their malice, so that he might vindicate and save his injured Lord. These, brethren, are the signs, by which this un- happy man evinced the sincerity of his repentance. Who as he thinks of them can resist the conviction that there are very few among us, whose repentance would bear to be compared for one moment with his ? We all indeed acknowledge ourselves to be sinners, but no abiding consciousness of guilt disturbs our peace, and our confessions of it are litde more than mere words of course, or idle and unmeaning compli- ments to our God. We call ourselves miserable offen- ders, but as for the misery of sin, we have never felt it. It is on the contrary our delight, and all our ideas of happiness are more or less connected with it. How backward also are we to condemn ourselves ! and how do our proud spirits rise and rage, when we are con- demned or censured by others ! Instead of forsaking the iniquities we confess, we hold them fast, and are prepared to repeat to-morrow, without compunction or shame, the sins which we have professed to lament to- day. This striking difference between us and the be- trayer of our Lord may well excite our fears, and the more so when we remember that even his sincere and heart-felt remorse fell far short of real contrition, and left him to perish. II. That this salutary impression may be strength- The Repentcmce of Judas. 439 ened in our minds, let us proceed to enquire, secondly, wherein the specious repentance we have been consi- dering differed from that godly sorrow, with which pardon and salvation are connected. 1. It differed from it, first, in its origin. It was the work of natural conscience roused out of its slumber by the power of God, sitting as a judge and avenger in the traitor's heart, and filling it with self-accusation, horror, and fear. In true repentance indeed there is an awakening of the conscience, an alarm in the soul, a conviction of guilt, and an apprehension of danger; but then though preceded and accompanied by these feelings, it is not occasioned by them. It springs from the special grace of God. It is the operation of that Spirit, who has access to every mind, and can bend and soften every heart at his will. It is the gift of that eternal Jesus, who purchased it with his blood, and is exalted to bestow it on his church. It is blended with fear, but the instrument employed in producing it is faith, a stedfast and lively belief in the promises of the gospel, a close and overpowering view of the love of God in redemption, an estimating of our guilt by the price that was paid for its pardon. " The goodness of God," says the apostle, *' leadeth to repentance ;" and the prophet Zechariah speaks the same language. He compares the grief of the penitent to the deep and bit- ter anguish of a parent, who mourns for his first-born, and he ascribes it to that Spirit of grace, which directs the eye of the sinner to a pierced Saviour, and assures him that he was pierced and wounded for him. 2. The difference between the remorse of conscience, which Judas manifested, and the contrition of the truly repentant sinner, may be discovered also in the object of his sorrow. Of what did Judas repent ? Not of his 440 The Repentance of Judas. crime, but of its consequences. As soon as he was awakened to a sense of his transgression, the prophetic declaration of his Master concerning his latter end rushed into his mind, and his soul was dismayed at the prospect before him. Could he have been assured that this vengeance was averted, he would probably have enjoyed the reward of his perfidy without remorse, and after shedding a tear or two over the grave of his Lord, would have thought of his iniquity no more. But the sorrow of the true penitent is altogether of a different nature. He dreads the consequences of sin, but it is over sin itself that he mourns. This is the evil which causes him to repent himself, makes him weep bitterly in secret like Peter, and smite on his breast like the publican, and humble himself in dust and ashes like Job. Taught to perceive its baseness and pollution, he regards it with an abhorrence equal to his former love of it, with a loathing which no length of time, no hope of pardon can remove. His sorrow is a godly sorrow, a sorrow, which not only proceeds from God, but which has a direct reference to him. He regards sin as an of- fence against the Sovereign of heaven, against his infi- nite majesty, his incomprehensible purity, his unsearch- able grace. He enters into the feelings and adopts the language of David, and losing sight of all other consi- derations, he says, " Against thee, thee only, have I sinned ; against thee, my Friend and my Father, my Kedeemer and my Saviour, my Lord and my God." 3. The repentance of this traitorous disciple was de- fective also in its extent. It was of a very partial nature. When he confessed that he had sinned, he did not like the publican style himself a sinner, nor did he say with Simon that he was a sinful man. Expressing no con- cern for his covetousness and theft, and probably not The Repentance of Judas, 441 thinking of them, he merely refers to a solitary act of sinfulness. ^* 1 have sinned," says he, " in that I have betrayed the innocent blood." The real penitent how- ever, *' is convinced of all, he is judged of all." It is true that those offences, which have been attended with peculiar aggravations, occur to his mind more fre- quently than others of a less heinous nature, and excite there a more piercing sorrow, but his attention and thoughts are not confined to them. He takes an exten- sive view of his transgressions, and mourns over them all. He deplores his omissions of duty as well as his positive commissions of evil, his short-comings as well as his crimes, his once loved and defended follies as well as his flagrant enormities. Nor is this all. He looks within. The impurity of the stream leads him to ex- amine the fountain, from which it flows; and within that heart, which he once thought good and untainted, he finds abominations which distress his soul, a host of foolish iiP.aginations, proud suggestions, debasing im- purities, and corrupt desires. Turn again to the broken- hearted David, and enquire into the source of his sor- row. He tells us of the blood-guiltiness of his life, but the desperate wickedness of his heart appears to be the chief cause of his anguish, and the removal of this evil his chief prayer. *' Behold," says he, " I was shapeii in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Wash me thoroughly from mine ini- quity, and cleanse me from my sin." 4. The remorse of Judas differed from true repent- ance also in its result. And what is the result of genuine sorrow ? We cannot fully answer this question till we have gone with the weeping penitent into the eternal world, and tasted the peace and blessedness, which are 3K 44S The Repentance of Judas. reserved for him there. As far however as regards the present life, real coniritioii is invariably followed by prayer, by an earnest application for pardon, and a greater or less degree of hope in the mercy of God. Thus we find David blending together confessions of guilt, and cries for deliverance. " Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness ; accord- ing unto the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Cast me not away from thy pre- sence, and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy free Spirit. Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation, and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness." But the remorse of the ungodly is succeeded by very different effects. It produces despair, and despair si- lences the voice of supplication, hardens the heart, and U'orketh death. Such was its issue in Judas. We be- hold him departing from the temple, and it might have been hoped after the contrition he had manifested there, that he was about to cast himself at the feet of the Sa- viour whom he had betrayed, or at least to implore in secret the mercy of that God whom he had offended. But no. Stung with remorse and abandoned to despair, he precipitated himself into the very misery which he dreaded, and hurried to the tribunal of that Judge at whose vengeance he trembled. " He cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself." And now, brethren, let us ask what are the practical lessons, which this solemn subject is calculated to teach us. It shows us first, that xve may bear a very close re- semblance to the disciples of Christy and yet remain still in the number of his enemies* arid share tfieir condcmJia- The Repentance of Judas. 443 Hon. It reminds us that we may seem to have proceeded far in the way to heaven, and yet never reach it, be al- most saved, but altogether lost. It calls upon every one of us not to take his sincerity and safety for granted, but to examine the foundation on which his hope rests, and to enquire, with the most earnest anxiety, whether he be indeed and in truth under the converting and saving influence of the gospel of Christ. We are more especially warned to guard against self- deception as to our repentance. We are told how far an accusing conscience may carry us, and yet leave us at as great a distance as ever from true conversion of heart. We are called on to look at Judas becoming his own accuser, openly acknowledging his guilt, vindi- cating his Master, and condemning himself; and while we are ready to commiserate his sufferings, and almost admiring his boldness, we are reminded that at this very moment he was as much a son of perdition, as when with a treacherous kiss he betrayed his Lord. Not that his confession was hypocritical, or his repent- ance superficial or assumed. No confession could be more sin'tere, no sorrow more genuine, no fear more agitating. And yet he perished, perished not because his sin was too great for the blood of Christ to cleanse, and the mercy of God to pardon it, but because he wanted those things, without which the most severe compunctions, and the liveliest feelings, and the most splendid gifts are nothing worth. And what are those things ? A heart-felt abhorrence of sin, a conviction of the deeply seated and desperate wickedness of the soul, a spirit of grace and supplication, an earnest wrestling with God for his pardoning mercy. These are the things which accompany salvation, and he who is desti- tute of these is yet far from the kingdom of God, is 444 The Repentance of Judas. utterly alienated from him, a stranger to his covenant of promise, and an heir of his wrath. We are tuught also that a profession of attachment to Christ aggravates the guilt of sin ^ and renders an indul- gence in It peculiarly dangerous. The holy Jesus will not be wounded in the house of those who call them- selves his friends, without manifesting his indignation against them, and vindicating before a blaspheming world the holiness and majesty of his own great name. His open enemies he can bear with, convert, and par- don ; while the pretended friend is exposed to scorn, blasted,. and destroyed. Judas had suffered much per- haps for his sake, and had given him many proofs of his love ; but there was one sin which Judas loved better than Christ, and that one sin, though it was a secret and a decent one, blighted all his graces, and withered all his prospects. He was covetous, and cove- tousness led him to apostacy, despair, and death. Take heed therefore, brethren, that you hold not the truth in unrighteousness. Beware of secret sin, and more especially of that sin, which, while it subjects men to little or no reproach, hardens the heart, deadens the conscience, surrounds them with temptations and snares, pierces them through with many sorrows, and at length drowns them in destruction and perdition. " Take heed and beware of covetousness. Be content with such things as ye have. Love not the world, nei- ther the things that are in the world." Dread nothing more than a profession of religion without principle, the form of godliness without its transforming power^ a Christian creed with a worldly and heathen heart. The repentance and end of this fallen apostle remind us, lastly, that no man can be a gainer by sin. When he first received tiie thirty pieces of silver from the chief The Repentance of Judas. 443 priests, Judas undoubtedly felt a momentary gratifica- tion, and pleased himself with the thought of increasing and permanently enjoying his ill gotten treasure; but he had scarcely obtained possession of it, when ne be- came anxious to part with it, and cursed the hour, in which he had sold his peace of conscience for so mean a price. And thus is it with sin of every kind, and un- der all possible circumstances. It is treacherous and destructive. It offers us pleasure, but it is a pleasure which ends in the bitterness of death. The losses we sustain by it are real, great, and many ; its gains a mere show, an empty delusion, the sweetness of the cup which is charged with poison, the beauty of the serpent whose bite is death. a And yet Judas is not the only professor of the. gospel, whom sin has deceived and ruined. Thousands, who once seemed fair as he, have been overcome by it and perished. For the sake of averting some threatening difficulty, or attaining some fancied good, they have consented to betray their Lord. Professing themselves his friends, they have taken counsel with his enemies, deserted his cause, and been ashamed of his name. And what have they gained ? " They have sold them- selves for nought." But what have they lost ? All that once enriched, and dignified, and cheered them; yea, they have lost their soul, and all that they have gained by the sacrifice is a wounded spirit, an accusing con- science, a foretaste of wrath. Let their fall be a warning to us. It may well make all of us tremble, but it need not lead one of us to despair ; for their guilt may be avoided, and, if not, their end may be escaped. The same Scriptures, which show us a Judas rushing to his own dreadful place in eternity, tell us of a once faithless Peter now rejoicing in glory, a dying thief entering into 446 The llepentance of Judas. paradise, a persecuting Saul sitting at the right hand of that Jesus whom he once injured, and triumphing in that cross which he once despised. There is but one sin, from the guilt of which the blood of Christ will not cleanse us, and that sin is despair, a rejection of his mercy, an unbelief of his word. He that believeth, though he were once a betrayer and a persecutor, shall be saved ; but he that believeth not, though he under- stand all the mysteries of the gospel, and speak with the tongue of men and of angels in its praise, though he have tasted of the heavenly gift, and been agitated and warmed by the word of God and the powers of the world to come, though he have gloried in the reproach of Christ, and given his body to be burned for his sake —that man shall be condemned? accursed, lost. SERMON XXIX. THE REPENTANCE OF PETER. ST. LUKE xxii. 60, 61, 62. ^nd immediately while he yet sfiake the cock creiv. And the Lord turned and looked ufion Peter, and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, hoiv he had said unto him, " Be/ore the cock crow thou shalt deny me thrice." And Peter went out, and wefit bitterly. \S E have in the fall and restoration of the apostle Peter, a sad instance of human frailty, and a most affect- ing proof of the divine mercy. The one is recorded to warn, the other to encourage us. While the one bids the most confident fear, the other offers consolation to the most sorrowful, and hope to the most desponding. The words of the text afford us a description of the repentance, by which he was recovered from his fallen state, and they direct us to consider, jirst., the means, by which it was produced ; secondly., the sorrow, which accompanied it ; and, thirdly, the effects, by which it was followed. I. 1. The repentance of Peter is ascribed, in the first instance, to a circumstance apparently unimportant. When David sinned against the Lord, a prophet was commissioned to call him to repentance. An angel is sent down from heaven to reprove the transgressing Ba- laam, and winds and storms are employed to remind the disobedient Jonah of his guilt. But when his be- loved disciple has forsaken and denied him, the Saviour, strong in th^ omnipotence of his own arm, calls not to 448 The Repentance of Peter. his aid the ministry of a prophet or an angel, nor the terrors of a tempest, but accomplishes his work of mercy as promptly and as effectually by the mere crow- ing of a cock, by means which plainly declare that he has power to make all things work together for good to them who love him, and can render the most feeble in- struments effectual to restore and sanctify their souls. At his command, the voice of a bird is made to preach repentance to Peter, and many a sinner has been taught to weep and to pray, by events which have appeared as accidental and as trifling. How observant then ought we to be of all which surrounds or befals us ; and how anxious to obtain from it instruction in righteousness ! How earnest should we be in the use of means, when we see that God seldom works without them ; and how little trust ought we to place in them, when we remem- ber that they owe all their efficacy to the operation of his hand ! 2. To his agency the repentance of Peter must be traced, for the text ascribes it, secondly, to the inierpo- sition of Christ. Without this, the warninii: voice of the cock would have been heard in vain ; nay, it was hetud in vain, for, as Saint Mark informs us, it had reached his ear immediately after his first denial of his Master, and, instead of interrupting him in his wickedness, had suffered him to repeat and aggravate his crime. It was the look of Christ, which gave it at the second time all its power, and enabled it to silence his oaths, to pene- trate into his inmost soul, and to arouse the conscience which was slumbering there. ^' The Lord turned and looked upon Peter," and then Peter remembered the word of the Lord, and went out and wept. And what, brethren, are all the warnings of Providence, however signal or frequent, when unaccompanied by the grace The Repentance of Peter. 449 of God ? They are powerless as sounding brass, and no more able to convert the soul than a tinkling cymbal. But what are they when attended with this grace ? The quick and powerful weapons of the living God, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the di- viding asunder of soul and spirit, startling the sinner in his midnight slumbers, and giving life and feeling to the dead. He only, who formed the heart at first, can renew it again to repentance. He only can keep alive the penitence, to which his own grace has given birth, and re-animate it when weakened or destroyed. 3. But what followed the look, which the compas- sionate Saviour directed towards his fallen apostle? It was a look of the mildest reproof and of the tenderest pity? but it was more powerful than the lightning's flash. Piercing his heart, it produced there that serious reflec- tioUf from which his repentance sprung. It forced me- mory to do its work, to bring before his mind the pride he had manifested, the warnings he had slighted, the vows he had broken, the goodness he had abused, and the complicated crimes he had committed. The sinner came to himself. *' He remembered the word of the Lord," and when he thought thereon he wept. And this is the usual method, in which repentance is wrought and renewed in the soul. It is preceded by thoughtful- ness, by reflection. Indeed one of the original words, which the Holy Spirit has employed to describe it, sig- nifies to think of an action or event that is passed with a deep and anxious concern. Sin quiets the conscience and paralyzes all the powers of the mind. It causes the declarations of God to be forgotten, and the dispensations of his Providence to pass unheeded. It fills the soul with the concerns of the present scene, and makes it as regardless of the in- 3 L 450 jf lie Repenta n ce of Peter. visible world, as though there were no happiness there which it could lose, no misery which it could inherit. But the Lord does not suffer those, who are truly his, to remain for ever in this insensible state. He calls them out of it, and often by means, which seem but little calculated to lead to so gracious an end. Some passing event, some apparently casual circumstance which makes no impression on others, arrests their at- tention, and assumes the overpowering importance of a messenger of God. It fastens itself on their minds, awakening there a long train of reflections, recalling to their remembrance periods and events in their history which they had long ceased to think of, and giving rise to feelings which seem to have perished for ever. The seed, which had lain buried in the earth, now springs up, and buds, and brings forth its fruit. The declara- tions of Scripture, the exhortations of ministers, the admonitions of friends, the convictions of conscience, all the means of grace which had been forgotten or de- spised, are now brought with force and freshness into the mind, and affect and agitate it. The once thought- less sinner pauses, trembles, and prays. The cold- hearted backslider remembers from whence he is fallen, and repents. The declining Christian shakes himself from the dust, and in the midst of contrition and tears, recovers the love and vigour, which he seemed to have lost. II. But the transition from a state of sin to a state of grace, from impenitence to contrition, from spiritual deadness to spiritual fervour, though cheered by many feelings of gratitude and joy, is never wholly unattended with sorrow. Peter was brought to repentance, but there was an anguish of spirit accompanying his resto- ration, which the evangelist does not and could not de- The Repentance of Peter. 45 1 scribe. He tells us however, how it was manifested. " Peter went out and wept bitterly." 1. His sorrow was therefore of a softening nature. *' He wept." It was not that horror of soul, which has its origin in fear, and leaves the heart as hard as it finds it. It was that sorrow, which springs from love, and fills the breast with the tenderest emotions, while it dis- quiets and humbles it. Not that tears are certain signs of real penitence, for they are often the effects of a na- tural tenderness, of mortified pride, or of bodily weak- ness, rather than of spiritual contrition. The profane Esau lifted up his voice and wept when suffering under the consequences of his folly, and even in hell there is weeping and wailing. But though there may be tears without penitence, yet there is no real penitence where these are wanting. He, who has never yet wept for sin, has never felt its bitterness. The Christian is described as bemoaning himself, as sowing in tears, as turning to the Lord with mourning, as going on his way to Zion weeping ; and no man must imagine himself possessed of the Christian's contrite spirit, whose sighs are not often entering into the ears of the Lord, and whose tears are not treasured up in his vials. 2. But the sorrow of Peter was acute, as well as softening. He not only wept, but he wept " bitterly." And bitterly does every sinner weep, who really bewails his transgressions. The sorrow connected with true re- pentance is not only sincere, it is deep and pungent. It not only enters into the heart, but it penetrates into its inmost recesses, and there lives and reigns. It not only causes the tear to flow, but, in the strong language of Scripture, it afflicts the soul, cutting and rending it. It causes the transgressor to feel the misery of sin as he confesses it, and to smite on the breast as he asks 152 Tlie Repentance of Peter. for mercy ; to take up and to understand this declaration of the propliet, "^ The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear V Nay, it is compared to the most acute and bitter sorrow, which can find a place in the human breast ; to the sor- row, which chills the heart and racks the soul of the parent, as he mourns the loss of a son, of an only son, and him a first-born ; such lamentation as Sarah would have made over the grave of Isaac, such anguish as Hannah would have cherished at the death of Samuel, the child of her many tears and strong desires. When the spirit of grace is poured out on Jerusalem, we are told that " they shall look on him, whom they have pierced, and mourn for him, as one that mourneth for his only son ; and shall be in bitterness for him, as one that is in bitterness for his first-born, in that day there bhall be a great mourning in Jerusalem, as the mourn- ing of Hadadrimmon in the valley of Megiddon." 3. The sorrow of Peter was, further, a secret sorrow ; a grief, which sought retirement. " He went out" when he wept. Not that he was now afraid to acknowledge Christ, or unwilling to condemn himself for the crime which he had committed j but, like penitent Kphraim, he was ashamed, yea, even confounded ; and, like the agitated Joseph, he sought where to give vent to his sorrow unseen, and to implore undisturbed that mercy, which he so greatly needed. And every real penitent is oft€n *' sitting alone." Flying from scenes of vanity which he once loved, and from society which his folly once enlivened, he retires to his chamber and his closet, and there, when he has shut his door, he communes with his heart, prays to his offended Father, and weeps. He is not indeed unwilling to tell his Christian friends of his spiritual troubles, nor anxious to conceal from The Repentance of Peter. 453 them his shame ; but there are seasons, when he feels so overpowering a sense of his sinfulness, so tender and deep a sorrow, that the presence of the dearest friend cannot be borne, and the soul must be left a!one with its God. Thus the publican stood afar off, when he prayed in the temple ; and thus, in the latter days, the penitent Jews will mourn, every family apart, and every member of it in secret. Here then is a lesson for those, whose consciences are awakened and whose hearts are softened. Love retirement. Fly from a se- ducing world. Converse little with others, but much . with yourselves. The tears of contrition are seldom shed in a crowd, and the deepest workings of penitence must be weakened and eventually stifled in the company of the light-hearted, the worldly, and the vain. Ill, We have thus traced the means, by which the repentance of Peter was wrought, and we find it ascribed to a circumstance apparently unimportant, to the interposition of Christ, and to the influence of re- flection. We have considered also the sorrow, which accompanied it, and have learned that it was softening, acute, and secret. Let us now follow the apostle beyond the scene of his humiliation, and enquire what effects his repentance afterwards produced in his conduct. 