Good News for You

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was.” — Luke x. 33.

THE good Samaritan is a masterly picture of true benevolence. The Samaritan had no kinship with the Jew, he was purely of foreign origin, yet he pities his poor neighbour. The Jews cursed the Cuthites, and would have no dealings with them, for they were intruders in their land. There was nothing therefore, in the object of the Samaritan’s pity that could excite his national sympathies, but everything to arouse his prejudices, hence the grandeur of his benevolence.

It is not my intention this morning, to indicate the delightful points of excellence which Christ brings out in order to illustrate what true charity will perform. I want you only to notice this one fact, that the benevolence which the Samaritan exhibited towards this poor wounded and half-dead man, was available benevolence. He did not say to him, “If you will walk to Jericho, then I will bind up your wounds, pouring in the oil and wine;” or, “If you will journey with me as far as Jerusalem, I will then attend to your wants.” Oh, no, he came “where he was,” and finding that he could do nothing whatever for his own assistance, the good Samaritan began with him there and then upon the spot, putting no impossible conditions to him, proposing no stipulations which the man could not perform, but doing everything for the man, and doing it for him as he was and where he was.

Beloved, we are all quite aware that a charity of which a man cannot avail himself, is no charity at all. Go among the operatives of Lancashire, and tell them that there is no necessity for any of them to starve, for on the top of Mt. St. Bernard there are hospitable monks who keep a refectory, where they relieve all passers-by; tell them they have nothing to do but to journey to the top of the Alps, and there they will find food enough. Poor souls! they feel that you mock them, for Ihe distance is too great. Penetrate one of our back streets, climb up three pair of stairs into a wretched room, so dilapidated that the stars look Htween the tiles, see a poor young girl dying of consumption and poverty, tell her if you dare, “If you could get to the sea-side, and if you could eat so much beef-steak, you would no doubt recover.” You »re shamefully laughing at her — she cannot get these things — they are

No. 473. 20 beyond her reach: she cannot journey to the seaside — she would die ere she reached it. Like the wicked, your tender mercies are cruel. I have noticed this unavailing charity in hard winters. People give away bread and soup tickets to poor people, who are to give sixpence, and then receive soup and bread; and often I have had persons come to me — “Sir, I have a ticket; it would be worth a great deal to me, if I had sixpence to go with to get the relief; but I have not a farthing in all the world, and I cannot make out the good of giving me this ticket at all.” This is hardly charity. Think you see Jeremiah, down in the low dungeon: if Ebed melech and Baruch had stood over the top of the dungeon, and called out to him, “Jeremiah, if you will get half way up, we will pull you out,” when there was not a ladder, nor any means by which he could possibly get so far, how cruel would have been this charity; but, instead thereof, they took old rags from under the king’s treasury, and put them on ropes, and bade him put the rags under his armholes, and sling his arms through the ropes, and then they pulled him up all the way. This was available charity; the other would have been hypocritical pretence. Brethren, if in the description of a good Samaritan, Christ hits him off to the life, as giving to this poor wounded man a charity of which he could avail himself, does it not seem to be strongly probable — nay, even certain — that when Christ comes to deal with sinners, he gives them available mercy — grace which may be of real service to them.

Hence, permit me to say, I do not believe in the way in which some people pretend to preach the gospel. They have no gospel for sinners as sinners, but only for those who are above the dead level of sinnership, and are technically styled sensible sinners. Like the priest in this parable; they see the poor sinner, and they say, “He is not conscious of his need, we cannot invite him to Christ;” “He is dead,” they say, “it is of no use preaching to dead souls;” so they pass by on the other side, keeping close to the elect and quickened, but having nothing whatever to say to the dead, lest they should make out Christ to be too gracious, and his mercy to be too free. The Levite was not in quite such a hurry as the priest. The priest had to preach, and might be too late for the service, and therefore he could not stop to relieve the man; besides, he might have soiled his cassock, or made himself unclean; and then he would have been hardly fit for the dainty and respectable congregation over which he officiated. As for the Levite, he had to read the hymns; he was a clerk in the church, and he was somewhat in a hurry, but stili he could get in after the opening prayer, so he indulged himself with the luxury of looking on. Just as I have known ministers say, “Well, you know we ought to describe the sinner’s state, and warn him, but we must not invite him to Christ.” Yes, gentlemen, you must pass by on the other side, after having looked at him, for on your own confession you have no good news for the poor wretch. I bless my Lord and Master he has given to me a gospel which I can take to dead sinners, a gospel which is available for the vilest of the vile. I thank my Master that he does not say to the sinner, “Come half way and meet me,” but he comes “where he is,” and finding him ruined, lost, obdurate, he meets him on his own ground, and gives him life and peace without asking, or expecting him to prepare himself for grace. Here is, I think, set fort?: in my text, the available benevolence of the Samaritan; it is mine this morning, to show the available grace of Christ.

I. The sinner is WITHOUT MORAL QUALIFICATION FOR SALVATION, but Christ comes where he is.

I want, if I can, not to talk about this as a matter having to do with the multitude that are abroad, but with us in these pews. I speak not of t)wm and those, but of you and me. I want to say to everj sinner,” You are in a state in which there is nothing morally that can qualify you for being saved, bat Jesus Christ meets you where you DOW are.*

1. Remember first, that when the gospel was first sent into the world, those to whom it was sent, were manifestly without any moral qualification. Did you ever read the first chapter of Paul’s Epistle to the Romans? It is one of those awful passages in Scripture, not intended to be read in congregations; but to be read and studied in the secrecy of one’s chamber. The apostle gives a portrait of the manners and customs of the heathen world, so awful, that unless our missionaries had informed us, that it is exactly the photograph of life in Hindostan at the present moment, infidels might have declared that Paul had exaggerated. Heathendom in the time of Paul, was so desperately wicked that it would be utterly impossible to conceive of a sin, into which men had not fallen; and yet, “We turn unto the Gentiles,” said the apostle; and yet the Lord himself commanded, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” What! to Sodomites, whose very smallest sin is adultery, and fornication; to thieves and murderers, to murderers of fathers and mothers? Yes, go and preach the gospel to them! Manifestly, the fact that the world was steeped up to its very throat in the filth of abominable wickedness, and yet the gospel was sent to it, proves that Christ does not seek for any qualification of morality, or righteousness in man, before the gospel is available to him. He sends the Word to the drunkard, to the swearer, the harlot, the vilest of the vile; for such is the gospel of Christ intended to save.

2. Recollect again, the Biblical descriptions of those whom Christ came into the world to save, which prove to a demonstration that he comes to the sinner where he is. How does the Bible describe those whom Christ came to save? As men? No, my brethren; Christ did not come to save men

as men, but men as sinners. As sensible sinners? — nay, I aver not; they are described as “dead in trespasses and sins.” But to the law and to the testimony, let me read you one or two passages; and, while I read them, I hope you may be able to say, “There is hope for me.” First, those whom Christ came to save are described in 1 Timothy, i. 15, and many other places, as “sinners.” “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.” “Sinners,” without any adjective before the word; not awakened sinners, not repenting sinners; but sinners as sinners. “Surely,” saith one, “I am not shut out.” Another account is found in Romans v. 6, “For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died “— for whom? those who had some desires after God? tome respect to his name? nay,” for the ungodly” Now, an ungodly man means a man without God, who cares not for God; “God is not in all his thoughts,” and therefore he is not what men call a sensible sinner. “The ungodly are like “the chaff which the wind driveth away.” even these are the persons that Christ came to save. In the same chapter, 10th verse, you find them mentioned as “enemies” — “When we were yet enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son.” What say ye to this? they are not described as friends. Christ laid down his life for his friends in one sense; “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Enemies to God were the objects of grace, so that in enmity Christ comes and meets man where he is.

In Ephesians ii. 1, we read of them as “dead in trespasses and sins” — “and you hath he quickened who were dead in trespasses and sins.” Christ, then, does not ask the sinner to make himself alive; the gospel is not only to be preached to those who have some good notions, some good desires, some tremblings of the heavenly life within, but to the dead as dead; to the dead doth Christ come, and meet them in the grave of their sin. Again, (Ephesians ii. 3,) they are “children of wrath” — “we were by nature the children of wrath even as others.’’ Yet the gospel came to such. Can ye see anything hopeful in a child of wrath? I ask you to look over him from head to foot, if this be his name and character; can ye see a spot of goodness as large as a pin’s point in the man? And yet such Christ came to save. Once again, they are mentioned as “accursed” Ah,” says one sinner, “I have often cursed myself before God, and asked him to curse me.” Well, Christ died for the accursed; (Galatians iii. 13,) “Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us;” that is, for us who were under the curse. And, once more, they are described by the dreadful word “lost” They are lost to all hope, to all consideration for themselves; even their own friends have given their case up as hopeless. “The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Luke xix. 10.) If I understand those passages which I have read in your hearing, they mean just this — that those whom Christ came to save have no good whatever in them to co-operate towards their salvation, and Christ doth not look upon them in order to find aught that is good in them. I am bold to say, the only fitness for cleansing is filthiness; the only fitness for a Saviour is being lost; and the only character under which we come to Jesus is as sinners, lost, dead, and accursed.

3. But, thirdly, it is quite certain from the work of grace itself, that the Lord does not expect the sinner to do anything or to be anything in oHer to meet hifyn, but that he comes to him where he is. See, sinner, Christ dies on Calvary, a weight of sin is on his shoulders, and on his hearc; in agonies the most awful he shrieks under the desertion of his God. For whom did he die? For the innocent? Wherefore for the innocent? What sacrifice did they need? For those who had some good thing in them? Why all these agonies for such? Surely a less price might do for them if they could eke it out themselves. But because Christ died on account of sin. I take it that those whom he died foi must be viewed as. sinners, and only as such. Inasmuch as he paid a dreadful price, I gather that they must be dreadfully in debt, and that he died for those who had nothing to pay with. But Christ rose again, rose again for our justification. For whose justification? For the justification of those who were justified in themselves? Why this were to perform an unnecessary work. No, my brethren, but for those who had no justified ion of their own, not a shadow of any, who were condemned, utterly condemned on account of their own works. Moreover, I hear him by the ear of faith pleading before the eternal throne. Who does he plead for? For those who have something to plead on their own account? — that were needless. Do men give their money to the rich? Do they spend their charity on those who do not need it? If men have something to plead for themselves, then why does Christ plead for them? No, brethren, he pleads for those who have nothing whatever that they can bring as an argument with which to enforce their prayers. But Christ ascended and received gifts. Who for? For those who merited rewards? No, verily, let them get thorn for themselves. But he received gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them. But he gives the Holy Spirit. To whom does he give the Holy Spirit? To those that are strong, and good, and can do all themselves? 0, my brethren, this were a work of supererogation; but he gives the Holy Spirit to those that are powerless, weak, dead; he gives the Holy Worker to those who are all unholy and full of sin; he puts the omnipotent influence into those who were slaves to the spirit of evil. Brethren, the work of Christ supposes a lost, ruined, rebellious sinner, and so I say, Christ meets the man where he is.

4. Yet more, for I would clear up this point before I leave it, the godlike character of the grace of God proves that he meets the sinner where he is; If God forgive little sinners only, then he is little in his mercy. If the Lord does not do something more than men can think, then we have made too much noise about the gospel, and have exalted the cross above measure. Unless there be something extraordinary in divine grace, then I cannot understand such a passage as this, “As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts.” I venture to say, brethren, that many of us have thought of forgiving our enemies. It has sometimes been our happy portion to do good to them that hate us. Now, if God would be godlike in his grace — and I am sure he will — he must do something more than that; he must not only forgive his enemies, but they must be enemies of such an atrocious character that no man would have forgiven them.

“Who is a pardoning God like thee,
Or who hath grace so rich and free.”

But where is the meaning of this boast, if the Lord merely pardons sinners who are sensible of their sins, and lament them? The marvel is in this, that while they are yet enemies he calls them by his grace, and invites them to mercy; yea, more, he blots out their sins, and makes them friends; thus meeting the sinner where he is.

5. The spirit and genius of the gospel utterly forbid the supposition that God requires anything in any man in order to save him. If salvation be offered to man upon a condition, they who fulfil the condition have a claim to the blessing. This is the old covenant of works. The substance of the legal covenant is, “Do this and I will reward you.” When the man has done it, he deserves what has been promised. Yes, and if you make the condition never so easy, yet, mark you, so long as it be a condition, God is bound by his own Word, the condition being fulfilled, to give man what he has earned. This is works and not grace; it is debt and not free favour. But, inasmuch as the gospel is free favour from beginning to end, I am absolutely sure that God asketh nothing; neither good wishes, good desires, nor good feelings of a sinner before he may come to Christ. But that he may know that everything is of grace, the rebel is commanded to come just as he is, bringing nothing, but taking everything from God, who is superabundant in mercy, and therefore meeteth the sinner just where he is.

I say to the sinner, wherever thou mayest be to-day, if thou be without any virtue, and if thou be filled with all vice, if there be no good points in thy character, but if there be everything that is bad against man and against God; if thou hast committed every crime in the catalogue, if thou hast ruined thy body and damned thy soul, yet still Christ hath said it, “Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.” And if thou comest to him, he can no more cast thee out than if thou hadst been the most virtuous, the most honourable, and the most devout of all living men. Only do thou to-day believe in the mercy of God, in Christ, and cast thyself on Him, and thou art saved to the praise and glory of that grace which meets thee just where thou art, and saveth thee from sin.

II. In the second place, there are very many of the lost race of Adam, who say that they are WITHOUT ANY MENTAL QUALIFICATION.

This is their excuse — “But, sir, I never was a scholar. I was sent out as a boy to earn my own living, so that I never had a week’s schooling; I am so ignorant that I cannot read my book, and if anybody were to ask me to make a prayer I could not, I have not sense enough.” Now, you see the Lord Jesus meets you just where you are. And how does he do this? Why, first, the saving act is one that requires no mental power. Faith lays hold on eternal life. Now, a child whose faculties are never so little developed can believe what it is told. The child cannot reason, cannot argue, cannot dispute, cannot split hairs, cannot see a knotty point in theology, but it can believe what it is told. Faith requires so little mental vigour or intellectual clearness, that there have been many who were idiots in other things, who have been made wise unto salvation by the act of faith in Christ. You remember our Lord’s own words, “I thank thee, 0 Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.” But this never could have happened had not the act which brings us into communion with Christ been the lowest act of the human faculty, that of simply trusting to Christ, as the result of crediting that which is told us upon good testimony.

But then, again, to meet this defect of mental power, remember the singular simplicity of that which is believed. Is there anything more simple in the world than the doctrine of the atonement. We deserve to die, Christ dies for us; we are in debt, Christ pays for us. Is not this plain enough for a Ragged School? It is so plain, that many of our learned doctors of divinity try to get it out of the Bible; they think, “If this be the marrow of it all, then any fool can be a theologian;” so they kick against it. What is Unitarianism but a stumbling at the simplicity of the cross. They were Unitarians who stood at the cross when Christ died; they said, “Let him come down from the cross and we will believe on him.” That has been the Unitarian character ever since; they will receive Jesus anywhere but on his cross; but up there, dying in man’s stead, he is so commonplace, that these great gentlemen run to philosophy and vain deceit sooner than lay hold on that which the commonest may as fully understand as they.

Yet more; to meet any mental deficiency in man, while the truth itself is simple, it is taught in the Bible under such simple metaphors, that none can say they cannot understand it. How simple is the metaphor of the brazen serpent, held up before the snake-bitten Israelites, while they are commanded to look and live. Who doea not understand that a look at Christ who dies in the stead of men, will make them live? “If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.” Who does not understand the figure of a fountain flowing in the streets, that every thirsty passer-by may put his lips down and drink? “Behold the Lamb of God.” Who does not understand the sacrifice? Here is a lamb killed for the sin of Israel, and so Christ dies for the sin of those who believe in him. The act of faith is simple, the object of faith is plain; the metaphors make it clear, and he is without excuse who does not understand tho gospel of Christ.

To crown all, to you, my beloved hearers, Christ has given you abundance of teachers. There sits in your pew with you to-day a man of your own rank and calling, who will explain to you the gospel, if you do not understand it. Here are many of us, who are but too glad if we can roll away the stone from the door of your sepulchre; here are children of God themselves saved by sovereign grace, and if you really do not know the way, do but touch your next neighbour, and say to him, “Can you explain to me yet more clearly what I must do to be saved?” Now, this is meeting you, let your brains be of the very smallest; this is coming down to you though you sit on the lowest step of human intellect. Jesus Christ meets you just where you are.

III. But yet again. I think I hear another say,” I am in despair,

for I CANNOT FIND ANY REASON IN MYSELF, OR OUT OF MYSELF, WHY GOD SHOULD FORGIVE SUCH A PERSON AS I AM.”

So then, you are in a hopeless state, at least you see no hope. The Lord meets you where you are, by putting the reason of your salvation altogether in himself. Shall I remind you of one or two texts which will surely satisfy you? “I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions.” What for? “For mine own sake.” He cannot pardon you for your sake, you clearly see that; and you feel that he cannot pardon you for other people’s sake; but for “my own sake” saith he, “that I may glorify myself.” Not in you, but in his own mighty breast he finds the motive, that he may make his own mercy illustrious; for his own sake he will do it. Or take another — “For my name’s sake, even for my name’s sake, will I defer mine anger, that I cut thee not off.” Here it is again for hia name’s sake, as if he knew he could not find ar other motive, so he puts it all on himself; he pardons that he may honour and glorify his own name. Sinner, thou canst not say that this does not meet thy case: for if thou be the most hellish good-for-nothing sinner that ever cursed God’s earth, and polluted the air thou breathest, yet he can save” thee, for his own sake. There still is room for thee to hope; for the bigger the sinner thou be the more glory to him if he saveth thee; and if salvation be given for a reason only in himself, there is therefore yet a reason by which he can save thee, even thee.

Remember, that he puts his own design before your eyes to show you that if you have no reason in yourself, that is no hindrance to his saving you. What is God’s design in saving men? When he brings them to heaven, what will be the result of it? Why, that they may love and praise his name for ever, and sing “Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his blood, unto him be glory.” You are just the man; if you are ever saved, and brought to heaven, oh, will not you praise his grace? “Yes,” said one old man who had long lived in sin, “if he ever does bring me to heaven, he shall never hear the last of it, for I will praise him throughout eternity.” Why, you are the man, do you not see, you are-the very man that will answer God’s design, for who shall love so much as he who has had much forgiven, and who shall praise so loudly as he whose mighty sins have been overcome by the mighty love and goodness and grace of God? Thou canst not say that it does not meet thee, for here is a motive and a reason, though thou canst find none in thyself.

Here is another reason why God should save thee, it is His own Word, the Word of him that cannot lie. I will bring up that text again; perhaps there is a heart here that will be able to cast anchor on it — “Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.” You say, “But if I come,. I can see no reason why he should save me.” I answer, there is a reason in His own promise. God cannot lie. You come; he will not cast you out. He says, “I will in no wise cast out;” but you say, “He may for such-and-such a reason.” Now, this is a flat contradiction; the two can not stand. If there be anything that is necessary in order for a soul to come, and you come without it, yet there is the promise, and as it has no limit in it plead it, and the Lord will not refuse to honour his own Word. If he can cast you out because you have not some necessary qualification, then his Word is not true. Whoever you may be, whatever you may not be, and whatever you may be, if you believe in Jesus Christ, there is a reason in every attribute of God why you should be saved. His truth cries, “Save him, for thou hast said * I will,” His power says, “Save him, lest the enemy deny thy might.” God’s wisdom pleads, “Save him, lest men doubt thy. judgment.” His love says, “Save him;” his every attribute says, “Save him;” and even Justice, with its hoarse voice, cries, “Save him, for God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, if we confess our sins.”

I am trying to fish in deep waters after some of you that have long escaped the net. I know when I have given free and full invitations, you have said, “Ah! that cannot mean me.” You are without faith in

Christ, oecausc you think you are not fit. I will be clear of your blood this morning; I will show* you that there is no fitness wanted, that you are commanded now to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ as you are, for Jesus Christ’s gospel is an available gospel, and comes to you just where you are. Without moral or mental qualification, and without any sort of reason why he should save you, he meets you as such, and bids you trust him.

IV. We proceed to our fourth point. “Oh,” says one, “but I am WITHOUT COURAGE; I dare not believe on Christ, I am such a timid, trembling soul, that when I hear that others trust to Christ I think it must be presumption; I wish I could do the same but I cannot, I am kept under by such a sense of sin, that I dare not. 0 sir, I dare not, it would look as if I were flying in the face of justice if I were to dare to trust Christ, and then to rejoice in the pardon of my sin.” Very well, Christ comes to meet you where you are, by very tender invitations. “Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” “The Spirit and the bride say, come. And let him that heareth say, come. And let him that is athirst, come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” How sweetly he puts it to you. I do not know where more wooing words could be found, than those the Saviour uses. Will you not come when Christ beckons, when with his loving face streaming with tears, he bid you come to him. What! is an invitation from him too little a thing for you. 0 sinner, trembling though thoa art, say in thy soul,

“I’ll to the gracious king approach,

Whose sceptre pardon gives;
Perhaps he may command my touch,
And then the suppliant lives.”

Knowing that you would neglect the invitation, he has put it to you in the light of a command. “This is the commandment, that ye believe on Jesus Christ whom he hath sent.” “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.” He thought you would say, “Ah, but I am not fit to accept the invitation.” ‘* Well,” says he, “I will command the man to do it/* Like a poor hungry man with bread before him, who says, “Ah, it would be presumption on my part to eat;” but the king says, “Eat, sir, or I will punish you.” What a generous and liberal command; even the threat itself has no anger in it. Like the mother, who when the child is near to die, and nothing will save it but the medicine, and the child will not drink, she threatens the child, but only out of love to it that it may be saved. So the Lord doth add threatenmgs to commands; for sometimes a black word will drive a soul to Christ where a bright word would not draw it. Fears of hell sometimes make men flee to Jesus. The weary wing made the poor dove fly to the ark: and the thunderbolts of God’s justice are only meant to make thee fly to Christ the Lord.

Beloved, once more, my Master has sweetly met your want of courage by bringing many others, so that you may follow their example. As fowlers sometimes have their decoy-birds, so my Master hath decoy-birds that are to draw others to him. Other sinners have been saved, others he has cleansed who did but trust him. There was Lot. Ah, Lot f guilty of drunkenness and incest, and yet a saint of God. David the adulterer and murderer of Uriah, and yet washed “whiter than snow.” Manasseh the bloody persecutor, who had cut Esaias in two. sawing- him in halves, and yet he was taken among the thorns, and God had mercy on him. What shall I say of Saul of Tarsus, the persecutor of God’s people? and the robber dying on the cross for his crimes, and yet saved? Sinner, if these do not induce thee to come, what can overcome thy sinful diffidence? “But,” says one. “you have not hit my case yet; I am an outrageous sinner!” Well now, I will hit it this time. In 1 Corinthians, vi. 9, hear the Word of the Lord, “Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the king dom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.” Why, brethren, what horrible descriptions there are here; there are some of them so bad that when we have read the description, we wish to forget the sin; and yet, and yet, glory be to thine Almighty grace, 0 God! such hast thou saved, and such thou canst save still. 0, timid sinner, can you not trust in Jesus after this? Hear ye the Word of the Lord again (Titus iii. 3 — 5), “For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another. But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us” Now, you hateful sinners, and you that hate others; you that are full of malice and envy, here is the gate open even for you, for the kindness and love of God towards man appears in the person of Christ. Listen to another, for God’s words are more than mine, and I do hope they will attract some of you (Ephesians ii. 1 — 3):” Dead in trespasses and sins; wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience. Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, ever* when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by

GOOD NEWS FOR YOU. 5fi3

grace ye are saved,) and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” What for? “That in the ages to come,” — mark this — he might show the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness towards us through Christ Jesus.” One more passage, and I will not weary your attention. 0 that this last passage might com fort some of you, it is Paul who speaks (1 Timothy i. 13), “I was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious: but I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief. And the grace of our Lord was exceeding abundant with faith and love, which is in Christ Jesus. This is a faithful saying,” see how he puts it from his own experience, “and worthy of all acceptation;” and therefore worthy of yours, poor sinner; “that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.” “Ah” says one “but he would not save any more.” Let me go on — “Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all longsuffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting.” So that if you trust as Paul did, you shall be saved as Paul was, for his conversion and salvation are a pattern to all those who should believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, unto life everlasting. So sinner, timid as you are, here Jesus meets you.

0, I wish I could say a word that would lead you poor tearful ones to look to Jesus. 0, do not let the devil tempt you to believe that you are too sinful. “He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him.”

“Let not conscience make you linger, nor of fitness fondly dream.”

Fitness is not needed — do but come to him. You are hi adv. and you do not feel your blackness as you ought — that makes you all the blacker. Come, then, and be clean. You are sinful, and this is your greatest sin, that you do not repent as you ought; but come to him, and ask him to forgive your impenitence. Come as you are: if he rejecteth one ef you, I will bear the blame for ever; if he casteth one of you away that shall trust him, call me a false prophet in the day of the resurrection. But I pawn my life upon it — I stake my own soul’s interest on ‘this — that whosoever cometh unto him, he will in no wise cast out.

V. I hear one more complaint. “I am WITHOUT STRENGTH,” saith one: “will Jesus come just where I am?” Yes, sinner, just where you are. You say you cannot believe, that is your difficulty. God meets you, then, in your inability. First, he meets you with his promises, Soul, thou canst not believe; but when God, that cannot lie, promises, will you not believe, can you not believe then? I do think God’s promise — so sure, so stedfast — must overcome this inability of yours.

Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.” Cannot you believe now? Why, that promise must be true! But next, as if he knew that this would not be enough, he has taken an oath with it — and a more awful oath was never sworn — “As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, but had rather that he should turn unto me and live. Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die, 0 house of Israel.” Can you not believe now? What, will you doubt God when he swears it, not only make God a liar but — let me shudder when I say it — will you think that God can perjure his own self? God forbid you should so blaspheme. Remember, he that believeth not hath made God a liar, because he believeth not on the Son of God. Do not do this. Surely you can believe when the promise and the oath compel you to faitn. But yet more, as if he knew that even this were not enough, he has given you of his Spirit. “If ye being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him.” Surely with this you can believe. “But,” saith one, “I will try.” No, no, do not try, that is not what God commands you to do; no trying is wanted; believe Christ now, sinner. “But,” saith one, “I will think of it.” Do not think of it, do it now, do it at once for this is God’s gospel. There are some of you standing in these aisles and sitting in these pews, who I feel in my soul will never have another invitation, and if this be rejected to-day, I feel a solemn motion in my soul — I think it is of the Holy Ghost — that you will never hear another faithful sermon, but you shall go down to hell impenitent, unsaved, except ye trust in Jesus now. I speak not as a man, but I speak as God’s ambassador to your souls, and I command you, in God’s name, trust Jesus, trust now. At your peril reject the voice that speaks from heaven, for “he that believeth not shall be damned.” How shall ye escape if ye neglect so great salvation. When it comes right home to you, when it thrusts itself in your way, oh, if ye will neglect it how can ye escape? With tears I would invite you, and, if I could, would compel you to come in. Why will ye not? 0 souls, if ye will be damned, if ye make up your mind that no mercy shall ever woo you, and no warnings shall ever move you, then, sirs, what chains of vengeance must you feel that slight these bonds of love. You have deserved the deepest hell, for you slight the joys above. God save you. He will save you, if you trust in Jesus. God help you to trust him even now, for Jesus’ sake.

DELIVERED UN SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER I?TH, 1865, BJ

AT TUB METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

“Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground? And he answering said unto him, Liord, let it alone this year also.” — Luke xiii. 7, 8.

THE comparison of a man to a tree, and of human works to fruit, is exceedingly common in Scripture, because it is most suggestive, natural, and appropriate. As fruit is the production of the tree’s life, and the end for which the tree exists, so obedience to the divine will, and holiness unto the Lord, should be the product of man’s life, and for it he was at first created. When men plant trees in a vineyard, they very naturally expect to find fruit thereon; and if at the age and season of fruitbearing they find no produce, their natural and justifiable expectation is disappointed. Even thus, speaking after the manner of men, it is natural that the great Maker of all should look for the good fruit of obedience and love from the men who are the objects of his providential care, and be grieved when he meets with no return. Man is very much more God’s property than a tree can ever be the property of the man who plants a vineyard; and as God has spent so much more skill and wisdom in the creation of a man than a husbandman can have spent in the mere planting of trees, it becomes the more natural that God should look for fruit from his creature, man; and the more reasonable that his most righteous requirements should not be refused. Trees that bring not forth fruit must be cut down; and sinners who bring not forth repentance, faith, and holiness, must die. It is only a matter of time as to whether or not the vineyard shall be cleared of the incumbrance of its barren trees; it is but a matter of time as to when the world shall be delivered from the burdensome presence of barren souls. It stands to reason that barren trees which soon become the haunts of all sorts of mischief-doing creatures, should be a nuisance to the vine yard; neither can sinners be permitted for ever to become the dwelling-places of evil spirits, and the dens of iniquity: a thorough riddance must be made of impenitent sinners as well as of rotten trees. There is a time for felling fruitless trees, and there is an appointed season for hewing down and casting into the fire the useless sinner.

I. We shall not linger on the threshold of our solemn work this morn ing, for our burden is very heavy, and we would fain be rid of it speedily. We shall address ourselves at once to those persons who are living without God and without Christ, among whom many of my heareri

’21 must be numbered. We shall speak to those who are not saved: there are such in the professing Church everywhere, 0 may the Holy Spirit find them out by our word, and bring them in real earnest to consider their ways. To all unprofitable, unfruitful sinners, we utter this hard, but needful sentence: TO CUT YOU DOWN WOULD BE MOST REASONABLE. It is right and reasonable to fell barren trees, and it is just as right and reasonable that you should be cut down.

