A Young Man Who Went Away Sorrowful

Man, the child of God, was happy once, and he was happy because God was in His proper place; the Father was in the heart of His child. There could be no doubt about it; the living God was man’s dearest friend and chiefest joy, and his blessedness was great, for the source whence it came was exhaustless. He who is the Treasure of Heaven — the King of its angels — the wealth of all worlds, was the Father of man.

So truly was this the case, that earthly sonship was only an image of the closer relation which bound man to his truest and most peculiar Parent. Had innocence lasted long enough, a sinless Cain or Abel might in process of time have outgrown the dependent and up-looking feelings which bound him to his earthly sire; and remoteness of scene might have interrupted the intercourse. But no change of place could have created distance from God, or suspended the communion with heaven; and advancing years would only have made him feel more profoundly the tender and numberless ties which bound him to the Father of his spirit — his celestial Sire — his Parent proper and supreme.

God was man’s Father, and the heavenly Father communed with His earthly child. He not only gave him food, which built up his body, but He gave him thoughts, feelings, affections which nourished his immortal nature — sights to look at, things to think of, which kept up the eternal life in his mind. And how did that life evolve? how was God’s life in man’s soul expressed and exhibited? For one thing in worship. He could never say sufficiently how grateful he was, nor how beautiful, how kind, how adorable his heavenly Father appeared. And, for another thing, that Divine life developed in beneficence. The conscious love of Infinite Goodness made him exceeding glad, and gladness coming from such a source made him gracious, communicative, kindly affectioned. Brimming over with blessedness, he was the fellow-worker with God; and, although it had only been to fetch a cup of cold water to a companion, or restore to the nest some callow fledgling that had fallen over, the smile of complacent Deity in the soul must have found an outlet in some deed of tender mercy; and, although it had only been in training a rose or grouping the flowers of a border, to carry forward the Father’s plan, and finish the Father’s work, was the meat and drink of Paradise.

A blessed state which was quickly ended. Man sinned. God forsook His place in the heart of His guilty and fallen child; and, alas! as He retired the heart closed its doors against Him. It was still a heart — still a great, greedy, affectionate craving thing, which needs for its satisfaction an infinite and all- worthy object. But the one object was gone; and ever since man lost his “treasure in heaven” — ever since he lost that G od who is the gold of angels and who was the riches of Paradise * — his great effort has been to find a substitute. Instead of opening the heart’s door and readmitting the original and rightful occupant, he fills the space as best he can with idols. Of these the favourite and most frequent is the world or mammon. In that shrine which once flamed and glowed with indwelling Deity, and where the love of God sustained perpetual summer, there now burns, to make the darkness visible, a little night-light of earthly friendship or creature-fondness; and on that throne, where once presided the great I Am, now sits, in mockery at once of the living God and of the fatuous worshipper, a golden pagod, or mayhap some foul desire or sinful passion — a something which holds in its hand the strings that move the man:

* “Have money-worshippers really considered it, that the living God is not dead metal, and yet that He is, strictly speaking, the only human gold? Rich men are the men who carry God in their souls, and these are the only men who have the true human gold to give. The receiver of this gold receives an unmingled blessing; and the giver becomes richer by giving.” — Pulsford’s “Quiet Hours,” p. 31, whilst after all, his noblest faculties, like so much obsolete lumber, lie unnoticed and unused, and crumbling to decay.

The Lord Jesus understood, even as He pitied, the case of lapsed humanity. His errand was to restore man’s blessedness by restoring God’s supremacy. He came to set up anew God’s kingdom in the soul of man. On the one side, as the great Priest- Victim He expiated the sacrilege of which man had been guilty in profaning God’s temple, and in placing obscene usurpers on Jehovah’s throne; and His own most precious blood He puts at the disposal of every penitent who seeks to cleanse his heart from idols. On the other hand, as God’s Prophet and man’s King, He seeks to make the sinner desirous of God’s return to the forsaken shrine. He seeks to make the sinner feel how guilty he was when he said to the living God, ( Depart,’ and He seeks to make the sinner feel how truly poor and wretched he is with coin in hi? chest but no God in his heart; with loving but dying children around him who call him father, whilst the Immortal Father owns him as no child. Perhaps even now that great Apostle of our profession speaks to some one; for Christ’s mission did not end at Olivet — the voice which spake on earth still speaks from heaven. Perhaps even now the Lord Jesus has knocked at your heart-door, and the hollow sound that echoes bark tells him and you, that it is vacant or filled with ostentatious emptiness. Your chief end is to glorify self and enjoy the present world for ever; or at the very best, your chief end is to glorify and gladden that expanded self, your nearest friends and dearest kindred; and it misgives you that, beautiful as the idol is, it is not the living God, and that you would need to get something more before you can be sure of “treasure in heaven.”