1. True repentance is invariably followed by some effects, and those visible and permanent. It produced in Peter an mcreasing love for his Lord. Scarcely was Je- sus risen, when, mindful of his sorrowful disciples, he sent his angel to announce to them the glad tidings of his triumph; and, by desiring these tidings to be deli- vered particularly to Peter, he assured him that not- withstanding his base disowning of him, he still re- garded him as his apostle and friend. This assurance 454 The Repentance of Peter. of his Redeemer's love did not however elate the fallen disciple. It did not restore his former self-confidence, but it restored his peace, and added fresh warmth and strength to that afFfction, which glowed in his breast. With what eager hasie did he run to the forsaken se- pulchre ! The beloved John paused when he reached It, and hesitated before he entered it ; but Peter had not time to examine and calculate. He entered at once into the conquered grave, that he might behold there the memorials of his Master's conquest. And look at him again on the sea of Tiberias. *' It is the Lord," said John as he beheld the Saviour stand- ing on the shore, and the sound had no sooner reached his ears, than the ardent Peter, impatient of delay, sprang into the sea and hastened to the shore. And who can describe the scene, which followed ? Who can enter into the feelings, which melted the heart of Peter as he prostrated himself at his Master's feet ? And who can describe the overflovving tenderness and love of that Master's heart? None but those, who have tasted of hi^ pardoning mercy, and enjoyed, while lying low in the dust, the sweet and elevating outpourings of his grace. 2, His repentance was followed also by greater zeal and boldness in the service of Christ. Look at him, bre- thren, in the hall of Ananias, and behold there a cow- ardly, trembling apostate. There the tempter triumphed in the weakness and siiame of his victim, for that was his hour and the power of darkness. But look at him after the hand of God had humbled him, and behold a noble and undaunted apostle, asserting in the streets of Jerusalem the divinity of him, whom but a short time before he had feared to own as his friend ; standing foremost among his brethren to declare his greatness, The Bepentance of Petev. 455 and to reprove those who had shed his blood ; led from triJDunal to tribunal, and driven from country to coun- try ; every where persecuted for the sake of Christ, and every where rejoicing that he was counted worthy to suffer shame for his name. And in the midst of all this invincible boldness, behold this very apostle re- membering the sin, which had disgraced him ; going to prison and to judgment, to the torture and the cross, mingling the tears of penitence with the songs of praise. This was indeed a triumph for the gospel. Here a mighty God glorified his grace, brought evil out of good, forced the fall of his servant to magnify the power which raised him up again, and testified that his mighty arm can take the reed, shivering before every breath that blows, and make it firm as a mountain, standing unmoved before the most impetuous winds, and lift- ing up its head to heaven uninjured by the wildest storms. The pardoned transgressor then can be at no loss to discover what these things were designed to teach him. They call upon him to cherish the most fervent love for his Saviour, and to fear neither suifering nor shame in his service. To talk of our convictions and assurance, of the tears we have shed, and the grace we have expe- rienced, while our life manifests no love for our Re- deemer, and our tongue is silent in his praise, is idle; it is worse : it is hypocritical and sinful. If we, like Peter, are mournidg in secret over our iniquity, and rejoicing in a sense of forgiveness, like him we are boldly confessing Ciirist in public, honouring him among those who despise him, and deeming it our highest glory to bear his reproach. Our affection is in some measure proportioned to the mercy we have re- ceived. At any rate it is sincere, active, constraining,! 456 The Repentance of Peter, Whatever the religion of others may be, ours cannot be lukewarm. There is an energy in it, a decision, a savour. The remembrance of our guilt, and of the grace which pardoned it, and of the blood which pur- chased this grace, will be ever rising in our minds ; exciting the most lively thankfulness, and prompting us to the most devoted obedience. We shall be, in short, what Peter was, liable to many infirmities, but in the midst of them all acting like men, to whom a dying Saviour is precious, and who count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus their Lord. The lesson, which this display of mercy addresses to the penitent sinner, is equally obvious. No one can fail to perceive that it was designed to encourage him, to pour balm into his wounded conscience, and the oil of joy into his broken heart. It bids him banish the de- spair, which is tormenting him, and welcome that mercy, which is w^aiting to refresh him. It shows him that very Jesus, who is now seated on the throne of the universe, and invested there with infinite power to save, trembling at the prospect of his own sufferings, and yet pausing to exercise his compassion ; troubled with a foretaste of his mysterious agonies, and yet mindful of an unfaithful servant, unwilling to die till he had saved him from destruction, and eager when risen again to restore peace to his soul. And could he, brethren, have left you in his dying hour a stronger proof of the tenderness of his mercy ? Could you even desire a more encouraging assurance of the boundless extent ot bis love ? He knew that you would need strong conso- lation, and here he has provided it for you. Rejoice in it, and be thankful. \our case may iildeed be peculiarly distressing. Sins of no common heinousness may have The Repentance of Peter. 457 sunk you into a depth of misery, from which hope seems for ever excluded. But your sins are not wiorc aggravated than the crimes of Peter, nor is your anguish more bitter. And what though they were? Who showed you the greatness of your guilt? Who opened your eyes to discover your danger ? Who singled you out from among a thoughtless crowd, and taught you to reflect, and weep, and pray ? The same almighty Sa- viour, who humbled and pardoned his cursing disciple. The same eye, which brought him to repentance, is now fixed on you. The same hand, which snatched him from perishing, is already stretched out in your behalf- Your great and continual sorrow of heart is a token of the Lord's special love. It is a proof that though he may have spoken against you as he spake against Ephraim, he earnestly remembers you still, that his bowels are troubled for you, that he is even now pre- paring a blessing- for every sigh that you heave, a com- fort for every tear. In his own good time he will surely have mercy upon you ; and in order to the immediate outpouring of this mercy, all he requires of you is to apply to that blood which he so freely shed for your sakes, and to believe in its efficacy ; to give credit to his promises, and to rely on his word. But what is the language of the text to the impenitent? It tells them that by resisting the strivings of conscience and stifling its convictions, they are sinning against their own souls, and rejecting the only means, which can re- store them to the happiness they have lost. Heart-felt sorrow for sin is not opposed to happiness. The exam- ple of Saint Peter shows us, on the contrary, that it is the appointed means of leading the wandering sufferer back to the source of all consolation. The tears of peni- tence, are not tears of unminglcd bitterness. There is 3 M 458 The Repentance of Peter. a joy connected with them, which is as satisfying and exahing, as it is purifying and humbling. God himself has pronounced the sorrow of the poor in spirit blessed, and he has not blessed it in vain. His people taste its sweetness. Their happiest hours are those, which are spent in the exercise of penitence and faith, and while these graces are in lively exercise, they envy not the inhabitants of heaven. But present happiness is not the only fruit of spiri- tual repentance. Heaven is connected with it, an eter- nity of uninterrupted blessedness. They who sow in tears are destined to reap in joy. They who now mourn in Zion are the appointed inheritors of the heavenly city, and the future companions of those who are now walking in its streets. Who then will despise so rich a gift, so dearly pur- chased, so freely offered. Who will not rather seek it with all the energy of his soul at the throne of his ex- alted Lord. To be subdued with godly sorrow is to be an accepted child of God, a jewel in the Saviour's crown, an heir of glory. To die with the heart unhum- bled is to enter a world of darkness, to dwell for ever in a kingdom of proud rebellion and never ending an- guish. Humble yourselves therefore, brethren, under the mighty hand of God. Tremble at his word. Grieve not his Holy Spirit. Admit him into your hearts, that he may soften them. Welcome his awakening influence. Desire nothing more than a broken and a contrite spirit. Dread nothhig so much as a proud and hardened heart. SERMON XXX. THE CONFESSION OF PHARAOH. EXODUS ix. 27, 28. ^tid Pharaoh sent and called for Moses and Aaron, and said unto them, " / have sinned this ti?ne. The Lord is righteous, and I and my people are wicked. Entreat the Lord, for it is enough, that there be no more mighty thunderings and hail, and I ivill let you go, and ye shall stay no longer" Our apostacy from God, though we have lost by it all disposition to perform any of the duties we owe him, has materially increased their number. All the obliga- tions, which were originally laid on us as creatures, still remain in their full force, while, as sinners, we have brought on ourselves new and more arduous duties. Among these is the confession of our guilt, a duty so frequently and so solemnly inculcated in the Scriptures, that no man who has any regard for their authority has ever denied its necessity, or doubted its importance. But this, as well as every other fruit of the Spirit, has its counterfeit. There is a spurious confession of sin, as well as a spurious repentance ; not merely a formal and hypocritical, but a sincere and heart-felt confession, which is not acceptable to God, and brings down no forgiveness from his throne. This assertion may perhaps appear to some of us harsh and unfounded, but the text confirms its truth. It contains as sincere an acknowledgment of sin, as ever proceeded from any one of ourselves; while we know 460 The Confession of Pharaoh. that he who made it lived the daring enemy of God, and died impenitent and unpardoned. Mindful then of our liability to self-deception, and supplicating the aid of that Spirit, who only can make the subject on which we are entering effectual to save us from it, let us con- sider, first, the resemblance, which the confession of Pharaoh bears to true-confession of sin ; secondly^ its difference from it ; and, thirdly ^ the lessons, which it is calculated to teach us. 1. 1. The resemblance of the confession before us to the language of true contrition is striking and close. It was open, made not to a partizan or friend in the se- crecy of retirement; l)ut to Moses and Aaron in public ; to the very men, whose presence was likely to fill the sinner with the greatest shame, and to require of him the most mortifying concessions. 2. It was accompanied also with a sense of guilty and that not confined to one transgression only, but extend* ing to the general conduct of himself and his subjects. Like Judas, he says, " I have sinned this time," but he does not, like Judas, end there. He goes further, and in language similar to that of the penitent David, and the contrite publican, he says, *' I and my people are wicked." 3. It is remarkable too, that like David, he considered his guih as an offence against God. In the sixteenth verse of the following chapter, we find him declaring that he had sinned against the Lord, as w^ell as against his servants, and again beseeching Moses and Aaron to entreat the Lord their God for him, and to supplicate the removal of his judgments. 4. But this was not all. The confession of Pharaoh included in it an acknowledgment of the justice of God in inflicting these judgments. They were great and The Confession of Pharaoh. 461 heavy, but he does not complain of their severity. He complains only of his own sins, which had so justly drawn them on his head. " The Lord," says he, '♦ is righteous, and I and my people are wicked." And herein also he closely resembled the real penitent. Such a man is not only conscious that he has incurred the wrath of God, but he feels that this fearful wrath is only the just desert of his offences ; that were he this mo- ment to be cast into hell, his trembling lips must even there join in the song of Moses and the Lamb, and say in the midst of his miseries, " True and righteous are thy judgments, O Lord God Almighty. Just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints." He not only pleads guilty before God, but he passes on himself the sen- tence of everlasting death, and counts every thing less than this death goodness and mercy. Thus David felt. " Against thee, thee only, have I sinned," says he, '* and done this evil in thy sight 5 that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and clear when tliou judgest." Thus too the prophet Daniel spake. When he prayed unto the Lord his God and made his confes- sion, he was not satisfied with saying, " We have sinned, and have committed iniquity, and done wick- edly ;" but he goes on to say, " O Lord righteousness belongeth unto thee, but unto us confusion of facts as at this day, to the men of Judah and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to our kings, to our princes, and to our fathers, because we have sinned against thee." And then, though he and his countrymen were captives in the land of their enemies, he adds, " To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgiveness, though we have rebelled against him." Now to these feelings, brethren, mankind in general are utter strangers. When we are in shame and in 46 S The Confession of Pharaoh. trouble, our chief concern generally is to clear our- selves, not to vindicate a chastising God. So far from regarding our wickedness as great, and our iniquities as infinite, so far from deeming everlasting destruction our merited portion, we think that a few tears and prayers can wash out all our guilt, and that God would be both unmerciful and unjust were he to consign us to vengeance. We profess to have more liberal ideas of the Deity, and are even shocked at the denunciations, which are sometimes repeated in our hearing from his word. Offenders against every command of our Sove- reign, criminals condemned to die by every law to which we can appeal, creatures suffering day by day under the present effects of sin, and often trembling at the prospect of its future consequences, surrounded with the dying and the dead, and Ccirrying about within ourselves the seeds of corruption, we yet think, and speak, and act, as though sin had no curse attached to it, and the terrors of hell no more reality than the illu- sions of a dream. 5. There were also some good resolutions connected with the confession of Pharaoh. He determined, and the determination appears to have been sincere, that he would no longer oppose the departure of the Israelites, nor repeat the sin, which had provoked the God of Is- rael to wrath. " Entreat the Lord," says he, " that there be no more mighty thunderings and hail, and 1 will let you go, and ye shall stay no longer." 6. Thus far then all is well. We have in this sinner a sincere and open confession of sin, accompanied with a sepse of guilt, with an acknowledgment that this guilt was an offence against God, with a vindication of his righteous judgments, and a fixed resolution to provoke him to anger no more. Nay, this confession seems to The Confession of Pharaoh. 463 go still farther, and to include in it a conviction of the divine mercy. We see not in this awakened transgres- sor the wild fear of Cain, nor the despair of Judas. On the contrary, he remembers that there is mercy with God, and intimates his belief that he is ready to hear and to answer the prayer of his servants. Now all these things are connected with true repen- tance, so closely and inseparably connected with it, that where one of them only is wanting, there every thing is wanting, whicli can render our confessions pleasing to the Lord. But these things do not necessarily prove that our repentance is real. Pharaoh was not a penitent, though he bore so strong a resemblance to one. His confession was sincere, but it was not spiritual. It re- sembled the language of true repentance, but at the same time it differed essentially from it. II. 1. In attempting to trace this difference, we may observe, first, that it was a yorcef/ confession, extorted from him by the sufferings he endured, and the fear of still heavier judgments. It was the confession of a cri- minal on the rack, not the free and voluntary acknow- ledgment of a returning rebel, casting himself at his monarch's feet. Affliction, when it is severe, generally produces conviction, and sometimes a sincere and open confession. When the troubles of life press heavily on our heads, when lover and friend are put far from us and our acquaintance into darkness, when we are faint- ing on the bed of sickness and are in expectation of immediate dissolution, when our fear cometh as a deso- lation, and we think that our destruction is coming as a whirlwind, then we feel that God is contendinar with us, and we are constrained to cry out with the alarmed Pharaoh, *' I have sinned." But such convictions, though they may lead to repentance, are no proofs that 464 The Confession of Pharaoh, we are already penitent. That grief, which is genuine, needs no judgments to call it into exercise. It is free and spontaneous, flowing from the heart, through the power of the Holy Ghost, as naturally as streams flow from a fountain. Affliction may indeed be employed to revive and increase it, but it mourns and weeps in the hour of mercy, as well as in the day of tribulation. It mingles with our joy in the season of health, as well as waters our couch with tears in the time of sickness. If we would know the real state of our hearts, bre- thren, wc must lay very little stress on those emotions, which are excited within us on particular occasions, and under any extraordinary circumstances, or indeed by any outward causes whatsoever. We must learn our true character from the feelings, which arise from ourselves, from our inward principles and inclinations. The point to be ascertained is not what kind of men we are in affliction or in sickness, in the house of God or in the society of his servants ; but what is the frame of our minds when these excitements are withdrawn, and we are left to ourselves. What are we in reti.»-ement? What are we on our beds? What are we in our fami- lies ? What are we in our daily intercourse with the world ? 2. The confession of Pharaoh differed from a true confession in this respect also — it was unaccojnpanied ivith humiliation before God, When Moses came to him at first with a message from Jehovah, he exclaimed, '^ Who is the Lord that I should obey his voice?" and the spirit, which prompted this reply, was never sub- dued. It manifests itself in the text. He promises to let the Israelites go in obedience to the command of their God, but he at the same time wishes to treat with the Almighty as an equal, prescribing conditions, and The Confession of Pharaoh. 465 even refusing his obedience unless those conditions were previously granted. He demands that his thunder- ings and lightnings should first cease, and then he con- sents to send his people away. This attitude of proud independence he maintained to the very last. He re- peatedly besought Moses and Aaron to entreat for him, but he disdained to bend the knee himself. He trem- bled at the judgments of the Lord, but though they laid waste his country, and cut off his first-born, he still refused to humble himself before him. This spirit of independence is the bane and curse of our fallen nature. The very essence of our depravity consists in it. We will not have God to reign over us. We are rebels and traitors against him, and no threat- enings, no convictions, no chastisements, can prevail on us to acknowledge his authority. They can terrify, but they cannot humble us. They can make us confess our guilt, but they cannot make us pray for the pardon of it. They can destroy, but they cannot bend us. Pharaoh perished rather than ask for mercy. Judas hung himself rather than supplicate forgiveness. Satan himself, though he has been racked for ages with re- morse and has all the vengeance of the Almighty rest- ing upon his head, still lifts up himself against the Holy One of Israel, and is not only the most wretched being in the universe, but the proudest. Now true repentance begins with destroying this spirit. It forces the creature to acknowledge the autho- rity of his Creator, to see his dependence on him, and the service he owes him. It lays the sinner in the dust before his offended God. It places a man, where he was originally designed to be, and where the loftiest arch- angel rejoices to be, prostrate before the footstool of the Lord, Look at Paul. He was once a haughty per- r> N 1'6{5 The Confession of Pharaoh, sccutor; he is now brought to repentance, and "Be- hold he prayeth;" and, falling to the earth, he says to that very Jesus, against wliom he had exalted himself, " Lord what wilt thou have me to do." Look at Ma- nasseh. Who was more hardened than he ? But when omnipotence and grace caused his affliction to bring his sin to remembrance, " he humbled himself greatly before the God of his fathers, and prayed unto him." 3. The confession of Pharaoh was defc ctive also in another respect — it was not succeeded by an entire re- nunciotion of sin. Refusing to humble himself before God, he paid no more attention to his commands than fear extorted from him. Under the smart of his rod he promised obedience ; but no sooner was each succeed- ing plague removed, than he sinned yet the more. And when at length he yielded for a season, it was solely from the influence of fear. He gave up what he was afraid to keep, and absolutely compelled to renounce. And it is thus with many in the present day, who ima- gine themselves penitents. They love sin as much as ever they loved it. It has still the throne in their hearts, living and reigning within them. But they dare not in- dulge it as they once did. They know that death and judgment are near, and the thought of the one and the fear of the other, constrain them to consent to a partial surrender of what they would still deem it their highest happiness to retain. But this is not the case where repentance is genuine. It causes a man to hate the sin which he renounces, yea, to hate all sin with a detestation equal to his former love of it, He conse- quently strives to mortify and subdue it. His spirit wars against it in whatever manner it assails him, or whatsoever shape it assumes. It still besets him, grieves him, and sometimes overcomes him 5 but there is no The Confession of Pharaoh. 467 wish to retain or spare it ; there is no effort to compro- mise matters with God. He does not ask, " How far may I indulge my lusts, and yet be safe ? How much love may I have for the world, and yet escape con- demnation ?" but, *' What right hand have 1 yet to cut off? What right eye have I yet to pluck out? What lurking sin still remains to be discovered and over- come ? Search me, O God, and know my heart ; try me, and know my thoughts. O that my ways were di- rected to keep thy statutes ! Make me to go in the path of thy commandments, for therein do 1 delight. Order my steps in thy word, and let not any iniquity have do- minion over me." 4. But even if the confession of Pharaoh had not been defective in these things, had it been ever so vo- luntary and free, accompanied with the deepest humi- liation, and the most entire renunciation of every known sin, there was yet another point of difference between it and a genuine confession, and that a most important and ruinous difference. It was not habitual and lasting. The convictions from which it sprung, were as tempo- rary as the judgments which gave rise to them, and he, who feared and trembled one hour, hardened his heart the next. But the repentance, from which true confession pro- ceeds, is as lasting as our existence ; and it is its per- manent, its abiding nature, which proves it to be the repentance, which God has blessed. That sorrow for sin, which is the effect of heated passions only, will surely die away, and tiiat which proceeds from re.morse of conscience, is seldom lasting ; but that contrition, which is lodged in the soul by the Spirit of God, no- thing can destroy ; no length of time can efface it, no sense of pardon can weaken it. It is indeed regulated 468 The Confession of Pharaoh. and modified by time, and tiie blood of Christ, when applied to the conscience, by taking from it its bitter pangs, causes it to assume a new character ; but it does not diminish its activity or strength ; on the contrary, it increases both, rendering the humiliation of the be- liever more liabitual, and his contrition more deep and tender. His penitence grows in the exact degree, in which his faith and consolation abound, and never ceases growing till it is lost in the joys of heaven. And who can say that these joys will destroy it ? Who can say that the Christian does not take with him into the presence of God a remembrance of his former guilt, and add to the fervour of his love, and the ardour of his praise by confessing it before his throne ? Repentance then is not an act, it is a habit ; not a duty to be performed once in a man's life, and then to be thought of no more, it is to be our daily work, our hourly employment. Thus, as history tells us, Peter repented; ^nd thus David mourned. It is thus too that we ourselves shall mourn, if the arrows of the Lord have really stricken us. Through all the scenes of our life, our sins will be ever before us ; and when death is sent to us, he will find us sorrowing still. The scene of our greatest penitence will be the chamber, in which we breathe our last. There may be confidence, there may be peace, there may even be triumph in our dying moments, but they will be marked with a sorrow for sin more lively than we have ever before experienced, with a lowliness of spirit inferior only to the humility of angels. III. Such was the confession of Pharaoh. The les- sons it teaches us are as important as they are obvious. It shows us, first, the great need of self-examination. And let us not despise the lesson. A mistake here is The Confession of Pharaoh. 