1. This will appear in the first place, if we reflect, that this is the shortest and the surest way to deal with you; it will cost the least trouble, and be most certainly effectual in removing you from the place to which you are an injury rather than a benefit. When the owner of the vineyard says to the gardener concerning the tree, “Cut it down,” the remedy is very sharp, but it is very simple; the felling is soon done, the clearance is thorough, and when another tree is planted the benefit is evident. To dig about the tree, to trench it, to dung it, to prune it, and water it; all this is a long affair, requiring care, and labour, and attention, while after all, the process may fail and love’s labour may be lost. To spare is difficult and involves trouble; to cut down is easy and effectual. Unconverted hearer, to preach the gospel to you, to call you to repentance, to entreat, exhort, instruct, and warn you, is a laborious process, and will probably be unsuccessful after all. The work will require much thought; providential agencies must be directed with wisdom, saints must pray with earnestness, ministers must plead with tears, the Scriptures must be written, and those Scriptures must be expounded and explained; all this is more than thou hast any natural right to expect that God should do with thee, when he has in his hands a far simpler remedy by which he may at once ease himself of his adversary, and prevent thy being any further offence: he has but to take away thy breath and permit thy body to descend into the grave and thy soul into hell, and the vineyard is clear, and there is room for another tree. This sharp, short, simple process, is one which commends itself to men in the case of trees, and it is one which it is a thousand wonders that the Lord has not used with thee. There will be no more blaspheming God, sinner, when the axe has laid thee low! There will be no more rejecting the promise of his mercy, no more violating of Sabbath days, no more despising Scripture, when the day of doom arrives! Death shall end all these abominations for ever. We shall no more have to agonize for you in vain, no more shall we weep bitterly because of your hardness of heart, no longer study to meet your objections, and sigh at your constant oppositions; the flames of hell will end all this, to your sad and awful cost. No longer will a longsuffering God be wearied with your sins, and pressed down under the load of your iniquities. He will make short work in righteousness, and a clean work too. He will sweep you away with the besom of destruction, and your rebellions will have an end, and your iniquities a reward most sure and terrible. Barren fig-tree, you will draw the fatness from the ground no longer, and overshadow with evil influence your fellow trees no more. You are become a mere waste, and worse than a waste. Sinner, I ask you, is not the readiest plan to be rid of you suggested by the text, “Cut it down”? You yourself would do thus with a tree; what reason is there why the Lord should not deal thus with you?

Do you ar;*ue that you are of far greater importance than a tree? How do you make this appear? A tree is far more valuable to you than you can be supposed to be to the infinite God. The gardener would lose something possibly by cutting down his tree, bufc how canst thou suppose that thy ruin would be any damage to the great God! The man who has many acres of vineyard is not much distressed if one barren vine be cut down; for there are so many more. If God had but one man in his dominions, it might seem to be of importance whether that man were saved or not; but there are so many of our race that your loss will be no more than the blowing of one atom of sand from the shore, or the removal of one drop from the sea. You yourself could not well complain of being cut down, for you do not think much of your own soul; you are not concerned about its salvation; you trifle with its best interests. Why should you expect another to value you at a higher rate than you have set upon yourself? You fling away your soul for passing joys; you neglect the great salvation; you live in daily disobedience against God, who alone can do you good; even the preaching of the gospel, that all-powerful engine, seems to have no effect upon you, because you despise your own self. Well, man, if God despises you too, and commands his angels to cut you down, you can not complain: it is but reasonable that God should estimate you at your own price, and weigh you in your own balances. You have wantonly used the axe to yourself on many occasions, why should not the proper executioner use it in earnest? Some men ruin their health by their sins; they wildly dash the axe against their own root, and wound themselves terribly. On your soul you are using that axe continually, for you damage it by sin, and seek out folly, and choose the way to damnation, and labour to be lost. You cannot, therefore, complain. The crushing of you will be of no more consequence in this great universe than the killing of some one emmet upon the hill. You will never be missed. You may think greatly of yourself, but you are no more than a mere worm compared with the great universe of God. Beware, 0 rebellious, unrepentant sinner! My love yearns for your salvation, but my reason approves of your ruin, foresees it, and expectsit speedily except you turn unto the Lord and live.

2. Another reason makes the argument for judgment very powerful, namely, that sufficient space jor repentance has already been given. If there had been any hope of your repentance, methinks many of you would have repented long ago. I do not know what can be done for some of you more than has been done. You have been digged about — the digging,. I suppose, is to loosen the roots of their hold upon the earth — and you have had affliction, trial, and trouble, like the gardener’s great spade, to wean you from earth, and loosen your hold of carnal things; you have had sickness — you have tossed to and fro upon the bed of pain; you have been in the jaws of death, and the horrid teeth seemed above and beneath you, as though they would enclose you for ever; but all this hasbeen of no avail. Why should you be stricken any more? You will revolt more and more. Already some of you have been smitten until your whole head is sick, and your whole heart faint, but you will not hear the rod. By the blueness of the wound, says Solomon, the heart is made better, but in your case it has not been so. Those blue wound* of yours, those great and grievous afflictions, have not been sanctified to you, but rather you have gone on offending against God, and provoking the Most High.

The gardener spoke of dunging as well as of digging, and some of you have had plentiful helps towards repentance. The gospel has been put close by your roots, hundreds of times; you have a Bible in every house; you have, some of you, had the advantage of godly training from your youth up. You have been warned again, and again, and again, sometimes sternly, sometimes affectionately; you have heard the wooing voice of mercy, and the thundering notes of judgment; but yet, though Jesus Christ’s own gospel has been laid close to your root, 0 barren tree, you are barren still. What is the use then of sparing you? Sparing has been tried, and it has had no effect: the other remedy is certain — “Cut it down.” 0 God, cut not down the sinner! and yet we dare not say it would be unreasonable, but on the contrary, the most natural result of slighted mercy. 0 sinner, you may well say —

“I have long withstood his grace,
Long provoked him to his face;
Would not hearken to his calls;
Grieved him by a thousand falls.

Depths of mercy! can there be
Mercy still reserved for me?
Can my God his wrath forbear?
Me, the chief of sinners spare?

8. Sinner, I argue thy case somewhat harshly, thou thinkest. Ah! man, would God I could make thee think me harsh, if thou wouldst but have pity on thine own soul, for my harshness is only apparent, not real, and thy carelessness for thy soul is real harshness, for thou carest not for thine own soul, but treatest it as a thing to be cast away, and its ruin to be laughed at, as though it were contemptible. A II this while there has been no sign of improvement whatever in thee. If there had been some little fruit, if some tears of repentance had been flowing from thine eyes, if there had been some seeking after Christ, if thine heart had been a little softened, if thou hadst but a little faith in Jesus, though it were but as a grain of mustard seed, then there were indeed reasons for sparing thee; but, sorrowful to add, thy sparing has had an ill effect upon thee. Because God hath not punished thee, therefore thou hast waxed wanton and bold; thou hast said, “Doth God know? Is there knowledge in the Most High?” Thou thinkest that he is altogether such an one as thou art, and that he will never bring thee into judgment. Thou fanciest that his sword is rusted into the scabbard, and his arm waxed short. Strange madness of evil, that thou shouldst peryert the longsuffering which calls thee to repentance into a reason for running to greater lengths of sin! What, when Jehovah spares thee that thou mayst turn to him, shall that very sparing make thee lift up the foot of thy rebellion and spurn him? It has done so. Up to this time thou hast grown hardened instead of softened. Thou hast grown older, but thou art no wiser, except it be with Satan’s subtlety to be more wise in sin. The gospel has not now the effect it had once on thee. This voice could make thy soul shiver and thy very blood chill in its veins, but it cannot do so now. These eyes have sometimes looked on thee and seemed as though they flashed with fire, but now they are dull as lead to thee. Once, when we spoke to thee of the wrath to come, the tears would flow: there were some tears of gentle pity for thine own soul; but ah! it is not so with thee now. You will go your way, and our most earnest tones will seem but as the whistling wind, and our most importunate entreaties as a child’s playful song. 0 God, it is reasonable indeed that thou shouldst uplift that sharp axe of thine and say, “Cut it down/* I think I could abundantly justify the severity of God, if now he were to use it, when I thus perceive that all his sparing has had no effect but to make you worse, when I perceive that, notwithstanding these years of waiting, there are no tokens of improvement. If he saith, “Cut it down,” justice and reason say, “Ay, Lord, it is well it should be so.”

4. But there are other reasons why “Cut it down” is most reasonable, when ice consider the owner and the other trees. First of all, here is a tree which brings forth no fruit whatever, and therefore is of no service. It is like money badly invested, bringing in no interest; it is a dead loss to the owner. What is the use of keeping it? The dead tree is neither use nor ornament: it can yield no service and afford no pleasure. Cut it down by all manner of means. And even so with thee, sinner; what is the use of thee? Thou art of use to thy children, to thy family; in business thou mayst be of some service to the world; but then the world did not make thee; and thy children, and thy family, they did not create thee. God has made thee, God has planted thee, God is thy proprietor — thou hast done nothing for God. Even in coming up to his house to-day, you did not come with any desire to honour God; and to-morrow, if you should chance to give something to the poor, it will not be because they are God’s, nor out of love to him. You neither pray to God, nor praise God, nor live for God; you live for anything, for everything, for nothing, sooner than live for the God that made you. Then what is the good of you to God? All his other creatures praise him. There is not a spider spinning its web from leaf to leaf but doth his bidding. “The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib;” but thou dost not know. Wouldst thou keep a horse that never did thee service? Wouldst thou have a dog in thy house that never licked thy hand or fawned upon thee, or did thy will? Thou wouldst say, “What is the good of this? A servant in my house to feed upon my bread, to be clothed with my bounty, and yet never to obey me, but to live in constant reckless disregard of my most reasonable commands!” You would say to such a servant, “Get thee gone; thou art no servant of mine,” Well might the Lord say this of thee. All these years preserving goodness has winked at the past; longsufFering has borne with thy follies and thy faults, but it cannot be so for ever, for reason demands that a useless thing should not always stand, and “Cut it down,” is the natural inference from the uselessness of thy life. Nor is this all. While you have been thus living without yielding anything, you have been a very costly tree. The tree in the vineyard does not cost much except to dig about it, and to dung it, and to prune it. There is, of course, the expense of the gardener who has to watch over it, but this is very little. You may let the barren tree stand, for it is no great expense; but see what it costs to keep theel Thou hast to be daily fed. The breath in thy nostrils must come from God every moment. There has to be an emanation from omnipotence at every single tick of that clock, or else thou wouldst not live. The complicated machinery of the human body needs to be tended and kept in order by the great Master-Craftsman, or else ere long the cogs would cease to act upon one another, and the wheels would be broken, and the whole machinery would be put out of gear. Thy body is a harp of thousand strings, and fails if one be gone. The good harpist must watch with sedulous care to prevent the strings from snapping. Thou costest God much; much patience, much bounty, much skill, much power. Wherefore should he spare thee? What is there in thee, that he should go on with thee in this manner? Thou wouldst not spare the gnat that was always stinging thee, buzzing in thy face, and every moment insulting thee. If it cost thee much of thy poor gold to spare that poor gnat’s life, thou wouldst riot be long about it; thou wouldst crush it. And oh! it is a marvel that Jehovah does not deal thus with thee, for thou art more impertinent than that gnat could be. Sinner, if you were

in God’s place, and were as ill-treated by your creature, as the Lord is by you, would you lavish love and goodness upon him, to receive hardness of heart and rebellion in return? Assuredly not. Judge then whether it be not right that the Lord should say, “Out it down.”

But there is a worse consideration, namely, that all this while you have been filling up a space which somebody might have been filling to the glory of God. Where that barren tree stands there might have been a tree loaded with fruit. You are cumbering the ground, as the text says, that is, doing nothing but just being a cumbersome nuisance. If another mother had those children, she would pray for them and weep over them, and teach them of Christ, but you do no such thing. If another man had that money it would be laid out for God’s glory, and you lay it out for your own pleasure and forget the God who gave it to you. If another had sat in that seat which you occupy, it may be that he had long ago repented in sackcloth and ashes; but you, like the men of Capernaum, have been hardened instead of being softened under the gospel. It may be, man of influence, if another had stood where you have stood in the world’s judgment, he would have led hundreds in the path of right, but you, standing there, have done no such thing. Oh! if another had your gifts, young man, he would not be making a company laugh at the tavern, but pleading with all his might for Jesus. If another had but your gifts of utterance, he would be spending in prayer and teaching what you now spend in fun and frolic to make amusement for fools. Oh! if another had that time to live in, he would live in earnest for his Master. If that young saint, just going through the flood, had your health and vigour, how would he spend and be spent! I recollect a minister of Christ who had but one talent, but much heart, I remember hearing him pray this prayer: “0 God, I wish I had ten talents, that I might serve thee better. When I think of some that have them, and do not serve thee with them, I am inclined to pray, “Lord take away their ten talents, and trust me with them if thou wilt, for I do desire to have something more to lay out for thee.” Take heed, 0 my dear but sinful hearer lest the Lord remove thee suddenly, and fill up thy place with one who will be obedient to his will.

Moreover, and to make bad worse even to the worst degree, all thi* while ungodly men are spreading an evil influence. Thinking over the two lines of the verse we have been singing, I felt a horror of great darkness as I realized fully their solemn truthfulness with regard to some of you.

“I have shed his precious blood,
Trampled on the Son of God;
Filled with pains unspeakable
/ who yet am not in hell”

Well may the question arise —

“Whence to me this waste of love f

It is so apparently a waste of longsuffering and mercy that some transgressors should be spared at all, that they may well marvel. Look at it, and I think you will see it very clearly so, the very fact that God does not punish sin on the spot is mischievously interpreted. Men in all ages have drawn a wicked inference from the patience of the great Judge. The Preacher, in Ecclesiastes, says, “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.” “Why,” you say, “So-and-so drinks and swears, and he has lived to be a hale, hearty old man. Such an one has plunged into all sorts of folly and wickedness; he was a thief, and everything bad besides, and yet he prospers in the world and grow;; rich. Instead of God sinking him down at once to hell, he has favoured him, and fattened him as a bullock in rich pasture. “Oh,” the worldling says, “there is no justice in God. He does not punish sin.” The very fact that you are spared, 0 sinner, is doing mischief in the world. Do you see that? Your mere existence in this world is to others an inducement to continue in sin; for while you are spared, others look at you and say, “God has not punished him.” Therefore they infer that he will not punish sin at all.

Moreover, how many there are of you whose example is fearfully contagious; whose lips and livfcs combine to lead your associates astray from God. In this dreadful murrain which has ravaged our fields and destroyed the cattle, farmers have been advised, as soon as ever the cow is attacked with the disease, to kill it on the spot, and bury it five feet deep out of the way. Let us reflect that the murrain of sin is much more pestilential and more certain to kill than this murrain among the cattle, and therefore stern justice cries, “Let the sinner be at once sent where he cannot increase the plague of iniquity: it is of no use sparing him; he grows no better; all the means used only make him worse, and meanwhile we must look to the welfare of others, lest he perish not alone in his iniquity. He teaches his children to swear; he makes others worldly; the whole current of his life is to incite men to rebel against God: let his desperate course be stopped at once. The leprosy is upon him, and all that he touches he pollutes: for high sanitary reasons, therefore, he must be removed.” It is better that one die than that many should be smitten, and therefore, the highest consideration for the good of mankind in general renders it necessary that the mandate should go forth, “Cut it down.”

II. Our second most solemn work is to remind thee, 0 impenitent sinner, that FOR GOD TO HAVE SPARED YOU so LONG is A VERY wox-DERFCJL THING. That the infinitely just and holy God should have spared you, unconverted man, unconverted woman, up till now, is no small thing, but a matter for adoring wonder.

Let me show you this. Consider, negatively, God is not sparing you because he is insensible towards your sins: he is angry with the wicked every day. If the Lord could be indifferent towards sin, and could bring his holy mind to treat it as a mere trifle, then it would be no wonder that he should let the transgressor live; but he cannot endure iniquity — all the day long his anger smokes and burns towards evil, and yet he holds back the thunderbolt, and does not smite the guilty. If you had been angry half-an-hour, you would have come to hard words or blows; but here is the Judge of all the earth angry every day for lwenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, or eighty years with some of you, and yet he has not smitten. // is not because the offence is at a distance, and therefore far from his observant eye; no — your sins are like smoke in his nose; your iniquities provoke him to his face; you touch the apple of his eye, and yet, for all that, though this accursed thing failed sin intrudes into his presence every instant, yet still he has spared you until now. Mark, sinner, he has spared you not because he was unable to have destroyed you. He might have bidden the tiles fall from the roof, or the fever might have smitten you in the street; the air might have refused to heave your lungs, or the blood might have ceased its circulation in your veins. The gates to death are many. The quiver of judgment is full of sharp arrows. The Lord has but to will it, and your soul is required of you. He said to the foolish rich man, “This night thy soul shall be required of thee,” and he never saw the morning; and he might as easily have sent the same sad message to you, and what then? As I have said before, this great patience, is not manifested towards your sinful soul because the Lord is at all dependent upon you; your living will not increase, and your dying will not diminish his glory. You will be no more missed than one sere leaf is missed in a forest, or»one dewdrop in a thousand leagues of grass. Judgment needs but a word to work its utmost vengeance, and withal you are so provoking that the marvel is that divine severity has spared you so long. Admire and wonder at this longsuffering.

Remember that this wonder is increased, when you think of ths fruit he deserved to have had of you. A God so good and so gracious, ought to have been loved by you. He has treated you so well, and given you such capacities for pleasure, that he ought to have had some service of you. You are not to God precisely what the ox is to its owner — you give to the ox but his grass or his straw, and you have done with him; but God gives to you not only your daily food, but your very life — you are wholly dependent upon him. Nothing can be so much yours as you are God’s. You ought to have served him, to have delighted in that service, to spend and to have been spent for your Lord. He asks no more of you than he ought to have had, and yet he asks you to love the Lord your God with all your heart, your soul, your strength — this was his first and great commandment, but this yon have constantly, persistently broken. Oh, think then, wheA you ‘have given to God such a bad return, when he ought to have received so much better — think, I pray you, how you must have provoked him.

And ah, my hearers! I have to touch upon a very solemn part of the business now, when I notice again that some, perhaps here present, have been guilty of very God-provoking sins. Some offences provoke God much more than others — I believe that cursing does, for it is wanton insolence, by which nothing can be gained. It is altogether a gratuitous piece of insult. To swear, to imprecate the curse of God upon one’s limbs and souls, is an unnecessary, supernumerary sin. There cannot be any pleasure in pronouncing oaths, any more than in uttering any other form of words. It is just because man will hate his Maker, and will provoke him, that he does this. 0 sinner, did you ever ask God to damn you, and are you not astonished that he has not done it? Did you ever desire that the blast should come upon you, and do you not marvel that he has not long ago swept you where his wrath would wither you for ever? Swearing is a sin that provokes the Most High. 0 sinner, abhor this most detestable of vices.

Infidelity, again, and how many are guilty of that? How proyoking to God for a man to deny his very existence; standing up and breathing God’s air and living upon God’s life, and yet saying that there is no God. An insignificant worm dares challenge the Almighty to prove his Godhead and existence by a tremendous act of justice. This is a God-provoking sin.

So again is persecution. There may be some here present who have persecuted wife and child because of their following Christ. “He that toucheth you toucheth the apple of mine eye,” saith God. Beware, sinner, you will not touch the Lord’s eye long without feeling his heavy hand. If any man injures your children the blood is in your cheek at once, if you are a father, and you feel that you will show yourself strong in their defence, even so the heavenly Father will avenge his own elect. Therefore, take heed lest thou persevere in this heaven-provoking sin.

And slander, too, lying against God’s servants, inventing and spreading wicked tales against those who walk in God’s fear, this is another evil which awakes the anger of God, and stirs up righteous fury against the man who is guilty of it. Beware! beware!

Filthiness, filthiness of body and of life, will also provoke the Most Holy One. This once brought hell out of heaven upon Sodom; God sent down fire and brimstone because of the lusts of the flesh that made Sodom to stink in his nostrils; the harlot and the adulterer, and the fornicator, shall know that they sin not without provoking God very terribly.

And let me add here among these God-provoking sins, there is that quenching of conscience of which some of you have been guilty. Ah, my dear hearers, there are not many of you to whom I spoke under these first heads, for I know that very few of you would indulge in these grosser sins; but there are some of you quite as bad in another sense, for you know the right and choose the wrong; you hear of Christ and do not give your hearts to him. We had hoped of some of you that long ere this we should have seen you walking in the Lord’s fear, but yon are still strangers to Christ. You must have had hard work to do this. You must have had a terrible tug with conscience, some of you; I know you have been stifling many a holy desire, and when the Spirit of God has been striving with you, you have been so desperately set on mischief, that still you have gone on in the error of your ways. Now these sins provoke God. I do not believe that I stand in this pulpit and plead with you in God’s name, and then go back and tell my Master that you. have rejected his warnings, without God’s being angry with your hardness of heart and stiffneckedness. I know if we send an Ambassador to a foreign court to try and make peace, and he honestly and earnestly lays down proper stipulations for peace, if they are rejected, you will soon find the newspapers and public opinion ringing with indignation. “Why,” they say, “will not the men have peace when the terms are so reasonable? Get out the iron-clads, let them have war — war to the knife. If they will not yield to what is reasonable, then let us dress ourselves in thunder, and goforth across the sea.” And what think you. Shall God be always provoked? Shall mercy be preached to you for ever in vain? Shall* Christ be presented and always rejected, and will you continue to be his enemies, and shall he never proclaim war against your souls? It is a marvel, it is a wonder that these God-provoking sins have so long been borne with, and that you are not yet cut down.

III. And now, WHAT is THE REASON FOR ALL THIS LONGSUFFERIXG? Why is it that this cumber-ground tree has not been cut down? The answer is, because there is one who pleads for sinners. I have shown you, and some of you will think I have shown you with very great severity too, how reasonable it is that you should be cut down. I wish you felt it, for, if you felt how reasonable it was that God should send you to hell, then you would begin to tremble, and there would be some hope of you. I can assure you I have trembled for you, when I have thought how rational, how just, nay, it would seem to me, how necesr sary it was that some of you should be lost — it has made me tremble for you — and I would to God you would tremble for yourselves. But what has been the secret cause that you have been kept alive? The answer is, Jesus Christ has pleaded for you, the crucified Saviour has interfered for you. And you ask me “Why?” I answer, because Jesus Christ has an interest in you all. We do not believe in general redemption, but we believe in every word of this precious Bible, and there are many passages in the Scripture which seem to show that Christ’s death had an universal bearing upon the sons of men. We are told that he tasted death for every man. What does that mean? Does it mean that Jesus Christ died to save every man? I do not believe it does, for it seem a to me that everything which Christ intended to accomplish by the act of his death he must accomplish, or else he will be disappointed, which is not supposable. Those whom Christ died to save I believe he will save effectually, through his substitutionary sacrifice. But did he in any other sense die for the rest of mankind? He did. Nothing can be much more plain in Scripture, it seems to me, than that all sinners are spared as the result of Jesus Christ’s death, and this is the sense in which men are said to trample on the blood of Jesus Christ. We read of some who denied the Lord that bought them. No one who is bought with blood for eternal salvation ever tramples on that blood; but Jesus Christ has shed his blood for the reprieve of men that they may be spared, and those who turn God’s sparing mercy into an occasion for fresh sin,, do trample on the blood of Jesus Christ. You can hold that doctrine without holding universal redemption, or without at all contradicting that undoubted truth, that Jesus laid down his life for his sheep, and that where he suffered he suffered not in vain. Now, sinner, whether thou knowest it or not, thou art indebted tG him that did hang upon the tree, for the breath that is now in thee. Thou hadst not been on praying ground and pleading terms with God this morning if it had not been for that dear suffering one. Our text represents the gardener as only asking to have it spared; but Jesus Christ did something more than ask; he pleaded, not with his mouth only, but with pierced hands, and pierced feet, and pierced side; and those prevailing pleas have moved the heart of God, and you are yet spared. May I speak to thee then? if thy life had been spared, when thou wast condemned to die, by my intervention — suppose such a case — would you despise me? If I had power at the Court, and when you were condemned to die, had gone in and pleaded for you, and you had been reprieved, year after year would you hate me? would you speak against me? would you rail at my character? would you find fault with my friends? I know you better: you would love me; you would be grateful for the sparing of your life. 0 sinner, I would you would treat the Lord Jesus as you would treat man. I would you would think of the Lord Jesus Christ as you would think of your fellow-man who had delivered you from death. You are not in hell, where you would have been if he had not come in and

pleaded for you. I do beseech you, think of the miseiy of lost souls, and recollect that you would have been in such a woful case yourself this morning, if he had not lifted up that hand once pierced for human sin. There, there, where the flames can no abatement know, where a drop of water is a boon too great to be received — there, where hope is excluded, and despair sits upon a throne of iron, binding captive souls in everlasting bands — where “For ever!” is written on the fire, and “For ever!” is printed on the chain, and “For ever! for ever! for ever!” rings out as the awful death-knell o» everything like hope, and rest — there you would have been this morning, this morning, if sparing grace had not prevented. “Where are your companions, your old companions? You sat in the pothouse with them; they are in hell, but you are not. When you were younger you sinned with them, and they are lost, but you are not. Why this difference made? Why are they cast away and you spared? I can only ascribe it to the gracious longsuffering of Jehovah. 0, I pray you look at him who spared you, and weep and mourn for your sin. May the Spirit of God come down on you this morning and draw you to the foot of his dear cross, and as you see the blood which has spared your blood, and the death which has made you live until now, I do trust that the divine Spirit may make you fall down and say,” 0 Jesus, how can I offend thee? How can I stand out against thee? Accept me and save me £>r thy mercy’s sake.” For while I have thus spoken of the general interest which Christ has in you all, I have good hope that Christ has a special interest in some of you; I hope that he has specially redeemed you from among men, and bought you not with silver and gold, but with his own precious blood, having loved you with an everlasting love, I trust he intends with the bands of his kindness to draw you this morning. “Oh,” says one, “I cannot think that such can be the case.” But suppose you were to find out ere long that you were chosen of God, and dear to Christ, and were to be a jewel in his crown for ever, what would you say then of yourself? “I would mourn that I could ever have hated him that loved me so well. Oh! that I could ever have stood out against him that was determined to save me! What a fool I was to quarrel with him who had paid my price, and chosen me by his grace, and taken me to be married unto himself for ever! “I tell you that God will forgive you, but you will never forgive yourselves for having stood out and resisted so long. Oh! may eternal mercy, which has not yet said,” Cut it down,” now dig about you and dung you, that you” may bring forth fruit, and then it shall be all to the praise of him whose precious blood has saved us from eternal wrath. May God bless these feeble words of mine. He knows how I meant them; how I meant to speak them, how I meant to have wept over you, how I wanted that my soul should heave with passionate desire for your conversion; but if there have been no such outward manifestations, yet I pray God that the truth itself may be irresistible, and may he get to himself the victory, and his shall be the praise, evermore.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE BEAD BKFORE SERMON — 2 Peter Hi.

rfi[optitmt

“THIS YEAR ALSO.”

FOR THE NEW YEAR. FROM THE SICK CHAMBER OF

“This year also.” — Luke xiii. 8.

AT the opening of another year, and at the commencement of another volume of sermons, we earnestly desire to utter the word of exhortation: but alas, at this present, the preacher is a prisoner, and must speak from his pillow instead of his pulpit. Let not the few words which we can put together come with diminished power from a sick man, for the musket fired by a wounded soldier sends forth the bullet with none the less force. Our desire is to speak with living words, or not at all. He who enables us to sit up and compose these trembling sentences is entreated to clothe them with his Spirit, that they may be according to his own mind.

The interceding vine-dresser pleaded for the fruitless fig-tree, “let it alone this year also” dating as it were a year from the time wherein he spoke. Trees and fruitbearing plants have a natural measurement for their lives: evidently a year came to its close when it was time to seek fruit on the fig-tree, and another year commenced when the vine-dresser began again his digging and priming work. Men are such barren things that their fruitage marks no certain periods, and it becomes needful to make artificial divisions of time for them; there seems to be no set period for man’s spiritual harvest or vintage, or if there be, the sheaves and the clusters come not in their season, and hence we have to say one to another, — “This shall be the beginning of a new year.” Be it so, then. Let us congratulate each other upon seeing the dawn of “this year also,” and let us unitedly pray that we may enter upon it, continue in it, and come to its close under the unfailing blessing of the Lord to whom all years belong.

I. The beginning of a new year SUGGESTS A RETROSPECT. Let us take it, deliberately and honestly. “This year also .•” — then there had been former years of grace. The dresser of the vineyard was not for the first time aware of the fig-tree’s failure, neither had the owner come for the first time seeking figs in vain. God, who gives us “this year also,” has given us others before it; his sparing mercy is no novelty, hismtience has already No. 1,451, 22 been taxed by oar provocations. First came our youthful years, when even a little fruit unto God is peculiarly sweet to him. How did we spend them? Did our strength run all into wild wood and wanton branch? If so, we may well bewail that wasted vigour, that life misspent, that sin exceedingly multiplied. He who saw us misure those golden months of youth nevertheless affords us “this year also,” and we should enter upon it with a holy jealousy, lest what of strength and ardour may be left to us should be allowed to run away into the same wasteful courses as aforetime. Upon the heels of our youthful years came those of early manhood, when we began to muster a household, and to become as a tree fixed in its place; then also fruit would have been precious. Did we bear any? Did we present unto the Lord a basket of summer fruit? Did we offer him the firstling of our strength? If we did so, we may well adore the grace which so early saved us; but if not, the past chides us, and, lifting an admonitory finger, it warns us not to let “this year also” follow the way of the rest of our lives. He who has wasted youth and the morning of manhood has surely had enough of fooling: the time past may well suffice him to have wrought the will of the flesh: it will be a superfluity of naughtiness to suffer “this year also” to be trodden down in the service of sin. Many of us are now in the prime of life, and our years already spent are not few. Have we still need to confess that our years are eaten up by the grasshopper and the canker-worm? Have we reached the half-way house, and still know not whither we are going? Are we fools at forty? Are we half a century old by the calendar and yet far off from years of discretion? Alas, great God, that there should be men past this age who are still without knowledge! Unsaved at sixty, unregenerate at seventy, unawakened at eighty, unrenewed at ninety! These are each and all startling. Yet, peradventure, they will each one fall upon ears which they should make to tingle, but they will hear them as though they heard them not. Continuance in evil breeds callousness of heart, and when the soul has long been sleeping in indifference it is hard to arouse it from the deadly slumber.

The sound of the words “this year also” makes some of us remember years of great mercy, sparkling and flashing with delight. Were those years laid at the Lord’s feet? They were comparable to the silver bells upon the horses — were they “holiness unto the Lord”? If not, how shall we answer for it if “this year also” should be musical with merry mercy and yet be spent in the ways of carelessness? The same words recall to some of us our years of sharp affliction when we were, indeed, digged about and dunged. How went those years? God was doing great things for us, exercising careful and expensive husbandry, caring for us with exceeding great and wise care, — did we render according to the benefit received? Did we rise from the bed more patient and gentle, weaned from the world, and welded to Christ? Did we bring forth clusters to reward the dresser of the vineyard? Let us not refuse these questions of self-examination, for it may be this is to be another of these years of captivity, another season of the furnace and the fining-pot. The Lord grant that the coming tribulation may take more chaff out of us than any of its predecessors, and leave the wheat cleaner and better.