The evangelists tell us that on one of His journeys the Lord Jesus was met by a young ruler, who came to Him running, in his anxiety to ask Him a question. He was a young man of excellent character and engaging manners — so prepossessing that, as the interview proceeded, Mark says, “Jesus loved him.” His first exclamation was, “Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life? “Reminding him that “none is truly good butGod,” — Jesus answered by repeating the second table of the law. Half-pleased, half-mortified, glad to think that he had fulfilled this requirement already, but sorry that the great Teacher had no more specific prescription, he replied, “All these have I observed from my youth.” By no means surprised at the answer — knowing it to be sincere though sadly erroneous — the Lord Jesus made the prescription more specific, and put the test another way. That second table may be summed up in one sentence, “‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Accordingly Jesus said, u Sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, take up thy cross, and follow me.” This rejoinder instantly rent open the refuge of lies, and disclosed to the youth his reigning worldly-mindedness. After all he did not love his neighbour as himself. After all he was not so desirous of heavenly treasure that, in order to gain it, he could part with a few acres of land. After all he was not so alive to God, nor so intent on His favour as to descry in the “good Master” any divine lineaments, or even to care to follow farther One whom to know is everlasting life. “He went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.”

There were interesting features in this young man’s character, and for these the Lord Jesus lovedhim. Some who are of a sterner mould would not have felt so kindly. They would have scowled on all the amenities and attractions of this youth as mere natural goodness, mere carnal virtue, dead morality. But such as they were they possessed a certain charm in the eyes of Jesus Christ. He saw in them the hand of God. Even in these outward accomplishments and in this general correctness of conduct He recognised restraining grace. And in the mind of the Saviour, at the sight of this youth, so ingenuous, so sincere, and so outwardly correct, although still outside of the kinc:- dcm, there was awakened a sentiment very different rrom that which Ho felt towards false and cunning

Pharisees, profane and jeering Sadducees, and such open reprobates and ruffians as He sometimes encountered in Nazareth and Samaria. But with all these feelings of interest and affection, the Lord Jesus did not speak to him premature peace or dangerous comfort. He saw that this young inquirer was still in the bond of iniquity; He saw that he had yet to discover the plague of his own heart; He saw that he was one of those who fancy that they are whole and need not a physician; and He knew that any answer which did not reveal to him his true character, would be to deceive his soul and speed him on to perdition with a lie in his right hand. And with that holy fidelity which triumphs over natural feeling, Jesus gave the unwelcome reply; the answer which sent away dejected and gloomy one who had run up to Him radiant with hope and eager to exhibit his reverential regard: teaching us that our love to our friends should never make us flatter their mistakes, nor deal falsely by their immortal interests. Let us look for a little —

1. At those features in this young ruler’s character which, as the Son of man, the Lord Jesus loved.

2. Those defects in this young man’s character which, as the Son of God, the Lord Jesus detected and disclosed.

I. 1. He was sound in his creed. At that period the fashionable religion in Palestine was a sort of

Materialism. Owing to their intercourse with Gentile nations, and partly a reaction from the hollow trtiisms and puerile inanities of the rabbies, a Hellenistic rage was at this time overspreading the refined circles in the Holy Land, and much useless trouble was taken to deck the truths of Kevelation in the new costume. The consequence was, that many became ashamed of their old Hebrew book. The Bible was not sufficiently classical; and in certain coteries people began to talk about myths and Mosaic fables, and doubted if there were such a thing as an angel, or a soul distinct from the material frame, or any resurrection of the body. And amongst the young and the rich and the thoughtless, these opinions had amazing currency. They were new, and this recommended them to bold and dashing spirits. They put God and a future judgment out of the way, and that endeared them to the voluptuous and vicious, — to the jovial spirits, who shouted, “Let us crown ourselves with rose-buds and drench our garlands in wine; let us eat and drink, and be merry: for to-morrow we die and all is done.” And they had a show of wisdom. Leaving out of sight the sacred books, these Gentile writers were incomparably more clever, more profound, and more brilliant, than any who took the side of the ancient faith: and, as if to provoke every powerful nmlerstanding and every cultivated mind into this iucean free-thinking, the theologians and religious teachers of the day rushed into the opposite extreme: and. to avoid the suspicion of Gentilism, dullness became the badge of orthodoxy and triteness the test of truth.