469 fatal, and the least reflection is sufficient to convince us how easy it is to mistake in this matter, yea, how diffi- cult it is to avoid deceiving ourselves. We have seen how far the confession of Pharaoh went. It was sincere. He really meant what he said. When he spake of his wickedness he felt it, and feared the judgments of the Lord on account of it. Has your repentance been of this kind ? Have the confessions you have uttered this day proceeded from a feeling and fearful heart ? When you said that you were miserable sinners, were you honest in the declaration ? Alas, brethren, to how many of us might it be said, " Thou hast not lied unto men but unto God !" But even were it otherwise, even if our consciences bore witness to the sincerity of our acknowledgments, this is not the only point to be ascertained. We may have confessed our sins from our heart, but has that heart been humble, lowly, obedient? Instead of going about to establish our own righteousness, are we sub- mitting ourselves to the righteousness of God? Are we praying, as well as trembling ? Is our contrition habitual ? Are its sighs breathed in our chambers, and its tears shed in our closets, as well as its language heard in this church, and among our Christian friends? Is it sanctifying? Have we given up every known sin ; and though still burdened with iniquity, are we striving to throw off the burden, and to perfect holiness in the fear of the Lord? This subject shows us also the extreme depravity of the human heart. We see here a man persevering in disobedience in the face of the most awful judgments. Sign succeeds sign, plague is followed by plague, wdn- ders of wrath are wrought around him ; and yet the haughty Pharaoh still lifts up himself against the Lord 470 The Confession of Pharaoh. God Almighty, and on the wreck of his property, his country, and his family, he maintains to the very last his proud rebellion. And such would be the conduct of each of us, if the mighty hand of God did not re- strain and bridle us. The dispositions which this man inaniftsted, were not peculiar to him. They are the common fruits of our corrupt nature ; they are visible in all the human race ; they are working in our own breasts. We ourselves have manifested them. We have withstood many of the judgments of God, abused many of his mercies, refused to abandon many of our sins. There is not one of us, who, if left to himself, would not become as hardened as Pharaoh, as guilty as Judas. Remove the barrier, which infinite mercy has placed before our lusts, and the stream of sin will rush on with dreadful impetuosity, and bear us to our ruin. A mortal poison is raging within us ; let but the great Physician cease to counteract it, and we are lost. What inference then are we to draw from this dreadful fact ? The same that our church has already drawn for us. '^ We cannot turn and prepare ourselves, by our own natural strength, to faith and calling upon God" We need ihe transforming power, the effectual working of the Holy Ghost. We must seek repentance as a gift of mercy at the throne of God. We may see further, the folly of trusting in convic- tions. The history of Pharaoh proves that a sense of guilt and a fear of punishment are no evidences of a converted heart. And yet how many professors of the gospel are grounding all their hopes of salvation on their remorse and fears ! They are at seasons deeply im'pressed by sermons, and greatly alarmed by afflic- tions. Or if these things have now lost their effect on them, they remember the time when they made them The Confession of Pharaoh. 47 1 fearful and wretched. On these grounds alone, while they manifest no love to God in their conduct, and are altogether averse to his laws, they conclude that their condition is safe, that their hearts have been renewed, and their sins forgiven. But this, brethren, is an awful delusion. Pharaoh could produce such evidences of piety as these, and not Pharaoh only, but Felix, and Judas, and Cain, and ten thousand others, who are groaning in misery ; yea, Satan himself has been trem- bling and repenting for ages, and will repent constantly and bitterly for ever. Remorse is not penitence. Con- viction is not conversion. Fear is not grace. But while we are reminded of the folly of trusting in convictions, we are at the same time taught the guilt and danger of stifling them. They cannot save the soul, but they are designed to make us feel our need of sal- vation, and to lead us for it to him, who is the great Saviour of the lost ! They are in fact messengers of mercy, but many of us treat them as though we deemed them our enemies. We love the sin, which they con- demn. We are determined to persevere in our pursuit of worldly vanities, and we are therefore impatient of the checks of conscience, and use a variety of 'Expe- dients, to silence its remonstrances. And our efforts are sometimes cursed with a dreadful success. An ex- ternal religion, a partial reformation, or something equally delusive and unprofitable, quiets the conscience, while sin reigns over the soul with absolute and unre- sisted sway. But in what a storm of fiery indignation will this fearful calm end ! Judgments despised and afflictions stifled, are the forerunners of approaching wrath. They are signs that the sinner has not a moment to lose, that he must this very instant turn and repent,"'" or be abandoned for ever and sealed for destruction, A 47S The Confessio7i of Pharaoh. jealous God will not be trifled with. They, who have despised his warnings shall feel his vengeance. He will first give them up to a hardened heart, and then, when the measure of their iniquities is full, he will suddenly destroy them and that without remedv. He will eive them the quietness of a seared conscience for a season, and afterwards the torment of the never dying worm forever. Trifle no longer then with his judgments; despise his chastenings no more. Cherish the convic- tions which still remain, and which perhaps are ready to die. Welcome the bitterest afflictions, poverty and sickness, shame and contempt ; ask the prisoner for his chains, and the tortured criminal for his rack, rather than provoke a wearied God to say concerning you, " He is joined to idols; let him alone." There is yet another lesson to be learned from the subject before us. It seems indeed on the first view to speak to us only of the depravity of man, and the awful justice of God, but to what subject of meditation can we turn, which does not remind us of the divine mercy? Look at this rebellious Egyptian. Behold him setting the Almighty at defiance, and yet no sooner does he confess his iniquity, than the avenging thunders and lightnings cease. Again he refuses obedience, and again the judgments of the Lord are poured out ; but he again seeks to avert them by repentance, and they are again withdrawn. If therefore such a confession from such a sinner thus availed with God, what may the really con- trite transgressor expect at his hands ? What mercy will be denied him ? What blessing withheld ? A har- dened Pharaoh, as well as a weeping Peter, declares to us that the lost and the guilty will never seek pardon in vain. " If we confess our sins," says the Scripture, ^' God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins," to The Confession of Pharaoh. 473 forgive them, not because we confess them, not because our repentance can purchase forgiveness, but because the blood of his Son has purchased it, and because he has bound himself by the most solemn promises to par- don freely, fully, and for ever, all who come to him pleading the merit of his obedience, and trusting in his blood. " He is not a man that he should lie, neither the son of man that he should repent;" and as long as he remains a God of faithfulness and truth, so long is every broken-hearted sinner warranted to cast the heavy bur- den of his sins on his crucified Lord, and to rejoice in that Saviour, who bare them all in his own body on the tree. O SERMON XXXI. THE SCAPE GOAT A TYPE OF CHRIST. LEVITICUS XVi. 21, 22. ^-Ind ^aron shall lay both his hands ufion the head of the live goat, and confess over iiim all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, /tutting them u/ion the head of the goat ; and shall send him aivay by the hand of a ft man into the ivilderr/e.ss : and the g'-at shall bear upon him all thiir inigui'ies unto a land not inhabited ; and he shall let go the goat in the tuUderness. X HERE were many ordinances under the Mosaic dis- pensation, which seem to have had a very slight refer- ence to the gospel; at least they were such imperfect and dark shadows of its blessin^^s, that we find it diffi- cult even now to trace the resemblance. The ordinance mentioned in the text, was not however of this kind. It directs us at once to the Lord Jesus Christ, and is so plain and comprehensive in its application to him, that it appears to have been written to explain to us, as well as to prefigure to the Jews, the method of salva- tion through his blood. We may perhaps obtain a cor- rect idea of it, by considering, Jirstf the typical sacri- fice here enjoined ; secondly^ the conduct, which the high-priest was commanded to observe with respect to it ; and, thirdly, the benefits resulting from his obedi- ence lo this command. I. We arc to consider, first, the typical sacrifice^ which is here enjoined. It was a live goat. But we must not look at this living sacrifice alone. By referring The Scape-Goat^ &c. 475 to the fifth verse of this chapter, we find that there was another goat set apart at the same time, which was slain as a sin-ofiering before the Lord, and the blood of which was carried within the vail and sprinkled in the usual manner on the mercy-seat. Both these animals were therefore to be considered by the Jews as a joint object of their faith. They were in fact but one sacri- fice, or different parts of the same ordinance ; the one which was offered us as a victim, prefiguring the death of Christ, and the other which was sent away alive, al- luding perhaps to his resurrection and ascension. 1. As we contemplate this typical sacrifice, we may observe, first, that it xvas appointed by God, and not by man. Aaron was not allowed to take any animal that he pleased as a victim on this occasion. He was par- ticularly commanded to take two kids of the gouts, and every part of the ceremony connected with the offering of them was enjoined by God. Why these animals M'cre selected we know not ; but it is of importance to observe that they were selected by God, and that no other would have been accepted by him in their stead. Thus was Christ the great sacrifice, set apart by God himself as a sin-offering for his guilty church. He was chosen of God to bear their sins, and to be the ap- pointed means of obtaining remission for them. Hence when he cometh into the world, he says, '^ Lo, I come to do thy will, O God. Sacrifice and offering thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me. Weil pleased no more with the burnt-offerings of thine of- fending creatures, taking no bullock out of their house, nor he-goat out of their fold, thou hast appointed me, the partner of thy throne, to become the sinner's sub- stitute, and hast prepared for me a mortal nature that I may die in th^inner's stead." If therefore, the great 476 The ScapeMoat atonement for our sins was thus provided for us by the very Being, against whom our sins were committed, it follows that it is an atonement fully equal to our trans- gressions, an all-prevailing atonement, a sufficient sa- crifice, an oblation that fully satisfies an offended God. 2. There is another remark closely connected with this to be inferred from the text — the sacrifice enjoined in it, derived ail its value and efficacy from the divine appointment. One goat was slain and the other was sent into the wilderness, and then all the iniquities of the children of Israel were pardoned ; but they were not pardoned on account of any virtue that dwelt in these animals. The blood of bulls and of goats had no more power to take away sin then, than it has now. Had not God enjoined these rites, they would undoubtedly have incensed rather than appeased him. Aaron might have brought into his sanctuary the blood of ten thousand victims, but " To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me," would have been the lan- guage of the Lord. " When ye come to appear before ine, who hath required this at your hands to tread my « courts?" But this was the way, in which the Israelites were commanded to seek pardon, and through these means God was pleased to dispense it. We are very prone, brethren, to look upon ordinan- ces and means of grace as the fountains of the mercy "we receive, rather than as the channels, through which mercy is conveyed to us. Because certain effects ge- nerally proceed from certain causes, we consider them as necessarily connected with those causes, and pro- ceeding from them without any interposition of divine love or power. But this opinion has its origin in low ideas of the Almighty, or rather in forgeifulness of him. There is no other connection b^wcen any cause a Type of Christ. ^*t*i and its usual effects^ than that, which God was pleased at first to establish and still continues to preserve, it would be as easy for him to eficct a complete change in what we call the natural order of things, as to main- tain it as it is. It would require no greater exercise of his power to cause water to consume the earth, or fire to bedew it, than to refresh it with shovversor to scorch it with lightnings. To remind us of this truth and to constrain us to acknowledge him as the universal Lord of all things, he sometimes departs from his ordinary- mode of using the instruments he has made, and ac- complishes his purposes by means, which are in fact just as powerful to fulfil them as any means he could have employed, but which by their strangeness and seeming weakness prove his agency and vindicate his power. At his command, the stream of Jordan heals the leprosy of Naaman ; the cruse of salt cures the spring of bitter water; the sound of the rams' horns shakes to the ground the walls of Jericho. It is from this appointment of God, that the death of Christ derives its sovereign virtue. It is the appointed means, by which the Almighty has determined to grant remission or sins through the riches of his grace. The Christian sees a propriety in this sacrifice, a magnifi- cence and a glory which cast into the shade every other display of Jehovah's greatness, but he does not ground his hopes of salvation on this propriety and glory, lie looks for pardon through Christ because God has set him forth to be a propitiation for sin, and has com- manded the guilty and perishing to look to him and be saved. He is justified by his sufferings and righteous- ness, but their justifying efficacy consists in their hav- ing been made *' the power of God to salvation to every one that believeth." 478 The Scape- Goat II. It appears then that the sacrifice here enjoined was of divine appointment, and that it owed all its effi- cacy to this circumstance. Let us now proceed to consider, secpndly, the conduct, which Aaron was commanded to observe with respect to it. The mere appointment of these two animals as a sin- offerins^ was not sufficient to atone for the sins of the Israelites : the one must be slain as a victim, and the other must be presented before the Lord and have a particular ceremony performed over it, before Israel can be pardoned. • 1. A part of this ceremony consisted in the confes- ston of sin. ''' Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the h'r'ad of the live goat, and confess over him all the ini- quities of the cliiidren of Israel, and all their transgres- sions in all their sins." This confession generally pre- ceded every sacrifice, and as soon as the high-priest had pronounced it, all the priests and people around him bowed, and fell dov\n on their faces, and worshipped God. But on this occasion it was to be made with peculiar exactness. It is not said that Aaron shall con- fess the iniquities of the children of Israel, but " all their iniquities and all their transgressions in all their sins." We are thus reminded that a general confession of sin is not all that is required of us. We are called on to be very earnest in our effijrts to become acquaint- ed with the full extent of our depravity: to be often looking into our heart and reviewing our life, and to be particular and minute in acknowledging the sins, which we discover there. But who can count the number of his transgressions or estimate their guilt? None but God. Thousands of the sins, which we were conscious of when they were committed^ have been long since forgotten ; and (t Type of Christ. 479 ten thousand more have been added to their number, which we have never thought of: and yet a holy God numbers them all. The book of his remembrance stands open every moment before his face, and in that book are all our transgressions written. Even now he is setting our misdeeds before him, and our secret sins in the light of his countenance. This is a serious re- flection, brethren ; but if it really makes us serious and prayerful, the Scripture before us is calculated to inspire us with hope, rather than to disquiet us with fear. 2. It tells us that the high-priest, after having con- fessed over the goat the sins of the people, was to trans- fer them to the victim before him. He was to put them on its head, thus intimating that their guilt, as far as their liability to punishment was included in it, no longer rested on the Israelites, but on the devoted ani- mal, on whom his hands were laid. The spiritual mean- ing of this ceremony is plain. It was designed to teach us figuratively the same blessed truth, which has now been revealed to u& without a figure, and which consti- tutes the substance and glory of the gospel, that Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law being made a curse for us ; that he bare our sins in his own body on the tree ; that the Lord hath laid on his eternal Son the iniquities of us all, and that every transgressor, who by a lively faith casts the burden of his guilt on him, has no more punishment to fear in an eternal world on account of it, than as though he had never sinned. " God made him to be sin for us," says the apostle, ^' that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." Not that he really regarded him as a sinner, for *' he knew no sin ;" he was as holy and harmless and un- defiled when bleeding on the cross, as when reigning- 480 The Scape-Goat on his throne ; but lookinpj on him as the willing sub- stitute of his polluted church, his Father treated him as though all their guilt really rcsttd on him, and poured out on his head the vials of his wrath. And this was the wondrous plan, which infinite love prompted infinite wisdom to devise, and infinite power to execute for the display of mercy to our fallen world. And this is the only way, by which any of our race can be re- stored to Jehovah's flivour. Confessing and deploring our sins, we must bring them all to the cross of Christ, esteeming none so small as to admit of being atoned for by ourselves, and none too great to be transferred to him. We must stand before the mercy-seat with our hands on the head of this victim and this prayer in our hearts, " O God, the Father of heaven, have mercy upon us, miserable sinners." From this part of our subject we may deduce two inferences. The first is this — repentance cannot expiate sin. The Israelites are here called on to make a public and particular acknowledgment of their guilt, but be- fore it can be pardoned, a sacrifice must be offered ; one goat must be slain, and another sent into a distant wilderness. Of what avail then are confessions, and prayers, and tears ? In themselves they are of none. However sincere and bitter, they can no more recom- pense the injured honour, or regain the forfeited favour of an insulted God, than the debtor's sorrow can dis- charge the debt which he has contracted, or the trem- bling of the condemned criminal repeal his sentence. While trusting in such miserable saviours as these, our sins in the midst of our repentance are still upon us, and when we die they will sink us to destruction. Re- pentance is necessary ; .we cannot be pardoned without it ; but why is it necessary ? Because without it we a Tijpe of Christ. 481 shall never seek pardon, and indeed never be conscious of our need of it. It is wrought in the heart of the sin- ner, not to furnish him with any ground of confidence before God, but to destroy the natural pride of his soul ; to convince him, who once imagined himself rich and in need of nothing, that he is wretched, and mise- rable, and poor, and blind, and naked, in need of every thing; to make him willing to submit to the humilia- ting terms of the gospel, and thankful for the precious blessings which the gospel offers him. It is as necessary to salvation, as the knowledge of his disease to the re- covery of him who is sick ; as becoming a pardoned sinner, as humiliation before his sovereign is becoming a reprieved rebel. Hence we may observe that the sacrifice of Christ does not supersede the necessity of repentance. There are however some professors of the gospel, who con- tend that the pardoned sinner has no longer any need to mourn over his transgressions, that he may even forget them ; nay, that he dishonours the Saviour who bled for him, if he suffers them to excite any sorrow in his heart, or even to occupy his thoughts. But what can such men know of the nature of true religion? What can they have felt of its power ? There are some errors, which may continue to hold their place in the mind after divine grace has enlightened and sanctified it, for there is nothing in them directly opposed to the experience of the renewed heart; but there are other errors, which must give way before the influence of real religion, and this is one of them. The man, who is a Christian indeed, knows and feels that an application to Christ for pardon, so far from destroying the work- ings of contrition, is the most powerful of all means to cherish and increase them. All the terrors of the law, 3 P 48^ The Scape-Goat and all its threatening of wrath, are powerless in com- parison with it. They can make a sinner tremble, but this can make him weep, and pray, and love. The be- lieving sinner will ever be a penitent sinner. While with Mary he loves and boldly confesses a pardoning Jesus, with her he will kiss his feet, and wash them with his tears. Before the foundations of the world were laid, faith and repentance were connected together in the everlasting covenant of grace, and that man will be dis- appointed and undone, who attempts to separate them. III. Let us now go on to consider, lastly, the bene- fits, which resulted from the obedience of Aaron to the injunctions here given him. 1. After the appointed confession had been made over it, and the sins of the people put upon its head, the goat was to be sent away into an uninhabited wil- derness. *' He shall send him away," says the text, " by the hand of a fit man into the wilderness, and the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities." Here again we can be at no loss to discover the spiritual im- port of the rite. This part of it was undoubtedly de- signed to show us t/ie completeness, the fulness, of that pardon of sin, which Christ has purchased by the sacri- fice of himself for the believing sinner. It is a pardon extending, not to a k\v iniquities, but to all. As all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their trans- gressions in all their sins were borne away by the goat far from them and heard of no more, so we are told that the Lamb of God taketh or beareth away the sins of the world; that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin ; that they, who believe in him, arc justified from all things. The fact is, that the moment a sinner comes with a contrite and believing heart to the Saviour, and casts on him the heavy burden of his guilt, in that a Type of Christ, 483 moment his sins are all blotted out, all cancelled ; so that he, who was before condemned and accursed, is now acquitted and blessed. He is in Christ Jesus, and there is now no condemnation for him. He deserves it as much as ever he deserved it, but the sentence has been revoked and the criminal is free. " In those days and in that time," saith the Lord, *' the iniquity of Is- rael shall be sought for, and there shall be none ; and the sins of Judah, and they shall not be found, for I will pardon them whom I reserve." Hence we may infer that justification is not, like sanctification, a gradual work, a work remaining to be completed ; it is already finished. As far as regards the eternal consequences of sin, the pardon of the Christian is as complete when he is first united to his Redeemer, as his soul can wish it or divine mercy make it. And hence we may infer also that no contrite sinner has any need to despair on account of the number or greatness of his transgressions. One unrepented and beloved sin is sufficient to ruin the soul, but ten thou- sand haied and bewailed sins have no power to destroy it. The most heinous transgressor, who applies to a dying Saviour for mercy, is pardoned as readily, as freely, and as fully, as he whose offences are compara- tively few and light. The least guilty are not received by God on the ground of merit, nor are the most guilty rejected on the ground of unworthiness. It is not the greatness of our iniquity, which can exclude us from pardon, but the greatness of our insensibility and the obstinacy of our unbelief. 