The new year also reminds us of opportunities for usefulness, which “THIS YEAR ALSO,” 8

‘have come and gone, and of unfulfilled resolutions which have blossomed only to fade; shall “this year also” be as those which have gone before? May we not hope for grace to advance upon grace already gained, and should we not seek for power to turn our poor sickly promises into robust action?

Looking back on the past we lament the follies by which we would not willingly be held captive “this year also,” and we adore the forgiving mercy, the preserving providence, the boundless liberality, the divine love, of which we hope to be partakers “this year also.”

II. If the preacher could think freely he could wherry the text at his pleasure in many directions, but he is feeble, and so must let it drive with the current which bears it on to a second consideration: the text MEN TIONS A MERCY. It was in great goodness that the tree which cumbered the soil was allowed to stand for another year, and prolonged life should always be regarded as a boon of mercy. We must view “this year also” as a grant from infinite grace. It is wrong to speak as if we cared nothing for life, and looked upon our being here as an evil or a punishment; we are here “this year also” as the result of love’s pleadings, and in pursuance of love’s designs.

The wicked man should count that the Lord’s longsuffering points to his salvation, and he should permit the cords of love to draw him to it. 0 that the Holy Spirit would make the blasphemer, the Sabbath-breaker, and the openly vicious to feel what a wonder it is that their lives are prolonged “this year also “! Are they spared to curse, and riot, and defy their Maker? Shall this be the only fruit of patient mercy? The procrastinator who has put off the messenger of heaven with his delays and half promises, ought he not to wonder that he is allowed to see “this year also “? How is it that the Lord has borne with him and put up with his vacillations and hesitations? Is this year of grace to be spent in the same manner? Transient impressions, hasty resolves, and speedy apostasies — are these to be the weary story over and over again? The startled conscience, the tyrant passion, the smothered emotion! Are these to be the tokens of yet another year? May God forbid that any one of us should hesitate and delay through “this year also.” Infinite pity holds back the axe of justice, shall it be insulted by the repetition of the sins which caused the uplifting of the instrument of wrath? What can be more tantalizing to the heart of goodness than indecision? Well might the Lord’s prophet become impatient and cry, “How long halt ye between two opinions?” Well may God himself push for a decision and demand an immediate reply. 0 undecided soul, wilt thou swing much longer between heavei? and hell, and act as if it were hard to choose between the slavery of Sata:. and the 1 iberty of the Great Father’s home of love? “This year also” wilt thou sport in defiance of justice, and pervert the generosity of mercy into a licence for still further rebellion? “This year also” must divine love be made an occasion for continued sin? 0 do not act so basely, so contrary to every noble instinct, so injuriously to thine own best interests.

The believer is kept out of heaven “this year also” in love, and not in .anger. There are some for whose sake it is needful he should abide in the flesh, some to be helped by him on their heavenward way, and others to be led to the Redeemer’s feet by his instruction. The heaven of many saints is not yet prepared for them, because their nearest companions have not yet arrived, and their spiritual children have not yet gathered in glory in sufficient number to give them a thoroughly heavenly welcome: they must wait “this year also” that their rest may be the more glorious, and that the sheaves which they will bring with them may afford them greater joy. Surely, for the sake of souls, for the delight of glorifying our Lord, and for the increase of the jewels of our crown, we may be glad to wait below “this year also.” This is a wide field, but we may not linger in it, for our space is little, and our strength is even less.

III. Our last feeble utterance shall remind you that the expression, “This year also,” IMPLIES A LIMIT. The vine-dresser asked no longer a reprieve than one year. If his digging and manuring should not then prove successful he would plead no more, but the tree should fall. Even when Jesus is the pleader, the request of mercy has its bounds and times. It is not for ever that we shall be let alone, and allowed to cumber the ground; if we will not repent we must perish, if we will not be benefited by the spade we must fall by the axe.

There will come a last year to each one of us: therefore let each one say to himself — Is this my last? If it should be the last with the preacher, he would gird up his loins to deliver the Lord’s message with all his soul, and bid his fellow-men be reconciled to God. Dear friend, is “this year also” to be your last? Are you ready to see the curtain rise upon eternity? Are you now prepared to hear the midnight cry, and to enter into the marriage supper? The judgment and all that will follow upon it are most surely the heritage of every living man, blessed are they who by faith in Jesus are able to face the bar of God without a thought of terror.

If we live to be counted among the oldest inhabitants we must depart at last: there must be an end, and the voice must be heard — “Thug saith the Lord, this year thou shalt die.” So many have gone before us, and are going every hour, that no man should need any other memento snori, and yet man is so eager to forget his own mortality, and thereby to forfeit his hopes of bliss, that we cannot too often bring it before the mind’s eye. 0 mortal man, bethink thee! Prepare to meet thy God; for thou must meet him. Seek the Saviour, yea, seek him ere another sun sinks to his rest.

Once more, “this year also,” and it may be for this year only, the cross i& uplifted as the pharos of the world, the one light to which no eye can look in vain. Oh that millions would look that way and live. Soon the Lord Jesus will come a second time, and then the blaze of his throne will supplant the mild radiance of his cross: the Judge will be seen rather than the Redeemer. Now he saves, but then he will destroy. Let us hear his voice at this moment. He hath limited a day, let us be eager to avail ourselves of the gracious season. Let us believe in Jesus this day, seeing it may be our last. These are the pleadings of one who now falls back on his pillow in very weakness. Hear them for your souls’ sakes and live.

efipjj0Htmt SMmwck fjulpit

ALL THINGS ARE READY. COME.

DELIVERED ON LORD’S-DAY MORNING, MAY 13TH, 1877, BY

C. H. SP URGED N,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

“Come, for all things are now ready.” — Luke xiv. 17.

THIS invitation was first of all made to the Jews, but it seems to me to have a peculiar appropriateness to ourselves. It is later in the day than when first the Lord was here, and therefore the supper time is evidently closer at hand. The shadows lengthen, the sun of the present dispengation is nearing its setting; by nearly nineteen hundred years has its day been shortened since first the Lord sent forth his servants at supper time. The fulness of time for the marriage supper of the Lamb must speedily arrive, and therefore it behoves us to be more than ever earnest in delivering the message to the invited guests.

And if all things could be said to be ready even in our Saviour’s day, we may say it with still greater emphasis now; for when he delivered this parable the Holy Spirit was not yet given, but Pentecost has now passed, and the Spirit of God abideth with us to accompany the word, to fill it with power and to bless our souls as we feed upon the truth. Very emphatically then at this time all things are now ready, and the supper awaits the guests. I pray you do not begin to make excuses, but be prepared to follow us when we bid you come, to go with us when we seek to bring you in, or at least to yield to our entreaties when with all the sacred violence of love we would compel you to come in. We will not grudge the use of all the three increasing modes of persuasion so long as you are but led to “Come, for all things are now ready.”

There are two things clearly in the text, and these have a close relation to one another. A plain invitation — “Come,” and then a forcible argument — “for all things are ready.” The argument is fetched from the divine preparations, gathered from among the dainty viands of the royal feast. “My oxen and rny tatlings are killed, come to the supper.” The readiness of everything on God’s part is the argument why rn«n •hould come and partake of his grace: and that is the point upon which

<J78 METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE PULPIT.

we will dwell at this time — the readiness of the feast of mercy is ime reason why men should come to it at once.

I. We will begin our meditation by laying down the first statement which shall make our first division of discourse, namely, that IT is GOD’S HABIT TO HAVE ALL THINGS READY, whether for his guests or his creatures. You never discover him to be behindhand in anything. When the guests come there is not a scramble to get the table arranged and the food prepared, but the Lord kas great forethought, and every little point of detail is well arranged. “All things are ready.”

It was so in creation. He did not create a single blade of grass upon the face of the earth until the soil and the atmosphere had been prepared for it, and until the kindly sun had learned to look down upon the earth. Imagine vegetation without a sun, or without the alternation of day and night. But the air was full of light, the firmament upheld the clouds, and the dry land had appeared from out of the sea, and then all things were ready fpr herb, and plant, and tree. Nor did God prepare one single creature that hath life, nor fowl that fly in the midst of heaven, nor fish that swim the seas, nor beast that moveth on the dry land, until he had prepared its habitat, and made ready its appointed food. There were no cattle before there were meadows for their grazing; no birds till there were trees for their nests, no, nor even a creeping insect till its portion of meat had been provided. No creature had to wait in hungry mood while its food was growing; all things were ready: ready first for vegetation, and then afterwards for animal life. As for Adam, when God came to make him as his laM, and noblest work of creation, all things were ready. The garden was laid out upon the banks of flowing streams, and planted with all kinds of trees, the fruits were ripe for his diet, and the flowers in bloom for his delight. He did not come to an unfurnished house, but he entered upon a home which his Father had made pleasant and agreeable for his dwelling. The world was first fitted up, and then the man who was to govern that world was placed in it. “All things are ready,” the Lord seems to say, “Spring up, 0 herb yielding seed”; and then “All things are ready, come forth ye roes and hinds of the field!” and then “All things are ready, stand forth, 0 man, made in mine own image!”

In after times we may gather illustrations of the same truth from the ways of God with men. The ark was first of all builded, and the various creatures were gathered into it, with all their necessary provender, for that strange voyage which they were about to take: and then the Lord said to Noah, “Come thou and all thy house into the ark,” “All things are ready, come,” was his voice to the chosen eight as they entered into the ark. There was no need to tarry any longer, every preparation was made, and therefore God shut them in. Everything is done with punctuality and exactness by the only wise God. The selfsame day that a thing is needed it is prepared.

Take another event in providence, such as the going down of Israel into Egypt. God had determined that Jacob and his seed should sojourn awhile in the land of Ham, but how wisely he prepared the whole matter. He sent a man before them, even Joseph, and Joseph was there upon the throne clothed with power to nourish them through the famine. He had been there years before, all in iood time to store the wheat while the seven years of plenty lasted, that they might be well fed during the seven years of famine.’ Goshen also was at the disposal of Joseph, so that the flocks and herds of Israel might dwell in that fat land. Not into Egypt shall God’s Israel go till all things are ready; and when all things are ready they will come out again with a high hand and an outstretched arm.

So was it when the tribe* migrated into Canaan itself. God took them not to the promised land until all things were ready. They were made to wait for the fitting time, for the Lord said “The iniquity of the Amorites is not yet full.” Not till the inhabitants of the land had passed the bounds of mercy, and were condemned to die, were the Israelites brought upon the scene to be at once their executioners and successors; and when the tribes came to the river Jordan, God had prepared everything for them, for he had sent the hornet before them to drive out the people, and a pestilence also, for the spies said, “It is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof.’“‘The Lord God had gone before them to fight their battles before they came, and to prepare a place for them, so that when they entered they dwelt in houses which they had not built, and they gathered the fruit of olives which they had” not planted. They came to a land that flowed with milk and honey, a land in a fine cultivated condition, and not a wilderness which with hard labour must be reclaimed. Israel came to a country which was as the garden of the Lord, whose fruit might at once be enjoyed, for they ate of the old corn of the land almost as soon as they passed the Jordan. So you see “All things are ready” is a proclamation which the Lord has often in spirit made to those whom he chooses to bless.

Now the fact that in the great gospel supper all things are ready teaches us first, that God’s thoughts go before men’s comings. “Come, for all things are ready.” Not “If you come, all things will be ready,” but “they are ready, and therefore come.” Grace is first, and man at his best follows its footsteps. Long before we ever thought of God he thought of us; yea, heloie we had a being and ere time itself began, in the bosom of the Eternal there were thoughts of love towards those for whom the table of his mercy is now spread. He had planned and arranged everything in his august mind from of old, he had indeed foreknown and predestinated all the provisions and all the guests of his supper; all things were settled in his eternal covenant and purpose or ever the earth was. Never think, oh sinner, that thou canst outstrip the love of God, it is at the end of the race before thou art at the beginning. God hath completed before thou hast begun. His thoughts ave before ours, and so are his acts, for he doth not say, u All things are planned and arranged,” but “All things are ready.” Jesus, the great sacrifice, is slain, the fountain for our cleansing is filled with blood: the Holy Si irit has been given, the word by which we are to be instructed is in our hands, and the light which will illuminate that sacred page is promised us through the Holy Ghost. Things promised ought to encourage us to come to Christ, but things already given ought to be irresistible attractions. All things are already completed by the sacred Trinity before we come to cry for mercy; this should make us very hopeful and eager in our approaches to the Lord. Come, sinner, come at once: this ought to encourage thee, since all that God h j£ do in thy salvation is done before thou hast a thought of him or turnest one foot towards his abode. All things are ready. Come!

This also proves how wekome those are who come. If you are invited to see a friend, and when you reach the place you find the door fast, and after knocking many times no one answers, for there is no one at home, you reckon that there is some mistake, or that the invitation was not a sincere one. Even if your host should come to the door and admit you, but should evidently be embarrassed, for there is no meal prorided, and he has made no arrangements for your rest at night, you soon detect it, and like a wise man you quickly move off somewhere else, for if you had been welcome, things would have been prepared for you. But oh, poor soul, if thou cornest to God all things are ready for thine entertainment.

“Spread for thee the festal board,
With his richest dainties stored.**

The couch of rest and quietness is prepared for thee. All things are ready. How freely doth Jehovah welcome thee, how genuine is the invitation, how sincere the desire that thou shouldst come to feast with him.

So much upon our first remark, it is the habit of the Lord to have all things ready for his guests.

II. Our second statement is that THIS READINESS SHOULD BB AN ARGUMENT THAT HIS SAINTS SHOULD COME continually to him and find grace to help in every time of need. 0 children of God, I will lift the parable away from the immediate use which the Saviour made of it to employ it for your good. You know, beloved, that whenever the Lord Jesus Christ invites his people to come to him, and to taste of his bounty, all things are ready. It was a beautiful scene by the sea of Tiberias when the Lord spake to those who had been toiling on the lake at fishing, and said to them, “Come and dine.” They were willing enough to dine, but they were busy dragging to the shore those great fishes. Remember, when they did land, they found the invitation to be no vain one, for it is written, “They saw a fire of coals there and fish laid thereon, and bread.” How the coals came there, and the fish, and the bread, the evangelist does not tell us, but our Lord would not have asked them to dinner if he had not been able to give them a warm reception; there was the fire of coale, and the fish laid thereon and bread. Whenever therefore your Lord and Master, by his blessed Spirit, calls you to come near to him, you may be quite’sure that all things are ready for your immediate enjoyment: you need never pause or hesitate, but approach him without delay. I want to caution you against replying, “But, Lord, I do not feel ready.” That is most true, but that is not an argument which thou shouldst use to excuse thyself in holding back. It is his readiness that is the main thing, not thine, and as all things are ready, do thou come whether thou feelest ready or not. I have heard of some Christians who have said, “I do not feel in a proper frame of mind to pray.” My brother, pray till you do. Some have said, “I do not think I shall go rp to the house of God to-day, I feel so unhappy, so cast down.” When should it

ALL THINGS ARE HEADY. COME. 28 i

thou go so much as then, in order that thou mayest find comfort? “Still,” saith one, “you would not have me sing a hymn when of heavy heart?” Ay, would I not, I would indeed, I would have thee sing thy self up from the depths of the sea where all God’s billows have gone orer thee. David full often did so, when he began a psalm, in the deeps, and then gradually rose, and rose, and rose, till he was in a perfect rapture of delight before the psalm was over. All things are ready with your Lord, therefore do you come whether you happen to be ready or not.

Note the times when this truth ought to have power with you. All things are ready, therefore come to the storehouse of divine promise. Are you in spiritual poverty? Come and take what God has provided for you, for all things are yours, and all the blessings of the everlasting hills belong to all the people of God. Are you needing strength? There is a promise, “As thy days so shall thy strength be.” It is ready, come and take it. Art thou wanting consolation? Dost thou not know that all things are ready for thy comfort, that two immutable things, wherein it is impossible for God to lie, are already set before thee? Come thou, and take thy solace. Ay, remember that all that God has promised belongs to all those who believe the promise, and that you may therefore come at ah times, however deep your need, and if you have but faith you shall find the special supply for the special want. All things are ready, therefore come with holy confidence, and take what is ripe enough to gather, ripe for you.

Come next to the mercy seat in prayer, all things are ready there. The mercy seat is sprinkled with the precious blood of Christ. The veil also is rent in twain, and from between the cherubim Jehovah’s glory now shines forth with mildest radiance. Let us therefore come with boldness unto the throne of the heavenly grace, because everything there is ready for the pleading suppliant. Thou hast no need to bring anything with thee there. Thou hast no need of making preparations other than the Holy Spirit waits to give thee in the form of groanings which cannot be uttered. Come, child of God, notwithstanding thy carelessness and indifference, or whatever it may be thou hast to complain of, for though thou be unready, the throne of grace is ready, and therefore do thou draw near to it and find the grace thou needest.

If at this time we feel strong promptings towards communion with Christ what a blessing it is that Christ is always ready to commune with his people. “Behold,” saith he, “I stand at the door and knock.” We think that we stand at the door and knock, but it ig scarcely so, the greater truth with regard to his people is that Jesus asks for fellowship with us, and tells us that if we open the door, and that is all he bids his people do, he will enter in and sup with them, and they with him. Suppose there is no supper, he will provide it he hath all things ready. The Master saith, “Where is the guest-chamber?” He doth not say “Where is the feast?” If thy heart will be the guest-chamber, he will provide the supper, and thou shalt sui with him and he with thee. At whose door did Christ knock according to the Scriptures? It was at the door of the Laodicean church, at the door of the very church concerning which he had said, “Because thou art neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth.” Therefore thou jxpor Laodicean believer that art here this morning, if thou hast any promptings towards Christ, arise, for all things are ready, and or ever thou art aware thy soul shall be as the chariots of Amminadib. He is ready to receive us to his heart of hearts. How sweetly this ought to constrain us to fly into the arms of Jesus.

I think the same thought ought to cross our minds with regard to every daily duty. We wake up in the morning, but we do not know exactly what lies before us, for God’s providence has constantly new revelations: but I like to think in the morning that all things are ready for my pathway through the day, that if I will go out to serve God in my ministry he has prepared some ear into which I am to drop a gracious word, and some heart in the furrows of which I shall sow some blessed seed effectually. Behold all providence with its mighty wheels is co-working with the servant of the living God; only go forward in zeal and confidence, my brother, and thou shialt find that every step of thy way is ready for thee. Thy Master has trodden the road and marked out for thee the houses of refreshment where thou art to tarry till thou shalt come to the celestial city itself, and the hallowed spots where thou shalt bring glory to his blessed name. For a useful life all things are ready for us.

Yes, and if beyond the daily service of life we should feel a prompting to aspire to a higher degree of holiness, if we want to grow in grace and reach the fulness of the stature of a man in Christ Jesus, all things are ready for us. No Christian can have a sacred* ambition after holiness which the Lord is not prepared to fulfil. Thou that wiliest to be like thy Master, thou that desirest to make a self-sacrifice that will show the power of his grace in thee, the Holy Spirit waits to help thee, all things shall work for thee, for all things are ready. Come therefore without fear.

One of these days it may be that you and I shall ei ther be grown very old, or else disease will lay hold upon us, and we shall lie upon the sick bed watching and waiting for our Master’s coming. Then there shall suddenly appear a messenger from him, who will bring us this word, “All things are ready, come unto the supper,” and closing our eyes on earth we shall open them in heaven and see what he has done who so sweetly said, “I go to prepare a place for you, and if I go to prepare a place for you I will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am there ye may be also.” Oh, it will be a joyous moment when we shall hear the summons, “All things are ready, quit thy house of clay, thy farm, thy merchandise, and even her who lies in thy bosom, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and thou must be there; therefore, rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. The winter is over and past, the time of the singing of birds is come for fchee, all things are ready, come!” I feel tempted to linger here, but I must tear myself away from that point to pass on to the next.

III. THE PERFECT READINESS OF THE FEAST OF DIVINE MERCY IS EVIDENTLY INTENDED TO BE A STRONG ARGUMENT WITH SINNERS

WHY THEY SHOULD COME AT ONCE. To the sinner, then, do I address myself.

Soul, dost thou desire eternal life? Is there within thy spirit & hungering and a thirsting after such things as may satisfy thy spirit and make thee live for ever? Then hearken while the Master’s servant gives fchee the invitation. “Come, for all things are ready,” — all, not some, but all. There is nothing that thou canst need between here and heaven but what is provided in Jesus Christ, in his person and in his work. All things are ready, life for thy death, forgiveness for thy sin, cleansing for thy filth, clothing for thy nakedness, joy for thy sorrow, strength for thy weakness, yea, more than all that ever thou canst want is stored up in the boundless nature and work of Christ. Thou must not say, “I cannot come because I have not this, or have not that.” Art thou to prepare the feast? Art thou to provide anything? Art thou the purveyor of even so much as the salt or the water? Thou knowest not thy true condition, or thou wouldst not dream of such a thing. The great Householder himself has provided the whole of the feast, thou hast nothing to do with the provision but to partake of it. If thou lackest come and take what thou lackest; the greater thy need the greater reason why thou shouldst come where all things that thy need can possibly want will be at once supplied. If thou be so needy that thou hast nothing good at all about thee, all things are ready. What wouldst thou provide more when God has provided all things? Superfluity of naughtiness would it be if thou wert to think of adding to his “all things “; it would be but a presumptuous competing with the provisions of the great King, and this he will not endure. All that thou wantest — I can but repeat the words — between the gates of hell, where thou now liest, and the gates of heaven, to which grace will bring thee if thou believest, — all is provided and prepared in Jesus Christ the Saviour.

And all things are ready, dwell on that word. The oxen and the fatlings were killed; what is more, they were prepared to be eaten, they were ready to be feasted on, they smoked on the board. It is something when the king gives orders for the slaughter of so many bullocks for the feast, but the feast is not ready then; and when beneath the polenxe the victims fall, and they are stripped and hung up ready for the fire, there is something done, but they are not ready. It is when the joints are served hot and steaming upon the table, and all that is wanted is brought forth and laid in proper order for the banquet, it is then that all things are ready, and this is the case now; at this very moment thou wilt find the feast to be in the best possible condition; it was never better and never can be better than it is now. All things are ready, just in the exact condition that thou needest them to be, just in such condition as shall be best for thy soul’s comfort and enjoyment. All things are ready; nothing needs to be further mellowed or sweetened, everything is at the best that eternal love can make it.

But notice the word, “now,” “All things are now ready” — just now, at this moment. At feasts, you know, the good housewife is often troubled if the guests come late. She would be sorry if they came halfaii-hour too soon, but half-an-hour too late spoils everything, and in what a state of fret and worry she is if when all things are now ready, her friends still delay. Leave food at the fire awhile, and it does not seem to be “now ready,” but something more than ready, and even spoiled. So doth the great householder lay stress upon this, all things are now ready, therefore come at once. He saith not that if thou wilt tarry for another seven years all things will then be ready: God grant that long before that space of time thou mayest have got beyond the needs of persuasion by having become a taster of the feast, but he doth say that they are all ready now, just now. Just now that your heart is so heavy and your mind is so careless, that your spirit is so wandering — all things are ready now. Just now, though you have never thought of these things before, but dropped in this morning to see this large assembly with no motive whatever as to your own salvation, yet all things are ready now. Though your sins are as the stars of heaven, and your soul trembles under an awful foreboding of coming judgment, yet “all things are now ready.” After all your rejections of Christ, after the many invitations that have been thrown away upon you, come ye to the supper.

And if they are ready now, the argument is come now, while still all things are ready. While the Spirit lingers and still doth strive with men, while mercy’s gates still stand wide open, that “whosoever will may come,” while life and health and reason still are spared to you and the ministering voice that bids thee come can still be heard, come now, come at once — all things are ready — come! Delay is as unreasonable as it is wicked now that all things are ready.

Notice that all things were ready for those who were bidden. They did not come, but they were not mocked when they were bidden to come. The fact of all things being ready proved that the invitation was a sincere one, although it was a rejected one. There are some who will not have us give an invitation to any but to those whom we believe are sure to come, nay, in a measure have come; that is to say, they make a minister to be a mere superfluity. Why need he come and invite those who have already begun to come? But we believe it to be our duty and our privilege to invite the whole mass of mankind; and even those who will not come: if we knew they would not come we should not therefore exempt them from the bidding, for the servant was sent to bid them to the wedding who nevertheless all with one consent began to make excuse. They were invited, and earnestly invited, and all things were ready, though they came not. 0 my dear hearers, if you do not come to Christ you will perish, but you will never be able to say you were not bidden, and that there was nothing ready for you. No, there stands the feast all spread, and you are sincerely and honestly bidden to come. God grant that you may come, and come at once.

IV. Now I am going to pass on to my fourth and last point, which may God bless to the comfort of some seeking soul. THIS TEXT DIS POSES OF A GREAT DEAL OF TALK ABOUT THE SINNER’S READINESS OR

UNREADINESS: because, if the reason why a sinner is to come is be cause all things are ready, then it is idle for him to say “But I am not i-eady.” It is clear that all the readiness required on man’s part is a willingness to come and receive the blessing which God had provided. There is nothing else necessary; if men are willing to come, they may come, they will come. Where the Lord has been pleased to touch the will so that man has a desire towards Christ, where the heart really hungers and thirsts after righteousness, that is all the readiness which is wanted. All the fitness he requireth is that first you feel your need of him (and that he gives you), and that secondly in feeling your need of him you are willing to come to hiir.. Willingness to come is everything. A readiness to believe in Jesus a willingness to cast the soul on him, a preparedness to accept him just as he is, because yon feel that he is just the Saviour that you need — that is all: there was no other readiness, there could have been none, in the case of those who were poor and blind, and halt, and maimed, yet came to the feast. The text does not say, “You are ready, therefore come,” that is a legal way of putting the gospel; but it says, “All things are ready, the gospel is ready, therefore you are to come.” As for your readiness, all the readiness that is possibly wanted is a readiness which the Spirit gives us, namely, willingness to come to Jesus.

Now notice that the unreadiness of those who were bidden arose out of their possessions and out of their abilities. One would not come be cause he had bought a piece of land. What a great heap Satan casts up between the soul and the Saviour! What with worldly possessions and good deeds he builds an earthwork of huge dimensions between the sinner and his Lord. Some gentlemen have too many acres ever to come to Christ: they think too much of the world to think much of him. Many have too many fields of good works in which there are growing crops in which they pride themselves, and these cause them to feel that they are persons of great importance. Many a man cannot come to Christ for all things because he has so much already. Others of them could not come because they had so much to do, and could do it well — one had bought five yoke of oxen, he was going to prove them; a strong man quite able for ploughing; the reason why he did not come was because he had so much ability. Thousands are kept away from grace by what they have and by what they can do. Emptiness is more preparatory to a feast than fulness. How often does it happen that poverty and inability even help to lead the soul to Christ. When a man thinketh himself to be rich he will not come to the Saviour. When a man dreameth that he is able at any time to repent and believe, and to do everything for himself that is wanted, he is not likely to come and by a simple faith repose in Christ. It is not what you have not but what you have that keeps many of you from Christ. Sinful self is a devil, but righteous self is seven devils. The man who feels himself guilty may for awhile be kept away by his guilt, but the man who is self-righteous will never come: until the Lord has taken his pride away from him he will still refuse the feast of free grace. The possession of abilities and honours and riches keep men from coming to the Redeemer.

But on the other hand personal condition does not constitute an unfitness for coming to Christ, for the sad condition of those who became guests did not debar them from the supper. Some were poor, and doubtless wretched and ragged; they had not a penny to bless themselves with, as we say; their garments were tattered, perhaps worse, they were filthy, they were not fit to be near respectable people, they would certainly be no credit to my lord’s table; but those who went to bring them in did not search their pockets, nor look at their coats, but they fetched them in. They were poor, but the messengers were told to bring in the poor, and therefore brought them. Their poverty did not prevent their being ready; and oh, poor soul, if thou be poor literally, or poor spiritually, neither sort of poverty can constitute an unfitness fb* divine mercy.

“The poorer the wretch the welcomer here.”

If thou art brought to thy last penny, yea, if that is spent, and if thou hast pawned all, and thou art left in debt over head and ears, and thinkest that there is nothing lor thee but to be laid by the heels in prison for ever, nevertheless thou mayest come, poverty and all.

Another class of them were maimed, and so were not very comely in appearance: an arm had been lopped off, or an eye had been gouged out. One had lost a nose, and another a leg. They were in all stages and shapes of dismemberment. Sometimes we turn our heads away, and feel that we would rather give anything than look upon beggars who show their wounds, and describe how they were maimed. But it did not matter how badly they were disfigured; they were brought in, and not one of them was repulsed because of the ugly cuts he had received. So, poor soul, however Satan may have torn and lopped thee, and into whatsoever condition he may have brought thee, so that thou feelest tishamed to live, nevertheless this is no unfitness for coining; just as thou art thou mayest come to his table of grace. Moral dis figurements are soon rectified when Jesus takes the character in hand. Come thou to him, however sadly thou art injured by sin.

There were others who were halt, that is to say, they ha<! lost a leg, or it was of no use to them, and they could not come except they had a crutch and crawled or hopped upon it; but nevertheless that was no reason why they were not welcome. Ah, if you find it difficult to be lieve, it is no reason why you should not come and receive the grand absolution which Jesus Christ is ready to bestow upon you. Lame with doubting and distrusting, nevertheless come to the supper and say, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”

Others were blind people, and when they were told to come they could not see the way, but in that case the messenger was not told to tell them to come, he was commanded to bring them, and a blind man can come if he is brought. All that was wanted was willingness to be led by the hand in the right direction. Now you that cannot fully understand the gospel as you desire to do, that are puzzled and muddled, give your hand into the hand of Jesus, and be willing to be led. be willing to believe what you cannot comprehend, and to grasp in confidence that which you are not able yet to measure with your understanding. The blind, however ignorant or uninstructed they are, shall not be kept away because of that.

Then there were the men in the highways, I suppose they were beggars; and the men in the hedges, I suppose they were hiding, and were probably thieves; but nevertheless they were told to come, and though they were highwaymen and hedge-birds even that did not prevent their coming and finding welcome. Though outcasts, offcasts, spiritual gipsies, people that nobody cared for, yet, whatever they might be, that was not the question, they were to come because all things were ready: come in rags, come in filth, come maimed, come covered with sores, come in all sorts of filthiness and abomination, yet because all things are ready they were to be brought or to be compelled to come in.