Now, from the first exclamation of this young man, any spectator might have gathered that he had not left the faith of his fathers: “What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?” Contrary to the prevailing scepticism, he believed in the soul’s immortality, and was anxious about his own destiny in the world to come. And that single utterance was a powerful prepossession in his favour. Knowing all the temptations to which he was exposed; knowing how often he must have run the gauntlet of derision and contempt; knowing how frequently he must have been bantered by his friends for his antiquated notions, and how many hints he must have had as to their mental weakness or moral cowardice who still frequented synagogues and said their prayers; knowing how at the tables of the gay and the genteel he must have been many times rallied for following the faith of some mother Eunice, or some “grandmother” Lois; knowing all the temptations to infidelity which encompassed a young man of his distinction, and hearing from his lips this confession of his faith, Jesus loved him for his orthodoxy.

And our youthful reader is to be congratulated if, like this ruler, he believes the Bible. Our times are not wholly dissimilar. The world just now is full of vigorous thinkers; but few of these are firm believers. The press is teeming with fresh and wonderful books; books written in new styles, and either exhibiting new truths or drawing new and startling conclusions from familiar facts. And every man is sanguine as to the powers of his prescription — the success of his panacea: he is sure that his proposal is to carry the world’s convictions and new-create society. But whilst the literature of the day is lifesome and bold and leonine; whilst, full of energy and self-reliance, it practises and prospers, — religion is too often tame and timid. It is not always that the pious books of the present day have the freshness and power of its secular publications. They look as if they only half believed the Bible; they are terrified to translate it; they dare not put new words on familiar truths: they are too often trite and commonplace; the echoes of an echo; the shadows of a shade. And in such times, when genius is so sceptical and faith so dull, there are strong temptations to a young and vigorous understanding to fall in with popular forms of unbelief. Few are so earnest that tlioy will read a good book for the sake of its goodness, however tame the thought and however flat the style. And few can read brilliant books, from which religion is banished, or in which it is openly reviled, without carrying away the contagious damage.

Aud; therefore, in such times, and surrounded by such influences, we specially congratulate youthful and accomplished minds, if they have escaped the Sadducean pestilence. If you have learned to distinguish betwixt clear facts and clever fancies; if along with the sentiment which admires the gorgeous colours of the evening sky, you possess the common sense which to a castle up among these clouds prefers a cottage on the plain; if, amidst the ever-changing ideal you keep a steady grasp of the unchanging historical; if, when the fashionable philosophy is springing up like the grass in summer, or picturesque theories are blossoming like the flowers of the season, — if you still remember, “The grass withereth and the flower fadeth; but the Word of the Lord endureth for ever,” we congratulate you on the wisdom of your conclusion and the security of your position. And still more would we wish you joy, if these convictions are so strong that you do not scruple to declare them; if, amidst thoughtless companions or open scoffers, you do not disguise nor disavow your persuasion; if the scorner’s laugh do not deter you from the sanctuary, nor make you ashamed of pious parents and a praying home; if you have never felt it brave to be a blasphemer, nor dastardly to fear the Lord. Such convictions and such conquests over unbelief are the gift of God; blessings for which, so far as they go, you should be very grateful, and beauties of character such as. embodied in this young ruler, the Saviour loved.