2. But the pardon^ which the believing penitent re- ceives through Christy is an everlasting, as well as a com- plete pardon. This is strongly implied in the text. The goat was not only to bear away all the iniquities of the 484 The Scape-Goat children of Israel, but it was to bear them away into a wilderness, into a land not inhabited ; a land cut off from all other countries ; a desolate, unvisited, and al- most inaccessible region, in which the devoted animal was to be let go, and where it would remain unseen and forgotten till it perished. The Israelites therefore had not only the assurance that all their past iniquities were pardoned, but they were taught also by this ordinance that they had no reason to fear the return of them, the revoking of this pardon. And the spiritual Israel also are taught by it the same encouraging lesson. The re- demption, which they obtain by the blood of Jesus, is an eternal redemption. The pardon connected with it is not a mere respite for a season, it is an eternal ac- quittal ; an act of oblivion, which, once passed, will never be recalled ; one of those gifts of God, which are without repentance. It makes an everlasting separation between the sinner and the wrath of God, it forms an everlasting connection between him and heaven. The inspired writers employ the boldest and most expressive figures to convince the desponding penitent of this truth. They even represent the all- wise God as forgetting, as absolutely ceasing to think o{, the iniqui- ties of his people. " I, even I," says he by his prophet Isaiah, " am he, that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." " As far as the east is from the west," says David, " so far hath he removed our transgressions from us; so that they can no more come near the soul to destroy it, than the east and the west, the most opposite parts of the heavens, cun meet. " Who is a God like unto thee," asks the prophet Micah, " that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heri- tage ? He retaineth not his anger for ever, because he a Type of Christ, 485 delighteth in mercy. He will turn again ; he will have compassion upon us ; he will subdue our iniquities ; and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea." Such, my brethren, is the spiritual import of the or- dinance enjoined in the text. The consideration of it ought to impress deeply and permanently upon our minds the necessity of a personal and immediate appli- cation to Christ, as the great Saviour of sinners. It calls upon us to believe in him, not merely as a holy and exalted Being, and a compassionate and almighty Friend, but as the Lamb of God, the great sacrifice for sin, the only channel, through which mercy can flow to our perishing souls. It is not enough that this sacrifice has been offered on the altar, that the Son of God has been wounded and bruised for our iniquities ; we ourselves must approach this scape-goat, confess our sins over him, and trust in him to take them all away. Now have you done this? Are you doing it daily ? Are you often acknowledging and bewailing your manifold sins and wickedness, which you have most grievously committed ? Is the remembrance of them at seasons grievous unto you, and the burden of them intolerable ? Without this consciousness of guilt and sorrow of heart on account of it, the remedy which God has provided will be useless to you ; you will not, you cannot, avail yourselves of it. As far as you are concerned, Christ is dead in vain. But if you are really humbled on account of your unworthiness, on vv^hat are you grounding your expec- tations of pardon ? This great question still remains to be decided, and on this depends more than your live- liest hopes and fears can conceive. Eternity, with all its unsearchable sorrows and joys, is involved in it. Hea- 486 The Scape-Goat ven and hell are involved in this one question — Am I trusting for the pardon of my sins in the blood of Christ ? While thousands around me are seeking com- fort to their troubled hearts from their own imperfect righteousness, from the prayers they have offered, the sacraments they have attended, the feelings they have experienced, the doctrines they have upheld, the tears they have shed, am I putting all my trust in that great sacrifice for sin, which was offered on the cross ? Am I venturing on it for salvation ; relying upon it ; fully convinced that I must perish, if it does not save me ; and equally convinced that as long as I rely on it I can- not perish, for that it will save me ? If such be the ground of your confidence, brethren, and you hold it stedfast unto the end, there is not a creature in the uni- verse, whose condition is safer than yours, or whose happiness will in the end be greater. You know in whom you have believed, but you know not the extent of his mercy, the riches of his grace, the exceeding greatness of his salvation. Seek tlierefore a deeper and livelier sense of the importance of the cross, clearer and more extensive views of the covenant of grace esta- blished on it, a firmer faith in its power. Strive to live more under its elevating, cheering, sanctifying influ- ence. Much a$ the doctrines connected with it have been misrepresented and hated by a proud and igno- rant world, they are the only doctrines, which can make the world either holy or happy; the only remedies of the evils, w^hich defile us ; the only refuges under the calamities, which afflict us; the only means of escape from the miseries, which threaten us. O may the peace, which flows from them, be shed abroad more abundantly in our hearts! May their constraining power be more visible in our lives ! Amidst the re- a Type of Christ. 187 proaches, which assail us, may we still glory meekly yet boldly in the cross of Jesus Christ ; and under all our troubles and perplexities, may this be the reason- ing which we employ to silence our fears, and to com- fort our hearts, " If God be for us, who can be against us ? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect ? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, yea ra- ther that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God ; who also maketh intercession for us." SERMON XXXII. THE BURIAL OF CHRIST. ST. JOHN XIX. 41, 42. J^ow TO the place ivherein he was crucified there was a garden, and in (he garden a new se/iulchre, wherein was never ?nan yet laid : there laid they Jesus. vf F all the scenes of common life, there is none so affecting and instructive as the funeral of a friend. It generally constrains the heart to feel, and sometimes Iodides in the soul a spirit of thoughtfulness and prayer, which leads it to its God. To such a scene the words of the text invite us. They call us to the funeral of one, to whom we are in- debted for all the comforts we enjoy in the present life, and for all our hopes of blessedness in the life to come. In endeavouring to derive instruction from it, let us consider, ^r^;, some of the circumstances attending the burial of Christ ; secondly, the reasons why he was bu- ried ; and, thirdly, the effects which a contemplation of his tomb should produce in our minds. And who, brethren, will turn away from such a fu- neral as this ? When heroes die, assembled multitudes follow them to their graves ; and when a beloved mo- narch goes to his last home, thousands gather round his tomb, and a mourning nation testifies its grief. Shall the Saviour of tlie world then, he who triumphed and bltd for unnumbered millions, have no one among us to lament his loss? Shall the King of Zion be carried The Burial of Christ. 489 to his sepulchre, and we pass by unconcerned, and turn away our ears from the voice which says, " Come, see the place where the Lord lies." 1. 1 . Among the many interesting circumstances at- tending his burial, let us look, first, at the persons who are bearing the blessed Jesus to his tomb. And who are they ? The disciples who lay in his bosom, and whom his bounty fed? the beloved John, the pardoned Peter? In the very first hour of his sufferings, these all forsook him and fled, and now he is dead they leave his body to be mourned over and buried by others. But though they desert us in the hour of need, who ought to be the first to minister to our necessities, yet we must not despair of aid. The Lord will provide, and will send us the mercies we require by other hands, and perhaps by the hands of those, who seemed but little likely to do us service. Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews, and Joseph of Arimathea, who were both afraid to acknow- ledge? the Saviour when he was working miracles and manifesting his greatness, nov/, when his glory appeared all departed, are forward to avow their attachment to him, and fearless in manifesting their love. One goes boldly unto Pilate, and from him to the cross, and takes down the body of Jesus ; the other brings costly spices to embalm it ; and both, in company with a few faithful women, lay him in his grave. Let not the strong then boast themselves over the weak, for in the hour of trial the strong may be as tow, which a spark, the veriest trifle, can destroy 5 while the feeble shall be as David, bold as a lion, and firm as a cedar of Lebanon. 2. We may notice, secondly, the time in which Jesus was interred. It was in the evening, the evenip.g before the sabbath on which the feast of the passover was cele- brated, and consequently a season of peculiar devotion. It 490 Tke Burial of Christ, was ^^the Jews' preparation day," and the people were now attending the service of the temple ; but Joseph and Nicodemus were not among them. They left them to perform a necessary act of charity and love. Could it have been delayed their conduct would have been cri- minal, but it admitted of no delay, and they offered to God a more acceptable service than prayers and sacri- fice in hastening to perform it. But let no one dare to infer from their example, that the public ordinances of religion, or the private exer- cises of devotion may rashly be neglected for more ac- tive duties. These mourners buried the Saviour while others were worshipping, but they buried him in haste, and then rested the sabbath day according to the com- mandment. All their love for him could not bring them to his tomb till the sabbath was ended, and then " early when it was yet dark" the impatient v/omen come again unto the sepulchre to indulge their grief. Thus did they testify the ardour of their affection, and at the same time admonish us that we are bound to suppress the strongest and noblest feelings of our nature, rather than violate the command of God. 3. But let us look, thirdly, at the place where the Lord was mter?'ed. It was in a garden, a garden on the very hill, on which he \yas crucified. No dishonour however was designed in burying him in such a place, for among the eastern nations gardens were often made use of as places of interment. And on this occasion there was a peculiar propriety in laying the Saviour there. It was right that the place where he suffered the greatest ignominy, should be the first scene of his glory ; that he should triumph over death on that very hill, on which he submitted for a season to his power. The Burial of Christ. 491 His sepulchre, we are told, was " a new sepulchre wherein was never man yet laid." This was a neces- sary precaution, for if any other had been laid in the tomb before him, his em'mies might have tarnished the glory of his resurrection by pretending that it was some other body, and not his own, which was raised out of it. It was also " hewn out of a rock," and a great stone was rolled to the door of it, and afterwards sealed. Here also may be discerned the superintending providence of God. A body could not be hastily removed from such a sepulchre by a subterraneous passage, and had the disciples really formed a project to remove it, the Roman guards would have prevented them from enter- ing it in front, at least they could not have entered it unperceived. Here then a few sorrowful friends entombed the mangled body of Jesus, and left him in a sepulchre, whom they expected to have seen on a throne. And who, that contemplates this scene, can refrain from wondering at the depth of the Saviour^s humiliation P He, who is here brought to the dust of death, is no other than the Prince of life, that everlasting Prince, who holds in his hand the keys of hell and of death, and in whom we all live, and move, and have our be- ing. Before he appeared among us he sat on the same throne with the Lord Almighty ; yea, he was with God and was God, and yet he humbled himself, took on him the form of a servant, spent his days in an accursed world in poverty and contempt, amidst pollution which his soul abhorred ; and at length laid himself down in a grave, and that not his own grave but one provided for him by the charity of another. Among all the strange vicissitudes, of which the earth has been the theatre, 49^ The Burial of Christ, when was such a change as this ever witnessed, or such an abasement heard of? Were but half its mysteries of love and condescension known to us, how should we wonder and adore ! * The circumstances attending our Lord's burial may teach us also, that the decent solemnities of a funeral are not displeasing to God. The blessed Jesus was an enemy to pomp ; all he said and did during his life wa^ di- rectly opposed to it ; but still his body was carried to the tomb with some degree of ceremony, and he was followed thither by all the friends, who had courage to attend him. We may safely infer therefore, that we ought not rashly to condemn all funeral solemnities. There is a respect due to the body of a Christian, as the temple wherein God has been served and honoured. It is designed to be rebuilt in another world, and it ought not to be cast away like common dust in this. Accordingly we read in Scripture of many solemn and mournful funerals; such also were often seen in the primitive church ; and such in the days that are past were frequent in our own land. Our fathers accompa- nied their fathers weeping to the grave, and felt a me- lancholy pleasure in following them as far as they could follow them, in seeing the last of them. But these de- cencies are now rapidly passing away ; and what have we instead of them ? An unmeaning pomp, an almost ludicrous pantomine of grief, exciting at once our pity and disgust. Relatives and friends are now far off, and hired mourners supply their place. And whence does this change proceed? From irreligion, brethren ; from an increasing aversion to every thing serious ; from a greater dread of death and judgment. But death and judgment are as certain as ever, and are drawing near as rapidly. Why then should we wish them to come Tlie Burial of Christ. 493 upon us unawares? Let us accustom ourselves to think of them ; and that we may think of them, let us not turn away from the graves, that are opened for our kin- dred. Let us see them decently interred in their beds of dust, and endeavour to derive from the scene all the instruction it affords. Let us not sacrifice affection to fashion, nor exchange the decent customs of the wise and good in past ages for the unfeeling innovations of the proud and foolish in this. n. Such were the principal circumstances attending the burial of Christ, but why was he thus buried? It seems on the first view unnecessary that he should have any funeral or grave. In three days his body was again to be raised to life, and during this short interval it could have remained in the habitation of Joseph, as well as in his sepulchre. But it was the will of God that it should be committed to the earth, and we are warranted to conclude that some important ends were designed to be accomplished by its interment. 1. One of these undoubtedly was that t/ie prophecies concerning the Messiah should be fulfilled. So minute and precise were these prophecies, that they not only foretold his incarnation, his passion, and the glorious resurrection which was to follow, but also his burial, and the mode and continuance of it. His abode in the heart of the earth, was prefigured by Jonah's abode three days and three nights in the belly of the whale, and Isaiah had expressly declared concerning him, that when he should be cut off out of the land of the living, he should " make his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death." But how are these prophecies to be fulfilled? The Roman law, under which the Saviour suffered, allowed no interment to those who died on the cross j and lest 49 i The Burial of Christ. any pitying hand should take their bodies from the tree and cover them with earth, a guard was usually sta- tioned for several days around them. We are accord- ingly told by Saint Matthew that the centurion and ihey that were with him, still remained on the hill of Calvary watching Jesus, after he had given up the ghost. And even if this difficulty could be surmounted, there \\-as another obstacle still to be removed before he could have an honourable interment. The Jews had a public place of burial for all those who suffered as criminals, and if any interment were allowed to Jesus by the Romans, this pit appeared to be the only grave, in which his countrymen would allow his dust to rest. But what are difficulties and obstacles in the way of an Almighty God ? He caused the Jews themselves, the very people who crucified his Son, to prepare the way for the fulfilment of the prophecies, which proved his divinity, and condemned their unbelief. Their law re- quired that malefactors should be buried on the day of their execution, and to prevent their city from being ceremonially unclean on the succeeding sabbath, they besought Pilate that the sufferings of the expiring cri- minals might be terminated, and their bodies taken down. Pilate granted their request, and no sooner was it granted, than the rich and honourable Joseph comes forward to rescue the breathless Saviour from the hands of his enemies, and to lay him in his own new tomb. What infinite wisdom foretold, infinite power accom- plished. A mighty God never wants means and instru- ments to fulfil his purposes. When he stretches forth his arm, he causes darkness to be light before him, and crooked things straight. Surveying the countless hosts of his creatures, he often passes by those whom we ex- pect to be employed in his service, and singles out TJie Burial of Christ. 495 other instruments to perform his will, and such as will perform it with the greatest glory to himself, and the greatest benefit to his church. 2. Another probable reason, why the Saviour was buried, was to prove the reality of his death, that no doubt might afterwards remain of his resurrection from the dead. Had he been restored to life on the cross, or while his body was in the possession of his friends, it might have been said that he had never really died ; that though life appeared to be extinct within him, the vital principle still remained ; but by his interment all such insinuations were guarded against. His enemies, who were anxious to prevent all imposition, gave his body to his friends to be interred ; and his friends, who would not surely have buried alive one whom they so much loved, wrapped him in a winding-sheet, and en- closed him in a tomb. 3. The interment of Christ might also be designed to answer another end — to comfort his people in the pros- pect of death. It is no easy thing to think without fear of being laid in the grave, and encircled with a shroud. We shrink from the silence and darkness of the tomb, and need some special source of comfort to support our trembling steps in our passage to it. Now Christ by voluntarily going down to the grave has cheered the way, which leads to it. He has explored the mansion, in which we are about to dwell, and disarmed within it him, who once clothed it with terrors. He tells us now to fear no longer its loneliness and gloom, to tremble no more at the prospect of that which could not harm him, and which he will take care shall never injure us, to venture securely where he has gone unhurt before. He bids us mark his footsteps as we descend the path which leads us to the tomb, and be content to lie down 496 The Burial of Christ. in it as a place of peaceful rest till the morning of the resurrection dawns. When we forget him, the region of death is a land of darkness, as darkness itself, co- vered with impenetrable clouds and appalling with mysterious horrors ; but when the Christian beholds his Redeemer entering it as his forerunner, and passing through it in triumph to a world of light, he no longer heeds its gloom. His language now is, " O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? True, I must die; but my dying Lord has conquered death, and robbed him of his sting. It is true also that I must lie down in the grave ; but I shall enter into peace when I rest in the bed provided for me there, for there has my Saviour lain and left behind him security and peace. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for he, who has never yet forsaken me in all my wanderings, will be with me there. His rod and his staff, which have so often upheld my goings, they shall comfort me." III. Let us now proceed to enquire, thirdly, what are the effects which the contemplation of the Saviour's tomb should produce in our minds. And in order to answer this enquiry, let us bring to our remembrance one of those scenes of sorrow, through which most of us have passed, and endeavour to retrace some of the feelings we have cherished in our bosoms at the loss of a beloved friend. 1. One of the first and strongest of these feelings often is, a penitential sorrow for all the injuries we have done hirUf and all the pain we have given him. Every act of unkindness towards him is remembered, and every impatient word lamented. And has the buried Jesus received no injuries at our hands, and endured no pain on our account ? Alas, brethren, all he ever endured The Burial of Christ. 497 was inflicted by us. We stripped him of his glory, and robbed him of his happiness. Our sins made him a man of sorrows ; and when he was stricken and afflicted, we sharpened liis anguish by hiding our faces from him, despising and rejecting him. It was our guilt, which laid him prostrate in the garden, scourged him and crowned him with thorns, wounded and bruised him on the cross, and gave him in exchange for the brightness of heaven, the gloominess of the grave. O let us look on him whom we have pierced, and mourn! Let us remember how often and how deeply we have put him to grief. Let us think of his anguish at Geth- semane, of the indignities he endured at Golgotha, of the unknown horrors of his soul at Calvary ; and de- plore with contrition and tears the injuries we cannot recompense. All the wounds he received, he received here in the house of his friends. We ourselves were among the sinners, who pierced him then, and ought to weep bitterly over him now. 2. Another effect, which is generally produced by the death of a friend, is a feeling o^ joy that his suffer- ings are past, and his happiness begun. We mourn over his grave, but we remember that there the weary are at rest, and we are comforted. We lift up our eyes to the world whither he is gone, and as we listen to the voice from heaven, which says, " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord," we sometimes lose our sorrow in the contemplation of his blessedness. And shall we not rejoice at the grave of the departed Jesus ? Bitter indeed were his sufferings; never was any sorrow like unto his sorrow ; but the days of his mourning are ended. He will hunger no more, neither thirst any more. His weariness and painfulness, his vvatchings and fastings, are all past, and all his shame and anguish ar'- 3 R 49B The Burial of Christ. ceased for ever. The wicked will trouble him no more ; no more will his friends desert him, nor his Father for- sake him. The sorrows of death will never again com- pass him, nor the pains of hell get hold upon him. " Being raised from the dead, he 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." The biittle is fought; the victory is won; and the Conqueror has entered into his rest, and encir- cled himself with his glor}'. And what heart can con- ceive aright of the sweetness of his rest, or the bright- ness of his glory ? The prospect of it supported and cheered him during all his sufferings upon earth, and when he left it, he told his disciples to think of it and rejoice. '' Ye have heard," said he, " how I said unto you I go away. If ye loved me, ye would rejoice be- cause I said 1 go unto the Father." And has this much longed for, this dearly purchased joy, disappointed him? No. He sees of the travail of his soul and is satisfied. He rejoices in the fruits of his labours, and almost for- gets the agonies of his cross in the glories of his crown ; the terrors of the conflict, and the blood which stained it, in the splendours of his triumph. 3. And what effect ought the contemplation of his blessedness to produce in our minds ? It ought to ex- cite in us an earnest desire to be where he is^ and to be- hold his glory. Those among us who have friends in heaven, tenderly cherish the hope of meeting them again. We know that for the present they are lost to us, but we know also that they are not lost to us for- ever; that though they cannot return to us, yet we shall go to them, and share again their friendship and their joys. And what was the language of the dying Jesus to his sorrowful friends? " Let not your heart be trou- The Burial of Christ 499 bled. Ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions ; if it were not so I would have told you. 1 go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am there ye may be also." And what is the description, which he has given us of the friends, whom he has left for a season behind him in the world ? They are men, who are waiting for him from heaven ; having their conversation there, because from thence they are look- ing for the Saviour ; seeking those things which are above, because he is sitting above at the right hand of God. They cannot be happy till they are where he is, till they see him face to face, and behold his gtory. And they shall see his face, and behold his glory. He is as desirous of having them with him in his kingdom, as they are to be there, and he will soon come and fetch them home to himself. He will raise them up at the last day, and lead them in exultation to the mansions and thrones prepared for them. Then indeed will there be joy in heaven, such joy as never yet has gladdened its bright abodes. The morning stars will sing together more sweetly than when the foundations of the earth were laid, and the sons of God shout more triumphantly for joy. 4. There is one feeling more, which the burial of Christ ought to excite — a feeling of the deepest anxiety to be prepared for our own latter end. Where the body of Jesus went, there also must our bodies go. We are all the heirs of the grave, and when a few more years have passed away, we shall all have entered on our in- heritance, and taken a shroud for our garment, and a coffin for our home. Our souls too must go into that invisible, that untried and unknown world, whither the 500 The Burial of Christ. spirit of our Lord went. They must enter eternity, and take up in it their everlasting abode. Are we then pre- pared for this journey? Are we ready to depart? Are we willing to have our bodies carried to the grave, and our souls ushered into a world of spirits ? Are we, in short, prepared to meet our God? Are our sins par- doned ? Is the wrath to come escaped ? Is an interest in Christ secured ? Is the great business of life done? O brethren, how trifling are all the enquiries, which employ and agitate our Vninds, when compared with such questions as these ! And how are we to answer them ? Only by looking into our hearts, and asking others. Are we buried with Christ? Are we striving to be made conformable to his death ? Are we crucified to the world ? Are we dead unto sin ? Are we living unto God ? As though we were already laid in our graves, are we striving to keep our minds unaffected by the vanities of life, and undisturbed by its cares? Are we dying daily ? These are the questions, which we should press home to our hearts as we stand at the tomb of Christ ; and these are the things, which will enable us to go down to our own tombs in peace and hope. They cannot indeed blot out our sins — the holiness of an an- gel, were it ours, could not atone for the least of our transgressions, — but they are evidences that the blood of Christ has cleansed us, that his Spirit is sanctifying us, that heaven is prepared for us, that when he, who is our life, shall appear, we also shall appear w-ith him in glory. SERMON XXXIII. THE EXHORTATION AND PROMISES OF GOD TO THE AFFLICTED. ISAIAH xliii. 