Now, lastly, I think it was the very thing, which in any one of these people looked like unfitness, which was a help to them. It is a great truth that what we regard as unfitness is often our truest fitness. I want you to notice these poor, blind, and halt people. Some of those who were invited would not come because they had bought some land or five yoke of oxen, but when the messenger went up to the poor man in rags and said, “Come to the supper,” it is quite clear he would not say he had bought a field, or oxen, for he could not do it, he had not a penny to do the thing with, so that he was clean delivered from that temptation. And when a man is invited to come to Christ and he says, “I do not want him, I have a righteousness of my own,” he will stay away; but when the Lord Jesus came along to me I never was tempted in that way, because I had no righteousness of my own, and could not have made one if I had tried. I know some here who could not patch up a garment of righteousness if they were to put all their rags together, and this is a great help to their receiving the Lord Jesus. What a blessedness it is to have such a sense of soul poverty that you will never stay away from Christ because of what you possess.

Then, next, some could not come because they had married a wife. Now, I think it is very likely that these people who were maimed and cut about were so injured that they had no wife, and perhaps could not get anybody to have them. Well then, they had not that temptation, to stay away. They were too maimed to attract the eye of anybody who was looking for beauty, and therefore they were not tempted that way. But they found at the ever-blessed supper of the Lamb an everlasting wedlock, which was infinitely better. Thus do souls lose earthly joyi and comforts, and by the loss they gain supremely: they are thus made willing to close in with Christ and find n higher comfort and a highey joy. That maiming which looked like unfitness turned out to be fitness.

One excuse made was, “I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them.” The halt could not do that. When the messenger touched the lame man on the shoulder and said “Come,” he could not gay, “I am going out to-night to plough with my new teamg.” He had never been over the clods ever since he had lost his leg poor soul, so that he could not make such an excuse. The blind man could not say, 44 1 have bought a piece of land and I must go to see it;” he was frea from all the lusts of the eye, and so far was all the more ready to be led to the supper. Wnen a soul feels its own sinfulness, and wretchedness, and lost estate, it thinks itself unfit to come to Christ, but this is an assistance to it, since it prevents its looking to anything else but Christ, kills its excuses, and makes it free to accept salvation by grace.

But how about the men that were in the highway? Well, it seems to me that they were already on the road, and at least out of their houses, if they had any. If they were out there begging, they were the more ready to accept an invitation to a meal of victuals, for it was that they were singing for. A man who is out of the house of his own self-righteousness, though he be a great sinner, is in a more favourable position and more likely to come to Christ than he who prides himself in his supposed self-righteousness.

As for those who were under the hedges, well, they had no house of their own, and so they were all the more likely to come and fill God’s house. Men do not take to hedges to sleep under them as long as they have even a hovel where they may rest their head, but oh, poor soul, when thou art driven to such distress that thou wouldst fain hide under any hedge, when thou hast nothing left thee but a fearful looking for of judgment, when thou thinkest thyself to be an outlaw and an outcast before God, left to wander like Cain, a waii and stray, lost to ail good, thou art the very man to come to Christ. Come out of your hedges. then. I am looking for you. Though you hide yourselves away yet God’s own Spirit will discover you, and bring you, I trust this very morning, to feed on love divine. Trust Jesus Christ, that is all, just as you are, with all your unfitness and unreadiness. Take what God has made ready for you, the precious blood to cleanse you, a robe of righteousness to cover you, eternal joy to be your portion. Receive the grace of God in Christ Jesus, oh receive it now. God grant you may. for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON — Luke xiv. 12 — 35,

HYMNS FROM “OUR OWN HYMN BOOK” — 909, 504, 488 (T. 3 — «X

Sfafyrmtcle fiuljtt

A BAD EXCUSE IS WORSE THAN NONE.

DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JULY SRD, 1864, BY THE

REV. C. H. SPURGEON,

AT BAYSWATER.

“And they all with one consent began to make excuse.” — Luke xiv. 18.

THE provisions of the gospel or Christ may well be compared to a supper, provided, as they were, in the evening of the world — “in these last days.” The description, “a great supper” is well borne out if we consider the greatness of the provision; how much of love and mercy God has displayed towards the sons of men in the person of Christ Jesus; how much of power and of gracious working he has shown by his Holy Spirit. A great supper it is if we think of the richness and sweetness of the provision — it is a feast worthy of the great King. The flesh of Jesus is our spiritual meat, and his blood our choicest wine. Our souls are satisfied with covenant mercies, most fitly set forth as “A feast of fat things, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, or wines on the lees well refined.” A great supper it is, moreover, when we consider the number of guests invited.” Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.’* The call of the gospel comes to every man and woman of Adam born, within hearing of the ministers of God.

“None are excluded thence, but those

Who do themselves exclude;
Welcome the learned and polite,
The ignorant and rude.”

No other king ever sent out an invitation so broad as this. But wisdom “crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors. Unto you, 0 men, I call; and my voice is to the sons of man.”

Is it not strange that when the householder made so great a supper, when he offered it without money and without price, that all his neighbours should with one consent begin to make excuse? He did not call them to prison or to misery; how then came they to be so unwilling to obey the summons? Whence this unanimity in the rejection? We find good men differing, how is it that evil men can hold together «o well? What! not one who has respect enough to his generou§ friend to sit at his table and receive his bounty? Not one. Truly, here, brethren, we have a picture of the universal depravity of man, All men are thus vile, and refuse the mercy of God. We never know how bad man is till the gospel is preached to him. The gospel acts as a white back-ground to set forth the blackness of man’s ‘heart. Here human nature reaches to the greatest height of sin’s enormity. Spitting forth his venom against the Lord of infinite love, man proves himself truly to be of the serpent’s brood. The gospel is preached to thousands, and do all make excuse? So the parable hath it, and truly so the fact proves it. What! is there not one whose free-will is inclined towards Christ? Is there not one of so good a natural disposition that he will come to Jesus? Nay, the text says, not one: “They all with one consent began to make excuse.” How thoroughly hath father Adam ruined our understandings! What fools as well as rebels we are to refuse to partake of the banquet of love. We are altogether become unprofitable; there is not one who seeketh after God. You will, perhaps, remind me that there were other men besides those who made excuse. Most true; but these were in the highways and hedges, or in the streets and lanes of the city; and so those who do not hear the gospel, and therefore are not guilty of rejecting it, yet nevertheless are far off’ from God by wicked works, and strangers to the commonwealth of Israel. Thus, taking the two characters to represent all mankind, we find all to be enemies of God. Those in the highways need to be “compelled” to come in; they had a natural reluctance to feast at the good man’s table; and so all sorts of men are averse to the gospel. They are perfectly willing to sin — content even to perish in sin, but to come to Christ, to accept the great atonement, to put their trust in Jesus, this is a thing they care not for, and with one consent, when they hear the

gospel they begin to make excuse.

We fear that there are many -,,

who have been blessed with hearing the gospel for years, but hitherto,

e fear that there are many in this meeting-house, this morning,

the only treatment they have given to the gracious message is to make excuses about it. I hope to deal with such very simply and very affectionately, earnestly desiring that they make their last excuse this morning, and that it may meet with its death-blow. 0 that they may come to the feast which they have long rejected, and rejoice in the mercy of God in Christ Jesus.

Why did they make an excuse? Let us, first, try to account for their conduct; secondly, what excuses do they make? — let us recount them; and thirdly, how foolish thus to make excuses! — here let us encounter them.

I. Let us try to ACCOUNT for the fact, the sad fact, that men are so ready to make excuses rather than to receive the Word of God.

We account for it in the first place by the fact that they had no heart at all to accept the feast. Had they spoken the truth plainly, they would have said, “We do not wish to come, nor do we intend to do so.” If man’s heart were not so deceitful, it would not make excuses, but it would say, outright, “‘We will not have this man to reign over us: ’ we do not feel our sinfulness, we will not therefore accept pardon: we believe that we can work out our own salvation with our own doings $ or, if not, we are content to take our chance. If it shall go ill with us, it will go ill with a great many people. We will run all risks: we do not want salvation: we choose ‘rather to have our full swing of carnal delights: your religion involves too much self-sacrifice; it is altogether contrary to the lustings of our minds, and therefore we decline it.” This is at the bottom of it. Some of you, my hearers, have often been impressed, and partially convinced of sin, but you have put off Christ with excuses. Will you bear with me while I solemnly assure you, that at its core your heart is at enmity to God. Your excuse may look very pretty, but it is as flimsy as it is fair. If you were honest with your own soul, you would say at once, “I do not love Christ; I do not want his salvation.” Your put-offs, your false promises, your excuses are worthless; any one with half an eye can see through them — they are so transparent. You are an enemy to God; you are unreconciled, and you are content to be so. This truth may be unpalatable, but it is nevertheless most certain. May God help you to feel this, and may it humble yrou before his presence.

Still, if they would not come to the good man’s feast, why did not they say so? “if the real secret of it was that they hated him and despised his provisions, is it not melancholy that they were not homxt enough to give him a “nay” at once? Well, they certainly were not, arul one reason might be because they -wished to be upon good terms with their conscience. They felt they ought to go. He was one who had a claim upon their courtesy, if not their gratitude, and therefore feeling that they ought to go, and yet not intending to go, they sought to compromise by an excuse. Conscience is a very unamiable neighbour to men who live in sin. It is said of David, “David’s heart smote him,” and it is a very hard blow which the heart is able to give. In order to parry the blow, men hold up a shield of excuses. You cannot quite extinguish your conscience, which is the candle of the Lord, and therefore you put it under the bushel of an excuse. The thief fears the watch-dog, and therefore throws him a sop to keep him quiet — that sop is made of excuses. John Bunyan tells us that Mr. Recorder Conscience, when the town of Mansoul was in the keeping of Diabolus, used sometimes to cry out at such a rate that he made all the inhabitants afraid, and so they put him in a very dark place, and tried to put a gag into his mouth to keep him quiet, but for all that, some times when his fits came on, he made the town feel very uneasy. I know what conscience tells some of you: it says to you, “How is it you can forget divine things? How can you trifle with the world to come? How can you live as if you never meant to die? What will you do when you come to die, without an interest in the Lord Jesus Christ?” So, that conscience may be quiet awhile, you make an excuse, and persevere in refusing to come to the feast.

It may be that you make this excuse to satisfy custom. It is not the custom of this present age to fly immediately in the face of Christ. There are not many men of your acquaintance or mine, who ostensibly oppose religion. Your father fears God; your mother is a woman of great

devotion; your friends go to the house of God and speak experimentally

say to them,” I will never be a Christia’n; I dislike the ways of God; I do not choose the

of divine things: you do not like therefore to saj never be a Christian; I dislike the ways of God; J plan of sovereign grace;” and therefore to spare their feelings you make an excuse. You do not want to grieve dear friends, you are afraid if you spoke out honestly what your soul feels, that it might bring your mother with grey hairs to the grave, or make your father’s heart to break, and so you make the excuse, that they may entertain a comfortable hope whereas, while you make excuses, there is no hope for you at all. For mj part, I would rather you would speak outright and say what you mean I would that you would say, “I am an enemy of Christ; I do not be lieve his gospel; I will not serve him.” This might sound very badly, but it would show, at least, that there was some sincerity in you, and we would hope that, ere long, you might be bowed to the will of Christ. Excuses are curses, and when you have no excuses left there will be hope for you.

It may be you make these excuses because you have had convictions which so haunt you at times that you dare not oppose Christ to his face. You have gone home from the services to weep. That little chamber of yours is a witness that you cannot live altogether without prayer. The other day when you went to a funeral, you came home with your mind very solemn, and you thought then that certainly you would yield to the commands of Jesus. When you were sick, and had that week or two upstairs alone, then you vowed and resolved; but your resolves melted into thin air. The tear starts to your eye, you are almost persuaded to be a Christian; you breathe a prayer, but ah! some ill companion tempts you the next morning, and according to the old proverb, “The dog hath returned to his vomit, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.” Ah! how many times did I have convictions of sin, and terrible ones, too, and yet I said, like Felix to Paul, “Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee;” but I could not quench these convictions by downright opposition to Christ; I knew too much, and felt too much to do that, and so I tried to patch up a truce between my soul and my convictions.

Satan is always ready to help men with excuses. This is a trade of which there is no end. It certainly commenced very early, for after our first parents had sinned, one of the first occupations upon which they entered was to make themselves aprons of fig-leaves to hide their nakedness. Read the Scriptures through, and you will find that excuse-making has been a habit in all ages and among all classes of people; and till the last sinner shall be saved by sovereign grace, I suppose men will still be setting up their vain excuses in the temple of God. If you will fire the gun, Satan will always keep you supplied with ammunition. When he thinks that a truth is about to come home to you, if you cannot frame an excuse, he will do it for you; he will run between you and the cannon-shot of God’s Word to prevent your being wounded by it. If the preacher’s sword should be too sharp for you, and make your conscience bleed, the evil one has a Satanic plaister with which he very soon binds up the wound.

The natural self-righteousness of man prompts him to frame apologies. We are all the best men in the world according to our own gauge and measure. If we could sit as judges upon ourselves, the verdict would always be “Not guilty.” Sin, which would be very shocking in another, is very venial in us; nay, what would be abominable in other men, becomes almost commendable in ourselves, so partially do we judge our own case. Since the sinner cannot think it quite right for himself to be an unbeliever in Christ, since hia enlightened conscience will not let him *s,y that he is quite safe while he refuses to fly to the wounds cf Jesus, he runs to excuses in order that he may still say, “I aru rich and increased in goods,” and not be driven to the unhappy necessity of crying, “I am naked and poor and miserable.” Sinful self is hard to conquer, but righteous self is the worst enemy of the two. When we can make men plead guilty, then God pronounces absolution upon them; but while men will interpose their extenuations, there is little or no hope for them. 0 great God, our Master, rend away the excuses from every sinner here, and make him stand guilty before thy bar in his own consciousness, that he may cry, “God be merciful to me, a sinner,” and find pardon through the blood of Jesus Christ. Take heed, 0 ye ungodly ones, lest ye go on excusing, and excusing, and excusing, until ye excuse yourselves down to the pit of hell; for’this know, ye will never be able to excuse yourselves out again.

II. We come to RECOUNT these excuses.

Many will not come to the great supper — will not be Christians on the same ground as those in the parable — they are too busy. They have a large family, and it takes all their time to earn bread and cheese for those little mouths. They have a very large business — many servants in their employ, and from the first thing in the morning to the last thing at night, if they do not see after business, their affairs must go wrong. Or else, if they have no business, yet they have so many pleasures, and these require so much time — their butterfly visits during the morning take up so many hours — the dropping of their &nall pieces of pasteboard at other people’s doors occupy all their leisuro, and they really have no opportunity to think about matters so unpalatable as death and eternity. This excuse scarcely needs a word from me to answer it, because every man knows that it is grossly false. Nobody ^oes starving oecause he has not time to eat. Now, if God has given time “for us to support our natural frame, much more has he given us time for the soul to feed. I do not find my friends 111 the street half dressed; but I find some of them spend many a half-hour over that other pin, and that other ribbon. Now, surely if they have time to dress the body, they must have had time given them in which to put on the robe of righteousness and array the soul. If you have not the time, God gave it to you, and you must have misspent it. God gives you time as a steward, and if you say to your Master, “I have it not,” he will reply to you, “I entrusted it to you; you must have spent it on yourself; you have robbed God.” A little earlier rising, a little less time at the table — either of these might give you time enough. You know you have the time, and when you say you have it not, the lie is too thin; you can see through it. 0 soul! 0 eoul! when holy men can find hours for prayer; when such a man as Martin Luther, when he was very busy, used to say, “I must have threa hours prayer to-day at least, or else I cannot get through my business,” do not tell me that you have not time to seek the Lord. Besides, it is not an affair of time. Salvation may be wrought in an instant. There is life in a look at the crucified One; there is life at this moment for thee; and betwcer now and the time when this service shall have gone, there is time enough for thee to have laid hold upon eternal life, and to have received Christ Jesus to thy soul’s salvation. That excuse will not do.

But then they fly to another. They are too good. When I have preached free grace and a full Christ, I have heard some say, “That is a good sermon for the crowd in a theatre, for ignorant, low-lived people; but we respectable people do not require such salvation. To offer a free salvation to men who are neither drunkards nor swearers, why the thing is ridiculous. The sermon was very good for Magdalens, for thieves, and such like, but not for us.” No, you are too good to be saved. You need not a physician, because you are whole. Your own table has enough upon it, you do not need to come to this feast. But bethink you, I pray you, whether this be not all a mistake. In what are you better than other men, after all? What if you do not indulge in open sins, does not your heart often go a-lusting towards evil? Does your tongue always speak that which is right and true? If you cannot remember sins of commission, what about the sins of omission? Have you fed the hungry? Have you clothed the naked? Have you taught the ignorant? Have you loved God with all your heart, and soul, and strength? Have you given him all that he demands of you? Why you cannot say this. Now the perfection, the holiness, ‘which God demands in order to salvation must be like a perfect alabaster vase: if there be a single crack or spot on it, all is spoiled. You may say, “Well, it is not much broken; we have not seriously damaged it;’*’ nay, but God requires it to be perfect, and no matter how slight the damage it may have sustained, you cannot enter heaven upon the footing of your good works — you are cast out for ever. Hear these words, “By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight.” “Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them,” and “As many as are of the works of the law, are under the curse.” God save you from that false excuse.

Another class say, “We are too lad to be saved. The gospel cries, * Believe in Jesus Christ and live,’ but it cannot mean me; I have been too gross an offender. When I was but young I went into evil, and since then I have gone from bad to worse. 0 sir, I have cursed God to his face; I have sinned against light and knowledge, against a mother’s prayers and tears. I have spoken evil of God’s Word; I have laughed at the very name of his Son Jesus Christ. I am too evil to be saved.” Here is another bad excuse. You Jcnow, sinner, if you have been a hearer of the gospel, that this is not true, for bad as you are, no man is excluded from Christ on account of his vileness. “All manner of sin and of blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men.” The invitations of the gospel do not stop at a certain point of sin, but on the contrary, they seem to select the worst sinners first. What did the Saviour say? “‘Begin at Jerusalem.” But, Lord, the men live there who crucified thee. “Begin at Jerusalem.” But, Lord, it was in Jerusalem that they shed thy blood, and thrust out the tongue and laughed at thee, and made a mockery of thy prayers. “Begin at Jerusalem” — the worst first. Just as the surgeon in a battle iswont to look to the worst cases first. Here is a man who has lost his finger. At., well, let him bide awhile, we will see to that. But here is°another who has lost a limb, and he is bleeding fast, and if the blood be not stopped, his life will ooze out. The surgeon gives him the first turn. 0 you great sinners, you who feel yourselves to have been notorious offenders, I pray you be not so guilty as to make this an excuse for not coming to Christ; on the contrary, use it as a reason why you should fly to him at once. The more filth, the more need of washing; the more sick, the more need of a physician; the more hungry, the more welcome to the table. Come to Jesus just as you are, with all your sins: “Though they be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow;” though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” No form of sin, imaginable or unimaginable, can by any possibility, be a bar to any man’s salvation, if he will but believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.

Then comes another excuse,” Sir, I would trust Christ with my soul this morning, but I do not fed in a fit state to trust Christ. I have not that sense of sin which I think to be a fit preparation for coming to Christ —

“‘If aught is felt, ’tis only pain
To find I cannot feel.’”

Ah! my dear hearer, this is an excuse which looks like a very good one, but it has no truth in it. There is no fitness wanted before you may trust in Christ. Whatever may be your present condition, if you trust Jesus Christ with your soul, you are saved on the spot; your sins are for given you; you are made a child of God; you are accepted in the Beloved. Where do you read of fitness for Christ in the Scriptures? Were the dead whom Jesus restored, fit to be raised think you? Why, Martha said of her brother, “Lord, by this time he stmketh, for he hath been dead four days;” was there any fitness in Lazarus for a resurrection? And yet Jesus said, “Lazarus, come forth!” Does the gospel say, “He who is in a certain state, and then believeth, shall be saved;” no, but, “He that believeth and is baptized, shall be saved.” How am I bidden to preach to you? Am I to say, “Whosoever feels this is to come?” no, but, “Whosoever will, let him come and take the water of life freely.” Are you willing to have Christ? Then you may have him, for Christ is as free to every needy sinner as the drinking-fountain in the street is free to every thirsty passer-by. Trust Jesus, even if your heart be hard as granite — he can soften it. Trust him, though conscience be asleep; though all the mental faculties be perverted — trust him. It is his business to make you holy, not your business — trust him to do it all. He is called Jesus because he saves his people from their sins. Trust him to overcome your corruptions, to kill your evil temper, to subdue your will, to soften your heart, to enlighten your conscience, to inflame your love — trust him to do it all. 0, be not so foolish as to say, “I am too ill to send for a doctor: when I get better, when I feel better, then I will send for him.” Do not say, “I am so black; if I felt more clean, I would wash;” no, but wash because thou art black; wash because thou hast nothing but filth about thee; send for the great Physician because there is no health in thee. There is nothing in thee but wounds, bruises, and putrefying sores; therefore, let thy faith entrust thy healing entirely to him.

Here comes another, “0 sir, I would trust Christ with my soul, but it seems too good to be true, that God should save me on the spot, this morning. You little know where I was last night, or what I did yesteiv day; you cannot tell who I am, nor how bad I have been, and you tell ma that if I trust Jesus Christ, I shall be saved. Sir, it is too good to be true, I cannot imagine it.” My dear friend, dost thou measure God’s corn with thy bushel? Because the thing seems an amazing thing to thee, should it therefore be amazing unto him? What if his thoughts should be as high above thy thoughts as the heavens are above the earth? Is not this just what he has said in Scripture? I know you find it hard to forgive your fellow-man, but my Father, my God, can readily forgive you.

“Crimes of such horror to forgive,

Such guilty daring worms to spare:
This is thy grand prerogative,
And none shall in the honour share.”

He creates like a God; he does not make a few insects, or here and there a star, but this great world he fashioned, and he scattered the starry orbs about with both his hands. So when the Lord comes to pardon, he does not pardon some small offences and wink at trifles, but the whole mass of sin he cleanseth away in a moment, and all manner of sin and blasphemy, in an instant, he casteth behind his back. Do believe that God is God and not such a one as thou art; do think that he is capable of doing greater things than thou canst dream of. Trust him, trust him now, and however good the things are, thou shalt find them true? however great, they shall be thine.

I think I hear one say, “It is too soon for me to come: let me have a little look at the world first. I am scarce fifteen or sixteen. There is plenty of time for me.” You have been to the graveyard. Are there not there the records of those who have found fifteen or sixteen none too soon, for lo, at that age, they were taken away to their last account. Too soon! Is it ever too soon to be happy? If religion made you miserable, I might advise you to put it off to the last, but inasmuch as to be in Christ is to be happy, you cannot be in him too soon. I have sat by many death beds, and heard many regrets, but never did I hear a Christian regret that he was converted too soon. I have received many young converts into Church-fellowship, but I never heard any one of them say they were sorry to be called by grace so early. If I were condemned to die, and anyone should bring me a pardon, I should not think I received it too soon. The wrath of God abideth on you — can it be too soon to escape from it? You are the subject of daily temptations, and daily add to your sins — can it be too soon to have a new heart and a right spirit?

Others will row in the opposite direction, pleading, “Alas! it is too late.” The devil first puts the clock back and tells you it is too soon, and when this does not serve his turn, he puts it on and says, “The hour is passed, the day of grace is over; mercy’s gate is bolted, you can never enter it.” Let us answer this at once. It is never too late for a man to believe in Jesus while he is out of his grave. While the lamp of life continues to burn, the vilest sinner who returns shall find Christ ready to receive him. There have been men converted at a hundred years of age; we have instances on record of persons who have even passed the century and become children of Christ Jesus? How old are you? Are you in the sere and yellow leaf of eighty? Ah! thou hast many sins, but what a triumph of grace it will be when eighty years of sin shall all be washed away in a moment! I tell you, that if you were as old as Methuselah, and in every year of that long life you had as many sins as you have already committed in the whole eighty years, yet the grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient to put all this away. Your sins may mount up like mountains, but the love of Christ, like Noah’s flood, can go twenty cubits upwards, and the tops of the mountains shall be covered. It is not too soon; it is not too late; neither of these reasons are of any value though they delude many.

“Well,” says another, “I would believe in Christ, but / do not know whether I am one of God’s elect or not. Sir, that doctrine of election troubles me and staggers me. If I knew I was one of the elect, I would trust Christ.” That is — if God will show you his secrets, then you will do God’s will, and so the Almighty is to bend to your conditions, and then you will do as he bids you! You will come to feast at the man’s table, if he will take you into his secret closet, and show you all his treasure! He will do nothing of the kind. How foolish this talk is about election! The doctrine of election is a great and precious truth, but it never can be a valid reason for a man’s not believing in Christ. You are ill to-day, and the doctor comey, “There,” says he, “there is the medicine, I will guarantee if you take it, it will heal you.” You say. “Sir, I would take it at once, but I do not know whether I am predestinated to get over this fever. If I am predestinated to live, why then, sir, I will take the medicine, but I must know first.” “Ah!” says the doctor, “I tell you what, if you do not take it, you are predestinated to die.” And I will tell you this, if you will not ‘believe in Jesus Christ, you will be damned, be you who you may, but you will not be able to lay it at predesti nation’s door; it will lie at your own. A man has fallen overboard; a rope is thrown to him, but he says, “I should like to grasp that rope, only I do not know whether I am predestinated to be drowned.” Fool! he will go down to the bottom with a lie in his mouth. We do not say, “I would sit down to dinner to-day, but I will not eat, because I do not know whether I am predestinated to have any dinner to-day.” We do not talk so foolishly in common things, why then do we so in religion? When men are hard-up for an excuse, they are glad to run to the mysteries of God to use them as a veil to cover their faces. 0 my dear friends, you must know that though God has a chosen people, yet when he commands you to believe in Christ, his having a chosen people, or not having a chosen people cannot excuse you from obedience to the divine command: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,” I could not attempt to go through all these excuses, and there* fore after handling two more, I will have done.

“Well,” says one, “if I were to believe in Christ Z^ should be as bad after a short time as I used to be. I might be a little better for a time, but I should go back again; so it is of no use trusting- Christ.” That is to say, dear friend, Jesus Christ says if you trust him, he will save you: you say if you trust him, he will not save you. That is what it comes to. Jesus Christ promises that if you trust him, he will save you from your sins: you say, “No, I should go back to my sins and be as bad as before.” Which am I to believe — your excuse, or his promise? Why, Christ’s promise, surely! “But I tried once before,” says one. Very likely you did, but Christ never tried, for if he had tried, he would have succeeded. “Well, but, I did hold on a certain length of time.” I dare say you did — you held on; but if Christ had hold of you, he would never have let you go. When you get hold of Christ you may soon drop him, but when Jesus gets hold of you, he says, “I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.” If you had greatly trusted Christ, he would not have suffered you to become what you used to be.

“Well,” says one, “I cannot trust Christ, I cannot believe him” You talk Latin, brother; you talk Latin. “No,” you say, “I do not talk Latin.” Yes, you do. I will translate that word into the English for you. It means, “/ will not” When you say, “I cannot,” it means, “I will not;” and understand, whenever the minister says, “You cannot,” he means, “you will not;” for he does not mean that you have any natural inability, but chat you have a moral inability caused by your love of sin — a wilful inability. “I cannot,” is the Latin, but “I will not,” is the English of it. A man once sent his servant to a certain town to fetch some goods; and he came back without them. “Well, sir, why did you not go there?” “Well, when I got to a certain place, I came to a river, sir, a very deep river: I can not swim, and I had no boat; so I could not get over.” A good excuse, was it not? It looked so, but it happened to be a very bad one, for the master said, “Is there not a ferry there?” “Yes, sir.” “Did you ask the man to take you over?” “No, sir.” Surely the excuse was a mere fiction! So there are many things with regard to our salvation which we cannot do. Granted, but then there is a ferry there! There is the Holy Spirit who is able to do all things, and you remember the text, “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” It is true you cannot make yourself a new heart, but did you ask for a new heart with sincerity and truth? Did you seek Christ? If you say, “Yes, I did sincerely seek Christ, and Christ would not save me,” why then you are excused; but there never was a soul who could in truth say that. There never was a sinner yet who perished seeking Christ, and there never will be; and if thy heart’s sincere desire is after the salvation which is treasured in Christ Jesus, then heaven and earth may pass away, but Christ will never cast you out while his own word stands, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” “Still,” you say, “I cannot trust Christ.” Now, I am at issue with you here — I am at issue with every awakened sinner. I agree with you, if you will let me give my own translation of the word cannot — that you will not, but if it is to stand as the word is generally used, I am at issue with you. Suppose that you believe me to be an honest man, would it be fair after that, to say, “Sir, I cannot believe you? “Now, if you believe me to be a liar, I can very well understand that you cannot trust me; but if you take it for granted that I am incapable of telling a falsehood, and yet do not believe what I tell you, you are a liar. Now, you believe that Christ is incapable of falsehood; you are not like those who are ignorant of the character of Christ, and therefore you know him to be incapable of untruthfulness — and then you say you cannot believe him. Seeing that Jesus Christ cannot but speak truth, it cannot be a difficult thing for uny man to believe what he speaks. If you have sufficient light given you by the Holy Spirit, to know that Christ is the truth, I believe you have sufficient power from the same source to believe what Christ says. I trace this to God’s gift, but I do pray you to exercise the power which you certainly have. Tell Christ you cannot believe him! Will you tell him that to his face, when he sits upon the judgment-seat at last? Will you dare to say this when his eyes of fire shall look you through and through?” Most holy Christ, I could not trust thee! Most truthful Saviour, I could not believe thee! I suspected thee, I doubted thee!” “Wherefore didst thou doubt me then? What cause had I ever given thee? Wherefore didst thou think me a liar? In what had I ever broken my

promises. or when did I err from the truth?” “He that believeth not,” says John, “hath made God a liar, because he believeth not the record that God gave of his Son.” 0, do think of this, and never make that excuse again. Instead of saying, “I cannot believe,” say” I cannot make God a liar, I must therefore believe, for I know God is no liar — I must therefore trust his Son Jesus Christ.