2. But more than this, he was a moral man. Jesus repeated to him the commandments, “Do not commit adultery, do not kill, do not steal, do not bear false witness,” &c, and he could answer, “All these have I kept from my infancy up.” Doubtless, that answer showed that he had still to learn the purity and heart-pervasiveness of God’s law; but it showed how much decorum and decency had marked his outward conduct. His conscience did not reproach him with any great and outstanding transgression; he had never embezzled money intrusted to his keeping; he had never enriched himself by defrauding others; he had never, to his knowledge, told a lie; he had never slandered nor falsely accused a companion; and there was no dark day in his history to which reluctant memory was ever and anon reverting, — no gloomy day, in which some guilty secret lay entombed, and from which he dreaded it might spring in sudden and ghastly resurrection. But over his general and world-ward conduct his eye could glide with prevailing satisfaction; and so far as society went, he moved about a fearless and unembarrassed man, grasping every proffered hand sincerely, looking trustfully into every cordial countenance, with no dread of stumbling into pits which himself had digged, or startling the ghosts of buried crimes; regarding the Cities of Refuge as humane asylums for his less fortunate fellows, and the trespass-offerings as a gracious provision for the sinful multitude; nor perhaps altogether without a mixture of that self-complacency which says, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.”

Reader, can you say as much? Have you this young man’s outward morality and freedom from common sins? Or are you one of those, who, hoping to “do” some good thing, so as to inherit eternal life, “fall short of one, who, after all, fell short of heaven?”

3. But the young ruler was more than correct. There was something very captivating in his character. Some persons are blameless, but they have about them nothing beautiful. You cannot point out their faults, but you are conscious of no fascination in them. But with this young man it was entirely different; and with that suggestive profusion which marks the pencil of these evangelist-artists, we can detect even in this rapid sketch much that is graceful and gainly. You see him frank, courageous, and unaffected. Jesus is passing on his way, and, fearful of missing his opportunity, and absorbed by his own earnestness, he thinks nothing of posting along the road and running quickly up, forgetful of the solemn gait which befits exalted station. And with the same inadvertency to appearances, — with the same free and manly expression of his respectful and reverential feelings, you see him kneeling down as he accosts the Saviour; and you cannot fail to notice the cordiality as well as courtesy of his address, — his confidence in Christ’s wisdom and benevolence as he hails Him, “Kind Teacher, Good Master.” And the whole interview leaves on your mind an impression of urbanity, politeness, just sentiment, and natural feeling, open-hearted gentleness, and engaging suavity: all confirmed when we read that Jesus, when He looked on him, loved him.

And so may there be those amongst us, who are extremely amiable, but yet who lack the one thing. You are mild in your temper, and gentle in your movements. You like to do obliging things, and make those around you happy. And people love you. They cannot help admiring your faultless conduct, and feeling grateful for your kind attentions. And everything you do is dutiful; you are so correct and obedient, so diligent and self-denying, and so exemplary, that even pious friends might be Beady to ask. What does he lack? But were you kneeling before the heart-searching Saviour, like this interesting youth, — are you sure that He would see no lack? Would He not see a heart quite cold to God m about Him or absolutely hating Him?

Would He not see a heart quite filled with other things, and not even a corner kept for Himself? Would He not see a heart set upon people’s praise or people’s love, but never caring for the praise and the love of God? As Boston says, “Many are the devil’s lions, filling the place where they live with the noise of their revels and riotings; but this young man was one of the devil’s lambs, going to hell without letting the world hear the sound of his feet.”

4. He was a religious inquirer. He was in earnest about his soul. He had evidently been turning the subject over in his mind. He was not entirely satisfied with himself. Notwithstanding his morality, he felt that there was something awanting. He did not feel as if he were yet inheriting eternal life. His religion did not satisfy himself. And in the hope that the missing secret might be revealed, and the painful want supplied, he determined on consulting Jesus. And he carried his intention explicitly out. He did not steal an interview, nor come, like Nicodemus, disguised and through the dark: but on the patent road and in the public day, in the presence of others, and most likely with the knowledge of some of his neighbours, he hasted to the feet of Jesus, and put his momentous question openly.

Have you eve,r inquired? Have you ever taken a thought about your soul and its everlasting salvation? Have you ever said to yourself, ‘Well, it is a very serious matter this, to have a soul which must

Boon be in heaven or hell for ever. True, I am young, and summer days are bright, and I am fond of pastime, and I have some important work on hand. But my soul? How can I find balm in the breath of June — how can I find cheerfulness in my work or pleasure in my play, so long as my soul is perishing? And, let me see, my Bible says, “Except ye be converted — except ye be born again, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.” But I doubt if I am converted. I am sure that I am not born again. How am I to come at it? How shall I find salvation? How shall I ever get to heaven? ’

We have now seen what there was interesting and attractive about this young ruler. He was sound in his creed. At a time when throughout Palestine most of the refined and fashionable people were freethinkers and Sadducees, he was a believer in revelation, and firm in the only faith. And he was correct in his conduct. Free from flagrant crimes, he had outwardly fulfilled the various commands, and could answer to each in succession, All these have I kept. And there was in his character and dispositions much that was captivating and prepossessing. Frank, affable, and courteous, it was fine to see a ruler so humble, and a young man so thoughtful. For this gave additional charm to all his other features, — he was a religious inquirer, and really in earnest about his soul’s salvation.