1, 3, 3. # Thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, " Fear ?iot, for I have redeemed thee ; I have called thee by thy naine ; thou art mine. When thou fiassest through the luaters, I luill be ivith thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not overjlow thee : ivhen thou walkest through thejire, thou shall not be burned, neither shall thejlame kindle upon thee ; for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." AHESE cheering words were addressed by God to his peculiar people the Jews ; but God has a peculiar people now, and all, who are partakers of their faith and love, may consider this Scripture as designed for them- selves, as written for the very purpose of imparting comfort and strength to their troubled hearts. The sub- jects of consideration, which it suggests to us are these four, — the afflictions, to which the people of God are liable ; the exhortation addressed to them in the pros- pect of these afflictions ; the promises, by which it is strengthened ; and the arguments, by which it is en- forced. I. Compared with the miseries which they have de- served, or with the weight of glory which is laid up for them in heaven, the afflictions of the people of God are light ; but in every other point of view they are gene- rally sharp and heavy. The text intimates that they may be great. They may pass through waters, yea, 502 The Exhortation and Promises through rivers ; through calamities, which seem as deep and overwhehiiing as rapid torrents, and as Hkely to destroy them. Their troubles too may be greatly diver- sijied. They may be in the waters to-day and may have deliverance, but to-morrow they may be called on to walk through the fire and the flame ; to endure trials, which are unexpected and strange, different in their nature from ajiy they have yet experienced, and far more severe and bitter. The text implies also that these afflictions are certain ; that they not only may come, but will come. It speaks of them as things of course. It represents the overflowing river and the raging flame, as standing directly in the Christian's path in his road to heaven ; and ttlL, him that before he can arrive there, he must pass through the one, and walk through the other ; that the trials, which are the portion of the chil- dren of God, must be experienced and patiently en- dured, as well as thought of and feared. We see then our calling, brethren. We see what wc take as our present inheritance when we join ourselves in a covenant to the Lord. We are promised not only grace and glory, but afflictions, great afflictions, diver- sified afflictions, certain and unavoidable afflictions. There is no way to Canaan, but through a howling wilderness. There is no way to heaven but through a path of tribulation. II. Under such circumstances, how seasonable and encouraging is the exhortation, which is here addressed to us! it is short and simple, but it is sufficient to show us that the Lord, who created us, is aware of the situation in which we are placed, and of the difliculties and dangers with which we are encompassed ; that he enters into our troubles, yea. into our misgivings and fears . of God to the Afflicted, 503 The power and greatness of him, from whom it pro- ceeds, gives to this exhortation a force, which it would not otherwise possess. It is God, who says to his af- flicted people, " Feur not ;" the great God ; the eternal God ; the God, who has the earth for his footstool, and heaven for his throne ; the only Being in the universe, who can help and bless a sinner, and the only Being, whom a sinner has cause to fear. Now this command plainly implies that the natural tendency of our trials is to excite fear. It might not be so if we were strong and sinless beings, but this is^ not our state or character. We are weak and guilty beings, likely to be dispirited by the slightest tribula- tion and to be overwhelmed by the weakest ; as liable to be crushed before the moth, as to be destroyed by the falling mountain. There is consequently a fear of afflictions, which is a natural and by no means a sinful passion ; a fear, which leads us to avoid them if the will of God will allow us to avoid them, and, if not, to receive them with circumspection and prayer; to be aware of the dangers and temptations, with which they are invariably accompanied, and of our utter ina- bility to escape or overcome them. Such a fear the blessed Saviour manifested in the garden of Gethse- mane ; and they, who have most resembled him in his sufferings and obedience, have been the most serious and prayerful under its influence. But there is another kind of fear, and this we are here called on to lay aside ; a fear, which is the effect of unbelief, and the cause of murmuring, despondency, and wretchedness ; which tempts us to choose sir. rather than affliction ; which prevents us from prais. ing God under our trials, and from trusting to him to bring us out of them. Such a fear as this is as dis- 504? The Exhortation and Promises honourable to God as it is disquieting to ourselves, and he, who values nothing so highly as his own honour and our happiness, commands us to yield to it no more. He has made it our duty to watch and pray in the hour of trouble, as though our troubles were ready to over- power us ; but he bids us at the same time to be as peaceful and confiding, as though they had no power to hurt us. To despise affliction, to be light-hearted and careless under it, is a proof that we are ignorant of its real nature and importance ; while to faint and despond when it is laid on us, shows as clearly that we know'iiot thev power and loving-kindness of the Lord. III. Now it, might have been supposed that such an exhortation from such a Being, would have been sufficient of itself to dispel the fears of those, to whom it is addressed ; but a compassionate God does not leave it to its own unaided authority. He supports and strengthens it by two most gracious promises. 1. He promises us, first, his own presence with us in our trials. '' When thou passest through tlic waters, 1 will be with thee." But is not God always prof nt with his people ? Yes, brethren, he is ; and not with them only, but with all that lives, and mo^es, and has a being. Since he formed the worlds," he has never for one moment been absent from any part of his immense creation. Wherever his creatures are, there God is, observing and upholding them. But he is present in a peculiar sense] with the sinners, whom he has redeemed. They are the objects of his special attention. He is present with others as a God of infinite power, justice, and goodness, as their Inspector, Judge, and Preserver ; but he is present with his people as a God of infinite grace, love, and tenderness, as their Guide, Saviour, and Friend. And in their afflictions and distresses this of God to the Afflicted. 505 connection between him and his children becomes closer. The promise he has given them implies that he draws nearer to them, and is more immediately with them. Not that he loves them more than he loves them at other times, or that their condition is really safer ; but he manifests himself more to them, his love is in greater exercise, his grace in all its richness is in more powerful operation, his sympathy is deeper, and his compassion more intense. He goes, as it were, into the very rivers and flames with them, shares their afflic- tions, is touched with a feeling of all their infirmities; and though they distrust and grieve him, he cannot .find in his heart to leave or forsake them. A parent always loves his child, but when th^t child is in pecu- liar danger or trouble, the love of the parent becomes more visible and active, the object of his affections occupies mere of his thoughts, and receives more of his attention and regard. We are not however to infer that the affiicied Chris- tian is always aware of the companion, with whom he is walking. The very contrary is often the case. He imagines himself to be left alone in his trials. He con- siders himself cast out of the sight of that God, who once gladdened him with his presence, and wonders why he has forsaken him and whither he is gone, Christ walks with his disciples to Emmaus, but they know him not, and even to his face they mourn his absence. Neither are we to suppose that all the afflicted servants of the Lord have the same manifestations of his pre- sence. Some do not need them so much as others. They have not the same temptations to withstand, nor the same burdens to bear, nor the same duties to per- form. They arc surrounded with more outward com- forts, and consequently they less need those, which are 3 S 306 The Exhortation and Promises inward. The Lord delights to be the companion of him, whom every one else forsakes ; to manifest his tcnderest compassion for the sufferer, who has none to pity him ; and to bind up the heart, Avhich all others are seeking to wound. Some also do not desire nor seek the light of their Father's countenance so earnestly as their brethren. They lean more on earthly friends and succours ; they are not walking so closely with God, nor serving him so faithfully, nor depending on him so simply, nor waiting on him so patiently. He, who is infinitely wise, always suits the measure and degree of his gracious and especial presence to the necessities and, in one sense, to the characters of his people. He gives them what they need, and what they desire and seek. 2. But there is another promise in the text, a pro- mise o{ preservation under all our calatnkies. Now what does preservation imply ? It implies that our trials shall not injure us. ^' When thou passest through the wa- ters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they ahall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." And yet rivers are likely to overflow and flames likely to burn those, who pass through them. Afl^liction is likely to injure, and would inevitably ruin us, if God were not near. It brings with it many and great dangers. It tempts us to rebel against the divine providence and to distrust the divine goodness ; to be thankless, impatient, and repining. The mind, already weakened perhaps and bewildered by the pressure of adversity, is easily led to apppre- hend still greater troubles, and faints at the prospect, We see the trial before us, but we are tempted to for- get the everlasting arm, which is underneath us. We of God to the Afflicted. 507 feel the smart of the rod, but we perceive not that it is a Father's hand, which holds it. The tempest rages around us, and we deem ourselves ready to perish, be- cause we remember not that there is one sailing with us, whom the winds and the waves obey ; who can say to the storm, " Be still," and there shall be a great calm. This too is the season, when our great adversary is most to be dreaded. It is in the night, that the wild beasts of the forest roar after their prey ; and it is in the darkness of spiritual or temporal adversity, that Satan directs against us his most violent assaults. The first temptation which assailed the upright Job, he encoun- tered when sitting in sickness and wretchedness among the ashes ; and the most subtle attack, which the Sa- viour experienced from him, he endured in a wilder- ness while fainting with hunger and weariness. The fact is, that our spiritual interests are much more en- dangered by tribulation, than our worldly prosperity. It is the soul, which is most expose'd and which most needs preservation, and preservation is here promised to it. The Lord will defend it as with a shield. By call- ing the suffering graces of his people into exercise, he will render them invincible. He will enable them to pass through rivers of trouble, as safely as his beloved Israel passed through the Red Sea ; and causes the fires of affliction to play as innocently around them, as they played around his three servants in the furnace at Ba- bylon. Nay more ; the very calamities, which appeared likely to destroy every spiritual grace within them, to overwhelm their patience, their confidence, and love, are made the means of displaying and brightening them all. They deepen their convictions of the vanity of the world, and the value of the soul ; they show them more, 508 llie Exhortation and Promises of the reality and power of religion ; they enlarge their views of the loving-kindness of God, and the tender- ness of his mercy; they quicken them to prayer; they revive the feelings of contrition ; they elevate their af- fections to the throne of God, and gladden the heart with a foretaste of the blessedness which is reigning at his right hand. The Christian often enters the furnace cold-hearted, earthly-minded, and comfortless ; he comes out of it peaceful, confiding, burning with love for his delivering God, and thirsting after the enjoy- ment of his presence. " And thus the trial of his faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, is found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ." IV. Such then are the promises, by which the ex- hortation given us in the text is supported ; and here surely the Lord will stop. But in the greatness of his condescension he goes further. To force us to see and acknowledge our security, to drive from our souls the apprehensions of unbelief, the perplexity of fear, and the anguish of sorrow, he vouchsafes to add to his pre- cious promises several reasons or arguments to assure us of their fulfilment. 1. The first of these is drawn from the relation in which he stands to us as our Creator. " Thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel." Now this language may be under- stood in a two-fold sense. It refers to our spiritual, as well as to our natural existence ; to our existence as the redeemed people of God, as well as to our ex- istence as creatures. The Lord called us at first into being, his hands made us and fashioned us; and when we cast off the connection which united us to him, and threw away the heavenly life which he had given us, of God to the Afflicted. 509 he created us again in Christ Jesus, made us new crea- tures, and moulded us anew into his own divine image. *' This people," says he, " have I formed for myself:" and his people acknowledge the operation of his rege- nerating hand ; " We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jcbus unto good works." Here then is a solid ground of confidence. The Fa- ther of our spirits must be well acquainted with their infirmities and weakness. " He knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we are but dust." He will not therefore suffer us to be tempted above that we are able. " Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. In all their afflictions, he is afflicted; and the angel of his presence saves them." Neither will he ever forsake the work of his own hands. He formed us for himself, and to all eternity we shall show forth his praise. He raised us out of the ruins of the fall, made us temples, in which he delights to dwell and be worshipped ; and he will never suffer the struc- tures, which he has erected at so much labour and cost, to be thrown down by violence, or fall to decay with age. He will perfect that, which concerneth us. He will finish the good work in us, which he has begun. He will keep us by his power through faith unto sal- vation. " Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator." 2. But this is not all. The Almighty draws another argument to enforce his exhortation from the property which he has in his people^ and the tnanner in which he acquired it. " Fear not," says he, '• for 1 have redeemed thee ; I have called thee by thy name ; thou art mine." We are his bv creation, but he has made us his also by redemption. And what a mighty price did he pay i5lO The Exhortation and Promises for us ? •He gave Egypt for the ransom of his ancient people^ Ethiopia and Scba for them ; but when we were to be redeemed, kingdoms and empires are too poor a ransom. " He spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all ;" yea, he purchased his church with his own blood, and has never repented of the price. Hence he estimates us, not by what we are, but by what we have cost him. The consequence is, that we, who are so worthless as to be almost unworthy of each other's love, are regarded by him as his peculiar trea- sure. To remind us of our relation to him and the value he sets on us, he calls us by a new name, the name of Israel. He styles us his purchased possession ; his portion, yea, his pleasant portion ; the lot of his in- heritance; his glory; his royal diadem and crown. Will he then abandon that, which he so much values, which cost him so dear ? Will he fail to be with, to preserve, to provide for, his own ? Never. He will keep them as the apple of his eye. " In his love and in his pity he redeemed them;" and the same love and pity, still operating in all their unsearchable riches, shall call forth his omnipotence to protect, and his grace to uphold, and his greatness to bless them. 3. There is yet another reason assigned, why we should cast away fear in the hour of tribulation — the covenant which God has formed with his people^ insures the J uljilment of his promises. *' I am the Lord thy God," says he, " the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour ;" thus implying that he had entered into some engagement with his Israel; that he considers himself bound to be with them in their troubles and distresses ; that his own veracity, his own faithfulness, are at stake, and would be sacrificed if Israel were forsaken or injured. He thus connects his own honour with their safety, and of God to the Afflicted. 5 1 1 affords them another ground of confidence, which can never fail them. For his own names' sake, he will never withdraw his loving. kindness from them ; and for his honour's sake, he will arise, help, and deliver them in every time of trouble. In reviewing the subject before us, there is one re- flection, which must have already occurred to us — how rich in consolation is the word of God ! It not only bids the afflicted Christian not to fear, but it encourages him to obey this command by affording him seasonable and precious promises ; and as though these were not suffi- cient, as though the Holy One of Israel could not be taken at his word, it reasons with him, and gives him arguments to convince him that his G(5d will not fail nor disappoint him. It does not deceive him with flat- tering representations; it tells him, like a faithful wit- ness, that he must expect to pass through much tribu- lation in his way to heaven ; but then it reminds him of the power that created him, of the stupendous grace and mercy that redeemed him, of the inviolable faith- fulness by which his salvation is secured ; and it as- sures him that all these are as much concerned in his present as in his future welfare, are as much exercised in preserving him amidst the afflictions of time, as in saving him from the woes of eternity. It seems as though God were determined to make his afflicted chil- dren trust in him and be happy ; as though he wrote the Bible for the very purpose of rejoicing their hearts. It is so peculiarly adapted to their condition, so won- derfully suited to the misgivings and workings of their minds, that none but he, who knows the heart and feels the tenderest compassion for its sorrows, could have written it. It is in affliction that we learn its value and discover its richness, that we feel its power and taste 513 The Exhortation and Promises its sweetness. Make it then the constant companion of your afflicted hours. As you enter the fire and the flames, resolve to meditate on it more frequently, to search it more dilii^ently, to pray over it more fervently. He, who delights in the law of the Lord, will not pe- rish, will not even be dismayed, in his affliction- Trou- ble and anguish may take hold of him, but the statutes of God will still be his songs in the house of his pil- grimage ; he will still rejoice in the way of his testi- monies, and love them as his delight and his coun- sellors. Hoxv essential to our happiness is a knowledge of our interest in the divine promises ; not merely an occasional and feeble hope that we are the people for whom they were designed, but such an habitual and lively convic- tion of^the met, as will enable us to appropriate them to ourselves and rejoice in them I It is plain that the promise in the text is not made to all mankind. It is addressed to Jacob, to Israel, to those whom God has formed for himself, redeemed, and made his own. It follows therefore that we must be redeemed before we can have any interest in it, and that we must know we are redeemed before we can trust or rejoice in it. This full assurance of hope is not indeed necessary to our salvation, but it is necessary to our happmess. Without it the troubled saint is like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed; with it, he is like a vessel safe at anchor in its port, defying every storm. The doubting Christian, when sorrow comes upon him, can scarcely lift up his trembling hands in prayer ; while he, who is strong in faith, wrestles with his God and comes boldly to his throne. The one is bowed down with grief, and is almost a stranger to praise; the other has songs and everlasting joy resting of God to the Afflicted. 513 on his head. The one hangs up his harp on the wil- lows, sits down, and weeps ; the other awakes up his lute and harp, and sings, though a pilgrim in a strange land, the songs of Zion. *' Wherefore, brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election sure." A sure and certain hope is attainable by every redeemed sinner, a rational and Scriptural hope, as free from the rashness of. enthusiasm and the boldness of presump- tion, as the confidence of Job or the hope of Paul. It may be sought by you without arrogance, and, if sought in the way of holiness and praj er, it will in the end be assuredly found by you. Covet it earnestly therefore; seek it diligently. Leave no longer in suspense a mat- ter, in which so much is involved ; but, " forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." How full of confidence and praise ought they to be, who live in the enjoyment of the divine presence and love in the hour of trouble ! It is tranquillizing and sweet to have a beloved ftiend near us when our sorrows are multiplied upon us, but what is the presence of the dearest earthly friend, when compared with the pre- sence of a sympathizing God? This of all consolations is the most cheering, of all blessings the most transcen- dant. Every other mercy is comprehended in it or flows from it. It defends us better than twelve legions of angels could defend us, and it imparts greater com- fort to the soul than all the inhabitants of earth and heaven could give, though they were all to unite their efforts to make us blessed. How did the church of old confide and rejoice in the enjoyment of this blessing I Her enemies troubled her; they were ready to over- 3 T iil4i The Exhortation and Promises power and destroy her ; but she feared not their vio- lence. They threatened and raged, but she exulted in the midst of her dangers ; and this was the ground of her exultation, and her boast in her triumph, *' The Lord of hosts is with us ; the God of Jacob is our refuge." Another inference is suggested by the text — how blind to their own interest mid happiness are they^ who reject the gospel of Christ ! You read and hear the rich promises of this gospel, but the consciences of many of you testify that you have no part nor lot in them. And yet you might have an interest in these promises. You might have him, who created and formed you, for your Saviour. You might be his, and lie yours. You might enjoy his presence in affliction, and sing of his love and preserving care in tribulation. But you make light of these mercies. You willingly give them up. And for what ? For any thing that supplies their place ? ' For any thing that makes you peaceful and happy when trouble comes upon you ? Alas, no ! You sacrifice them for mean and powerless trifles; for bubbles, which amuse you one hour, and theji burst and disap- point you the next ; for vanities, which leave you dis- satisfied even in your brightest hours, and which when you most need their aid, in the day of adversity, in the hour of sickness, and on the bed of death abandon you a prey to- wretchedness and fear. Now are you acting wisely, are you acting rationally, brethren, in resigning for these things the enjoyment of God? Arc they worth the price you are paying for them ? Is your conduct such as your own consciences approve ? It is not, it cannot be. There arc times when reason and conscience loudly condemn you. There are hours of retirement and darkness, when you are constrained to of God to the Afflicted, 5 id confess your folly, to feel your littleness, to be ashamed of your degradation. And must it ever be thus ? In a world so full of disquietude and calamity as this, must you ever be strangers to the only blessing which can support you under its burdens, and cheer you amidst its evils ? Shall the parched and dying pilgrim refuse for ever to drink of the refreshing stream ? In mercy to your souls, forsake the fountain of living waters no more. No more spend money for that which is not bread, nor your labour for that which satisfieth not. You have tried the world often and long, and it has always deceived you when you have tried it ; you have found it to be exactly what the Bible describes it to be, a broken cistern that can hold no water. But you have never tried God, never sought consolation in him, never put the power of his gospel to the test. O be persuaded to make the trial now ! Seek with your w hole soul that mercy, and grace, and consolation, which he has trea- sured up for sinners in Christ. Deploring your folly and mourning over your guilt, go to that Saviour, who can cure you of the one, and cleanse you from the other. He has invited the weary and heavy laden to come to him. In compliance therefore with his gracious call, go and cast the burden of your sins and sorrows upon him, and you shall find rest to your souls ; a peace, which passes all understanding j a joy, which none of the troubles of time can destroy, nor any of the events of eternity impair. * SERMON XXXIV. THE ADVANTAGES OF A FREQUENT RE TROSPECT OF Lit E. DEUTERONOMY Vlll. %. Thou shalt refnember all (he nuat/, which (he Lord (hy God led (hee (hese for(y years m (he luilderness, (o humble (hee, and (o firove thee ; (0 know nvhat was iti thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments or no. 1 HIS was one of the dying charges, which were given by Moses to the children of Israel. It is however as applicable to us, as it was to them. If we have not, like this peculiar people, been led through a wilderness, we are living in a world, which closely resembles one ; and the years we have passed in it ought to live in our me- mories and affect our hearts. We have not entirely done with these years. Their fleeting hours are indeed gone, but the God who gave them to us, requires them again at our hands. He requires not only an account of. them, whichmust be rendered hereafter, but a remem- brance and improvement of them^ which must be our work and concern now. To aid us in this work, let us direct our attention, firsts to the way, which we are called on m the text to remember ; secondly., to the merciful designs of God in leading us along it ; and, thirdly, to the advantages, which we shall derive from a devout remembrance of it. I. We are to consider, first, the way, which we are The Advantages of a Frequent, &c. 517 here called on to remember. It is " all the way, which the Lord our God has led us;" the whole course of his dispensations towards us from the day of our birth to the present hour. We cannot recall every event that has befallen us, for many of them have long since been blotted from our remembrance ; but they have all been deserving of our recollection, they are all important. Even the most minute occurrences in our history have had some influence on our condition and character ; they are aflfecting us now, and will continue to affect us through an endless eternity. 