I have recounted a few of these excuses; perhaps you will make another batch before the evening comes on — you who determine not to be saved. It is only the mighty Spirit of God who can sweetly constrain your will to yield to Christ, and so I close with these two or three words, upon the third point.

III. How FOOLISH THUS TO MAKE EXCUSES. For first remember with whom it is you are dealing. You are not making excuses before a man who may be duped by them, but you make these excuses before the heart-searching God. My dear hearers, let me speak very solemnly, and push this point closely home. You know that God can see through all this — why then do you hang up such thin veils? Confess before him now your folly: “Lord, I have been an enemy to thee; Lord, I have been averse to thy Son Jesus Christ, and therefore have I patched up these excuses: forgive me; I see how foolish I have been; grant that I may do so no more.”

Remember again, what it is you are trifling with. It is your own soul, the soul which can never die. You are trifling with a heaven which you will never see if you keep on with these excuses. You are trifling, sinner, with that hell which must be your never-ending portion if you continue as you are. Can you play with hell-fire? 0, can you make sport of heaven? Can you laugh at the blood of Jesus? You are really doing so while you are thus halting between two opinions. Now if you must play the fool, find something cheaper to play with than this. 0 sirs, if you must have mirth, I pray you have it out of some thing else than this. To be saved! hark to heaven’s music! To be lost! listen to hell’s groans! Neither of these things are matters for you to play with. Say, as now you are sitting here — I pray God help you to say it before you leave this house — “Lord, I have* been trifling with eternity; I have been making frivolous excuses rather than I would accept thy love in Christ; I have trifled with heaven and hell: grant, Lord, that this may be brought to an end, that I may love and trust thee this day.”

Remember, again, that these excuses will look very different soon-

388 METE/ ^OLITAN TABERNACLE PULPIT.

How will you make excuses when you come to die, as die you must? When death gets the grip of you, and the strong man faileth, and they wipe the death-sweat from your fevered brow, when the glaze of death’s night is coming over your eyeballs, what will you think of these excuses then? It may be, you will rave with very fury at yourselves, that you conid have played with your souls to such an extent. What will you do with your excuses when you stand at the bar of judgment? The trumpet rings, you have awakened from your grave, you stand amidst the myriads to be judged. The books are opened, and Christ proclaims your doom — “Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.” Will excuses comfort you then? Will you be able to say then, “Lord, it was too soon; Lord, it was too late; Lord, I was too great a sinner to believe in Jesus, or I did not need a Saviour?” Nay, when the trumpet peals, and the heavens are in a blaze; when the sun is turned into sackcloth, and the moon into blood, and the stars fall like fig-leaves from the tree, you will find other work to do than excuse-making; you will weep and wail because of sin, and when you are cast into hell, what will you make then of your excuses? Written in letters of fire, you shall see in one tremendous arch above your heads, “Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not; you heard the gospel, but you made excuses.” Thundering more tremendous than the trump of resurrection, shall come these words to you,” Because I have called, and ye refused; 1 have stretched

out my hand, and no man regarded I also will laugh at your

calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you.” 0, the Lord have mercy upon you, excuse makers, and bring you to look to Jesus now. Now, I say, for the Scripture saith, “To-day is the accepted time, to-day is the day of salvation.” The only way to end your excuses is not by praying nor resolving, but by looking to Christ. There hangs the bleeding Saviour on the cross, he dies the just for the unjust to bring us to God; he suffers there that sin may be forgiven. Look thou to him, trust thou to him, and thou shalt be saved. My hearer, I give thee now in God’s name this invitation, this command, trust thy soul to Jesus, the Son of God, who suffered for sin, and thou shalt be saved. But mind you this. I may never meet you all this side the grave, but I will meet you all at God’s great day, an if you receive not Christ and trust in him, I am clear of your blood. Upon my skirts your doom cannot fall. Ye have heard the gospel, ye have been told to trust Jesus as you are, you have been assured that he is able to save to the uttermost them that come to him. You have been bidden to come, and now on your own heads be your soul’s ruin if ye come not. But may the Spirit of God take these things and apply them to your souls. May he be as a fire and as a hammer in your souls: as a fire to melt, or as a hammer to break; and may you to-day with brokenness of heart take Christ to be your Saviour, both now and for fsver. Amen

JfWrapIitmi

A STRAIGHT TALK.

INTENDED FOR BEADING ON LORD’S-DAY, JANUARY 12TH, 1890,

DELIVERED BY

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON,
On Lord’s-day Evening, May 19, 1889.

“I cannot come.” — Luke xiv. 20.

THERE are different ways of replying to the invitation of the gospel when you mean to refuse it. They are all, at bottom, bad, and they may all be classed under one head; for “they all with one consent began to make excuse”; but yet some are more decently worded than others, and have a greater show of reason about them. The first two sets of people, who were invited to the supper, said to the servant, apologetically, with some appearance of courtesy, “I pray thee have me excused.” But the third man did not beat about the bush at all, or pray to be excused; but he said tersely, bluntly, sharply,” / cannot come” This was a final reply; he did not intend, nor wish, to come to the supper. “/ cannot come” was a snappish word; but as he had married a wife, he thought the idea of his coming was utterly unreasonable, and he needed no sort of excuse.

Now, what did that mean? Well, it meant that he thought very lightly of the giver of the feast. He had no respect for this “certain man,” who had made a great supper. He had an opportunity of slighting him by refusing his invitation, and he did so outspokenly, saying, “I cannot come”

It also showed that he had a very low opinion of the supper itself. It might be a respectable meal, but he did not want it: he could have quite as good a supper at home. He was better off than those people in the streets. Those hedge-birds might be glad enough of a supper for nothing; but he was not dependent upon anybody, and he could do very well for himself. Do you not know many in this world who have no opinion of Christ, no love to God? Religion is to them mere nonsense — an unpractical, dreamy matter, about which they have no time to concern themselves. It is a pitiful thing that the God, whom angels worship, they will not even think of; and the Christ who is the loveliest of the lovely — in him they see no beauty; and the priceless provisions of mercy, the pardon of sin, the salvation of the soul, the No. 2,122. 25 heaven of God — they neglect these things, as if they did not need them, or could get them whenever they please. Thousands are proudly independent of the free grace of God; they are good enough, and virtuous enough; and need not cry for mercy, like the wicked and profane. In their own judgment, they are quite able to fight their own way to heaven. They want not the charities of the gospel. Contempt of the great Feast-maker, and contempt of the feast itself — these two pieces of proud disdain induce a man to say, “I cannot come”

But there was more than common pride in this brief, brusque speech, for this man had, at the first, made a promise to come. He had been bidden, and it is implied in the parable that he had at that time accepted the invitation. He had accepted the cards of invitation to the supper; and, though he had done so, he now flies in the face of his own self, and says, “I cannot come.” I think that I am addressing some here who have pledged themselves many a time to come to Christ. If I runeniber rightly, you asked the prayers of friends, and promised that you would be in real earnest. You looked your wife in the face, and said, “I hope that it will not be long before I am with you in the church of God, and shall no longer have to go away and leave you alone at the Lord’s table.” You asked some of your Christian friends to make a point of praying for you; but you have never carried out your intention of becoming a true Christian. Your resolutions may be still read in God’s eternal book of record; but they are there as witnesses to your falseness and changeableness. The counter foils are there; but there is no fulfilment of any of the resolutions. God remembers them, although you have forgotten to carry them out. You accepted the invitation on the spur of the moment; but when worldliness had got the upper hand with you, you went back to your own obstinacy, and said, “I cannot come.” Perhaps you have not said it in quite as sharp a tone as I used just now; but it has come to the same thing, for you have not come to the Gospel Supper. It matters little whether you say it angrily or quietly; for if you do not come, the practical result is the same. I think I hear some of you, even now, say, “Do not ask me so often. I cannot come. It is of no use to worry me about it. I do not wish to be uncivil or unkind. Though I said I would come, I retract my words: I cannot come.”

In saying, “I cannot come,” the man intended, as it were, to dismiss the matter. He wished to be understood as having made up his mind, and he was no longer open to argument. He did not parley; he did not talk; but he just said, off-hand, “I want no more persuading; I cannot come, and that settles it.” Certain of our hearers have come to such a condition of heart that they would gladly silence our gospel expostulations: with a kindly but determined tone they would say, “I cannot come. Do not trouble me any more.”

I suppose that this man, after he had made that positive declaration, felt that there was truth in what he had stated. He said, “Therefore I cannot come.” He had reason to support him in what he said, and he went home, sat down, and enjoyed himself, and felt that he was a righteous man, quite as good as those who had gone to the supper, and perhaps rather better. He could not blame himself.

for when a man cannot do it, why, of course, he cannot do it; and why should he be censured for an impossibility? “I cannot come “: how can I help that? So he sat down with a cool indifference to eat his own supper. It was nothing to him whether the great giver of the feast was grieved or not; whether his oxen and fatlings were wasted or not. He had said it to his conscience very often, till he half believed it — “I cannot come, and there is no disputing it.” I have no doubt that many, who have never come to Christ, have made themselves content to be without him by the belief that they cannot come. Although the impossibility, if it did exist, would involve the greatest of all calamities, yet they speak of it with very little concern. Practically, they say, “I cannot be saved. I must remain an unbeliever.” What an awful thing for any mortal to say! Yet you have said it till you almost believe it; and you wish us now to leave you quite alone for this dreadful reason. You do not want to be troubled to-night. The text already begins to startle you a little, and you do not like it. You are almost sorry that you are here. If the Lord helps me, I will trouble you far more before you get out of this place: I have heavy tidings from the Lord for you. I shall endeavour, if I can, to pull away those. downy pillows from your sleepy head, and wake you up to immediate anxiety, lest you perish in your sins. With kindly importunity I would plead with you and try to show you that this little speech of yours, “1 cannot come” is a wretched speech. You must throw it to the winds, and prove that you can come by coming at once, and receiving of the great feast of love, and honouring him that spreads it for hungry souls.

Two or three things I would like to say about this case, for it is very serious. It was bad enough for this man to say, “I cannot come,” but it is far worse for you to say, “I cannot come to Christ.” Remember, if the invited guests did not come, and come at once, they could never come, for there was only that one supper, and not a series of banquets. The great man who made the feast did not intend to prepare another. A very grave offence would be committed by their not coming to the one supper. My dear hearers, there is only one time of grace for you, and if that be ended, you will not have a second opportunity. There is only one Christ Jesus; there is no more sacrifice for sin. There is only one way of eternal love and mercy; do not forsake it. I pray you, do not turn away from the one door of life, the one way of salvation. If it is slighted now, and the feast is over, as it will be when you die, then you have lost the great privilege, and you have been guilty of a gross neglect, from the consequences of which you never will be able to escape. Note this, and beware.

Besides, it is not merely a supper that you will lose when you say, “I cannot come.” To lose a supper would be little, and might soon be set right when breakfast-time came round. But you lose eternal life, and that lost in time can never be found in eternity. You lose the pardon of sin, reconciliation to God, adoption into the family of love — these are heavy losses. You lose the joy of faith for life, and you lose comfort in death — who can estimate this damage? Lose not your immortal soul! Oh, lose not that! For if you gain the whole world, it will not recompense you for such a loss. Lose whal you will, but lose not your soul, I pray you! Seek that salvation without which it had been better for you that you had never been born.

Besides, once more, if you do not come to Christ, it will imply the greatest insult that you can put upon your Maker. You have already grieved him by breaking his laws; but what will be his indignation when you refuse his mercy? when you turn your back on his Son? when you refuse not only your God, but your crucified Saviour, hanging there with outstretched arms, bleeding his life away, that he may save you? Do not turn your back on your own redemption. No blood was ever sprinkled on the threshold of an Israelite’s house; for he must not trample on it: that would be ruinous indeed. The blood was on the lintel and on the two side-posts, but never under foot. Trample not upon the blood of Christ; but you will do so if you refuse his great salvation. If you will not come to him to be saved, you have as good as said that you will be damned rather than be loved by God — that you will be damned rather than be saved through Jesus Christ his Son. It will prove a costly insult to you, as well as a grievous affront to your Lord.

Having said so much by way of preface, I am now going to take these words, li I cannot come,” and handle them a little with the hope that you may grow ashamed of them.

I. First, this man declared, “I cannot come,” because he said, “I HAVE MARRIED A WIFE.” He had promised to come to the supper, and he was bound to fulfil his promise. Why did he want to get married just then? Surely, he had not been compelled to marry all in a hurry, so that he could not keep engagements already made. He was bound to keep his promise to the maker of the feast; and that promise was claimed of him by the messenger. He could not say that his wife would not let him come. Such a declaration might be true in England; but in the East the men are always masters of the situation, and women seldom bear rule in the family. No Oriental would say that his wife would not let him come. Nor in these Western regions, where the woman more nearly gains her rights, can any man truthfully say that his wife will not allow him to be a Christian. I do not believe that any of you will be able to say, when you come to die, that your wife was responsible for your not being a Christian. Most men would be angry if we told them that they were hen-pecked, and could not call their souls their own. He must be a fool, indeed, who would let a woman lead him down to hell against his will. The fact is, a man is a mean creature when he tries to throw the blame of his sin upon his wife. I know that Father Adam set us a bad example in that respect; but the fact that this was a part of the sin which caused the ruin of our race should act as a beacon to us. You certainly, as a man, ought not to demean yourself so much as to say, “I cannot come, for my wife will not let me.” If one of you, however, continues to whine “My wife is my ruin. I am unable to be a Christian because of my wife,” I must ask you a question or two before I believe your pitiable story. Do you let her rule you in everything else? Does she keep you at home of an evening? Does she pick all your companions for you?

Why, my dear man, if I am not much mistaken, you are a self-willed, cross-grained, pig-headed animal about everything else; and then, when it comes to the matter of religion, you turn round, and whine about being governed by your wife! I have no patience with you. It is more than probable that the very best thing that could happen to you would be to have your wife on the throne for the next few years. Upon such a solemn matter as this do not talk nonsense. You know that the blame lies with yourself alone: if you wished to seek the best things, the little woman at home would be no hindrance to you.

This man said, “1 cannot come” Why? Because he had a wife! Strange plea! for surely that was a reason why he should come, and bring her with him. If any man, unhappily, has a wife opposed to the things of God, instead of saying, * ‘I cannot be a Christian, for I have an unconverted wife,” he should seek for double grace that he may win his wife to Christ. If a woman laments that she has an unconverted husband, let her live the nearer to God that she may save her husband. If a servant has an unconverted master, let him labour with double diligence to glorify God, that he may win his master. Thus you see there are two reasons why you should come to the gospel banquet; not only for your own sake, but for the sake of your uncon verted relatives. My neighbour’s candle is blown out; and is that a reason why I must not light mine? No, but that is a reason why I should be all the more careful to keep mine burning, that I may light my neighbour’s candle too. It is a pity that my wife should be lost, but I cannot help her by being lost myself. Nay; but I may help her if I take my stand, and follow Christ the more resolutely because my wife opposes me. Good man, do not allow your wife to draw you aside! Good woman, do not let your husband hinder you! Do not say, “I cannot attend the house of God, nor be a Christian while I have such a husband as I have.” Nay, that is the reason why you should take yrour stand the more bravely in the name of God that, by your example, those whom you love may be rescued from destruction. How knowest thou, 0 wife, but that thou mayest save thy unbelieving husband? How knowest, thou, 0 servant, but that thou mayest save thy unbelieving master? I remember hearing Mr. Jay tell a story about a Nonconformist servant-girl, who went to live in a family of worldly people who attended the Church of England, although they were not real believers. They were outside buttresses of the church, and they had very little to do with the inside of it; and outsiders are generally the most bigoted. They were very angry with their servant for going to the little meeting-house, and threatened to discharge her if she went again. But she went all the same, and very kindly but firmly assured them that she must continue to do so. At last she received notice to go: they could not, as good Church-people, have a Dissenter living with them. She took their rough dismission very patiently; and it came to pass that, the day before she was to leave her situation, a conversation took place somewhat of this sort. The master said, “It is a pity, after all, that Jane should go. We never had such a good girl. She is very industrious, truthful, and attentive.” The wife said, “Well, I have thought that it is hardly the thing to send her away for going to her chapel. You always speak up for religious liberty, and it does not look quite like religious liberty to turn our girl away for worshipping God according to her conscience. I ain sure she is a deal more careful about her religion than we are about ours.” So they talked it over, and they said, “She has never answered us pertly, nor found fault with us about our going to church. Her religion is a greater comfort to her than ours is to us. We had better let her stay with us, and go where she likes.” “Yes,” said the husband, “and I think we had better go and hear the minister that she goes to hear. Evidently she has got something that we have not got. Instead of sending her away for going to chapel, we will go with her next Sunday, and judge the matter for ourselves.” And they did, and the master and mistress were not long before they were members of that same church. Do not say, therefore, “I cannot come, because my master and mistress object to it.” Do not make idle excuses out of

painful facts which are reasons why you should be more determined than ever, even if you have to go to heaven alone, that you will be a follower of Christ. Keep to your resolve, and you may entertain the hope and belief that you will lead others to the Saviour’s feet.

II. A second reason is even more common. It is not everybody who can say, “I have married a wife “; but everywhere you can meet with a person who pleads, “I HAVE NO TIME.” You say, “Sir, I cannot attend to religion, for I have no time.” I remember hearing an old lady say to a man who said that he had no time, “Well, you have got all the time there is.” I thought that it was a very conclusive answer. You have had the time, and you still have all the time there is — why do you not use it? Nobody has more than twenty-four hours in a day, and you have no less. You have no time? That is very singular! What have you done with it; you certainly have had it? Time flies with you, I know, but so it does with me, and with everybody. What do you do with it? “Oh, I have no time,” says one. I say again, you have had the time, and that time was due, in part, to a solemn consideration of the things of Q-od. You have robbed God of that part of time which was due to him, and you have given up to some inferior thing what your great Lord and Master could rightly claim for the highest purposes.

You have time enough for common things. See here, I never meet any of you, in the middle of the day, in the street in your shirt-sleeves. I do not find you going up and down Cheapside half -dressed. “Oh, no, of course, we have time to put on our clothes.” You have time to dress your bodies, and no time to dress your souls with the robe of Christ’s righteousness? Do not tell me that! I do not meet any one of our friends saying, towards evening, “I am ready to faint, for I have had nothing to eat since I got up. I have had no time to get a morsel of meat.” No, no, they have had their breakfast, and they have had their dinner, and so on. “Oh, yes, we have time to eat,” says one. Do you tell me that you have time to feed your bodies, and that God has not given you time in which to feed your souls. Why, it is not common-sense! Such statements will not hold water for a moment. You must have time to feed your souls in, if you have time to feed your bodies in. People find time to look in the glass, and wash their faces, and brush their hair. Have you no time whatever to look at yourself, to see your spiritual spots, and to wash in the fountain that is open for sin and for uncleanness? 0 dear sirs, you have time for common things, and you must certainly have time for those much more serious and important matters which concern your souls and immortality!

You have no time? How is this, when you waste a good deal? How much do many of us spend in silly talk? How much time do certain persons spend in frivolous amusements? I have heard people say that they have no time, when I am sure I do not know what they <ian have to occupy them. Are there not many people about who, if they were tied in a knot, and thrown into the Bay of Biscay, would be missed by nobody; for they do no good to any mortal being? They are living without an object — purposeless, aimless lives; and yet they talk about not having time! Such pretences will not do. When you plead with God, say something that looks like common-sense.

You have no time, and yet you undertake more secular work. You keep a shop, do you not? “Yes, I have a large shop.” You are going to enlarge it, are you not? Will you have time, do you think, to attend to it when the business grows? “Oh, yes, I dare say that I shall find time: at any rate, I must make time, somehow or other.” You are going to take a second shop, are you not? How will you manage it? “Oh, I shall find time.” Yes, my dear sirs, you can find time for all those enlargements, and speculations, and engagements; let me be plain with you, and say that you could find time for thought about your soul if you had a mind to do so. To plead that you have no time for religion is a fraud. It will not do! It is lying unto God to say that you have no time. When a man wants to do a thing, if he has no time, he makes time. I beg the idle man not to go on to deceive himself with the notion that he has no time. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” Where there is a heart to religion there is plenty of time for it. Blame your unwilling minds, and not your scanty hours. You will have time enough when your hearts are once turned in the right direction.

Besides, time is not the great matter. Did the Lord demand of you a month’s retirement from business? Did we command you to spend two days in a week in prayer? Did we tell you that you could not be saved unless you shut yourself up an hour every morning for meditation? I would to God you could have an hour for meditation! but, if you cannot, who has demanded it of you? The command is that you believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and forsake your sin; and this is a matter which will not interfere with your daily work. A man can turn the potter’s wheel, and pray. A man can lay bricks, and pray. A man can drive the plane, and pray. A man can walk behind a plough, and yet he can be walking with God. A woman can scrub a floor, and commune with God. A man can be riding on horseback, and yet he can still be in communion with the Most High. A woman can be making the beds, and growing in grace. It is not a matter in which time comes in so much as to interfere with any of the ordinary duties of life. Therefore throw away that excuse, and do not say any longer, “I cannot come because I have no time.” At once repent of sin, and believe in the Lord Jesus; and then all your time will be free for the service of the Lord, and yet you will have not a moment the less for the needful duties of your calling. III. There is a third form of this excuse, and a very common one I

“I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO.” NOW, COme! I Will have

you by the throat over that. I shall contradict you flatly. You have nothing more important to do. That would be utterly impossible. Nothing under heaven can be of one-hundredth part of the import* ance of your being reconciled to God, and saved through Jesus Christ. What is that more important business? To make money? Where is the importance of that? You may get a pile of it, and the net result will be greater care, and the more to leave when you die. But you tell me you must have an opportunity for study. Well, that is better; but what are you going to study? Science? Art? Politics? Are these important as compared with the saving of your soul? Why, if you have an educated mind, and it is lost, it will be as bad to lose it in culture and learning as to lose it in ignorance. Your first duty is to be right with your God, who made you. Put nothing before your God. Has Christ redeemed you? Rest not till you know the truth of that redemption by being reconciled to Godthrough the death of his Son. Nothing can be so important to a man as to be obedient to his Maker, and enjoy his Maker’s love. Nothing, therefore, can be so important to a man as to be pardoned through the Saviour, and changed by the power of the Holy Spirit from an enemy of God into a friend of God.

“Oh!” say you, “but my business occupies so much of my time.” Yes; but do you not know that very likely your business would go on better if you were right with God? Many a time a business goes* wrong because the man is wrong; and sometimes it is even incumbent upon God to be at cross-purposes with a man because a man is at cross-purposes with him. If you walk frowardly towards him, he will walk frowardly towards you; but when you are obedient to him, he can make other things subservient to you. In a little church on the-Italian mountains I saw, amongst many absurd daubings, one picture which struck me. There was a ploughman who had turned aside at a certain hour to pray. The rustic artist drew him upon his knees before the opened heavens; and, lest there should be any waste of time occasioned by his devotion, an angel was going on with the ploughing for him. I like the idea. I do not think an angel ever did go on with a man’s ploughing while he was praying, but I think that the same result often comes to pass, and that when we give our hearts to God, and seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, all these things are added unto us. If religion does not make you richer, which it may not do, it will make you more contented with what you have. The blessing of God, with a dinner oi herbs, will make it better than a stalled ox without that benediction. He that would make the best of this world, and have the greatest enjoyment here of the truest and best kind, will do well to give his first attention to his Saviour, and his whole heart to faith in him, and diligence in his service. You have no more important business, I am <^uite sure, than the business which concerns God and eternity.

IV. I have heard some use the excuse “I CANNOT AFFORD TO BE A CHRISTIAN.” “Well, my friend, let us have a talk about that. Cost you more than you can afford? What do you mean? What cost? Cost you money? It need not. It will cost you no more than you like to spend upon it with a glad heart. God will give you a generous spirit, which will make you love to support his cause, and to help the poor, and contribute your share to all Christian mission work. But in the kingdom of Christ there is no taxation. Giving becomes a gratification, liberality a luxury. Nothing will be dragged from you by force. Surely, our God abhors money that comes into his exchequer by any thing but the freewill offerings of loving hearts. It will not cost you much in that way, I am sure, for you are only to give as God has prospered you.

Suppose man should say, “Well, I must take a seat in the chapel if I would comfortably hear the gospel.” Very well. Will it be unjust that you bear your proportion of necessary expenses in supporting the man who gives all his time, thought, and ability to you? Will you pay as much in a year to hear the gospel as many pay for one night at the play? Ay, and do not many at a horse-race spend a hundred times more than they ever gave throughout their whole existence either to the poor or to the church of God? What you will save by holy, gracious, thrifty habits, will render this no loss to you, but a gain.

“Oh, but I meant that I could not afford it, for I should have to lose several friends.” Is that friend worth keeping who is an enemy to God? The woman who would lead you away from God, or the man who would keep you out of heaven — are friends of that sort worth having? Be brave, and end a connection which will otherwise endlessly connect you with the bottomless pit.

“Oh,” says one, “but I mean that I should lose so much in trade.” Ah, well! I will not ask you to explain what you mean by that; for there is an ugly look about that statement. You know more about your trade than I do. No doubt there are trades which pander to the vices of men, and become all the more profitable in proportion to the growth of drunkenness and impurity. These must be given up. Moreover, there are traders who live by puffery, and lying, and cheating; and I do not recommend you to profess to be a Christian if that is your line of things. It is better to give up all profession of religion when you go in for unrighteous gain. What? Did I hear a hint about adulteration? Did I also hear that you do not give full weight and true measure? Ah, my dear fellow! give up that game at once, whether you become a Christian or not; but certainly, if that is what you mean, the loss of dishonest profits will be a great gain to you, both for this life and the next.

“Well,” says one, “I should have to give up a good many plea* sures.” Pleasures which block the road to heaven ought to be given up at once. You may think me a very melancholy sort of person; but I fancy that I am about as happy as any man in England. I appreciate a merry thought and a cheerful speech as much as anybody. I can laugh, and I can enjoy good, clean, humorous remarks as well as moat people; and, having now served the Lord for nearly forty years, I bear my witness that I have never had to relinquish a single pleasure for which I have felt a deliberate desire. As soon as you are renewed in heart, you are changed in your pleasures; and that which might have been a pleasure once to you would then be a misery. If I had to sit in some people’s company, and hear what some people talk about, it would be hell to me. One night, having to preach up in the North of England, this unfortunate circumstance occurred to me. When I got down to the railway, I was put into a first-class carriage with five racing gentlemen, who were going to Doncaster races. Happily they did not know me, but from the beginning to the end the conversation of these gentlemen was garnished with expressions which tortured me, and at last they fell upon a subject which was unutterably loathsome. I pray Grod that I may not be condemned to dwell with such people for ever, for it would be hell to me. Ladies and gentlemen, you need not think that I rob myself of any pleasure when I do not go to race-courses, or associate with the licentious. It is my pleasure to keep far off from the pleasures of those men of pleasure, in whose company I was forced to spend that evening. The pleasures of this world are so full of dust, dirt, and .grit, that he who has once washed his mouth clean of them, declines another meal of such draff. You will lose no pleasure if you come to Christ.

V. I hear one other person say, “I cannot come.” Why not? “Well, sir, I do not mean that I shall not come one of these days; but IT WOULD NOT BE CONVENIENT JUST NOW. I could not yield my heart to the Lord to-night.” No. I know. You have an engagement to-morrow which must be attended to, but it would not be quite the thing for a Christian. Just so. It would not be convenient to night, nor on Monday, nor will it be on Tuesday, depend upon it. Your anxious thoughts will have gone by then. It will not be convenient to be saved! You want to see a little “life,” do you not? “Life” in London means death. “Oh, but just now I am only an apprentice!” Then at once be bound apprentice to Christ. “But I m a journeyman. When I get a little business of my own, then will be the time.” Will it? Oh, that you would become a journeyman to Christ! “But I have associations just now that render it difficult.” That is to say, Grod must wait your convenience. Is that the way the poor treat the doctors who receive patients gratis? Do they say, “Doctor, it is not convenient for me to call upon you before ten or eleven o’clock in the morning. It is not convenient for me to come to your house. I shall be glad to see you if you come to my house about half -past eleven in the evening.” Would you send a message to a physician in the West End, that you will be pleased for him to attend to you for nothing if he will come at your time? “Oh,” say you,” I should not think of insulting a doctor like that, if he is kind enough to attend to me for nothing.” And yet you will insult your God! You mean that Grod is not worthy of your strength and health but when you are old, and worn out, then you mean to sneak into heaven, and cheat the devil. It is dirt mean of you! I can say no better. Though the Lord is exceedingly gracious and merciful, yet, when men make up their minds to it that they will only give him the fag-end of life, it is small wonder that they die in their sins. What tnust God think of such treatment? Do not say, “I cannot coine.” •Come at once. The Lord help you to come!

VI. I have heard people say, “I cannot come, sir, for I CANNOT UNDERSTAND IT. I am a poor man, I never had any education.” What is it that you cannot understand? Can you not understand that you have broken God’s law, and that the just God must punish you for it? You can understand that. Can you not understand that, if you trust the Lord Jesus Christ, then it is certain that he took your sin, and bore it in his own body on the tree, and put your sin away, for his name is the “Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world “? Can you not understand that, if you trust in him, you have him to stand in your room, and place, and stead; for the Scripture says, 41 He hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” You can understand it, if you wish to do so. There is nothing in the gospel which the poorest and the least educated cannot understand if their minds be made willing to know and receive the truth. If the Spirit of God will come upon them, they can not only understand the gospel, but grasp it, and enjoy it, and begin to teach it to others, too; for the Lord makes the babes to have knowledge and discretion in his ways, while the wise and learned in scientific matters often miss the way to the eternal kingdom.

I have done. The sound of the bell tells me that my time has fled. Another bell will one day warn you that you have done, and that your life is over, even as my sermon is over. But I wanted just to say this. If there is any man here who says, “I cannot come,” I beg him to express himself properly, and speak out the sad fact as it ought to be spoken. Here is the style: “Unhappy wretch, I cannot come to Christ! Millions in heaven have come, but I cannot come. My mother died in a good hope; but, ‘Mother, I cannot come.’ My father has gone home to be with Jesus; but I cannot come.’1 I thank God that this statement is not true; but if you say it, and believe it, you ought never to rest any more; for if you cannot come to Christ, you are the unhappiest person in the world. Is there any woman that cries, “I cannot come,” or any man that pleads, “I cannot come”? Wherever you are sitting or standing, let the bell that told out the death of the last hour, warn you of your spiritual death; for if you cannot come to Christ, and eat of his supper, you cannot be saved. You cannot escape from the wrath to come: you are doomed for ever.