And as there you see the noble youth kneeling at Messiah’s feet, you are ready to exclaim, i 0, blessed Jesus, deal gently with the lad! Deal gently with him for his own sake and for Thine! He is young and amiable, and the world still smiles on him: do not scare him away with that formidable cross. Look at him, and confess if Thou dost not love him? Is he not engaging? and would he not prove to Thyself a companion more congenial, and an associate more intelligent than these rude fishermen? And is he not a ruler? Would there not be a sanction in his support, and an asylum in his friendship? and would it not annihilate the taunt, Have any of the rulers believed on Him? And is he not rich? With such a disciple in Thy retinue, Thou needst never say again, u The foxes have holes,” for every mansion in Jewry would be open to Thee then? And is he not refined? and might not men of rank — might not many rulers and rich men be brought to believe through the influence of such a minister?’

No; there is only one path to the kingdom. There is not one salvation for the rich and another for the poor; there is not one cross for the noble and another for the fisherman. Nothing but a new heart will enter heaven: and in this affecting instance the Saviour has taught us that whether encased in the most repulsive depravity, or encircled with all the charms of a well-spent youth, a carnal mind cannot enter the kingdom.

IT. In a moment, and by His Divine intuition, the Lord Jesus saw how it stood with this inquirer. He knew far better than the man himself the state of his inmost soul. And though the youth imagined that his desire of salvation was supreme, Jesus saw that it was only secondary, and brought clearly out these two things — 1. That he had no right knowledge of sin; and 2. No sufficient desire for the favour and enjoyment of God.

1. First of all, the Saviour went over the leading commands, and to these the young man unhesitatingly answered that he had kept them all. He did not mean to deceive, and Jesus loved him none the less for his honest but erroneous answer. It was true according to his own understanding of these precepts, but that he should understand them in such a meagre sense was a proof how callous was his conscience, and how defective his spiritual apprehension. Had that apprehension been more correct, and that conscience more tender, he would have known that the thought of wickedness is sin; and he would have felt that the imagination of his heart had been only evil continually; and that life on which he plumed himself as a succession of virtues would have darkened into a orics of sins. * lie would have been in the situation which the Apostle Paul afterwards so graphically described as his own. Like a man in a pestilent season who is told that the plague-spot has appeared on his countenance, and he feels so well that he will not believe it. However, being told to look into the glass, for a moment he glances into a dim mirror, or a mirror in a dusky chamber, and protests that he can see nothing wrong. But his informant comes in, and pulls open a shutter, and lets in a clearer light, or brushes the dust from the face of the mirror; and lo! large and livid on his darkening brow the sentence of approaching death. Saul, the moralist, once would not believe that there was aught amiss in his character. He felt alive and well, and trusted that he was good enough to be going to heaven. He looked into the law, and like this young man, declared sincerely, “All these have I kept.” But whilst he was still gazing into the dusty glass, and saying to himself, ‘I am whole and need no physician,’ of a sudden the Spirit of God let in a flood of light, and at the same moment the tenth commandment brushed the film from the face of the mirror, and shewed him swarms of evil thoughts and unholy wishes; and oh! what an altered man he saw himself. What a leprous and plague-stricken soul he saw his own to be! What a doomed and death-stricken spirit he felt it! And how when that one commandment came, sin was vivified; his real character was revealed, and the self-justifying legalist” died!”

But when the Saviour sent this youth to the mirror, the dust was on it, and the room was dark. With perfect sincerity, but sadly mistaking, he reported, “All these have I kept.” And this fatal error frustrated all the rest. Feeling no need of an atoning sacrifice, or a Divine forgiveness, there was no reason why he should take up the cross and follow Jesus. He was not, to his own sensations at least, one of those lost ones, whom the Friend of Sinners came to seek and to save.