1. But while all the events of our life ought to be preserved in our memories, those events ought espe- cially to be treasured up there, which are more imme- diately connected with the way, that is leading us to heaven. And among these the means., by which we were first brought into this way, should hold a chief place in our minds. There was a time, when we were" travelling in a very different path. We walked after the course of this world, and heedlessly hurried on with the mul- titude around us in the broad road to destruction. But before the hour of destruction came, infinite mercy stopped us, and led us weeping and trembling into an- other path. What then were the means, which were employed to stop and to turn us ? What were the cir- cumstances, which first brought us on our knees, and drew the first prayer from our hearts and the first tear of contrition from our eyes ? By what friend were we warned? By whose prayers were we moved? By whose example were we won ? Let these questions often be answered. Let the commencement of our Christian pilgrimage be often reviewed ; and let the feelings it excites be ever cherished in our breasts. 2. We are called on to remember also the ajfiictions, 518 7 'he Advantages of a Frequent with which we have been visited since we have been walking in the path of life. We never knew what true happiness meant till we were led into this path, but, notwithstanding the peace we have found in it, we have had many an hour of sorrow since we entered it. And ought we to forget these hours ? Ought we to drive from our remembrance the scenes of trouble and temp- tation, through which we have passed ; the days of sick- ness and despondency, which have been sent to us ; the health that has forsaken us ; the friends that irre gone ; the comforts that are fled; the gourds that yre withered? O no ! " Remembering our affliction and our misery, the wormwood and the gall ; our soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled within us." And thus, brethren, it should be. " Thou shalt also consider in thine heart," says the prophet in the fifth verse, " that as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee." It is an awful thing to slight this command and make light of this chastening. It is sinful to faint and be discouraged under affliction, but as for forget-ting and despising it, the Christian trembles at the thought. If it must be so, let him go softly all his days in the bitter- ness of his soul, let him take a sorrowful and troubled spirit down with him to the grave — all will be well at last ; but to have a careless and hardened heart, when the Lord God of hosts calls to weeping and mourning, is to be accursed and undone. 3. Neither must our mercies be forgotten in the re- trospect of our lives. It pleased God to distinguish the Israelites in the wilderness by peculiar and very un- common interpositions of his power. We are told in the fourth verse, that for forty years their raiment waxed not old upon them, neither did their feet swell. When they were thirsty, he brought them forth water out of Retrospect of Life. 519 the rock of flint ; and when they were hungry, he fed them with bread from heaven. The interference of God on our behalf has not been so visible, but it has not been less real. The food, with which from day to day our table has been spread ; the raiment, which has co- vered us ; the innumerable evils, that have been warded off from us ; and the daily comforts, that we have en- joyed, are as much to be ascribed to the exercise of his providence, as though they had been given to us by a succession of miracles. But there are few among us, who, in looking back on the past, are not able to perceive some striking ma- nifestations of the divine goodness towards them ; and these we should more especially be often setting before us. We should endeavour to bring them one after an- other into our minds, with all the various circumstances connected with them, their seasonableness, their great- ness, the tenderness with which they were given, and the impressions which they made on our hearts. With- out this close and particular contemplation of our mer- cies, we shall be strangers to any lively feelings in the review of them. They must be singled out in order to produce any salutary eflfect. Indeed experience proves that a distinct review of one signal instance of mercy, will often force the heart to feel and the lips to praise, when a hurried retrospect of the Almighty's general goodness towards us will leave us cold and unmoved. Our memories then must be a register of mercies; a book, to which we can go and find recorded in it a his- tory of every remarkable mercy, wherewith God has visited us — the health, which he has sent to us in the hour of sickness; the friends, who have been raised up for us in the season of difficulty ; the light, which has risen on us in our darkness ; and the peace, which has been shed abroad in our souls in our sorrow. 520 The Advantages of a Frequent 4. T/ie sins, which we have comjuitted in the midst of our afflictions and blessings, must also be often re- traced, not merely viewed in a mass, but, like our mer- cies, contemplated one by one with all their aggrava- tions. Indeed if we are really acquainted with the power of godliness, whatever else we forget, we shall never forget our sins. The prisoner could as soon for- get the walls which confine him, or the sick man the pain which is racking him. But to keep a lively sense of guilt in his mind, the most humble Christian will often find it necessary to go over the multiplied trans- gressions of his life. He must review his want of watch- fulness on this occasion, and the pride and self-suffi- ciency, which he has manifested on that. He must think of the pollutions, by which some of his days have been stained ; and the lusts, by which many of his nights have been embittered ; the careless and worldly state of his heart in prosperity, and its murmuring and un- humbled state in adversity. He must recal the tempta- tions, to which he has yielded, the resolutions he has broken, the duties he has neglected, the evil tempers he has betrayed, the corruptions he has indulged. II. The remembrance of these things however, in order to be beneficial to us, must be accompanied with a lively conviction of the overruling providence of God in all that has happened to us, and as lively a sense of his connection with us. It is not chance, that has •brought us hitherto. It is not chance, that has regu- lated the circumstances in which we have been placed, and measured out to us the mercies and afflictions which we have received. No ; it is God, the living God, " The Lord our God," who has led us in all the way. And it is the relation, in which he stands towards us as our God; that gives so much importance to the Retrospect of Life. 52 i past. It is this, which makes our blessings so sweet, our trials so afFecting-, and our sins so fearful. The sins, which array themselves before us, have all been com- mitted against a Being of infinite power to avenge his wrongs, and of infinite mercy to pardon them ; they have dishonoured and wounded him, who came down to the earth to die for us, and who now lives in heaven to save us. The trials which we have received, have come from a Father, who loves us with a tenderness unknown to the children of men, and who in all our afflictions has shared our troubles and been afflicted also. Our blessings too have all been the gifts of one who is dearer to our souls than any other being in the universe ; pledges of his love, whose favour is better than life, and for the smiles of whose countenance we are ready to sacrifice every other delight. Why then has he so often troubled and grieved the people, who love him so well and are so exceedingly dear to him ? What are his merciful designs in leading them through a wilderness to the land of their rest ? The text answers this question. It points out to us the ends which God had in view in afflicting the Jews, and it consequently affords us the means of discoverinj^ the reasons of his diversified dispensations towards ourselves. They have all had their origin in mercy, and the end of them all is the same — to conduct us to heaven, and to prepare us for the enjoyment of its blessedness. 1. They are intended to humble us. All is humility in that kingdom, wherein God dwells. Here, in this fallen world, the meanest sinner lifts up himself against him 5 but there the loftiest archangels cast down their orowns, and prostrate themselves before his footstool. Before we can enter this glorious world, we also must learn to abase ourselves. Tiie pride which we brought 3 U 522 The Jldvantages of a Frequent into the world with us, must be rooted out, our spirit of independence broken, and our self-will destroyed. To affect this change within us, is the first work of the Holy Spirit in our souls, and the immediate object of all the divine dispensations towards us. We remember the thrilling sense of our depravity and meanness, which made us tremble when sovereign mercy first led us aside from the thoughtless crowd, and wq then thought for a season that our pride was destroyed for ever. But we soon discover that the enemy was only repulsed. Before we were aware, he renewed the con- flict with the Spirit of grace, and has ever since been struggling to climb up again to his former throne in our hearts. Now afiliction is designed to assist us in our warfare with this tyrant of the soul. It is sent to make us feel how weak and how vile ue are, how little we have to trust in, and how much to be ashamed of. The mercies also, which are blended with our afflic- tions, are intended to revive and strengthen the same convictions. When not traced up to God as their au- thor, they puff up and injure us, and prepare the way for sharp tribulations ; but when we receive them as the bounties of his grace, they excite in the Christian a feeling of shame and humiliation, which melts his soul and lays him in the dust. It is in these seasons of mercy, that the remembrance of his sins is so peculiarly lively and constraining. He sees that his God has par- doned them, and. now he is not afraid to search them out. He remembers his guilt, and dwells upon the re- collection, not because, being delivered from its con- demning power, he is the more reconciled to it, but because it endears to him the grace which has par- doned it, and the Saviour by whose blood it has been cleansed. * Ret vospect of Life, 533 2. The various changes in our condition have been designed also to prove us. " Thou shalt remember all the way, which the Lord thy God led thee to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments or no." Not that God is ignorant of our hearts ; ftir from it ; he knows them much better than we know them ourselves ; but for wise and gracious reasons, he often puts his ser- vants to the test, as though he knew them not, and tries their faith, their patience, and their love, by placing them in situations, which are calculated to call these graces into exercise, and which, at the same time, ren- der the exercise of them peculiarly difficult. At one time he gives them health and prosperity to see whe- ther they will consecrate to him their strength and abundance ; at another time he lays them on the bed of sickness, and adds to the pains of sickness the trials of poverty, that he may know whether they will bless him when he takes away as well as when he gives. Now he exalts them to honour, that he may try whether they will lay down their worldly honours at his feet ; and now he suffers persecution to rage against them, and exposes them to contempt and shame, that he may dis- cover how much they are willing to sacrifice for his sake, and whether they have yet learned to glory in the reproach of Christ. Thus he tempted his beloved Abraham, when he commanded him to lay his only son Isaac on the altar. Thus, during his abode on earth, he tried his disciples, when he suffered the winds and the waves to toss them. And thus in all the various occurrences of our life he is proving us, put- ting our professional attachment to the test in every scene and every company into which we are carried, by every mercy which gladdens, and by every trouble iVhich grieves us. 5 24< The Advantages of a Frequent 3. There is a third effect, which the vicissitudes of life are calculated to produce ; they have a tendency to teach us the insufficiency of all worldly things to make ns happy ^ and the all-sufficie?jcy of God to bless us. Now this is a truth, brethren, which ".ve are all very slow of heart to believe. Mankind in general utterly discredit it. In opposition to the plain declarations of the Bible, nay, in direct opposition to their own experience, they imagine that happiness is greatly, if not altogether, de- pendent on external circumstances, and the enjoyment of worldly prosperity. And even those among us, who have begun to set their affections on heavenly things, find it difficult to preserve a lively, deep, and abiding conviction of this truth. There are seasons indeed when we cannot doubt it ; seasons, in which the world seems nothing to us, and when the language of our hearts is, *' Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us." But we rise up from our knees, we lay aside our Bibles, we leave our closets, and then the things of the world, which but, an hour before seemed so poor and mean, assume their wonted importance, and we are again tempted to think them necessary, or at least highly conducive to our happiness. We still believe that we might be enabled to be patient and submissive in tribulation ; but as for being happy when our pros- pects are blasted, our affairs ruined, our friends de- parted from us, and our children dead, the supposition appears to us erroneous, if not absurd. To root out from our minds an opinion so dishonourable to him and so injurious to ourselves, the Lord places us in a variety of situations, and leads us through many diversi- fied scenes. He surrounds us with all that the world de- sires and envies, leaves no earthly want unsupplied, and scarcely an earthly desire ungratified; and then he suf- Retrospect of Life. 525 fers us to withdraw for a season from him, and makes our hearts ache within us, till we are brought to ac- knowledge the poverty of the tilings whicti we once deemed so rich in happiness, the utter en;ptiness of the cisterns which once seemed so full and refreshing. At another time he takes from us almost all that he had given us, strips us of property, reputation, health, and rela- tives ; and then he draws us near to himself, and puts such comfort, such peace, such exalted blessedness into our hearts, that our most afflicted hours become our happiest. Thus he teaches us that in having him, even had we nothing else, we have all that we need desire ; and that without him, though rich in every other good, we have nothing. This is the truth, which is inculcated in the verse following the text. *' He suf- fered thee to hunger," said Moses to Israel, " and fed thee with manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know, that he might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live." III. These then are the immediate purposes, for which the Lord has led us through so many trials and mercies in our way to heaven. There are however ' other ends, which they have been designed to answer ; and that these may be accomplished, he commands us to look back on the course in which we have walked, and has connected with the retrospect many spiritual benefits. 1. A review of the past is calculated fo confirm our faith in the Bible. Our lives are practical illustrations of this blessed book. Indeed the whole world and all that is passing therein, is but one continued commen- tary on it, and confirmation of its truth. Look at the 526 The Mvantages of a Frequent world as the infidel looks at it, and what is it ? A world of confusion and disorder, over which chance seems to rule in triumph, and where the mind is baffled as it en- deavours to trace the footsteps of a wise and benevolent Providence. But the Scriptures solve the mystery. They give us a clue, by which we unravel the myste- rious scene around us, and discern the ever active agency of an awfully just but yet compassionate God. In going over therefore the history of our own lives, we shall be struck with a multitude of facts, in which the declarations, thf promises, and the threatenings of the Bible are fully verified ; facts, which prove, beyond the possibility of doubt, that he, who wrote the Bible, is the same Being who is ruling the world, and ruling it too by laws which he has there made known to us. As we remember how deceitful our hearts have proved on some occasions, and how desperately wicked on others ; how weak we have been when confiding in our own strength, and how strong when seeking strength in God ; how comfortless in the paths of vanity, and how peaceful in the ways of righteousness ; when we recollect the aid which, sooner or later, has been vouch- safed to us whenever we have lifted up our eyes to heaven for deliverance, and the disappointments which we have invariably experienced when we have ex- pected it from any other quarter ; we see a veracity ia the Bible, a power, wisdom, and faithfulness in its Author, which astonish and delight the mind. 2. A retrospect of the past has a tendency also to in- creasy our knowledge of ourselves. There is no kind of knowledge so useful as this, and yet there is none which is so difficult to be acquired, and none of which men in general are so destitute. The truth is that most of us are content to be destitute of it. We take no pains Retrospect of Life, 527 to acquire it, or at least no due pains. We expect to learn it in a month or a year; but it is a science, which may employ a whole life in the study of it, and yet after all be but imperfectly learnt. We too often also neglect to seek it in the proper way. It is not to be ac- quired merely by listening to sermons, and reading books, and treasuring up the observations of others; it is the result of experience, of long, and close, and sometimes painful observation of our own minds. We accordingly find that those Christians, who commune the most with their own heart and are the best ac- quainted with its history, have the deepest views of human depravity and human weakness. They know more of human nature than other men, and more of themselves. And they have obtained this knowledj;e by often reviewing the past. They look back to a season of prosperity, and when they remember the pride, and selfishness, and vanity, which they mani- fested in it, they discover that the folly, which was bound up in their hearts in their childhood, is still dwelling within them, and that they have as much rea- son as ever to fear and distrust themselves. The re- membrance of their afflictions also teaches them the same lesson. Before tribulation came, they imagined the world conquered for ever, every idol dethroned in their heart, and all its affections fixed on God ; but dis- appointments and troubles forced them to see that the world is not subdued, that it still exercises a sad and powerful influence over them, that the mind, which they thought elevated for ever above the reach of the most tossing storms of life, can be agitated and dis- tressed by some of its gentlest waves. And what are they deriving from a retrospect of these scenes? A knowledge of themselves ; of the leading defects of their own character; of the graces for which thev ^28 The Advantages of a Frequent should most earnestly pray, and the evils against which they should most carefully watch ; of what they should most strenuously labour to correct, to cast out, to im- prove, or lo attain. 3. The n membrance enjoined in the text is calcu- lated also to strengthen our conjidence in God. It brings before our mind the help we have received in our diffi- culties, the supplies in our wants, the consolations in our troubles ; and reasoning from the past to the future, we are naturally led to infer that he, who never has for- saken us, never will forsake us ; that the goodness and mercy, which have followed us all the days of our life, will follow us still ; that no viscissitudes in our condi- tion, no tribulation, no distress, no persecution, no peril, shall be able to separate us from the love of God^ which is in Christ Jesus our Lord, It enables us to perceive also that the way, in which we are led, though it once seemed and still seems at seasons perplexing, is the right way, the very best way, in which we could have been led. As we look back on it, we see with wonder and thankfulness that our greatest mercies are to be found among our heaviest afflictions ; that our God has been the nearest to us, when we thought him the farthest off. We are now ready to acknowledge his goodness in what he has withheld from us, as well as in what he has given ; in the prayers he has denied, as well as in the prayers which he has granted ; in the sufferings that have hum- bled, as well as in the blessings that have gladdened us ; in the weakness which has led us to him for strength, and in the strength which has enabled us to serve him ; in the despondency which has embittered sin to our souls, as well as in the joy which has en- deared to us a pardoning Saviour; in the clouds which first terrified us; ana then poured down blessings od. Retrospect of Life. 5^9 our heads, as well as in the light which has arisen on us in our darkness and turned our heaviness into praise. On the whole then it appears, that the command in the text, like every other command which God has given us, has our happiness, as well as his own honour, as its object. He bids us remember the way wherein he has led us, because he wishes to humble us, to prove us, to teach us his own all-sufficiency, and be- cause he knows that we cannot rightly remember it without having our faith in the Bible established, our knowledge of ourselves increased, and our confidence in him strengthened. While therefore we anxiously enquire whether these effects have been produced in us, whether the changes and chances of this mortal life are doing their appointed work in our souls, soft- ening, humbling, instructing, establishing us, let us endeavour to be more mindful of this command; to become better acquainted with our own history, not the history of our bodies only, where we were born, and where we have lived, and what sickness or health has been our lot, but the history of our minds, what influence the dispensations of God have had on them; what changes have taken place in them, and by what circumstances these changes were produced ; how their growth in grace has been promoted, and how it has been checked. Let us study the history of our princi- ples and feelings, as well as the history of our outward circumstances and conditions, and connect the history of both with God, regarding him as the Director of both, as the Inspector of both, as the Judge, to whom we must eventually give an account of every thing that concerns both. As for you, brethren, who are careless about your r> X 530 The Advantages of a Frequent^ &c. past mercies, trials, and sins, and occupied only with present scenes and gratifications, let the text remind you that your forgetfuhiess of the past, like your un- concern about the future, is a sure and certain mark of your present degradation and future misery. God has given you the power of recalling the events that have befallen you, and of looking forward to the things that are to come, and has thus distinguished you from the brute beasts that have no understanding ; but you will not exercise the power he has given you. The present is all that can interest you. But though you forget it, *' God requireth that which is past ;" and though you shut your eyes to it, the future is real and certain, as real as the present, as certain as the past, and much more important than either. You may live like the brutes, but you cannot perish like them. The powers of your mind, though not exercised, cannot be de- stroyed. They will live, and be called into action, in an eternal world. The moment you enter it, memory will be forced to execute her office, and will bring before your mind all the varied events of your existence. And can you bear this ? To see for the first time your sins, when God is about to take vengeance on them ; to think for the first time of your mercies, when you are about to be condemned for the