May I ask you to do another thing? If you still intend to say, “I cannot come,” will you speak the truth now? Will you alter a word, and get nearer the truth? Say, “I will not come.” “I cannot come,” is Greek, or double Dutch; but the plain English is, “I WILL NOT COME.” I wish you would say thai rather than the other, because the recoil of saying, “I will not come: I will not believe in Jesus: I will not repent of sin: I will not turn from my wicked ways” — the recoil, I say, from that might be blessed by God to you to make you see your desperate state. I wish you would then cry, “I cannot sit down, and make uiy own damnation sure by saying that I will not come to Christ.”

“Will you now, instead of refusing to come, resolve to come at once f Say, “I will come to Jesus. Tell me how.” You can only come to Christ by trusting him. Trust yourself with him, and he will save you. Never did anyone trust Jesus in vain. Trust has a powerful influence over the Lord Jesus. He comes to the rescue of a soul that leans wholly upon him. He will do all things for you: he will change your nature as well as forgive your sin; and your nature being changed, you shall lead a new life from this time forth, and grow in grace until you become like him in whom you trust; and then he will take you to be for ever with him. Washed in the blood of the Lamb, you shall walk with him in white amidst the glorified.

Thus I have talked to-night in a very homely way. I pray the Lord to bless words which are intended to be faithful, plain, and impressive. May we meet in heaven! There are very many strangers here to-night; may you not be strangers to the Lord Jesus! Many of our friends are away, and some of you have come out although it is a nasty wet evening: I take this as a token for good. God bless you! I pray that you may get the double blessing, and may remember this gloomy, dark, Decembery evening in May by the blessing that God shall put upon you through Jesus Christ his Son. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON — Luke xiv.

FROM “OUR OWN HYMN BOOK” — 504, 560, 550

Clje |(efo lark Street

•’COMPEL THEM TO COME IN.”

a J&ermott

DELIVERED ON SABBATH MORNING, DECEMBER 5xn, 1858, BY THH

REV. C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE MUSIC HALL, ROYAL SURREY GARDENS.

“Compel them to come in.” — Luke xir. 23.

I FEEL in such a haste to go out and obey this commandment this morning, by compelling those to come in who are now tarrying in the highways and hedge*, that I cannot wait for an introduction, but must at once set about my business.

Hear then, O ye that are strangers to the truth as it is in Jesus — hear then the message that I have to bring you. Ye have fallen, fallen in your father Adam; ye have fa-lien also in yourselves, by your daily sin and your constant iniquity; you have provoked the anger of the Most High; and as assuredly as you have sinned, so certainly must God punish you if you persevere in your iniquity, for the Lord is a God of justice, and will by no means spare the guilty. But have you not heard, hath it not long been spoken in your ears, that God, in his infinite mercy, has devised a way whereby, without any infringement upon his honour, he can have mercy upon you, the guilty and the undeserving? To you I speak; and my voice is unto you, O sons of men; Jesus Christ, very God of very God, hath descended from heaven, and was made in the likeness of sinful flesh. Begotten of the Holy Ghost, he was born of the Virgin Mary; he lived in this world a life of exemplary holiness, and of the deepest suffering, till at last he gave himself up to die for our sins, “the just for the unjust, to bring us to God.” And now the plan of salvation is simply declared unto you — “Whosoever believeth in the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved.” For you who have violated all the precepts of God, and have disdained his mercy and dared his vengeance, there is yet mercy proclaimed, for “whosoever calleth upon the name of the Lord shall be saved” “For this is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief;” “whosoever cometh unto him he will in no wise cast out, for he is able also to save unto the uttermost them that come unto God by him, seeing he ever iiveth to make intercession for us.” Now all that God asks of you — and this he gives you — is that you will simply look at his bleeding dying son, and trust your souls in the hands of him whose name alone can save from death and hell. Is it not a marvellous thing, that the proclamation of this gospel does not receive the unanimous consent of men? One would think that as soon as ever this was preached, “That whosoever believeth shall have eternal life,” every one of you, “casting away every man his sins and his iniquities,” would lay hold on Jesus Christ, and look alone to his cross. But alas I such is the desperate evil of our nature, such the pernicious depravity cf our character, that this message is despised, the invitation to the gospel feast is rejected, and there are many of you who are this day enemies of God by wicked works, enemies to the God who preaches Christ to you to-day, enemies to him who sent his Son to give his life a ransom for many. Strange I say it is that it should be so, yet nevertheless it is the fact, and hence the necessity for the command of the text, —” Compel them to come in. ‘Children of God, ye who have believed, I shall have little or nothing to say to

No. 227. 26
” COMPEL THEM TO ^OlIE IN. ’

ymi this morning; I am going straight to my business — I am going after those that will not come — those that are in the byeways and hedges, and God going with me, it is my duty now to fulfil this command, “Compel them to come in.”

First, I must jind you out; secondly, I will go to work to compel you to come in.

I. First, I must FIND YOU OUT. If you read the verses that precede the text, you will find an amplification of this command: “Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in hither the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind;” and then, afterwards, “Go out into the highways,” bring in the vagrants, the highwaymen, “and into the hedges,” bring in those that have no resting-place for their heads, and are lying under the hedges to rest, bring them in also, and “compel them to come in.” Yes, I see you this morning, you that are/>oor. I am to compel you to come in. You are poor in circumstances, but this is no barrier to the kingdom of heaven, for God hath not exempted from his yrace the man that shivers in rags, and who is destitute of bread. In fact, if there be any distinction made, the distinction is on your side, and for your benefit — “Unto you is the word of salvation sent;” “For the poor have the gospel preached unto them.” But especially I must speak to you who are poor, spiritually. You have no faith. you have no virtue, you have no good work, you have no grace, and what is poverty worse still, you have no hope. Ah, my Master has sent you a gracious invitation. Come and welcome to the marriage feast of Ins love. “Whosoever will, let him come and take of the waters of life freely.” Come, I must lay hold upon you, though you be defiled with foulest filth, and though you have nought but rags upon your back, though your own righteousness has become as filthy clouts, yet must I lay hold upon you, and invite you first, a.id even compel you to come in.

And now I see you again. You are not only poor, but you are maimed. There was a time when you thought you could work out your own salvation without God’s help, when you could perform good works, attend to ceremonies, and get to heaven by yourselves; but now you are maimed, the sword of the law has cut off your hands, and now you can work no longer; you say, with bitter sorrow —

“The best performance of my hands,
Dares not appear before thy throne.”

You have lost all power now to obey the law; you feel that when you would do good, evil is present with you. You are maimed; you have given up, as a forlorn hope, all attempt to save yourself, because you are maimed and your arms are gone. But you are worse off than that, for if you could not work your way to heaven, yet you could walk your way there along the road by faith; but you are maimed in the feet as well as in the hands; you feel that you cannot believe, that you cannot repent, that you cannot obey the stipulations of the gospel. You feel that you are utterly undone, powerless in every respect to do anything that can be pleasing to God. In fact, you are crying out —

“Oh, could I but believe,

Then all would easy be,
I would, but cannot, Lord relieve,
My help must come from thee.”

To you am I sent also. Before you am I to lift up the blood-stained banner of ther cross, to you am I to preach this gospel, “Whoso calleth upon the name of the Lord shall be saved;” and unto you am I to cry” Whosoever will, let him come and take of the water of life freely.

There is yet another class. You are halt. You are halting between two opinions. You are sometimes seriously inclined, and at another time worldly gaiety calls you away. What little progress you do make ia religion is but a limp. You have a little strength, but that is so little that you make but painful progress. Ah, limping brother, to you also is the word of this salvation sent. Though you halt between two opinions, the master sends me to you with this message: “How long halt ye between two opinions? if God be God, serve him; if Baal be God, serve him.” Consider thy ways; set thine house in order, for thoushalt die and not live. Because I will do this, prepare to meet thy God, 0 Israel! Halt no longer, but decide for God and his truth.

And yet I see another class, — the blind. Yes, you that cannot see yourselves, that “COMPEL THEM TO COMB IN.

think yourselves good when you are full of evil, that put bitter for sweet and sweet f<n bitter, darkness lor light and light for darkness; to you am I sent. You, blind souls that cannot see your lost estate, that do not believe that sin is so exceedingly sinful as it is, and who will not be persuaded to think that God is a just and righteous God, to you am I sent. To you too that cannot see the Saviour, that see no beauty in him that you should desire him; who see no excellence in virtue, no glories in religion, no happiness in serving God, no delight in being his children; to you, also, am I sent. Ay, to whom am I not sent if I take my text.? For it goes further than this — it not only gives a particular description, so that each individual case may be met, but afterwards it makes a general sweep, and says, “Go into the highways and hedges.” Here we bring in all ranks and conditions of men — my lord upon his horse in the highway, and the woman trudging about her business, the thief waylaying the traveller — all these are in the highway, and they are all to be compelled to come in, and there away in the hedges there lie some poor souls whose refuges of lies are swept away, and who are seeking now to find some little shelter for their weary heads, to you, also, are we sent this morning. This is the universal command — compel them to come in.

Now, I pause after having described the character, I pause to look at the herculean labour that lies before me. Well did Melanchthon say, “Old Adam was too strong for young Melanchthon.” As well might a little child seek to compel a Samson, as I seek to lead a sinner to the cross of Christ. And yet my Master sends me about the errand. Lo, I see the great mountain before me of human depravity and stolid indifference, but by faith I cry, “Who art thou, 0 great mountain? before Zerubhabel thou shalt become a plain.” Does my Master say, compel them to come in? Then, though the sinner be like Samson and I a child, I shall lead him with a thread. Jf God saith do it, if I attempt it in faith it shall be done; and if with a groaning, struggling, and weeping heart, I so seek this day to compel sinners to come to Christ, the sweet compulsions of the Holy Spirit shall go with every word, and some indeed shall be compelled to come in.

II. And now to the work — directly to the work. Unconverted, unreconciled, unregenerate men and women, I am to COMPEL YOU TO COME IN. Permit me first of all to accost you in the highways of sin and tell you over again my errand. The King of heaven this morning sends a gracious invitation to you. He says, “As 1 live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, but had rather that he should turn unto me and live:” “Come now and let us reason together saith the Lord, though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as wool; though they be red like crimson they shall be whiter than snow.” Dear brother, it makes my heart rejoice to think that I should have such good news to tell you, and yet I confess my soul is heavy because I see you do not think it good news, but turn away from it, and do not give it due regard. Permit me to tell you what the King has done for you. He knew your guilt, he foresaw that you would ruin yourself. He knew that his justice would demand your blood, and in order that this difficulty might be escaped, that his justice might have its full due, and that you might yet be saved, Jesus Christ hath died. Will you just for a moment glance at this picture. You see that man there on his knees in the garden of Gethsemane, sweating drops of blood. You see this next; you see that miserable sufferer tied to a pillar and lashed with terrible scourges, till the shoulder bones are seen like white islands in the midst of a sea of blood. Again you see this third picture; it is the same man hanging on the cross with hands extended, and with feet nailed fast, dying, groaning, bleeding; methought the picture spoke and said, “It is finished.” Now all this hath Jesus Christ of Nazareth done, in order that God might consistently with his justice pardon sin; and the message to you this morning is this — “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and chou shalt he saved.” That is trust him, renounce thy works, and thy ways, and set thine heart alone on this man, who gave himself for sinners.

Well brother, I have told you the message, what sayest thou unto it? Do you turn away? You tell me it is nothing to you-, you cannot listen to it; that you will hear me by-and-bye; but you will go your ways this day and attend to your farm and merchandize. Stop brother, I was not told merely to tell you and then go about my business. No; I am told to compel you to come in; and permit me to observe to you before I further go, that there is one thing I can say — and to which God is my witness this morning, that I am in earnest with you in my desire that you should comply with this command of God. You may despise your own salva-

•9 tion, but I do not despise it; yon. may go away and forget what you shall hear, but you will please to remember that the things I now say cost me many a groan ere I came here to utter them. My inmost soul is speaking out to you, my poor brother, when I beseech you by him that liveth and was dead, and is alive for evermore, coneider my master’s message which he bids me now address to you.

But do you spurn it? Do you still refuse it? Then I must change my tone a minute. I will not merely tell you the message, and invite you as I do with all earnestness, and sincere affection — I will go further. Sinner, in God’s name I command you to repent and believe. Do you ask me whence my authority? I am an ambassador of heaven. My credentials, some of them secret, and in my own tieart; and others of them open before you this day in the seals of my ministry, sitting and standing in this hall, where God has given me many souls for my hire. As God the everlasting one hath given me a commission to preach his gospel, I command you to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ; not on my own authority, but on the authority of him who said, “Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to erery creature;” and then annexed this solemn sanction, “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned.” Reject my message, and remember “He that despised Moses’s law, died without mercy under two or three witnesses: of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God.” An ambassador ig not to stand below the man with whom he deals, fof we stand higher. If the minister chooses to take his proper rank, gi* ded with the omnipotence of God, and anointed with his holy unction, he is to command men, and speak with all authority compelling them to come in: “command, exhort, rebuke with all longsuffering.”

But do you turn away and say you will not be commanded? Then again will I change my note. If that avails not, all other means shall be tried. My brother, I come to you simple of speech, and I exhort you to flee to Christ. 0 my brother, dost thou know what a loving Christ he is? Let me tell thee from my own soul what I know of him. I, too once despised him. He knocked at the door of my heart and I refused to open it. He came to me, times without number, morning by morning, and night by night; he checked me in my conscience and spoke to me by his Spirit, and when, at last, the thunders of the law prevailed in my conscience, I thought that Christ was cruel and unkind. 0 I can never forgive myself that 1 should have thought so ill of him. But what a loving reception did I have when I went to him. I thought he would smite me, but his hand was not clenched in anger but opened wide in mercy. I thought full sure that his eyes would dart lightning-flashes of wrath upon me; but, instead thereof, they were full of tears. He fell upon my neck and kissed me; he took off my rags and did clothe me with his righteousness, and caused my soul to sing aloud for joy; while in the house of my heart and in the house of his church there was music and dancing, because his son that he had lost was found, and he that was dead was made alive. I exhort you, then, to look to Jesus Christ and to be lightened. Sinner, you will never regret, — I will be bondsman for my Master that you will never regret it, — you will have no sigh to go back to your state of condemnation; you shall go out of Egypt and shall go into the promised land and shall find it flowing with milk and honey. The trials of Christian life you shall find heavy, but you will find grace will make them light. And as for the joys and delights of being a child of God, if I lie this day you shall charge me with it in days to come. If you will taste and see that the Lord is good, I am not afraid but that you shall find that he is not only good, but better than human lips ever can describe.

I know not what arguments to use with you. I appeal to your own self-interests. Oh my poor friend, would it not be better for you to be reconciled to the God of heaven, than to be his enemy? What are you getting by opposing God? Are you the happier for being his enemy? Answer, pleasure-seeker: hast thou found delights in that cup? Answer me, self-righteous man: hast thou found rest for the sole of thy foot in all thy works? Oh thou that goest about to establish thine own righteousness, I charge thee let conscience speak. Hast thou found it to be a happy path? Ah, my friend, “Wherefore dost thou spend thy money for that which is not bread, and thy labour for that which satisfieth not; hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.” I exhort you by everything that is sacred and solemn, everything that is important and eternal, flee for your lives, look not behind you, stay not in all the plain, stay not until you have proved, and found an interest in the blood of Jesus Christ, that blood which cleanseth us from all sin. Are you still cold and indifferent? Will not the blind man permit me to lead him to the feast? Will not my maimed brother put his hand upon my shoulder and permit me to assist him to the banquet? Will not the poor man allow me to walk side-by-side with him? Must I use some stronger words. Must I use some other compulsion to compel you to come in? Sinners, this one thing I am resolved upon this morning, if you be not saved ye shall be without excuse. Ye, from the grey-headed down to the tender age of childhood, if ye this day lay not hold on Christ, your blood shall be on your own head. If there be power in man to bring his fellow, (as there is when man is helped by the Holy Spirit) that power shall be exercised this morning, God helping me. Come, I am not to be put off by your rebuffs: if my exhortation fails, I must come to something else. My brother I ENTREAT you, I entreat you stop and consider. Do you know what it is you are rejecting this morning? You are rejecting Christ, your only Saviour. “Other foundation can no man lay;” “there is none other name given among men whereby we must be saved.” My brother, I cannot bear that ye should do this, for I remember what you are forgetting: the day is coming when you will want a Saviour. It is not long ere weary months shall have ended, and your strength begin to decline; your pulse shall fail you, your strength shall depart, and you and the grim monster — (loath, must face each other. What will you do in the swellings of Jordan without a Saviour? Death-beds are stony things without the Lord Jesus Christ. It is an awful thing to die* anyhow; he that hath the best hope, and the most triumphant faith, finds that death is not a thing to laugh at. It is a terrible thing to pass from the seen to the unseen, from the mortal to the immortal, from time to eternity, and you will find it hard to go through the iron gates of death without the sweet wings of angels to conduct you to the portals of the skies. It will be a hard thing to die without Christ. I cannot help thinking of you. I see you acting the suicide this morning, and I picture myself standing at your bedside and hearing your cries, and knowing that you are dying without hope. I cannot bear that. I think I am standing by your coffin now, and looking into your clay-cold face, and saying, “This man despised Christ and neglected the great salvation.” I think what bitter tears I shall weep then, if I think that I have been unfaithful to you, and how those eyes fast closed in death, shall seem to chide me and say, “Minister, I attended the music hall, but you were not in earnest with me; you amused me, you preached to me, but you did not plead with me. You did not know what Paul meant when he said, ‘As though God did beseech you by us we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.’”

I entreat you let this message enter your heart for another reason. I picture myself standing at the bar of God. As the Lord liveth, the day of judgment is coming. You believe that? You are not an infidel; your conscience would not permit you to doubt the Scripture. Perhaps you may have pretended to do so, but you cannot. You feel there must be a day when God shall judge the world in righteousness. I see you standing in the midst of that throng, and the eye of God is fixed on you. It seems to you that he is not looking anywhere else, but only upon you, and he summons you before him; and he reads your sins, and he cries, “Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire in hell!” My hearer, I cannot bear to think of you in that position; it seems as if every hair on my head must stand on end to think of any hearer of mine being damned. Will you picture yourselves in that position? The word has gone forth, “Depart, ye cursed.” Do you see the pit as it opens to swallow you up? Do you listen to the shrieks and the yells of those who have preceded you to that eternal lake of torment? Instead of picturing the scene, I turn to you with the words of the inspired prophet, and I say, “Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? Who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?” Oh! ray brother, I cannot let you put away religion thus; no, I think of what is to come after death. I should be destitute of all humanity if I should see a person about to poison himself, and did not dash away the cup; or if I saw another about to plunge from London Bridge, if I did not assist in preventing him from doing so; and I should be worse than u fiend if I did not now, with all love, and kindness, and earnestness, beseech you to “lay hold on eternal life,” “to labour not for the meat that perisheth, but for the meat that endureth unto everlasting life.”

Some hyper-calvinist would tell me I am wrong in so doing. I cannot help it.

A must do it. As I must stand before my Judge at last, I feel that I shall not make full proof of my ministry unless I entreat with many tears that ye would be saved, that ye would look unto Jesus Christ and receive his glorious salvation. But does not this avail? are all our entreaties lost upon you; do you turn a deaf ear? Then again I change my note. Sinner, I have pleaded with you a§ a man pleadeth with his friend, and were it for my own life I could not speak more earnestly this morning than I do speak concerning yours. I did feel earnest about my own soul, but not a whit more than I do about the souls of my congregation this morning; and therefore, if ye put away these entreaties I have something else; — I must threaten you. You shall not always have such warnings as these. A day is coming, when hushed shall be the voice of every gospel minister, at least for you; for your ear shall be cold in death. It shall not be any more threatening; it shall be the fulfilment of the threatening. There shall be no promise, no proclamations of pardon and of mercy; no peace-speaking blood, but you shall be in the land where the Sabbath is all swallowed up in everlasting nights of misery, and where the preachings of the gospel are forbidden because they would be unavailing. I charge you then, listen to this voice that now addresses your conscience; for if not, God shall speak to you in his wrath, and say unto you in his hot displeasure, “I called and ye refused; I stretched out my hand and no man regarded; therefore will I mock at your calamity; I will laugh when your fear cometh.” Sinner, I threaten you again. Remember, it is but a short time you may have to hear these warnings. You imagine that your life will be long, but do you know how short it is? Have you ever tried to think how frail you are? Did you ever see a body when it has been cut in pieces by the anatomist? Did you ever see such a marvellous thing as the human frame?

“Strange, a harp of a thousand strings,
Should keep in tune so long.”

Let but one of those cords be twisted, let but a mouthful of food go in the wrong direction, and you may die. The slightest chance, as we have it. may send you swift to death, when God wills it. Strong men have been killed by the smallest and slightest accident, and so may you. In the chapel, in the house of God, menhave dropped down dead. How often do we hear of men falling in our streets — rolling out of time into eternity, by some sudden stroke. And are you sure that heart of your’s is quite sound? Is the blood circulating with all accuracy? Are you quite sure of that? And if it be so, how long shall it be? 0, perhaps there are some of you here that shall never see Christmas-day; it may be the mandate has gone forth already, “Set thine house in order, for thou shalt die and not live.” Out of this vast congregation, I might with accuracy tell how many will be dead in a year; but certain it is that the whole of us shall never meet together again in any one assembly. Some out of this vast crowd, perhaps some two or three,, shall depart ere the new year shall be ushered in. I remind you, then, my brother, that either the gate of salvation may be shut, or else you may be out of the place where the gate of mercy stands. Come, then, let the threatening have power with you. I do not threaten because I would alarm without cause, but in hopes that a brother’s threatening may drive you to the place where God hath prepared the feast of the gospel. And now, must I turn hopelessly away? Have I exhausted all that I can say? No, I will come to you again. Tell me what it is, my brother, that keeps you from Christ. I hear one say, “Oh, sir, it is because I feel myself too guilty.” That cannot be, my friend, that cannot be. “But, sir, I am the chief of sinners.” Friend, you are not. The chief of sinners died and went to heaven many years ago; his name was Saul of Tarsus, afterwards called Paul the apostle. He was the chief of sinners, I know he spoke the truth. “No,” but yon say stili, “I am too vile.” You cannot be viler than the chief of sinners. You must, at least, be second worst. Even supposing you are the worst now alive, you are second worst, for he was chief. But suppose you are the worst, is not that the very reason why you should come to Christ. The worse a man is, the more reason he should go to the hospital or physician. The more poor you are, the more reason you should accept the charity of another. Now, Christ does not want any merits of your s. He gives freely. The worse you are, the more welcome you are. But let me ask you a question: Do you think you will ever get better by stopping away from^Christ? If so, you know very little as yet of the way of salvation at all. No, sir, the longer you stay the worse you will grow; your hope will grow weaker, ‘COMTKL THEM TO COME IN.

your despair will become stronger; the nail with which Satan has fastened yot down will be more firmly clenched, and you will be less hopeful than ever Come, I beseech you, recollect there is nothing to be gained by delay, but by delay every tiling may be lost. “But,” cries another, “I feel I cannot believe.” No, my friend, and you never will believe if you look first at your believing. Remember, I am not come to invite you to faith, but am come to invite you to Christ. But you say, “What is the difference?” Why, just this, If you first of all say, “I want to believe a thing,” you never do it. But your first inquiry must be, “What is this thing that I am to believe?” Then will faith come as the consequence of that search. Our first business has not to do with faith, but with Christ. Come, I beseech you, oc Calvary’s mount, and see the cross. Behold the Son of God, he who made the heavens and the earth, dying for your sins, Look to him, is there not power in him to save? Look at his face so full of pity. Is there not love in his heart to prove him willing to save? Sure sinner, the sight of Christ will help thee to believe. Do not believe first, and then go to Christ, or else thy faith will be a worthless thing; go to Christ without any faith, and cast thyself upon him, sink or swim. But I hear another cry, “Oh sir, you do not know how often I have been invited, how long I have rejected the Lord.” I do not know, and I do not want to know; all I know is that my Master has sent me, to compel you to come in; so come along with you now. You may have rejected a thousand invitations; don’t make this the thousandth-and-one. You have been up to the house of God, and you have only been gospel hardened. But do I not see a tear in your eye; Come my brother don’t be hardened by this morning’s sermon. 0, Spirit of the living God come and melt this heart for it has never been melted, and compel him to come in! I cannot let you go on such idle excuses as that; if you have lived so many years slighting Christ, there are so many reasons why now you should not slight him. But did I hear you whisper that this was not a convenient time? Then what must I say to you? When will that convenient time come? Shall it come when you are in hell? Will that time be convenient? Shall it come when you are on your dying bed, and the death rattle is in your throat — shall it come then? Or when the burning sweat is scalding your brow; and then again, when the cold clammy sweat is there, shall those be convenient times? When pains are racking you, ami you are on the borders of the tomb? No, sir, this morning is the convenient time. May God make it so. Remember, I have no authority to ask you to come to Christ to-morrow. The Master has given you no invitation to come to him next Tuesday. The invitation is, “To-day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts as in the provocation,” for the Spirit saith “to-day.” “Come now and let us reason together;” why should you put it off? It may be the last warning you shall ever have. Put it off, and you may never weep again in chapel You may never have so earnest a discourse addressed to you. You may not be pleaded with as I would plead with you now. You may go away, and God may say, “He is given unto idols, let him alone.” He shall throw the reins upon your neck; and then, mark — your course is sure, but it is sure damnation and swift destruction.

And now again, is it all in vain? Will you not now come to Christ? Then what more can I do? I have but one more resort, and that shall be tried. I can be permitted to weep for you; I can be allowed to pray for you. You shall scorn the address if you like; you shall laugh at the preacher; you shall call him fanatic if you will; he will not chicle you, he will bring no accusation against you to the great Judge. Your offence, so far as he is concerned, is forgiven before it is Committed; but you will remember that the message that you are rejecting this morning is a message from one who loves you, and it is given to you also by the lips of one who loves you. You will recollect that you may play your soul away with the devil, that you may listlessly think it a matter of no importance j but there lives at least one who is in earnest about your soul, and one who before he came here wrestled with his God for strength to preach to you, and who when he has gone from this place will not forget his hearers of this morning. I say again, when words fail us we can give tears — for words and tears are the arms with which gospel ministers compel men to come in. You do not know, and I suppose could not believe, how anxious a man whom God has called to the ministry feels about his congregation, and especially about some of them. I heard but the other day of -i young man who attended here a long time, and his father’s hope was that he would be brought to Christ. He became acquainted, however, with an infidel;

It

* COVPEL THEM TO COME IN.

and now be neglects As business, and lives in a daily course of sin. I saw MB father’s poor wan face; 1 did not ask him to tell me the story himself, for I felt it was laking up a trouble and opening a sore; I fear, sometimes, that good man’s grey hairs may be brought with sorrow to the grave. Toung men, you do not pray for yourselves, but your mothers wrestle for you. You will not think of your own souls, but your father’s anxiety is exercised for you. I have been at prayer meetings, when I have heard children of God pray there, and they could not have prayed with more earnestness and more intensity of anguish if they had been each of them seeking their own soul’s salvation. And is it not strange that we should be ready to move heaven and earth for your salvation, and that still you should have no thought for yourselves, no regard to eternal things?

Now I turn for one moment to some here. There are some of you here members of Christian churches, who make a profession of religion, but unless I be mistaken in you — and I shall be happy if I am — your profession is a lie. You do not live up to it, you dishonour it; you can live in the perpetual practice of absenting yourselves from God’s house, if not in sins worse than that. Now I ask such of you who do not adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour, do you imagine that you can call me your pastor, and yet that my soul cannot tremble over you and in secret weep for you? Again, I say it may be but little concern to you how you defile the garments of your Christianity, but it is a great concern to God’s hidden ones, who sigh and cry, and groan for the iniquities of the professors of Zion.

Now does anything else remain to the minister besides weeping and prayer? Yes, there is one thing else. God has given to his servants not the power of regeneration, but he has given them something akin to it. It is impossible for any man to regenerate his neighbour; and yet how are men born to God? Does not the apostle say of such an one that he was begotten by him in his bonds. Now the minister has a power given him of God, to be considered both the father and the mother of those born to God, for the apostle said he travailed in birth for souls till Christ was formed in them. What can we do then? We can now appeal to the Spirit. I know I have preached the gospel, that I have preached it earnestly, I challenge my Master to honour his own promise. He has said it shall not return unto him void, and it shall not. It is in his hands, not mine. I cannot compel you, out thou O Spirit of God who hast the key of the heart, thou canst compel Dit you ever notice in that chapter of the Revelation, where it says, “Behold I stand at the door and knock,” a few verses before, the same person is described, as he who hath the key of David. So that if knocking will not avail, he has the key and can and will come in. Now if the knocking of an earnest minister prevail not with you this morning, there remains still that secret opening of the heart by the Spirit, so that you shall be compelled.

I thought it my duty to labour with you as though / must do it; now I throw it into my Master’s hands. It cannot be his will that we should travail in birth, and yet not bring forth spiritual children. It is with him; he is master of the heart, and the day shall declare it, that some of you constrained by sovereign grace have become the willing captives of the all-conquering Jesus, and have bowed you* hearts to him through the sermon of this morning.

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COUNTING THE COST.

DELIVERED ON LORD’S-DAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 22ND, 1874, BY

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTOffr

“For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish.’’ — Luke xiv. 28 — 30.

THIS passage is peculiar to Luke, and he tells us that at the time when our Lord uttered it great multitudes followed him. It is observable that when our Lord was forsaken by the crowd he was not depressed, and when his ministry became popular he was not elated. He was calm and wise in the midst of the excitement of the thronging multitudes. This passage is sufficient evidence of that fact. On this occasion our Lord spoke with a view to the winnowing of the great heap of nominal discipleship which lay before him, that the chaff might be driven away and only the precious corn might remain. The discourse before us reminds us of Gideon’s process of diminishing that vast but motley host of which the Lord said, “The people are too many for me.” After having bidden the faint-hearted go, he next brought down the remaining thousands to the river, and bade them drink; and then only kept for himself those who lapped in a certain peculiar manner, which indicated their zeal, their speed, their energy,, and their experience. Our Lord tested his followers that he might have only those remaining who would be fit for the conquest of the world. To carry his precious treasure he would select vessels whom grace had made fit for his use, the rest he could dispense with.