And doubtless, it still is this which makes many stop short of the Saviour. They see no sin in themselves; or, at all events, no sin that is damnable. They allow that they are infirm and imperfect, and that, like all other people, they have their faults and their short-comings. But anything so atrocious as to merit the Divine displeasure, they deprecate and disown, for, honestly, they cannot discover it.

The young man was aware of no short-coming, no transgression; and, although the first table of the law had next been held up, he could have viewed himself in it with equal complacency. Such is the deceitfulness of sin, and such is the deadness of conscience till quickened by the Spirit of God! But, suppose that at this point it had flashed on his conviction, ‘All these have I misunderstood and mismanaged from my youth. I have kept them not to God but to myself. My good deeds have been put together like so many dead and disjointed sticks to make rounds in a ladder that would reach up to heaven; they have not grown like green branches spontaneous and beautiful from a living tree, the root of which was love to God and my neighbour. I have been a mere selfist, living for men’s praise, living for my own interest or indulgence; and if God has been sometimes in my thoughts He has been seldom in my heart: He has been to me the hard task-master instead of the dear Father and the gracious Sovereign; and, whilst He has been shut out from my heart, I have tried to propitiate Him by a quit-rent handed forth from the window, by a few good words spoken in prayer, a few coins given away in alms or cast into the treasury. 0 Master, canst thou replace the living God in a worldling’s soul? Is there any pardon for my long impiety? Canst thou teach me to love the Lord God with all my heart and mind?’ Suppose that this had been the bitter cry awakened by his conscious emptiness, he was now in the presence of one who could abundantly comfort. He had come to consult one who could not only pardon the past, but in whose society he might soon have recovered the lost secret of Paradise, and learned to delight in the living God as a Father and a Friend. Nay, little as he surmised it, that “good Master” was Himself the i good God,’ and in following Jesus, frequenting His society, listening to His words, imbibing His dispositions, he would have been daily more and more weaned from self-seeking and self-dependence, and would have been trained and educated back again into that filial spirit which was the spirit of unfallen Adam, and which is eternal life already begun in the soul.

2. Having failed by His question to reveal to his visitor the plague of his own heart, the Saviour told him to do a thing which would shew him the strength of his besetting sin. The Saviour first held up the mirror of the commands that he might see himself guilty; He now touched the chain of his peculiar carnality, that he might perceive himself a slave and a prisoner. Amidst all his amiability and engaging attributes the Lord Jesus knew that he was worldly-minded. He had his treasure on earth. He was not so intent on God’s friendship that he would give up all things for it; but he had so much thoughtfulness and foresight, that along with an earthly present, he desired a heavenly future; he would like the pleasures of sense now, and the joys of glory in reversion. And he hoped that perhaps the Great Teacher might put him on a plan for combining both. But aware of his propensity Jesus said at once, u One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, take up the cross and follow me.” ‘You want to inherit eternal life. Well, the way to inherit it is to begin it here. Make God your highest good and chiefest joy, and your eternal life is begun already. But you are not doing that. Your treasure is not in heaven, but here; your treasure is your farm and your fine estate. God is saying to you, My son, give me thine heart; but you give that heart to your property. These great possessions are your god. You live and move for them, and your being is bound up in them. Can you part with them, and take God for your portion? Can you live by faith? Canst thou sell all that thou hast; and like myself and my followers live on the daily providence of God?* “Sell whatsoever thou hast!” The thing was not to be thought of. Treasure in heaven was good, but treasure on earth was indispensable. So, grieved at the sentence, sorry that the terms were so severe, sorry that the response of Jesus was so plain and so absolute; sorry to have all the hopes of the past and the plans of that morning dashed by one hard saying, he slowly turned him round and “went away.”