abuse of them ; to re- trace for the first time your aiBictions, when wrath is bursting on you for slighting them ; to look forward for the first time into futurity, when there is no way of escape from its terrors, no hope to cheer you under its miseries — if this, brethren, be the issue of forgetfulness, and this the end of the forgetful, which of you does not tremble at the prospect before him? Which of you does not resolve to be wise, to remember this, to con- sider your latter end ? SERMON XXXV THE FEAR OF PETER WHEN WALKING ON THE SEA. ST. MATTHEW xiv. 30, 31. But whs7i he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid ; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, " Lord, save me." And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, " O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt P" » V E all know to which of our Lord's disciples these words relate. Indeed had not his name been expressly mentioned, we could not have failed to discover in this history the ardour, the self-confidence, and eventually the weakness, which long distinguished the forward Peter from the other apostles. In endeavouring to de- rive instruction from this instance of his frailty, let us consider, ^r*?, the fear, which he manifested ; secondly y the cause of this fear; thirdly, its consequence ;yowrM/y, the prayer, which it drew from him ; and, lastly, the conduct of Christ towards him. I. The fear, which Peter betrayed on this occasion, reminds us, as soon as we glance at it, of one humilia- ting fact — the transient nature of our best and strongest feelings when they are ?iot kept alive by divine grace. But a few minutes before, he had shown a courage and a faith, which were well warranted indeed, but which were at the same time truly wonderful. In the midst of a tempestuous sea, we behold him descending the sides of his tossed ship, and committing himself voluntarily 5S2 The Fear of Peter and boldly to the waves, with no other hope of preser- vation than what he derived from his dependance on the power of his Master. But now, though that power is miraculously upholding him, we see him suddenly losing his confidence in it, and yielding to thfe most faithless fear. The same inconsistency appeared in him on other occasions also, and not in him only, but in all who have partaken of his fallen nature. Look at Abraham. At one time when he was tried, his faith was so strong that his hand was uplifted to offer up his only son to the Lord ; at another time, in the country of Abime- lech, he was so overpowered by fear, that he hesitated not to have recourse to falsehood, in order to save him- self, not from a real, but from an imaginary danger. Look at Jeremiah. We find him, in the twentieth chap- ter of his prophecy, holding a long and painful conflict with the workings of unbelief. At length he seems to have triumphed over them, and breaks forth in the thirteenth verse into this exclamation of confidence and praise, " Sing unto the Lord ; praise ye the Lord ; for he hath delivered the soul of the poor from the hand of evil-doers." And ho w long does this strain of triumph last ? But for a moment. As though to show us how quickly the most confident believer can sink into despondency, and how low he can fall therein, he utters in the very next verse the language of almost impious discontent and unmixed despair. " Cursed," says he, ^' be the day, wherein I was born. Let not the day, wherein my mother bare me, be blessed." But we need not go to patriarchs and prophets to find this inconsistency. We feel it in ourselves. There are reasons, when there appears a reality, a life, and a warmth, in our religion. Our iove is ardent, our faith ivhen Walking on the Sea. 533 stedfast, our hope towering. Our mountain stands strong ; and then we say that we shall never be nnoved, that emotions so deep and powerful must be lasting. But let a few days, or perhaps only a few hours, pass away, and what is our language then ? " The Lord hath hid his face from us, and we are troubled." All our lively feelings are gone. Our soaring hopes are changed into gloomy apprehensions, our glowing joys into a most distressing coldness. We still make a Christian profession ; but we look into ourselves, and can see little or nothing there, which warrants it, no- thing, which distinguishes the sanctified from the worldly heart. Now this painful experience should caution us against attaching too much importance to lively frames and feelings. When we enjoy them, it should teach us to expect their departure ; when we are destitute of them, to remember that by prayer and renewed application to Christ, they may yet return ; and, at all times, it should lead us to be fearful of making them in any degree the grounds of our dependance ; to consider them as the gifts of a divine Comforter, designed to refresh, but not to pufF up the Christian ; to encourage his exer- tions, but not to make him trust in them ; to give him strength, not to lead him to forget his weakness ; to enable him to glory in the cross of Christ, not to give him reason to imagine that he no longer needs the sprinkling of the blood that stained it. But the fear of Peter not only reminds us of the fleet- ing nature of our best feelings, it shows us also the danger of needlessly putting to the trial our highest graces. When our faith appears strong, we are tempted to think that no difficulties, no troubles can subdue it. The consequence is, that we sometimes rush unbidden 534 The Fear of Peter into temptation, under the idea that we shall be able to endure it, and bring glory to Christ, as well as mani- fest our love to him,. by our conduct under it. Now this was exactly the case with Peter. As he beheld his Lord walking on the sea, he was impressed with a new and deep conviction of his power, and an ardent desire of being with him. Thus far all was well ; but, in or- der to gratify this desire and to display the strength of this conviction, he quickly resolves to make use of the grace, of which he fancied himself possessed, and asks permission of Christ to come to him on the waves. Christ gave him permission ; and when he had shown him his own greatness, and the efficacy of a firm belief in it, he discovered to his rash disciple the weakness of his fancied strength, and led him back to his vessel humbled and ashamed. And thus has every presumptuous display of faith terminated. We have never in any degree sought our own glory, without receiving instead of it humiliation and shame. We have never attempted to display our greatness, without exposing our littleness. The very moment our graces are proudly tried or trusted in, they leave us ; and what are we then ? No more like what we once were, than that man, whom the Philistines bound with fetters in his weakness, was like the Sam- son, who had formerly driven them before him. No more like the servants of Christ, than Peter was, when the voice of a servant-maid caused him to deny his Lord. No more like men of godliness, than David was, when overcome by his lusts. Wherever duty calls, there we should go, and there we may go with safety, though it be through a stormy sea, over mountains of difficulties, and into the fiercest fires of temptation. An humble reliance on Christ will quench the violence of when Walking on the Sea. 585 the fire, cause the mountains to become a plain before us, and the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over. But to go rashly into danger is to be liumbled and overcome ; to be covered with shame, and filled with bitterness. II. Let us now go on to consider, secondly, the cause of Peter's fear. We are told that " when he saw the wind boisterous he was afraid." But it could not be the mere rage of the elements, which made him fear, for they were equally raging when he first put his feet on the waves. It was his confining his attention to their violence ; his fixing his eye on his danger, and forget- ting the power of his Lord. Here then we are taught, not to be unmindful of our dangers, but to keep our thoughts fixed on the great- ness ajid faithfulness of Christ when xvc are surrounded by them. Nothing, however, is more difficult than to practise this lesson. Affliction is sent to us, and we de- termine when we are first visited by it to think only of the loving-kindness of him, who has sent it ; but stroke follows stroke, sorrow is heaped upon sorrov/, one cloud gathers round another, till at length our pitying Father is no longer visible ; former deliverances are forgotten ; we see the wind boisterous, and seeing not him who is walking with us on the waves, we are afraid. At another time, we have arduous and painful duties to perform. We begin them with a firm conviction of the all-sufficiency of him, who has promised that as is our day, so shall our strength be ; and as long as this convlfction lasts, they are performed with cheerfulness and almost with ease ; but in the midst of them, the omnipotence of divine grace is forgotten, and then our duties assume a new and formidable appearance; our hands drop ; and wc are again afraid. The case is often 536 The Fear of Peter the same also, when temptations are multiplied around us, and our inward corruptions are harassing us. We see the greatness of our guilt, the utter helplessness of our nature ; and, forgetting the blood which cleanseth from all sin, and the strength which honours itself in being made perfect in our weakness, we deem our- selves ready to perish, and again our hearts fail us for fear. In all these cases, and indeed in every case, the cause of our fear is the same. It is to be found in low con- ceptions of Christ, or in a partial forgetfulness of him. And, in order to overcome it, we must for a season look less at our dangers and sins, and contemplate more closely the omnipotence and mercy of him, who can deliver us from the one and save us from the other. Why was Abraham strong in faith ? The apostle tells us. " Because he considered not his own body now dead, neidier yet the deadness of Sarah's womb ; but because he gave glory to God, and was fully per- suaded that what he had promised he was able to perform." Away then, brethren, with all foolish reasonings about the greatness of your troubles, the difficulty of your duties, the unpardonable nature of your sins. They indicate no humility. They have their origin in nothing which is good, and lead to nothing which is useful. On the contrary, they always spring from igno- rance and generally from pride also : they impeach the credit of the divine promises, and shake our confidence in them ; they limit the Holy One of Israel, and Etesign boundaries to those perfections, which angels know to be infinite; they agitate and distract the mind, and often tempt us to have recourse to indirect and sinful means of deliverance, means, which appear likely to open to xvhen Walking on the Sea. 537 us a way of escape, but which serve only to perplex and entangle us more. The man, who would be happy in trouble, and peaceful in difficulties, must make rea- son humble itself to faith. In fact, he must cease to reason at all about the matter. With his eyes fixed on that Saviour, in whose arm is everlasting strength, and on whose shoulder rests the government of the uni- verse, he must enquire, " What does the Lord my God require of me ? That let me do. What has he pro- mised me? In thut let me trust." III. The importance of faith will however be still more evident, if we consider, thirdly, the consequence of Peter's fear. He began to sink. And why did he not si ilk before ? Because he honoured Christ by believing in his power, and then Christ honoured him by ena- bling him to tread the waves underneath his feet. W^hen his faith was strong, he walked on the water ; when it failed him, he sunk. One thing then is clear, that our support in dangers and trials depends on our faith. Not that faith can do any thing of itself to help us ; but this is the grace, which peculiarly honours God, and which he is there- fore determined to cover with honour wherever he finds it. Other graces may be in some respects of a higher character ; hope may be more elevating, and love more disinterested and lasting ; but faith submits to God's authority : it lies low at his footstool ; gives him there the credit of his faithfulness, his power, and his glory ; and then it rises up, and nothing can withstand it. It overcomes the world with its manifold temptations. It smiles at dangers, triumphs over difficulties, rejoices in tribulation, and sings in persecution. Nay, it has controlled the elements, and changed the course of nature ; subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, 3 Y 538 The Fear of Peter obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, turned armies to flight, and raised the very dead to life. It makes a man while living a wonder to all around him, and when he dies, it saves his soul. When therefore, in the hour of trial, we renounce the aid of this mighty principle, vvc shall most certainly sink ; the weakest temptation will overpower, the most trifling difficulty discourage, ana the slightest danger alarm us. It matters not to what other means of sup- port we may have recourse. We may reason wisely and even piously about our trials, and endeavour to fortify ourselves under them by recollecting all we have heard of the advantages of overcoming, and the u.^- lessness of yielding to them ; but we shall find that our fears will not be reasoned away ; that the wisest argu- ments will not make trouble sit easy upon us, nor si- lence the murmurs of discontent, nor quiet an accusing conscience. Before these eflfects can be produced, we must discover a more simple and a more powerful in- strument of consolation ; and where is this to be found ? Only in that gospel, where we are most unwilling to look for it. Other things may keep us thoughtless and hardened in our trials ; but we can be made peaceful under them only by a heart-felt belief in the Bible; by that fl\ith, which the men of the world have agreed to misunderstand and despise, but the cheering energy of which thousands of the afflicted children of God are hourly experiencing. By faith they live ; by faith they stand ; by failh they walk ; by faith they rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. IV. But this is not all. If we notice, fourthly, the prayer, which the fear of Peter drew from him, we shall discover in the end that faith can raise us up, even when when Walking on the Sea. 539 unbelief has laid us low. And what was this prayer? ^^ Lord, save me." Now this petition, short as it is, may remind us of two facts. The first is this — in all our troubles and fearsy if rue are really Christians, we shall be earnest and importunate in prayer. It is secret and fervent prayer, which first renders visible the work of a sanctifying Spirit in our hearts ; and when other marks of true religion are no longer to be seen in us, when love has ceased to animate and faith to uphold, it is fervent prayer, which still proves that he, who began the good work, has not forsaken it. The trials of the Christian cause him to feel his helplessness ; they bring him to his right mind ; and then out of the depths he cries unto the Lord, and in his distress he calls upon his God. And though he is aware that his own pride and folly have brought his troubles upon him, it mat- ters not. This does not deter him from seeking refuge in his Saviour. The danger of Peter was the fruit of his own rashness, and yet he cries, "Lord, save me." The horrible situation of Jonah in the deep, when the floods compassed him about, and all the billows and the waves passed over him, was only the merited punishment of his disobedience; he knew it to be such ; and yet, when his soul fainted within him, he remembered the Lord, and his prayer came in unto him, even unto his holy temple. The truth is, brethren, that the servant of God is under all circumstances, in a greater or less degree, a man of prayer. Look at him in whatever condition we may, whether in prosperity or in adversity, whether stedfast in faith or sinking with fear, whether rejoicing in hope or cast down with de- spondency, it may be said of him, what can be said of no other man, " Behold, he prayeth." The other truth exemplified in this prayer is this — - 540 The Fear of Peter the fears of the real believer, however strong, are still accompanied with a cleaving to Christ, with a conviction of his power to save, and an appeal to his mercy. When Peter saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid ; his fliith appeared utterl}^ gon^? and he began to sink ; but still he sinks looking unto Jesus. At the very moment when the waves were about to close over him, his eyes were turned towards his Master; and had he perished in the sea, his last words would have manifested his belief in the Redeemer's power. Thus the true Christian even in his most faithless hours, when he is ready to think all lost for ever, and his ruin near, has still exalted thoughts of his Lord's ability to save, and a secret hold on his Saviour; a hold, which though it may seem weak, or be scarcely seen at all, is yet so strong that nothing can break it. In the extremity of his danger Lis faith will become visible, and though it may be ac- companied with much fear, and sullied by much unbe- lief, it will show itself to be real. His language will be, " Lord, save me. Though I dare not take refuge in thee, I have no other refuge to flee to. I dare not hope in thy mercy, bul I know thine infinite power to save ; I know that if thou wilt, thou canst even help me. I will therefore lie at thy feet, and though 1 perish, I will perish there; and this shall be my dying cry, Lord, help me. Lord, save me." V. Such was the prayer of Peter, and what was the result of it? The account, which is given us in the text of the conduct of Christ towards him^ will ni- form us. How justly might the Saviour have turned his ear from his cry ! The faithless disciple had but a mo- ment before walked on the sea, and it supported him ; his Master; who had made it firm beneath his feet, was when Walking on the Sea. 541 still standing on its waves, and they had no power to hurt him ; but notwithstanding he had such convincing, such apparently overpowering testimonies of the omni- . potence of his Lord, he heeded them not ; he looked at the boisterous tempest, and his faith failed. And now surely the insulted Jesus will suffer him to perish, or at least to remain for a season, like Jonah, in terror and suspense ! But no; his heart is as full of love as Peter's is of fear ; and the cry of the timid disciple no sooner reaches his ears, than he answers him with the saving strength of his right hand, and preserves him in his arms. *' And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, * O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?' " Now this was an act of Almighty power, and may teach us, first, that there is no situation^ in which Christ cannot help us; that we can bring ourselves into no perils, from which he cannot extricate us ; that we can be harassed by no fears, from which he cannot deliver us ; that we can be burdened by no sins, from which he cannot save us. Here the winds and the waves obey his voice, and when the safety of his people is endan- gered, all nature obeys it also, and all that lives, and moves, and has a being. He has caused the ravens to feed them ; he has sent down his angels to deliver them ; yea, when they have been tried above measure, he has himself left the throne of his glory to help them, and passed with them through the waters, and walked with them in the flames. " All power is given unto him in heaven and in earth," so that he is able to save to the uttermost ; to make all things work together for good to them who love him, and to show himself strong in their behalf. But the preservation of Peter was an act of mercy as 54S The Fear of Peter well as of power, and may teach us, lastly, that it' we are his obedient people, there is no state, in which Christ will not save us. His people may doubt his love, may dishonour and grieve him by their unbelief, and he will reprove their sin ; but he will never be what their fears represent him, an absent or a forgetful Sa- viour, fie will suffer their doubts to rob them of their peace and joy, but he will still keep them as his jewels, and love them as his children. Were they indeed en- tirely to give up their hold on him, they would sink into destruction ; but he keeps alive within their heart the faith, which his own Spirit has implanted there ; and when others see it not, and they themselves feel it not, he marks it well ; and sooner might heaven and earth perish, than he refuse to hear iis cry, or to grant its prayer. The truth is, that there Ccin be no real prayer, without some degree of faith ; and it is equally true, that the weakest faith, if it be real, gives the sin- ner an interest in the promises of Christ, as much as the strongest, and makes his final, though not his pre- sent, happiness as sure. The comfort of the gospel is the portion of those only, whose faith is strong ; but the salvation of the gospel is the portion of all, whose faith is real. The one must necessarily depend in a great measure on our frames and feelings, on those fears and hopes, which are too often as unstable as wa- ter, and frail as broken reeds ; the other is founded on that righteousness which is always perfect, on the effi- cacy of that blood which is always availing, on the finished work of that Redeemer who is the same yes- terday, to-day, and for ever. To what conclusion then are we to come ? Are we warranted to say that if these things be so, we may rest satisfied with a faith, which is weak and waverings when Walking on the Sea. 543 which cures us of no follies, and roots out of us no sins ; which enables us to overcome no temptations and to endure no trials ; which leaves us the slaves of the world, and the obedient servants of its prince? God forbid ! To be satisfied with such a faith as this is to be satisfied with that, which makes the devils tremble. Indeed to be content with any fiiith, how- ever strong it may appear, is to prove that we are merely deceiving ourselves, that we have no genuine faith at all. True faith is a growing grace ; and he, in whose heart it has once been planted, will never be satisfied unless he sees that it is growing ; he will never think that he can have enough of it, but will be ever crying, " Lord, increase my faith." Instead of being reconciled to his unbelief by the history before us, he will see how much he has injured himself by it, and will leave this house of prayer mourning over it, and condemning himself on account of it. The words of his Lord will be yet sounding in his ears, " Where- fore dost thou doubt?" and he, who follows him to his closet, will hear him praying there, that he may be enabled this day cast out of his heart the fears, which are depressing and defiling it ; will see him striving to bring forth those enemies of his soul, and to slay them at his Saviour's cross. From this hasty consideration of the fear of Saint Peter, it is evident that it is calculated to afford in- struction to all of us. It bids the self-confident dis- trust themselves, and it encourages the fearful to trust Christ. It calls on those, who are strong in faith, to give God the glory and be thankful ; on those, who are weak in faith, to take to themselves the shame and be humble. And what is its language to you, who are strangers to heart-felt faith ? Not that, which you are 544 The Fear of Peter, &c. anxious to make it speak. It does not tell you that you may live a prayerless and unchristian life, and yet be real believers in Jesus and be eventually saved by him. Far from it. It shows you a man, uho had forsaken all he possessed for Christ ; so ardent in his love for him, that he was willing to commit himself to a raging sea in order to be with him ; and yet so submissive in his zeal, as to wait for his permission before he ventured to approach him : — it shows you this man trembling on the waves, but still in the midst of his fear manifesting his high sense of the Redeemer's greatness, and praying for his aid ; and while you are pitying his mom.entary weakness, and admiring his courage, his love, his obe- dience, and his confidence, it represents the Saviour as giving him a reproof, passing over in silence all that has excited your admiration, and censuring that very faith, which appears to you so extraordinary, as little. How then can you force from such a Scripture as this any thing like encouragement? You have sacrificed nothing for Christ ; you have far less love for him than you have for your vanities and follies ; you have no desire to be with him ; you live for weeks and months together without ever calling in earnest upon his name ; and yet because Peter had infirmities, you imagine them recorded to comfort you, and deem yourselves safe in the midst of your sins. Where among the people you revile shall we find folly, fanaticism, and licentiousness, like this? Brethren, the language of the text to you is not that of consolation. It says to you, and may God give you an ear to listen to its voice, *' He that be- lieveth not shall be condemned. From him, that hath not, shall be taken away, even that, which he seemeth to have„" SERMON XXXVI- THE CHRISTIAN WAITING FOR HIS DE LIVERER. 1 THESSALONIANS 1. 10. .4tid to ivait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, even Jesus, vjhich delivered us from the lurath to come. A HE sweetest and most encouraging subject, on which a dying sinner can fix his thoughts, is the over- flowing mercy of his offended God. The sinner how- ever, who has any saving interest in this mercy,, will be often thinking of the awful justice of the Being, from whom he has received it, and the fearfulness of that wrath, from which it has rescued him. Indeed no one can think aright of the divine mercy, who has not ade- quate conceptions of the divine justice; nor siiall we ever value the blessings of salvation, till we have learned to keep alive in our minds a deep sense of the terrors of condemnation. Thus, in the passage before us, a longing after the coming of the Saviour, and an expectation of heaven are connected with the recollec- tion of danger escaped and wrath incurred. The apostle knew that the Thessalonians were delivered from this wrath ; their conduct left him no room to doubt it; and yet though heaven was before them, he still reminds them of the terrors of the Lord, and of the close con- nection, which once existed between them and destruc- tion. '* They show of us," says he^, *' what manner of 3 Z 546 The Christian waiting entering in we had unto you, and how ye turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God ^ and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come." Now the subject, to which these words direct our attention, is peculiarly important and solemn. No sub- ject can be more so. May the Holy Spirit give us a serious and prayerful mind while we are meditating on it, and enable us to fix our wandering thoughts on the concerns of our immortal souls ! I. Let us consider, first, the wrath, of which the apostle here speaks. It is '' wrath to come." Now this is an evil, brethren, which some of us dread but little, but which none of us can dread too much. Poverty, pain, sickness, and death, will not bear to be compared with it, and as for annihilation, the total destruction of our being, the evil from which nature mostishrinks, it would be a blessing if it could be exchanged for it. 1. For mark, first, from whom this wrath will come. It is divine wrath, not the anger of a creature, whose power is limited, and whose duration is finite, but the displeasure of one, who fills heaven and earth with his power, and eternity with his existence. It is the wrath of that fearful God, of whom his servant Job says, that " he moveth the mountains of the earth, and overturneth them in his anger ; that " he shaketh the earth out of her place, and the pillars thereof tremble;" that " he commandeth the sun, and it riseth not, and he sealeth up the stars." " Who then can stand before his indig- nation ? And who can abide in the fierceness of his anger?" 