Our Lord Jesus was far too wise to pride himself upon the number of his converts; he cared rather for quality than quantity. He rejoiced over one sinner that repented, but ten thousand sinners who merely professed to have repented would have given him no joy whatever. His heart longed after the real, he loathed the counterfeit; he panted after the substance, and the shadow could not content him. His fan was in his hand with which to throughly purge his floor, and his axe was No. 1,159. 27 laid to the root of the trees to hew down the fruitless. He was anxious to leave a living church like good seed-corn in the land, as free us possible from all admixture. Hence in this particular instance one might even think that he was repelling men rather than attracting them to his leadership; but, indeed, he was doing nothing of the kind. He understood right well that men to be truly won must be won by truth, that the truest love is ever honest, and that the best disciple is not he who joins the class of the great Master in a hurry, and then afterwards discovers that the learning is not such as he expected, but one who comes sighing after just such knowledge as the teacher is prepared to give. Moreover, our Lord knew what sometimes we may forget — that there is no heartbreak in the world to the godly worker like that which comes of disappointed hopes, when those who have said, “Lord, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest,” turn back unto perdition, and when the hot breath which shouted “Hosanna!” turns into the cruel, cold-blooded cry, “Crucify him! crucify him!” Nothing is more injurious to a church than a large dilution with half hearted members, and nothing more dangerous to the persons themselves than to allow them to put on an untrue profession. Therefore did the Master take most care at the time when that care was most needed, that none should follow him under misapprehension, but should be made fully aware of what was meant by being his disciples, so that they should not say afterwards, “We have been misled; we have been. beguiled into a service which disappoints us.” Unlike the enlisting sergeant, who sets forth all the glories of military service in glowing colours in order to gain a recruit, the great Captain of our salvation would have his followers take all things into consideration before they cast in their lot with him.

This morning our text may be equally suitable, and its warning may be as necessary and as salutary as when first the Master pronounced it; for great multitudes are just now following Christ, a revival has come and stirred the mass of you. Among the would-be disciples (blessed be God!) are many whom the Lord himself has called, for every one of whom we give most hearty thanks; but with them necessarily, and of course (for when was it ever different?) there are others who are not called of God at all, but who are moved by the natural impulse of imitating others, and stirred by feelings which are none the less fleeting because just now they are intense; and therefore in Christ’s name it is ours to address you even as he did, and warn you in his own words: “If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it. all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish.”

To assist our memories, we will divide our meditation into three parts. The first will be headed in this manner: true religion is a costly thing; the second shall bear this motto: Wisdom suggests thai before we

COUNTING THE COST. Ill

inter upon it ice should estimate the cost; and the third shall bear this inscription: Cost iuhat it may, it is worth ivJiat it costs.

I. First, then, it is clear from our text that TRUE RELIGION is COSTLY. Far be it from us to create any confusion of thought here. The gifts of God’s grace cost us nothing, neither could his salvation be purchased with money, nor with merit, nor by TOWS and penances. “If a maa should give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly he contemned.” The gospel motto is, “without money and without price “; we are “justified freely by his grace, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus.” Yet, for all that, if a man will be a Christian it will cost him something. Consider a moment. Here is a blind man sitting by the wayside begging; he asks to have his eyes opened. Will it cost him anything? No, the Saviour would not accept all the gold in the world for the cure, he will freely open his eyes; but when they are opened it will cost that blind man something. Obtaining his sight he will be called upon to discharge the duties of one who has eyes. He will not be allowed after that to sit there and beg, or, if he tries to do so, he will lose the sympathy which is bestowed upon blindness; now that his eyes are opened he must use them, and earn his own bread. It will cost him something, for he will now be conscious of the darkness of the night which he knew nothing of before! and there are sad sights which now he must look upon which never grieved him before, for often what the eye does not see the heart does not rue. A man cannot gain a faculty except at some expense; he that increaseth’ knowledge or the means of gaining it. increaseth both sorrow and duty. Take another case. A poor man is suddenly made a prince: it will cost him the giving up of his former manners, and will involve him in new duties and cares. A man is set on the road to heaven as a pilgrim: does he pay anything to enter by the wicket-gate? I trow not; free grace admits him to the sacred way. But when that man is put on the road to heaven it will cost him some thing. It will cost him earnestness to knock at the wicket-gate, and sweat wherewith to climb the Hill Difficulty, it will cost him tears to find his roll again when he has lost it in the arbour of ease, it will cost him great care in going down the Valley of Humiliation, it will cost him resistance unto blood when he stands foot to foot with Apollyon in conflict, it will cost him many fears when he has to traverse the Valley of the Shadow of Death, it may cost him his life when he comes to Vanity Fair, if like Faithful he is called to bear testimony at the stake. True religion is the gift of God, and there is nothing we can do to purchase it; at the same time if we receive it certain consequences will flow from it, and we ought to consider whether we shall be able to put up with them.

You may be sure that the cost must be great, since our Lord compares it to the building of a tower. The word here used for “tower” has often bean employed to signify a turreted house, a villa, or country ’ mansion. “Which of you,” says he to the people, “intending to build t for himself a mansion in which to reside at your ease would not first of all count the cost?” The building is to be a costly one. Doddridge is wrong in the supposition that a temporary tower is here intended. That it would cost a considerable sum is clear from the Saviour’s saying that the wise man sits down and counts the cost. He does not merely stand up and pass his hand over his brow, and say, “Thia tower will cost me so many hundred pounds,” but it is to be an elaborate construction, an almost palatial edifice, and therefore he sits downy like a merchant at his desk, and thoughtfully considers the undertaking; he consults the architect and the mason, and calculates what will be the expense of the outer walls, what of the roof, what of the interior fittings, and the like, and he does not make a rough guess, but counts the cost as men count their gold. It is evidently a matter of consequence with him, and so is true religion — it is no trifle, but an all-important business. He who thinks that a careless, hit-or-miss, headlong venture will suffice for his eternal interests is the reverse of wise.

True godliness is the building up of a character which will endure the day of judgment. It begins in laying deep the foundations in faith and love and a renewed heart; it is carried on by the putting patiently and carefully, and often painfully, stone upon stone the materials of the fair edifice, diligently adding “to your faith courage, and to courage knowledge, and to knowledge temperance,and to temperance patience, and to patience godliness, and to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness charity.” Our life-work consists in “building up ourselves in our most holy faith.” See ye not that it is a glorious palace to which the Christian character is likened?

But, lest we should still think the expense small, our Lord compares it to a war, and he speaks of the number of troops engaged in that war, showing that it is no petty skirmish of two insignificant tribes; he likens it to a war in which upon one side there is an array of ten thousand, and on the other a host of twenty thousand. Now, warfare is always expensive work; besides the cost for accoutrements and ammunition, there is the cost of human life and blood, there is the removal of strong arms from work at home, and the direr risks of defeat, captivity, and devastation. The Lord compares religion, then, in its externals, to a battle between the gracious man and the evils rampant in the outside world. The disciple of Jesus has to defend himself against a gigantic foe, and he has within himself a power which, so far as he is concerned, is not sufficient for the contest; the odds are fearful — ten thousand against twenty thousand. Well doea the Saviour say in the latter case that it is well to sit down to consult* The king with the smaller army consults, asks his sage senators, takes counsel from experience, calls in good advisers, and debates whether the thing can be done or not. So should we consider the matter of our souls, for religion is a costly thing, and not to be entered on, as the Frenchman said, “with a light heart.” That light heart cost his nation dear, and so it will ourselves if we indulge it.

We might have inferred this, I think, from some other considerations — namely, first from the fact that true religion is a lasting thing. It lasts for life. False religion comes and goes; true regeneration is never repeated, and it is the commencement of a life which will know no end, either in time or in eternity. Now anything which is to last must be expensive. You shall get your glass coloured, if you will, cheaply, but the sun will soon remove all its beauty. If you would obtain a glass which shall retain its colour for centuries every single gtep in the process of its manufacture will be costly, involving much labour and great care. So is it with true religion. You may get it cheap if you will, it will look quite as well as the real thing, and for a little while it will bring you almost all the comfort and respect which the genuine article would have brought you; but it will not last; soon will its colour fly, and the beauty and the excellence, which were there but in pretence, will soon have gone. You want, dear friend, (I am sure you do), you want a godliness which will last you till you die: well, then, it must cost you something, be you sure of that.

Remember also that true religion will have to bear a strain, for it is certain to be opposed. This tower will not be built without opposition. It is like the wall of Jerusalem, Sanballat and Tobias will be sure to hinder the building. True religion must be able to endure hardness: if it cannot do that it is good for nothing. The old Toledo blade cost the warrior much at first hand, but when he had once procured it he knew that it would cut through joint and marrow in the day of battle, and he was not afraid to dash into the thick of the fray, trusting to its unrivalled temper and keen edge. Could he not find a cheaper sword? I ween he could have found it easily enough, and with small expense of gold, but then in the moment when his sword smote upon his enemy’s helmet, instead of cleaving through the skull, it snapped in the warrior’s hand and cost him his life. Such is the cheap religion with which so many take up; there is no self-denial in it, no forsaking of the world, no giving up of carnal amusements — they are just the same as the world; their religion costs them nothing, and at last when they want it it will fail them, it will snap like the ill-made sword in the day of battle, and leave them defenceless. Oh, if you want that which will endure the conflict you must spend cost upon it. Jesus Christ knew that the persons to whom he spoke would not be able to bear the tests which awaited his disciples; they did not know that he would be crucified, for just then he was popular, and they hoped that he was to be the King of Israel, but the Saviour knew that there would come dark days in which the King of the Jews would be hanged upon a gibbet, and his disciples, even his true ones, would forsake him for the moment and would flee; and therefore he in effect said to them,” You must be prepared for cross-bearing, you must be prepared to follow me amid derision and shame and reproach, and if you are not ready for this your discipleship is a mistake. In their case it did not stand the test, these people were nowhere when the time of trial came.

And remember, dear friends, and I dwell with great emphasis upon this point, we want a religion which will abide the inspection of the great Judge at the last day. Now, there are things in the world which will endure for awhile, but if they are closely looked at, and especially if they are placed under a microscope, they will be seen to have many flaws: now, no microscopical examination can for a moment be compared with the glance of Jehovah, he will read us through and through. Oh, what a withering will there be for fair professions in the day when his fiery eye shall gaze upon them. Never does the grass dry up under the sirocco one-half so swiftly as the fair plains of pretended Christianity will wither beneath the divine glance in the last tremendous day. He will look upon what men call Christendom, and it will almost if not altogether vanish; for “when the Son of Man cometh, shall he find faith upon the earth?” Will it not, then, be -evidently true that “many are called, and but few are chosen”? “Strive to enter in at the strait gate,” is still the voice of Christ to all of us, “for many shall seek to enter in, but shall not be able.” If our religion is to be weighed in the balances, and may perchance be found wanting, it is well for us to see to it, and to know that it must be sincere, genuine, and costly, if it is to pass that ordeal.

What, then, is the expense? What is the cost of building this tower or fighting this war? The answer is given by our Saviour, not by me. I should not have dared to invent such tests as he has ordained; it is for me to be the echo of his voice and no more. What does he say? Why, first, that if you would be his, and have his salvaation, you must love him beyond every other person in this world. Is not that the meaning of this expression, “If any man come to me and hate not his father and mother “? Dear names! Dear names! “Father and mother!” Lives there a man with soul so dead that he can pronounce either of these words without emotion, and especially the last — “mother “? Men and brethren, this is a dear and tender name to us, it touches a chord which thrills our being; yet far more powerful is the name of Saviour, the name of Jesus. Less loved must father and mother be than Jesus Christ. The Lord demands precedence also of the best beloved “wife.” Here he touches another set of heart-strings. Dear is that word “wife,” partner of our being, comfort of our sorrow, delight of our eyes — “wife!” Yet, wife, thou must not take the chief place, thou must sit at Jesus’ feet, or else thou art an idol, and Jesus will not brook thy rivalry. And “children,” the dear babes that nestle in the bosom, and clamber to the knee and pronounce the parent’s name in accents of music, they must not be our chief love, they must not come in between us and the Saviour, nor for their sakes, to give them pleasure or to promote their worldly advantage, must we grieve our Lord. Many a child is master of his father, many a daughter has been mistress to the mother; but if it be for -evil, this must be ended at once. If they tempt us to evil they must be treated as if we hated them; yea, the evil in them must be hated for Christ’s sake. If ye be Christ’s disciples your Lord must be first, then mother, father, wife, children, brethren, and sisters will follow in due rank and order.

I am afraid that many professors are not prepared for this. They would be Christians if their family would approve, but they must consult their brother, father, or wife. They would make a stand against worldly pleasures if others would, but they cannot bear to .appear singular, or to oppose the views of relatives. They say, “My father wishes it, and I dare not tell him that it is wrong “” My mother says that we must not be too strait-laced, and therefore, though my conscience tells me it is wrong, yet will I do it;” or else they say, 4< My girls are growing up and must have amusement, arid my boys must be allowed their pleasures, arid therefore I must wink at sin,” Ah, my brethren, this must not be, if you are indeed Christ’s disciples. You must put them all aside, the dearest must go sooner than Jesus be forsaken; for does he not say in the Psalms, “Hearken, 0 daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father’s house; so shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him”? Mark you, you will best prove your love to your relatives by being decided for the right, since you will be the more likely to win their souls. Love them too much to indulge the wrong in them; love them so truly that you hate that in them which would injure you and ruin them. You must be prepared to suffer from those who are bound to you by the dearest ties; sin must not be tolerated whatever may happen. We cannot yield in the point of sin, our determination is invincible; come hate or come love, we must follow Christ.

The next item of cost is this — self must be hated. I am afraid there are some who would sooner hate father or wife than hate their own life. Yet such is the demand. It means this: that wherein my own pleasure, or my own gain, or my own repute, or even my own life shall come in the way of Christ’s glory, I am so little to make any account of myself, that I must even hate myself if self shall stand in the way of Christ. I am to look upon father, mother, brother, sister, and myself also, as foes, so far as they are opposed to the Lord Jesus and his holy will. I am to love them and desire their good as I also desire good for myself, but I am not to desire any good for them or for myself at the cost of sinning, and robbing the Lord Jesus of his glory. As for myself, if I see anything in myself opposed to Jesus I must away with it. I must mortify the flesh with its affections and lusts, denying myself anything and everything which would grieve the Saviour, or would prevent my realising perfect conformity to him.

Next, the Saviour goes on to say that if we would follow him we must bear our cross: “Whosoever doth not bear his cross and coniQ after me cannot be my disciple.” Sometimes that cross comes in the shape of confessing our faith before gainsayers. “Ah,” says the timid heart, “if I do so I shall have all my friends against me.” Take up your cross! it is a part of the cost of true discipleship. “I shall scarcely be able to bear myself in the house if I avow my religion.” Take up your cross! my brother, or you cannot be Christ’s disciple. “Well, but it will involve a change even in my daily life.” Make the change, my brother, or you cannot be the Lord’s disciple. “But I know there is one very dear whom I have looked upon as likely to be my future companion, and he will leave me if I forsake the ways of the world.” Then, heavy as the loss may be, let him go, if it be so that you cannot follow Christ and uiJte with him; for Jesus you must follow, or be lost for ever. What trying words these are! What de tectors of the hypocrisy of many professing Christians! Did they ever separate from the world? No, not they; they fail in with its fashions as the dead fish floats with the current. Have they any cross to bear? Does anybody reproach them with being too rigid, and too puritanical? Oh, no! for theirs is the religion which the world praises, and consequently the religion which God abhors. If any man love the world the love of the Father is not in him, and he who has the smile of the ungodly must look for the frown of God.

But, more than this, the Saviour, as another item of cose, requires that his disciple should take up his cross, and come after him: that is to say, he must act as Christ acted. If we are not prepared to make Christ our example, yea, if it be not our highest ambition to live as he lived, to give ourselves up to act as he did, we cannot be his disciples.

Last of all, we must make an unreserved surrender of all to Jesus. Listen to these words: “Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.” It may yet come to this, that persecution may arise, and you may have actually to give up all. You must be prepared for the event. You may not have to give up anything, but the surrender must be just as real in your heart as if it had to be carried out in act and deed. No man has truly given himself to Christ unless he has also said, “My Lord, I give to thee this day my body, my soul, my powers, my talents, my goods, my house, my children, and all that I have. Henceforth I will hold them at thy will, as a steward under thee. Thine they are — as for me, I have nothing, I have surrendered all to thee.” You cannot be Christ’s disciples at any less expense than this: if you possess a farthing that is your own and not your Master’s, Christ is not your Master. IjTmust be all his, every single jot and tittle, and your life also, or you cannot be his.

These are very searching words, but I would remind you once again that they are none of mine. If in expounding them I have erred, I am grieved that it should be so, but I am persuaded I have not erred on the side of too great severity. I confess I may have spoken too leniently. The words of the text lay the axe to the root, and are sweeping to the last degree. Oh, count ye, then, the cost! and if any of you have taken up a religion which costs you nothing, put it down and flee from it, for it will be your curse and your ruin. - Is there any getting to heaven without this cost? No. But may we not be Christians without these sacrifices? You may be counterfeits, you may be hypocrites, you may be brethren of Judas, but you cannot be real Christians. This cost is unavoidable, it cannot be bated one solitary mite. God grant you may be enabled to submit to it.

II. The second head is this, WISDOM SUGGESTS THAT WE SHOULD COUNT THE COST. You feel you would like to be a Christian. Dear friend, give me thy hand. I am glad thou hast such a liking. But as I grasp thy hand and would fain draw thee towards Christ, I look thee in the face and say, “Dost thou know what thou desirest? Art thou sure thou desirest it? There are men lying on beds of sickness who cry for help, but when they recover and have to go out and battle with the world, the time may come when they will say,” I would as leave be on the bed of sickness again.” I should not like a time to come when any one of you shall say, “I joined the church, but it was a mistake. I did not weigh the matter rightly. I am now in for it, and I am sorry I am, for I ought not to be where I am.” If honest, you ought to give up your profession, if such is the case. If you have no grace, I hope you will have enough of common honesty not to stick to a practical falsehood. I should grieve indeed if that should happen, and therefore this morning, I pray you, count the cost. For mark, if you do not count the cost, you will not be able to carry out your resolves. It is a great building, it is a great war. No mistake can be greater than the notion that in order to be saved there is only needed a measure of emotion during a few days, and the belief of some one decisive hour. If I preached such doctrines I should be deceiving your souls. Faith and repentance are not the work of a” week or two, they are a life-work; as long as the Christian is on earth he must repent; and as for faith, it is not saying “I believe in Jesus, and therefore I am saved,” but it is a daily grace, the trust of a lifetime; the Christian continues still to believe and repent until he commences to triumph in eternal glory, Moreover, faith is continually productive of sanctifying results upon the life of the believer, or otherwise he is not possessed of the right faith. He who believes in Jesus Christ is saved; but if there were such a thing as a temporary faith there would be such a thing as a temporary salvation. He who truly repents of sin is a renewed man, but if repentance of sin were only a transient thing, and were soon over, the life which it indicated would be over too. You must not be content with false and fleeting religion. You are beginning to build a tower of which the topstone will never be laid till you are taken up to heaven, and you are commencing a war which will never end till you exchange the sword for the palm branch.

Remember, also, that to fail in this great enterprise will involve terrible defeat, for what says our Lord? He says that not to be able to finish will expose you to ridicule. I beg you to notice the form of that ridicule. “All that pass by will begin to mock him, saying one to another (for that is the force of the expression) this man began to build but was not able to finish.” Our Lord does not represent them as saying to the foolish builder, “You began to buiid and were not able to finish,” but as speaking about him as a third person — “This man.” Now, half-hearted Christians, half-hearted religious men, may not be scoffed at in the public streets to their faces, but they are common butts of ridicule behind their backs. You false professors are universally despised. Worldlings laughingly say, “Ah, these are pretty specimens of church members!” The world looks upon a worldly church with utter disdain, and for my part little do I regret that such derision is poured upon an object which so well deserves it. To be a mere pretender to Christian discipleship is to become an object of scorn in time and in eternity, and such will be the false professor’s fate. Sir, if you mean to be a Christian, resolve that it shall be the right thing, thorough and decided; for then though men will not go about and praise you to your face, they will honour you, and even those who hate you will know your value; but if you are only half a Christian, and not thorough, they may not come to your face and show their contempt, but as they pass by they will sneer, and will have more respect for a downright worldling than for you, because he is what he says he is, and makes no pretence of being anything else, but as for you, you began to build and could not finish. What a wretched object is a sham Christian! We have sometimes seen great buildings which have been commenced and deserted by over speculative persons, and the neighbours have called them “Smith’s Folly,” or “Brown’s Folly,” or “Robinson’s Folly,” or the like; these are but fleeting causes of derision; but the pretender, the man who i appearance commenced to be a Christian and then broke down at it, will be pointed afc even by the lost in hell. The drunkard will cry, “And you? Have you also come hither? you who were so eloquent about sobriety, and so ready to rebuke the tippler.” te Aha! “cries another, “you are the man who lived down our street, and made so much show of your religion; you told me I was very wicked, but what are you better off than I am?” Behold, I see the openly profane upraise themselvesfrom their racks of remorse to exclaim, “Art thou become like one of us? Thou church-member, art thou in hell? Is the taste of the sacramental wine upon thy lips still? Wherefore, then, dost thou demand a drop of water to cool thy tongue? That sacramental bread which thou didst swallow so readily, does it not even now stick in thy hypocritical throat? Thou liar before God and man, meet and right is it that thou art cast out even as we.” Oh, if you must be lost, be lost as anything but hypocrites; if you must perish, perish rather outside the church than in it. Do not ape the Lord of glory! I know of no worse act than to mimic the excellences of the Saviour with pert imitation of his graces. What worse offence can you render to the majesty of his sacred virtue than to travesty his holiness and ape his perfection?

III. The last word shall be this, that COST WHATEVER IT MAY, TRUE RELIGION is WORTH THE COST. We are like a man with the black pest upon him who knows that he is dying, and yet yonder is a drug which will heal him. “Physician,” says he, “you ask so great a price that each drop costs me a diamond; you are demanding more than itsweight in choicest pearls, but it does not matter, I must have it. If I do not I am a dead man, and then what will it profit me that I have kept my gold?” It is the case of every one of us here present, we must have Christ or perish for ever, and it will be better for us to cut off our right arm and to pluck out our right eye than that we should be cast into hell fire.

Mark you, brethren, the present blessings of true religion are worth all the cost. What if I have to rend some fond connection? Jesus, thou art better to me than husband, wife, or child. If it must be so that she who lies in my bosom shall count me for her enemy thou shalt be in my heart, my Saviour, better than a Rachel, or a Rebekah. Yes., if it must be so “that the father shall say, “You shall never darken my doors again if you follow Christ,” he must say it, for when father and mother forsake me the Lord will take me up. The immediate joy will recompense for the immediate loss, yea, doubtless you may count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus your Lord, and yet remain a gainer.

And again, what recompense comes for all cost in the consolation afforded by true godliness in the article of death? To lie a-dying, why it will give no pain to be able to say then, ‘• I was cast out of my family for Jesus.” It will be no sorrow to remember, “I was ridiculed for Christ.” It will cause us no pangs to say, “I was counted too precise and too much of a Puritan.” No, my brethren, those are not the things which put thorns into death pillows. Oh, no! there we shall see how sweet it was to have borne any part of Jesus’ cross; a sliver of his cross will be worth a king’s ransom on a dying day. Moreover, at the judgment, when the trumpet rings out, and the dead are rising, we shall not say, “I suffered too much for Christ.” When to the right his chosen go, and we among them, we shall not look back ‘with regret to the fact that we lost caste in society and position amongst the refined for Jesus’ sake. We shall not lament that we attended a despised conventicle, and worshipped among the poor of this world out of love to Jesus, and fidelity to his gospel. Oh, no! I warrant you in that day he shall shine brightest who was most beclouded “for his’ Lord’s sake. Midst the bright ones, doubly bright shall be the martyr band of whom the world was not worthy, who were accounted as the offscouring of all things; and while each one of the disciples shall receive a hundredfold for all he may have given up for his Lord’s cause, these shall have the fairest portion.

Moreover, let me remind you, beloved, that Christ asks you to give up nothing that will injure you. If you must hate father and mother it is only in this sense, that you will not yield to their wrong requests, nor will you leave Christ for them. If you must give up any pleasure it is because it is not a fitting pleasure for you, it is poisonous sugar of lead, and not true sweetness. Christ will give you greater enjoyments by far.

Moreover, I remember that our Redeemer does not ask any one of us to do what he has not done himself. That thought pierces me to the quick, I wish it might affect you also. Master, dost thou say, give up father? Didst thou not leave thy Father? Dost thou bid me even leave my father’s house if it must be for thy sake? Didst thou not leave the glorious mansions of heaven? Wh’at if I be called to bear reproach? They called the Master of the house Beelzebub. What if I be cast out? They also cast thee out. When we think of the scourgings, and the shame, and the spitting which the Lord endured, what are our griefs? And if for his sake we should even be condemned to death we know how he hung on the cross, stripped of his all, that he might save us from the wrath to come. 0 believer, can you follow your Lord whithersoever he goeth? Soldiers of the cross, can you follow him? Is the path smooth enough for those dear feet and too rough for you? There is he in the centre of the battle where the blows fall fastest, will you follow him? Dare you follow him, or do you pine for the tents of ease, and the soft couches of the cowards yonder who are shrinking back, and deserting to the enemy? Oh, by everything that is good, if you be indeed his followers, I charge you cry, “Where he is, there let his servant be, as he fares so let his servant fare; in this world be ours his humiliation that in the world to come we may be partakers of his glory.”

This is strong preaching, you tell me, but the Saviour meant all that I have said. His was a testing discourse, but there are truths to be remembered which may console us while hearing them. It is true that you cannot build the tower; Joshua said to the people in his time, “Ye cannot serve the Lord.” If you have counted the cost, you know by this time that you cannot wage the war. Ten thousand cannot stand against twenty thousand. But yet it must be done, inevitable necessity drives on behind; whatever may be in front, we dare not turn back. Remember Lot’s wife. What, then, must we do? Hear ye the Lord’s words, “With men it is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Are you willing? Then the Spirit of God will help you. You shall give up the world and the flesh without a sigh; you shall fight against your lusts and you shall overcome them through the blood of the Lamb. The tower shall be built and the Lord shall inhabit it. Cast yourselves on Jesus by a simple faith: rest in his power, and from day to day believe in his strength, and he will bear you safely through.

Do you notice the verse which follows this passage? I wonder whether anything like it will follow my sermon. It is astonishing that though Jesus thundered out as from the top of Sinai, and his words seemed harsh, yet it is written, “Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him,” as if they said to themselves, “This mar tells us the truth, therefore we will hear him.” And then he began to tell them the precious truths of his free grace, acting just as the husbandman does who puts in the plough and turns up the soil. und when he sees the clods breaking in the furrow then he scatters cne golden seed, but not till then. Ho, every one of you who would a&ve Christ, come, and have him! You who would have salvation, accept it ds the gift of his sovereign grace; but do not receive it under misapprehension; understand what is meant by it. Salvation is not deliverance from hell alone; it is deliverance from sin. It is not the rescue of men from eternal pain merely; it is their redemption from this world’s vain and wicked ways. It cannot be divided, it is a garment without seam, woven from the top throughout If you would have justification, you must have sanctification: if you would have pardon, you must have holiness; if you would be one with Christ, you must be separate from sinners. If you would walk the streets of gold above, you must walk the road of holiness below. Glod grant you his Holy Spirit to enable you so to do, and his shall be the praise for ever. Amen.

PORTIONS OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON — Psalm ciii.;
Luke xiv. 25 — 35.

HYMNS FROM “OuR OWN HYMN BOOK” — 906, 671,596.

rfppfitan 3fafynrai[li[ fluty’it

CONSIDER BEFORE YOU FIGHT.

J&rnura

PREACHED AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON,

BY

“What king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and eonsulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand? Or else, while the other is yet a great way off, he sendeth an ambassage, and desireth conditions of peace.” — Luke xiv. 31, 32.

EVERY sensible man endeavours to adapt his purposes to his strength. He does not begin to build a house which he will not be able to finish, nor commence a war which he cannot hope to fight through. The religion of Christ is the most reasonable one in the world, and Jesus Christ never desires to have any disciples who shall blindly follow him without counting the cost. We always esteem it to be a happy thing when we can get men to sit down and consider. The most of you are BO full of other thoughts, so occupied with the world, ever running hither and thither about your ordinary business, that we cannot get you to think, or calmly sit down, and soberly look at things as in the light of eternity, and weigh them deliberately as you ought. And yet it is only reasonable that the Master should ask of you to do for him with regard to your own spiritual matters, what you will admit that every sensible man does in his business continually. You are poor traders if you never have any stock-takings: you are likely to be ere long in the bankruptcy court if there is no periodical examination of accounts; and so Christ would have you sit down sometimes, and take stock, as to where you are, and what you are, and then to figure up by some sort of arithmetic by which you may come to a truthful calculation, what you are able to do, and what not to do, and what therefore it is reasonable for you to undertake, and what unreasonable, and where your position ought, and where it ought not to be.

I especially invite this evening, those who are unconverted in this assembly, to some few thoughts upon the w?ar in which they are engaged with God, hoping that peradventure if they consider a little upon it, they will send an ambassage, and desire peace. “When I have spoken upon that, there will be some, perhaps, who will be running away with the idea that they will at once be at peace with God, and make war with

No. 632 2$ Satan; but I shall want to pin them down a moment, and make them estimate their chances of victory in such a war as that, and see whether they are able to meet the black prince of darkness in their own strength. We will try if we cannot make it to-night the subject of a little homely talk about our souls, and a little earnest personal consideration about our future.

I. First, then, THERE ARE SOME HERE WHO ARE NOT THE FRIENDS OF GOD, and in this case he that is not with him is against him.

If you cannot look up to God, and say, “My Father,” and feel that your heart beats true to him, then remember it is a fact that you are his enemy. If you could have what you wish there would be no God. If it were m your power you would never trouble yourself again with thoughts of him. You would like to live, you say, as you list, and I know how you would list to live. It would be anyhow, rather than as God commands. Now, as you are engaged in antagonism with him, just think awhile — Can you expect to succeed? Are you likely to win the day? You have entered into a conflict with his law; you do not intend to keep it; with his day, you do not regard it; you are thus at war with God. Now, is it likely that you will be successful? Is there a chance for you? If there be, why then, perhaps, it may be as well to go on. If you can conquer him, if the battlements of glory may yet see the flag of sin waved triumphant there, why, man, then try it. There will be at least an ambition worthy of Satan who desired sooner to reign in hell than to be ruled by heaven. But is there any hope for you? Let me put a few things before you which may, perhaps, make you think the conflict too unequal and thus lead you to abandon the thought at once.