Went away! He came running. His steps were light and eager then; for he almost hoped that he was about to find the pearl of great price, and that that very day he might carry salvation back to his house. But all that was over now; and sure we are he was not running when he went away. The woman at Jacob’s well ran when she hasted to tell her neighbours that she had found the Christ; but the neighbours who saw the ruler wending “back to his abode, might see that he had lost something. Yes I he had lost his day of grace. He had lost his golden opportunity for obtaining eternal life. If he had known the gift of God, and who it was that said to him, Sell what thou hast, he would have done it on the spot, and on the spot Jesus would have given him treasure in heaven. But that opportunity was gone. Jesus returned to that region no more. He was going to Jerusalem. He was travelling to the Cross. His earthly journeys were well-nigh ended, and that particular road He should traverse no more. Ah, no! amiable but misguided young man! The moment is passed. Jesus has gone one way, and thou hast gone another: and ere noon the Friend of sinners will be far from these domains. But surely thou never canst forget the interview of this morning. “When thou art grown old and miserly, when thou hast lost the simplicity and warmth which for the present redeem thy worldliness, and when no friends are near thee except on-hangers scrambling for thy great possessions, perhaps thou mayest recall this morning, and sigh to think that a Friend in heaven and treasure there were once within thine offer! And sure enough thou wilt remember it one day. There were no prints in His hands and feet with whom thou didst part this morning, nor was there any crown upon His brow. But there will be when thou seest

Him again. That Jesus who passed near thy house this morning will be the crucified, the glorified, when next He meets thine eyes; and He who this morning loved thee as the Son of Man, will that day judge thee as the Son of God. By that time thou shalt be where great possessions cannot profit, but where the bargains of time cannot be recalled. The man Christ Jesus looked at thee lovingly this morning; but how will Jehovah the Judge look at thee then? at the man who had salvation in his offer, but refused it? at the man who preferred a few acres of earth to treasure in heaven? at the man who chose to have all his good things below? at the man who, when the Saviour said, “Follow me,” went away?

1. From this affecting history we see how far people may go, and yet fall short of heaven. This youth was orthodox, moral, and engaging; but he lacked one thing: he lacked the new heart; he lacked that lowly mind which sees its guilt and vileness; that trustful mind which is ready to forsake all and follow Jesus; that renovated mind to which righteousness is meat and drink, and the sense of God’s favour the chiefest joy.

And perhaps our young reader may have gone as far. You are correct and well conducted; you pray, and read the Bible. Your friends see your sweetness of disposition and the mildness of your manners; but do you love the Lord Jesus? Have you intrusted to Him your soul’s salvation? Are you ready to part with anything which He bids you renounce? And are you so devoted to His service, that you are not ashamed to be known as His disciple, as a member of His Church, and as a separatist from a sinful world? Are you willing to take up the cross and follow Christ?

2. And you see how wise it is to abandon at once anything which hinders your salvation. There may be money in the purse, and yet no idolatry of money in the heart. Abraham, and David, and Daniel had u great possessions,” and yet they got to heaven; and, after this, Cornelius and the Ethiopian treasurer, and Gaius, and Joseph of Arimathea, in “entering the kingdom,” took their riches along with them, and uped them profitably in the service of their Saviour and their brethren. But the Lord Jesus saw that the plague of this ruler’s heart was avarice, or the worship of wealth. He saw that he was in the bond of the same iniquity which made Demas go back to the world, and which turned Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt. And, not because there is anything sinful in property, but because to this avaricious youth his property would prove a perpetual snare — because, in his case, to part with it would be the surest sign of his present sincerity and the greatest help to his future consistency, the Lord Jesus insisted on its entire and instant surrender.

In like manner, whatever stands in the way of your salvation, be it something positively sinful, or something lawful idolised, that is the thing which the Lord Jesus bids you abandon. There is nothing sinful in music; but we have read of instances where music was a mania; where, like a possession, it carried its victims to all company, however unsuitable, and detained them at all hours, however unseasonable; and when they became supremely anxious about’ the “one thing,” they found it needful to enforce a rigid abstinence from their favourite enjoyment. There is nothing sinful in a little wine, but if that little create a wish for more, and the man finds that his growing love for strong drink will stand betwixt him and the hope of salvation, he would be a wise man never to taste it again so long as the world standeth. And whatever it be which you find the great obstacle to Christian decision, — play-going, novel-reading, frivolous company, the race-course, the ball-room, the card-table, — we shall not now dispute about its abstract lawfulness; we only ask, Is that habit so powerful, that even for Christ and for heaven you cannot give it up? Is that propensity so strong, that this day, when the Saviour says, “Arise, and follow me,” you cannot comply, because something else has a stronger hold upon you, and compels you to go away exceeding sorrowful?