2. It is also ujimingled wrath, judgment without mercy, justice without the least mixture of goodness. for his Deliverer. 547 Here the most sinful have some mitigation of their suf- ferings, and the most miserable some intervals of rest; but they, who suffer in eternity, are always and com- pletely wretched. *' They shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation, and they shall be tor- mented with fire and brimstone ; and the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever ; and they have no rest day nor night." 3. This wrath is, further, provoked wrath. It was not the original inheritance of man. He, who made us, loves us ; and though we have rebelled against him, he loves us still, for to him belong mercies and for- givenesses. We are trying his patience to the very utmost every hour we live, but still he spares us, visits us every hour with goodness, and sends us in his gos- pel the freest and most gracious offers of reconciliation. If then we persevere in rejecting these offers, the wrath, which will fall on us, will not only come from a God of dreadful majesty and power, but from a God, whose patience has been tired and worn out by our obstinate perseverance in rebellion ; from a God provoked, not only by our transgressions against his law, but by our pouring contempt on his mercy ; by our rejection of a salvation, which cost him the blood of his Son. Hence it is called " the wrath of the Lamb," the wrath of abused gentleness and exhausted patience. 4. And it is also accumulated wrath, a wrath that we have inflamed and increased by every act of sin, which we have committed. All our transgressions pro- voke the displeasure of God against us, and though we go on year after year without feeling the effect of it, his displeasure still exists, and unless we are con- verted and saved, we shall receive it and bear it alL 548 The Christian waiting The longer we live then, and the more daringly we sin against heaven, the more dreadful will be our doom in our latter end. Our daily guilt is increasing our future judgment. Every unclean thought we indulge, every idle word we utter, every transgression we fall intO; and every duty we neglect, has its own punish- ment connected with it, and will aggravate our misery in eternity. " The Lord revengeth," says the prophet Nahum, " and is furious. The Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and reserveth wrath for his enemies." " After thy hardness and impenitent heart," says Saint Paul, " thou treasurest up unto thyself wrath against the day of wrath, and revelation of the righteous judg- ment of God." 5. But what adds so greatly to the fearfulness of this wrath, is the consideration that it is, and ever will be, ^future wrath. It is wrath to come, and when we shall have borne it millions of ages, it will be wrath to come still, no nearer an end than it was at first nor easier to be borne. It is eternal wrath, lasting as the holiness of the Being who inflicts, and the guilt of the sinners who endure it. The world will not believe this ; but there is no truth, which the Bible more clearly and more solemnly asserts. It tells us that to the ungodly is re- served the blackness of darkness for ever ; that their destruction is everlasting ; that they are tormented by a worm that dieth not, and by a fire that never shall be quenched. Here for a season we may forget or disbe- lieve these declarations, but the very moment, in which the wrath of God first bursts on us, we shall know it to be eternal ; all the sinkings and anguish of despair will accompany it, and dreadfully increase its weight. 6. But who are the people that are liable to this wrath ? Alas, brethren, it is the very wrath, which ive for his Deliverer. 549 have all incurred; the very condemnation, 'that is come upon all men, upon all the fallen children of fallen Adam. The first act of sin we ever committed made it our portion ; yea, we brought into the world with us a depraved nature, the seeds of those dispositions and desires, with which the curse of God is ever con- nected. Hence we are said in the Scriptures to be *' by nature the children of wrath ;" and our church speaks the same language. It deems the truth so important, so necessary to be known, that even in our childhood it taught us to regard ourselves as being by nature born in sin, and consequently the heirs of wrath. II. Is there then no way of escape from the wrath to come ? Blessed be God, there is. The text speaks of some, who have actually escaped from it, and leads us to consider, secondly, the deliverance which they have obtained. 1. Now this is an wwe/d-^ery^f/ deliverance. It is true that they, who have received it are a people, who have turned from idols to serve the living and true God ; but what led them to choose his service ? No natural love that they had for it, for they were as far gone from original righteousness as any of their race. It was the power of the Holy Ghost, which turned them ; the free and distinguishing grace of the very God, whom they had long braved and hated. And what has been their conduct since ? They have been less unholy than they once were, less desperately wicked than many of their brethren, but not a day, not an hour has passed, in which they have not provoked the Lord to anger, and again merited the wrath they had escaped. They no more deserve deliverance than that man deserves it, who receives a pardon in the very midst of his crimes, and then day by day sins against the sovereign that spared him. 550 The Christian waiting 2. But though it be undeserved, it is a complete de- liverance. Some degree of displeasure indeed. God will ever manifest against iniquity, and even his own chil- dren cannot forsake his law, without feeling the effects of his anger. The holiness of his nature, his office as the great Govenor of the world, require him to visit their transgression with the rod, and their iniquities with stripes. Hence we see them sharing in all. or at least in most, of the calamities of this W/orld of sorrow, and often bearing a double portion of its woes. But as for the wrath to come, it can never touch them. They are as fully, as perfectly, delivered from it, as though it had ceastd to burn, or they had ceased to deserve it. It is not mitigated merely or withheld ; as far as they are concerned, it is destroyed, utterly extinct. 3. Hence their deliverance from it is an eternal de- liverance, not the consequence of a pardon, which some fresh act of transgression may revoke ; not the removal to a distance of an evil, which some change in their character may again bring near : it is an eternal salva- tion, a final separation between them and all possibility of condemnation. Now this is more than we are warranted to say of any other creature in the universe. The angels, who are now rejoicing in heaven, may, for aught we know to the contrary, be liable to fall into the same sin, into which their brethren fell, and inherit the same destruc- tion. Their happiness depends on their obedience ; but the happiness of the redeemed sinners of mankind rests on a much surer foundation, on a more solid basis. The promise of Jehovah insures its everlasting con- tinuance. Not that he has promised to preserve them in his kingdom, though they rebel against him there ; but he has promised that they shall not rebel against him ; for his Delive7'er. 551 that age after age shall roll away, and their hearts con- tinue pure as the temple they inhabit, and their peace as undisturbed as his own ; yea, that they shall con- tinue for ever increasing in holiness and glory, and growing in a resemblance to himself. III. But how has this great salvation been obtained ? By whom has this undeserved, complete, and eternal deliverance been eflected? The apostle answers the question, and points out to us, thirdly, the author of that deliverance, of which he speaks. It is certain that man cannot be his own deliverer. Much as he struggles against the natural evils that be- set him, and much as he has called forth the powers of his body and mind in order to avert or mitigate them, misery still reigns over the world, sickness still afflicts, and death still desolates it. We cannot banih^h them. And what power have we over those mental, those spiritual evils, which so often rack the human breast? Who can minister to a mind diseased? Who can assuage the torment of a wounded spirit, or blunt the stings of an accusing conscience ? Not one. And yet all these present evils are no more to be compared with the wrath to come, than the breath of summer with a whirlwind. The inference then is plain, no man can be tlie author of his own deliverance. None of the sons of men can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to God a ransom for him. Neither can the angels, who excel in strength, help us here. They might have pitied us in our lost estate, but though sinless and happy, they were, like our- selves, the created servants of Jehovah, and had no power to satisfy the claims of his broken law, or to stay his uplifted arm. But at length a deliverer came. The eternal Son, the sharer of the Father's own om 552 The Christian waiting nipotence, proposed himself as the Mediator between heaven and earth, and arrested the sword of justice. He averted the stroke from his guihy people, and re- ceived it on his own guiltless head. He bare their sins in his own body on the tree, and drank there, to the very dregs, that cup of vv^rath, which had been pre- pared for them. There he magnified and made honoura- ble that law, which they had broken ; and constrained a wondering universe to adore the awful justice of Je- hovah, even while his mercy saved a race of rebels. And now, in consequence of his obedience unto death, all that believe in him are justified from all things; their sins are pardoned ; all their liability to punishment is done away ; they pass from death unto life ; the cliildren of wrath become the children of grace, the sons of God, and the heirs of salvation. To assure them of the certainty of their deliverance, God raised his Son from the grave, whither he had laid hiniself. He exalted him to his own right hand in glory, and there he sits and reigns a Prince and a Sa- viour, interceding for his beloved people, calling them out one by one and separating them from an ungodly world, sanctifying their hearts, instructing them in heavenly wisdom, comforting them in all their tribula- tions, sharing all their sorrows and joys, and making them meet for their eternal inheritance. By his death he purchased heaven for them, and by his life he pre- pares them for it, and secures to them its happiness. " God commendeth his love towards us," says the apostle, ^' in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him ; for if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being recon- ciled, we shall be saved through his life. "^ for his Deliverer. 55S IV. A deliverance from an evil thus great, virought out by a Being thus exalted, and in a manner thus ex- traordinary, must necessarily make some impression on the minds of those, who are the partakers of it. Hence the apostle describes in the text the effect, which the deliverance they have received produces in the people of God. " They wait for his Son from heaven." 1. Now this expression implies that they have a firm belief in his second coming. While some are doubting and fearing, and others profanely asking, ^* Where is the promise of his coming ?" they entertain no more doubt of the certainty of his second coming, than they do of the reality of his first. They know that their Re- deemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth ; and by means of that faith, which con- templates the future as actually present, they lift up their eyes to heaven, and behold him, whom their soul loveth, clothing himself with his glory, marshalling his angels, bowing the heavens, and travelling down. 2. They habitually endeavour also to be prepared for his coming., to be ready to meet him in the air, to be ready to stand at his judgment-seat, to be found meet to be partakers of his joy. And with such a work as this on their hands, can they sleep as do others ? Can they plunge themselves into the pleasures and cares of the world, and live as though death were a fable, judg- ment a jest, and eternity a dream ? Impossible. They prepare to meet their God. Seeing that they look for such things, they are diligent that they may be found of him in peace without spot and blameless. They live as men, who know that there is wrath to be escaped and mercy to be won ; that they have guilty souls to be saved and impure hearts to be cleansed ; that death and 4 A .554 The Christian ivaiting judgment are before them, and that in another hour eternity may be here. 3. The language of the text implies, further, that they earnest I u desire the coming of their 'Lord. They love him, and they consequently long to see him and be with him. Instead of shrinking from the prospect of his advent, they look forward to it as the time, when all their trials will be ended, all the sufferings of their fel- low Christians brought to an end, all the reproach of their Master done away, and all his enemies destroyed. Hence they are said to be looking for and hastening unto the coming of the day of God ; not that they can hasten it one hour, but their desire of its approach is so ardent, that they are often anticipating it, and longing to bring it near. 4. But their desire is free from any miixture of impa- tience, at least they wish it to be so; for they patiently wait for the coming of their Lord. Weaned from the ■world, but not discontented under its troubles nor weary of its duties, they submit themselves to the will of Christ. Longing to depart and to be with him, they yet leave both the time and the manner of their depar- ture to his wisdom. They rejoice in hope, and are therefore patient in tribulation. They know that their Deliverer will eventually appear unto their complete salvation, and they know too that the salvation, which he will bring with him when he comes, will more than recompense them for all their light afflictions ; that the longer the wheels of his chariot are delayed in their coming, so much the more glorious will be their own deliverance, and so much the more splendid the triumph of their Lord. This then is the effect, which deliverance from the wrath to come produces in the minds of those, v/ho are for his Deliverer. 555 really delivered from it. It leads them to wait for the risen Jesus from heaven ; to believe in, to prepare for, to desire, and to wait for his second coming. Hence the text before us may be applied, first, to those among uSf who are anxious to know whether they are yet deli- vered from future wrath. You believe perhaps that this wrath will assuredly come, and with fear and trembling you have sought salvation from it ; but you know not whether you have yet attained it, and are still doubtful as to your present state and your latter end. Now the words before us plainly point out the means of ascer- taining this momentous point. They call upon you to enquire from what source you have expected delive- rance ; whether you have been striving to work it out by your own prayers, and resolutions, and righteous- ness, or whether, under a sense of your utter helpless- ness, you have fled for refuge to the Son of God. What effect has the salvation you have been seeking produced in you ? It turned the Thessalonians from the service of idols to the service of God, and caused them to prepare for the coming of Christ to be their Judge ; what idols and vanities then have you re- nounced ? What sacrifices have you made, and are daily making for God ? What change has taken place in your principles and conduct? Are you waiting for Christ ? Do you really believe that you must stand be- fore him ? And are you acting on this belief, preparing to stand before him and to take your trial for eternity^ What, if this very day the trumpet should sound, and the dead should be raised ? What, if the Son of man should this very hour come in his glory ? In what state would he find you ? With your loins girded, and your lamps burning, and your hearts leaping for joy at his approach ; or careless and indifferent about him, living 556 The Christian waiting as though you never expected him to come, and sur- prised and confounded at his appearance ? Put such questions as these to yourselves, brethren, and strive from them to ascertain your condition and prospects. Be determined to discover the truth. To be in a state of doubt whether we are the children of wrath or the children of grace ; to be standing on the borders of eternity, and to be unable to tell whether the glories of heaven, or the pains of hell may to-morrow be our por- tion— if we are indeed Christians, this uncertainty can- not patiently be borne. In the midst of all the comforts, which the world can afford, never shall we know one moment's peace till we have some ground to regard ourselves as pardoned and saved. But there are others among usj who are undoubtedly neither ivaiting for the coming of Christ nor seeking de- liverance from his wrath. These things have a place in their creed perhaps, and they think that they really be- lieve them ; but they do not act as though they consi- dered them realities. The whole course of their con- duct is in direct opposition to such a supposition. Now whence arises this inconsistency? It arises, brethren, from secret unbelief. You have listened to the sugges- tions of an evil heart and an evil world, till you have learned to hope that the Bible does not speak the truth concerning the purposes of God ; and, relying on its falsehood, you are willing to run some risk, and to make light of the threatenings it contains. Nay, there are some of you who are conscious of your unbelief, and openly avow it. You say that God is too merciful to execute the denunciations of his word ; that they are designed merely to alarm us, and not to be acted on ; that they could not be acted on without impeaching the character of the God of love. Then what a riddle is the for his Deliverer. ^o^ world we are living on ? While you are suspecting the veracity of God, proudly opposing your reasonings to his declarations, and denying the awful justice of his nature, thou'iands of your fellow creatures are groaning under his vengeance, are bovv^ed down with misery, writhing with pain, and struggling with the pangs of death. Disorder and suffering are every where reigning around you, and beneath your feet are the ashes of the dead. Now what do these things prove ? Either that there is no God who judgeth the earth, or that he is a God of the most fearful holiness. At any rate, they prove that the suggestions of your unbelieving hearts are contrary not only to the language of the Bible, but to matter of fact. The miseries we behold and endure, cannot be reconciled with the supposition that the threatenings of God will not be executed. On the con- trary, they are the forerunners of the wrath to come; the distant thunders, which warn you of the rising storm. They tell you that there is a God, who sees and marks your transgressions ; that vengeance be- longeth to him ; that the day of vengeance is already in his heart; that you must flee from the wrath to come, or behold its terrors and feel its anguish. The text may be applied also to those^ who are anx- iously desiring deliverance from the wrath to come. You believe that this wrath is actually coming, and that, when it comes it will be as righteous as it is fearful. Instead of cavilling at the law of God as too strict, and at his justice as too severe, you blame only your own folly, which has transgressed the one, and your own desperate wickedness, which has incensed the other. While you tremble at the prospect of destruction, you are persuaded that all its miseries are only the merited rewards of your iniquities. Now, brethren, to such as 558 The Christian waiting you the words before us are calculated to afford encou- ragement. They intimate indeed, that you have no power to deliver yourselves from vengeance, but they tell you also that the very God, whom you have of- fended, has raised up a deliverer for you, and no less a deliverer than his own eternal !Son, the partaker of his greatness and his power, the partaker also of his unsearchable mercy and incomprehensible grace. And now how are you to act ? To renounce all expectations of obtaining deliverance from any other quarter, and to seek it in Christ alone ; to make a particular and heart-felt application to him for salvation; to commit your immortal soul into his hands, believing in the ef- ficacy of his blood to cleanse it, of his grace to sanctify it, of his power to keep it, of his love to save it. And what will be the result of this application ? A free, and full, and glorious salvation ; a complete and eternal de- liverance from all the consequences of all your sins, and an abundant share of all the joys that are found in heaven. The subject before us addresses itself also to those^ who have already obtained deliverance through Christ from the wrath to come. It bids them look back to the greatness of this wrath, and the wonderful means, by which they were delivered from it; and while their hearts are burning with joy and gratitude, it bids them look forward to the glorious appearing of the great God and their Saviour. Scarcely was he ascended into hea- ven, when he sent down his angels to assure us that he would come again ; and a little afterwards, he himself spoke to us from his throne and said, " Behold, 1 come quickly." *' Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Stablish your hearts, for the com- ing of tiic Lord draweth nigh." Your sufferings in the for his Deliverer. i559 world, wherein he has left you, may be great, but he will soon come to put an end to them. Your days may be evil, but they are also few. The road you are tra- velling may be rugged, the journey however is but short. The conflict may be severe, but fight manfully, for the battle must soon be over. Ere long the Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, and then shall you lift up your heads with joy, and join with a glow- ing heart and exulting voice in the shout of the trium- phant church, " Lo, this is our God ; we have waited for him, and he will save us. This is the Lord ; we have waited for him ; we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation." SERMON XXXVir. THE PRAYER OF DAVID FOR SELF KNOWLEDGE. PSALM CXXxix. 23, 24. Search me, O God, a7id know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts ; and scic, if there be any wicked way in 7ne : and lead me in the way everlasting: jS one but a man of heart-felt piety could have writ- ten this prayer ; and he among ourselves, who can feel- ingly offer it up to heaven, is not far from the kingdom of God. He is at least in earnest in his religious pro- fession, and has evidently learnt, what thousands who deem themselves Christians never have learnt, but what we all must learn before our souls can be saved, the exceeding deceitfulness of the human heart, its igno- rance, and wickedness. May that blessed Spirit, .who put this petition into David's mind, put it this day into our minds ; teach each of us thus to pray, and keep us thus praying all the days of our life ! L The first inference to be drawn from the psalmist's prayer, is this oft-repeated but most important truth — true religion has its seat in the heart ; it is an inward thing, a principle dwelling in the mind, and ruling over the whole inner man. Now this is a truth, which we are all willing to ac- knowledge— indeed we must acknowledge it or directly contradict the Bible — but there are few of us, who heartily believe it^ and still fewer, who are aware of its The Prayer of David, &c. 561 importance. Many of us, when off our guard, openly declare that it matters not what a man thinks and feels, so that his life is right. We pray indeed at church that God would make clean our hearts within us, but when we are afterwards told of the guilt of those unclean, envious, and proud thoughts, which so often defile our hearts, that they are sinful in their nature, and ruinous in their consequences, what do we say ? We imme- diately show that we meant nothing by our prayer, and contend that there can be no sin in such momentary, shadowy things as thoughts ; that they do no one any harm, and that none but an enthusiast would attach any importance to them. Others among us perceive the absurdity of this lan- guage, its opposition to common sense as well as to the declarations of the Scripture ; and yet we arc really adopting the same principle, or one very much like it. If we do not make religion consist in a few decencies, and a round of forms, we represent it as consisting in that, which is little or nothing better, the reception of a favourite creed, the upholding of a system of doc- trines. These men have acquired perhaps some know- ledge of the gospel, but it is confined to their under- standings only ; clear perhaps, as far as it goes, as the rays of the sun, but cold and powerless as the light of the mcon. They can speculate, they can dispute, but this is all ; they cannot feel, they cannot love, they can- not pray. They are controversialists, but they are not Christians. Others again seem to have admitted something like religion into their imaginations. It interests them. It elevates their minds by