Think of God’s stupendous power! What is there which he cannot do? We see but little of God’s power comparatively in our land. Now and then there comes a crash of thunder in a storm, and we look up with amazement when he sets the heavens on a blaze with his lightning. But go, and do business on the deep waters; let your vessel fly before the howling hurricane; mark how every staunch timber seems to crack as though it were but match-board, and the steady mast goes by the board, and snaps, and is broken to shivers. Mark what God does when he stirs up the great deep, and seems to bring heaven down, and lift the earth up till the elements mingle in a common mass of tempest. Then go to the Alps, and listen to the thunder of the avalanche. Stand amazed, as you look down some grim precipice, or peer with awe-struck wonder into the blue mysteries of a crevasse; see the leaping cataracts, and mark those frozen seas, the glaciers, as they come sweeping down the mountain side; stay awhile till a storm shall gather there, and Alp shall talk to Alp, and those white prophetic heads shall seem to bow while the wings of tempest cover them! There you may learn something of the power of God amidst the crash of nature. If you could have stood by the side of Dr. Woolfe, when rising early one morning, he went out of Aleppo, and upon turning his head, saw that Aleppo was no more, it having been in a single moment swallowed up by an earth quake, then again you might see what God can do. But why need I feebly recapitulate what you all know so well? Think of what that Book records of his deeds of prowess, when he unloosed the depths, and bade the fountains of the great deep be broken up, that the whole world that then was, might be covered with water. Think of what he did at the Red Sea, when the deptns stood upright as an heap for a time, while his people went through, and when afterwards with eager joy the floods clasped their hands, and buried the foemen in the deep, never to rise again! Let such names as Og, king of Bashan, Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Sennacherib, the mighty, rise before your recollection, and mark what God lias done! Who has ever dashed upon the bosses of his buckler without being wounded? What iron has he not broken? What spear has he not shivered? Millions came against him, but by the blast of the breath of his nostrils they fell, or they flew, like the chaff before the wind. Let the sea roar, and the fulness thereof, but the rocks stand still, and hurl off the waves in flakes of foam, and so doth God, when his foes are most enraged, and passionate. He that sitteth in the heavens doth laugh; the Lord doth have them in derision; and he breaketh them in pieces without a stroke of his hand, or even the glance of his eye. Think, sinner, think, of him with whom thou contendest. Hast thou an arm like God’s? Canst thou thunder with a voice like his? Canst thou stamp with thy foot, and shake the mountains? Canst thou touch the hills, and make them smoke? Canst thou say to the sea, “Be stirred to thy depths,” or canst thou call to the winds, and bid the steeds of tempest be unloosed? If thou canst not, then think of the battle! Attempt to do no more but hie thee back to thy bed, and there commune with thine heart, and make thy peace with him, against whom thou canst not hope successfully to contend.

Think, again, 0 rebellious man, you have to deal not only with almighty, but with an ever encompassing power. Please to think how much you are in God’s power to-night as it regards your temporal position. You are prospering in business; but the tide of prosperity may be turned in a way unknown to you. God has a thousand ways of stripping those whom he aforetime seemed to clothe most lavishly. Youdoat upon that wife of yours: she may be smitten before your eyes, and waste with consumption or decline, or, more rapidly still, she may be taken from you at 4 stroke, and then where is your joy? Those children, those happy prattlers who make glad you* hearth; could you hold them for a moment, if God should call back their spirits? If he said, “Return ye children of men,” your prayers, the physician, your love — what could all these avail you? You have but to buy the coffin, and the shroud, and the grave, and bury your dead out of your sight. God can sweep away all, if he will, and leave you penniless, childless, a widower, without comfort in the world. I would not contend with him who has so many ways to wound me. I am vulnerable at so many points, and he knows how to pierce me to the quick in them all. I will, therefore, make him my friend rather than my foe. I had better not strive with him who has the key of the postern, and of the front gate, and of the iron gate, and who can storm every position along my bastion whenever he shall please.

Think, again, how much you are personally in his hand! You are strong you say; you will do a day’s work with any man; there are few can lift a load more readily than you can perhaps, and yet one second would be enough to paralyse every limb. Your faculties are clear; you can write with perspicuity, no one can see through an intricate account more rapidly than you can, or find out a secret more speedily; and yet one tick of that clock is time enough to reduce either you or me to a drivelling idiot, or to a raving madman. A mysterious hand falls on that brain, and cools it, so that there is no longer the light of intellect within it, or else an awful breath fans its flame, till it burns like Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace, and the soul walks within it a martyr, doomed to live in the midst of fire. Think of this — not many yards from here there stands in Bedlam an awful proof of what the Providence of God can do in one moment with those who seemed the most sane, the most witty, and the most able of men; and you have not to go far in either direction, before at the gate of some hospital, you will find how soon the body may become very, very low, even to the dust, if God but will it. I would not, 0 sinner” I would not have God other than my friend, while I am thus helplessly in his control. If the moth is in my hand, and I can crush it at my will and pleasure, surely if that moth had wit and sense, it would not provoke me to anger, nor seek to bring down my plagues upon it, but, if it could, it would seek to nestle near my heart, that I, so able to crush it, might use my power for its protection, and might make what wit I have to be its wisdom for its shelter and defence.

It is well also to remember the mighty army of the Lord of Hosts, and that you live amidst the creatures of God who all are ready to do his bidding. As the children of Israel journeyed in the wilderness, they were preserved by God from many foes and innumerable dangers which lurked around, waiting to destroy them. Once God gave the fiery serpents permission to assault the host, and what death and terror immediately filled the camp! They must have seen then, that it was no small thing to be at variance with God, when he had so many allies waiting to do his bidding. How clearly this was shown in the plagues of Egypt, when frogs, locusts, and lice, hail and fire, plague and death, flooded the ill-fated land, when beckoned on by the uplifted finger of God. He can still call to his help the forces of creation. The stars in their courses fought against Sisera, and God can still make all things work for evil as well as good, if he be pleased to command them. “When Herod strove with God, he was smitten of worms and died, and God has still a countless army of servants who do his commandments, hearkening to the voice of his word. You had better wait awhile and think how you can meet them. Are your friends as numerous? Can you muster an army like unto God’s? Is the muster-roll of your hosts like unto his? Consider the heavens, for he marshalleth yon starry multitude and calleth them all by names; because he is great in strength, not one faileth. Be wise and enter into covenant with him through blood, and rush not on to certain defeat by seeking to outrival God.

Remember moreover what is the extent of God’s wisdom, and that his foolishness is greater than your highest knowledge. A good general is worth more than a regiment of men. When Stonewall Jackson was killed, his enemies and friends alike felt that his death was more than the loss of ten thousand men. Our Iron Duke, when alive, was a strength to our army beyond all calculation. Now mark the skill and infinite wisdom of the God who leads the army of the skies. All light and knowledge are his. He is the Ancient of days, and his experience runs back to all eternity. You are but of yesterday and know nothing. His plans are beyond your conception, but he knoweth the way you take. He is far above your thoughts and ever out of your sight; but he can see you through and through, and knoweth you better than you know yourself. Do not show your folly by weighing your wisdom against his in the scales, or by expecting to outshine him so as to triumph over him. Poor moth rushing into the flame, you will be consumed amidst the pity of good men and the dertftion of evil ones.

Yet there is another matter I want you to recoLect, you that are the enemies of God — that you have a conscience. You have not got rid of it yet. You have a thief in that candle of the Lord it is true, but still it is alight. It is not put out; and God has ways of making it to become a terrible plague to you, if you do not accept it as a friend. Conscience is meant to be man’s armour-bearer, beneath whose shield he may fight the battles of the right, but if you make it your enemy, then conscience often places a sword in such a way as to cut and wound you severely. You have a conscience, and that is a very awkward thing for a man to have who is an enemy of God. If I were God’s enemy, I should prefer having no monitor to call my attention to the holy character and righteous law of the Most High; I should be glad to get rid of every particle of moral sense. But you have consciences, and most of you are not yet dead to all feeling of guilt and shame, you cannot, therefore, sin so cheaply as others; and if you do for the present manage to put Mr. Conscience down, yet since he is still in you, the time will oome when you will find his voice grow louder, and there will be a terror in that voice which will make it a terror for you to sleep, and hard for you to go about your daily business with your accustomed regularity. “Those men who serve God most faithfully, yet find that their conscience, when it can accuse them of anything wrong, though it is their best friend, is no very pleasant companion. It is said that David’s heart smote him. I would sooner have anybody smite me than my own heart, for it strikes with so hard a blow, and hits the place where one may most tenderly feel it. And it will be so with you unless you get your “conscience seared with a hot iron.” I am afraid there will come a time when you will not rest in your beds, nor be able anywhere to find peace or satisfaction. I think therefore, if I had a friend of God inside my heart, I would not like to fight with God, so long as ha continued within me. Oh, that you would be at peace with him, “and thereby good shall come unto you.” ’

One other reflection, for I must not keep you thinking on this point long, it is this. Remember you must die, and therefore, it is a pity to be at enmity with God. You may put it off, and say, “I shall not die yet; “but you do not know. How can you tell? It is possible that you may die to-morrow. But suppose that you live for the next twenty or thirty years; why what is that? I am only some thirty years of age, and yet I confess that I never thought time ‘so short as I feel it to be now. When we were children, we thought twelve months a great length of time; when we were twenty, a year seemed to be a very respect able period; but now it flies, and some of my friends here, whose hair is turning grey, will tell you that whether it is fifty, sixty, or seyenty years, it all seems but a mere dream, a snap of the finger, it ia gone so soon. Well, just push through a little interval of time, then you must die. My dear friend, will it not be a very dreadful thing to die when you are “at war with God? If you could fight this out for ever under such circumstances as those in which you now are, I could not then commend the struggle, but since it must come to such an awful pause, since there must be that death-rattle in your throat, since there must be that clammy sweat upon your brow, 0 you will want some better business than to be carrying arms against the God of heaven in your dying moments. They that have God for their friend, yet find death no very pleasant task, but what will you find it, who will have to strike yourselves in every blow that you are aiming against the Most High, whom you have made, and continue to make your enemy.

Here is this, too, to think of, there is a future state, so that when you die, you have to live again. We know very little about that next state, and I do not intend to say much about it to-night. You are launched without your body, an unclothed spirit, into a world which you have never seen. Will you find companions there, or will you be alone? Where will it be? What sort of place will it be like? I should not choose to enter upon the realm of spirits without having God to be my friend; for it were a dreadful thing to get into that mysterious unknown country, having nothing to take with me across its bourne except this, — an inveterate enmity to the King that reigns supreme IDit. If J must cross the border, and go into a land I have never trodden, I would like, at least, to carry a passport with me, or to be able to say, “I am a friend of the King that reigns here;” but to gothere as God’s enemy — why how terrible it must be!

Besides, let me say, you cannot hope to succeed, all experience i& against you; there never was one yet, that either in this state or the next has fought with God, and conquered, and you will not be the first; for they who contend with God all come to this one conclusion: “He comes forth in his strength, and his enemies are given like stubble to the fire, and like wax to the flame: he lifteth up his voice, and they melt away: he looks at them, and that one flash of fire withers them for ever, and out of the bottomless pit of despair they weep and wail the piteous but useless regret, that their harvest is past, and their summer is ended, and that they are not saved; for they have spent their strength against their God, and so have brought themselves where ruin is eternal, and hope can neVer come.” Oh that thou wouldst send an ambassage, and be at peace!

Methinks, I hear some say, “Well, we wish to give up the contest; but what is to be done, so as to be at peace with God?” I ask, Have you got an ambassador to go to God for you? That is the first thing. He cannot look at you. Jesus Christ is the Ambassador between God and man: can you commit your case into his hand? Will you do so? If so, your case will speed well. God cannot deny him any request. He has a right to all he ever asks the Father to give, and the Father is always well pleased in him, and delighteth to grant him whatever he desires. That Saviour is willing to plead your cause. He waiteth to be gracious. I am sent to tell you the good news of his love and mercy; to warn yonof the certain doom which awaits all who turn from Christ; and to bid you and every sin-sick rebel to come at once, just as you are, to the footstool of mercy; and I can pledge the honour of God, (as being Christ’s ambassador for this purpose,) that if you come, he will in no wise cast you out. And the terms of peace are very brief. They are these: give up the traitors; there can be no peace between you and God while you harbour sin. Give them up, and be willing to renounce every sin of every sort and kind, for one harboured traitor will prevent God concluding peace with you.

Sinner, what sayest thou? Is it hard to give up thy sin? Does that condition strike thee as unreasonable? Out with the knife, man, arid cut the throat of every iniquity. Why, there is no sin for which it is worth your while to be damned. A little rioting;’, and chambering, and wantonness — is that worth hell-fire for ever? What, to have thy giddy amusements for an hour or two, is this a due recompense for an eternity of fire unmitigated by a drop of water? I pray thee, be reasonable. Barter not away thy soul for trifles; pawn not eternity for the mere fictions of an instant. God give thee grace, sinner, not to kick at that condition, but at once cast out your enemies and gods, and then lay hold on Christ, on Jesus Christ alone, and let him stand as Ambassador for thee. Thou canst not fight it out. Let peace be made. Oh may it be made to-night, through the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s dear Son.

Then next, confess that you deserve the King’s wrath. Bow that head; put the rope about your neck as though you felt you deserved that the executioner should’ lead you forth. Pray to God for pardon, and cry, “God be merciful to me, a sinner!” and then cling to the skirts of that appointed Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who on yonder bloody tree made expiation for the sin of God’s enemies, that they might thereby become God’s friends. God demands of you a confession of your guilt. He will be honoured by your humbling yourself before him. Your sin has aimed at his glory, and now he will glorify himself by your repentance. It were only just on his part if he spurned you away, and cast you out into the pit which hath no bottom, but he has said that whoso confesseth his sin shall obtain forgiveness. Go, therefore, in the spirit of the publican, smite upon your breast, and say, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” Confess that you deserve hell, but ask for heaven, and you shall not plead in vain. Only honour God’s justice, and appeal to his mercy through the Lord Jesus Christ. This, surely, is not much for God to expect at your hands. If you will not submit, what can you say when God shall crush you? You refuse to bend the knee, and to bow the head; what will you do when God shall trample on you in his fury, and tread you in his hot displeasure? You must, therefore, now in the accepted time, while it is still the day of mercy, seek his face, and with weeping and supplication “take with you words, and turn unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon you; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”

II. And now we turn the subject, so as to look at THE SECOND

CONTEST, IN WHICH I TRUST MANY ARE ANXIOUS TO BE ENGAGED.

Some young spirit that has been touched with a sense of its own condition, and somewhat aroused, may be saying, “I will be God’s enemy no longer: I will be his friend.” Bo’wirig the knee, that heart cries,” Oh

God, reconcile me unto thyself by the death of thy dear Son. I throw down all my weapons; I confess my guilt; I plead for mercy. For Jesus’ sake vouchsafe it to me.” “But,” says that soul, “if I am the friend ot God, I must be the foe of Satan, and from this day I pledge myself to fight for ever with Satan till I get the victory, and am free from sin.” My dear friend, T want you to stop. I do not wish you to make peace with the evil one, but I want you to consider what you are at. There are a few things I would whisper in your ear, and one is, that sin is sweet. The uppermost drops of sin’s cup glitter and sparkle. There is pleasure in sin of a certain sort and for a certain season. It is a poisoned sweet; it is but a temporary delusion, but still the world does promise fair, its gingerbread is gilt, and though it wears nothing but tinsel, and a little gold-leaf now and then, yet it does look very much like gold. Canst thou, canst thou resist sin, when it seems so charming? The next time the cup is brought thee — thou knowest the flavour of it — oh, it is rich — canst thou turn away? Art thou certain that thou wilt be able to dash it from thy lips? Ah, man, thou wilt find it different when the trial-hour comes, to what it is now that thou art sitting in the Tabernacle and resolving, away from the temptation, that thou wilt do the right.

Remember, again, you may be enticed by friends who will be very pressing. You can give up sin just now, but you do not know who may be the tempter at some future time. If she should allure thee, who has tempted so well before! If he — he! should speak! He! the very word has wakened up your recollection; if he should speak as he alone can speak, and look as only he can look, can you then resist, and stand out? That witching voice, that fascinating eye! Oh how many souls have been damned for what men call love! Oh that they had but a little true love of themselves and others, and would not thus pander to the prince of hell. But alas, alas, while the cup itself looks sweet, there is to be added to it the hand that holds it out. It is not so easy to contend with Satan when he employs the service of some one whom you esteem highly, and love with all your heart. Remember the case of Solomon whose wisdom was marvellous, but who was enticed by his wives, and fell a prey into the hands of the evil one. It needs a spirit like the Master’s, to be able to say, “Get thee behind me, Satan,” to the tempter, when he has the appearance of one of your best loved friends. The devil is a crafty being, and if he cannot force the door, he will try and get the key which fits the wards of the lock, and, by the means of our tenderest love and affections, will make a way for himself into our hearts: you will find it no easy task therefore to contend with him.

Then again, remember, man, there is habit. You say you will all of a sudden give up your sins, and fight Satan. Do not tell me that; can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? If so, then he that is accustomed to do evil may learn to do well. If you had never sinned as you have sinned, there were not this difficulty with you; but he that has gone day after day, and year after year, into sin, is not so easily turned from it. As well hope to make Niagara leap up instead of down, as make human nature flow back to virtue instead of goin downward to sin. You do not know yourself. Habit is an iron bon and he that is once enveloped in it may pull and strain, but he will tear away his flesh sooner than break the links of that dread chnin. We have seen men who, convinced of the error of their ways, have sought to turn from them without asking the help of God. For a time they have made some little progress in appearance, but it has only been like the retreating of the waves at the rising of the tide; their evil habits have returned upon them with a rush, and have covered them deeper than before. Read the parable of our Lord concerning the unclean spirit which went out of the man, and roamed through dry places, seeking rest but rinding none, and it said, “I will return to the place from whence I went out.” It came back, and found it swept and garnished, and then took to it seven other evil spirits, more wicked than itself, so the last end of that man was worse than the first. Thus it is with those who enter upon the work of saving themselves, without looking up by faith to God for his needed help. Satan will triumph over you. You are like the fly in the toils of the spider’s web, the more it struggles, the more it will be encompassed. You must cry for help as you are quite unable of yourself to escape from the snares of the wicked one. He has you bound fast, hand and foot, and you will never break his cords, nor be able to cast his bands from you. You have no seven locks of strength like Samson, but you will certainly be overcome.

Again, you think you will give up sin, but ridicule is very unpleasant, and when the finger comes to be pointed at you, and they say, «’ Ah, so you have set up for a saint, I see; “when they put it as they only can put it, in such a sharp, cutting, grating manner; when it is wrapped up so wittily in an epigram that is told all round the shop against you, and when, moreover, there is some foible of yours, some giddy weakness, and they know how to hook on your attempt at saintship to your weakness, and they bandy that all round, and there are fifty laughing faces for yon, can you stand that? Yes, it is a very pretty thing for you to come here on Sundays, and say what you will do, but it is different to do it on Mondays. To be laughed at is not really to a sensible man anything very wonderful, for, methinks, you have only to get used to it, and then you will just as much expect to hear people laugh at you, as to hear birds singing when you walk out of a morning; but at first that is a very sharp trial, that trial of “cruel mockings;” and many who have been going to fight S;itan have drawn back, for they found they could not stand it. When the Jews were rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem after their return from captivity, one of the most severe tests of their zeal and devotion was the laughter of their enemies who came and looked on, and said, “What do these feeble Jews? Even that which they build, if a fox go up, he shall even break down their stone wall.” The words of their foes were more cutting than swords, and keenly did they feel in their spirits the derision of the scoffers. It is as painful now for the sensitive spirit as it was of old, but you must not be daunted. Heaven is worth buying, even though it should cost a life heaped full of stinging words and “malicious sayings from a deriding and taunting world. Did not Christ himself show us how to endure this trial? See his foes gathered around him when he hung dying on the cross. They laugh at him even there: “He saved others, himself he cannot save,” said they as they wagged their heads, and mocked alike his dignity and his woe. “If thou be the Christ, come down from the cross, and we will believe on thee.” These sayings must have been bitterer to his spirit than the wormwood mingled with gall was to his lips. You must follow Christ here also if you would contend, as he did, with Satan. Then count the cost. Can you drink his cup,, and be baptized with his baptism?

And yet further, let me nay to you, you that are for going to heaven so zealously, — gain, gain is a very pretty thing, a very pleasant affair. Who does not like to make money? You know, if you can be religious, and grow rich at the same time, that will just suit some of you. Oh yes, the two going together, that will be admirable; you will kill the two birds with one stone. Mr. By-Ends said, “Now, if a man by being religious can get a good wife who has a considerable sum of money; and it’ by being religious he gets a good shop, and many customers, why,” says he, “then religion is a good thing;” for to get a good wife is a good thing, and to get customers, that is another good thing, and so, he says, “The whole is a good thing put together.” But he that knows Mr. By-Ends, knows that he is an old rogue, notwithstanding that he puts it prettily. I have known him. He is a member of this Church, I am sorry to say; I never went into a Church where he was not a member. I have tried to turn him out, and did once, but there was another one of the family left inside, and however many you may expel there are sure to be more of that breed remaining. But there sometimes comes a pinch with Mr. By-Ends. Now if you should find that shutting up your shop on Sundays should ruin your business, well, what then? Would you stand it? Now there are some of you that try it every now and then when you get spasmodically godly, but it does not pay you, you find; and so you begin once more to open shop on the Lord’s day. Some of you Sunday traders discover, that it gets a little hot and strong for you, when you come to the Tabernacle occasionally, and you shut up for a season, but soon you. say, “Well, people must live.” Yes, and people must die, and people must be damned too, if they try to live by breaking God’s laws. Remember that it will not pay to be religious, some people fancy. We have heard of a man saying, ‘• I cannot afford to keep a conscience, it is too expensive an article for me.” Ah, but keep in mind the saying of the Lord, (i What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” There is such a thinir as being “Penny wise, and pound foolish,” and there is such a thing also as being “worldly wise, and eternally foolish.” Think of this then, for the trial will come to you inp the shape of yellow gold, and it will be hard to keep yourself from the glittering bait which the god of this world will lay beiore you.

I am putting these things to you, so that you may calculate whether you can carry on the war against the devil with all these fearful odds against you. If I were a recruiting serjeant I should not da this. He puts the shilling into the country lad’s hand, and the lad may say fifty things, “Oh never mind,” says the the gallant soldier, “you know, it is all glory, nothing but glory. There, I will just tie these ribbons round your hat. There are some long strips of glory to begin with, and then all your days ifc will be just glory, glory for ever; and you will die a general, and be buried at Westminster Abbey, and they ‘will play the ‘Dead March in Saul,’ and all that kind of thinG:.” Now I cannot thus deceive or try to cheat men to enlist under the banner of the cross. I do not desire to raise objections to it; all I want of you is to count the cost, lest you should be like unto him who began to build without being able to finish. That is the misery of so many. I advise you, if you are about to declare war with Satan, to see whether you are able to carry it out, and win the victory.

“Well,” says one, “it is’hard to be saved.” Nobody ever thought it was not, I hope. What does Peter say? “If the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?” “It is hard to be saved,” you say. Whoever said it was not? But it is not hard to be saved, if a man is willing to be received according to the plan which God has appointed. If Christ undertakes it, then it is done, and my counsel to those of you who are about making war with Satan, is to remember that it is too much for you, and therefore do not attempt it in your own strength. Beware of this. I know Satan will tempt you first of all to believe that you need no Saviour, then if you are not convinced of this but are disquieted because of sin, he suggests that you can save yourself. He speaks of Abana and Pharpai* rivers of Damascus which flow close by your own door. He says, “Wash in these home streams, and be clean. Stay where you are, and help yourself;” but if you listen to the words of the seducer of souls you are lost and undone for ever. Can the man born blind see to operate upon his own scalecovered eyes so as to give himself sight? Can the crippled man run away from his lameness, and outrun the feebleness of his feet? Can the dead man exert himself to make the life-tide flow once more in his veins, and flush his cheek anew with the glow of health? Can he call back his departed spirit from the shades of the unseen world, and make it re-occupy its decaying habitation, and bid the marks of the mighty consumer begone, and leave no trace of Death’s conquest behind, to remind the returning inhabitant that the palace had been occupied by the ruthless spoiler? We answer, no. A mighty finger must touch and open the eyes. An omnipotent arm must lift up the paralysed and impotent man into strength and power; and most evidently, if life is to be secured, the voice of God alone can speak the word which shall make the dead to live. On this point we wish to be clearly understood. You will never of yourself successfully resist sin so as to escape its thraldom; how much less can you remove its guilt? The cancer is in your blood, and you can never get it out. The black deed is done, and it is written, “The soul that sinneth it shall die.” Oh, then at once ask help of him who alone can save you irom the wrath to come.

H -member, poor feeble one, nothing is too hard for God, and therefore ask Almighty strength to come unto your help. It is true you cannot contend with your besetting sins; your passions, your corruptions of whatever sort they may be, are much too strong for you; Old Adam is too mighty for you with your best intentions; but there is a strong one, whose hand, once pierced, is always ready and at the service of every sinner who would have Satan cast out. There is one “mighty to save” who can oome to the rescue, and do for you what you cannot do for yourself. Oh that you had Christ to-night, so that at once you might cry to him, “Jesus, save me; I see the fight is too unequal for me, I cannot drive out my sins. I cannot fight my way to heaven; come and help me, Lord Jesus. I put myself into thy hands; wash me in thy blood, fill me with thy Spirit; save me with thy great salvation, and let me be with thee where thou art at the last.”

“No man can save himself,” says one. Yet the case is very like that of the master who sent his negro servant with a letter. The negro was, like some others, rather lazy, and came back with it. “Why did you not deliver it?” “I could not.” ‘• Could not deliver it?” “No, master.” “Why not?” “A deep river, sir, very deep river, I could not get across.” “A deep river?” said he. “Yes.” “Is not there a ferryman there?” “Do not know, sir; if there was, he was on the other side,” “Did you call across, ‘Boat, ahoy! ‘” “No, sir.” “Why then, you rascal,” said he, “what does it matter; it is no excuse. It is true, you could not get across the river, but then there was one there who could take you, and you never cried to him.” And so it is in your case. You say, “I cannot save myself.” Quite true; but there is one who can, and you have never cried to him, for, mark you, if you cry to him, if your heart says, “Oh, Saviour, come and save me,” and your spirit rests in him, deep as that river of your sin certainly is, he knows how to bear you safely through it, and land you on the other shore. May he do that with each of you. With God all things are possible, though with man it is impossible. May the blessing of the Most High rest upon us this night for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE KEAD BEFORE SERMON — Luke

«h[0p0fitmi

THE LOST SILVER PIECE.

DELIVERED ON LORD’S-DAY MORNING, JANUARY 15TH. 1871. B*

C. H. SPU11GEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

“Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it? And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.” —

Luke xv. 8 — 10.

THIS chapter is full of grace and truth. Its three consecutive parables have been thought to be merely a repetition of the same doctrine under different metaphors, and if that were so, the truth which it teaches is so important that it could not be rehearsed too often in our hearing. Moreover, it is one which we are apt to forget, and it is well to have it again and again impressed upon our minds. The truth here taught is just this — that mercy stretches forth her hand to misery, that grace receives men as sinners, that it deals with demerit, unworthiness, and worthlessness; that those who think themselves righteous are not the objects of divine compassion, but the unrighteous, the guilty, and the undeserving, are the proper subjects for the infinite mercy of God; in a word, that salvation is not of merit but of grace. This truth I say is most important, for it encourages penitents to return to their Father; but it is very apt to be forgotten, for even those who are saved by grace too often fall into the spirit of the elder brother, and speak as if, after all, their salvation depended on the works of the law.

But, my dear friends, the three parables recorded in this chapter are not repetitions; they all declare the same main truth, but each one reveals a different phase of it. The three parables are three sides of a vast pyramid of gospel doctrine, but there is a distinct inscription upon each. Not only in the similitude, but also in the teaching covered by the similitude, there is variety, progress,, enlargement, discrimination. We have only need to read attentively to discover that in this trinity of parables, we have at once unity of essential truth and distinctness of description. Each one of the parables is needful to the other, and when combined they present us with a far more complete exposition of their doctrine than could have been conveyed by any one of them. Note for a moment the first of the three which brings before us a shepherd seeking a lost sheep. To whom

No. 970. 29 does this refer? Who is the shepherd of Israel? Who brings again that which has gone astray? Do we not clearly discern the ever glorious and blessed Chief Shepherd of the sheep, who lays down his life that he may save them? Beyond a question, we- see in the first parable the work of our Lord Jesus Christ. The second parable is most fitly placed where it is. It, I doubt not, represents the work of the Holy Spirit, working, through the church, for the lost but precious souls of men. The church is that woman who sweeps her house to find the lost piece of money, and in her the Spirit works his purposes of love. Now the work of the Holy Spirit follows the work of Christ. As here we first see the shepherd seeking the lost sheep, and then read of the woman seeking the lost piece of money, so the great Shepherd redeems, and then the Holy Spirit restores the soul. You will perceive that each parable is thoroughly understood in its minute details when so interpreted. The shepherd seeks a sheep which has wilfully gone astray, and so far the element of sin is present; the lost piece of money does not bring up that idea, nor was it needful that it should, since the parable does not deal with the pardon of sin as the first does. The sheep, on the other hand, though stupid is not altogether senseless and dead, but the piece of money is altogether unconscious and powerless, and therefore all the fitter emblem of man as the Holy Ghost begins to deal with him, dead in trespasses and sins. The third parable evidently represents the divine Father in his abundant love receiving the lost child who comes back to him. The third parable would be likely to be misunderstood without the first and the second. We have sometimes heard it said — here is the prodigal received as soon as he comes back, no mention being made of a Saviour who seeks and saves him. Is it possible to teach all truths in one single parable? Does not the first one speak of the shepherd seeking the lost sheep? Why need repeat what had been said before? It has also been said that the prodigal returned of his own free will, for there is no hint of the operation of a superior power upon his heart, it seems as if he himself spontaneously says, “I will arise, and go unto my Father.” The answer is, that the Holy Spirit’s work had been clearly described in the second parable, and needed not to be introduced again. If you put the three pictures in a line, they represent the whole compass of salvation, but each one apart gets forth the work in reference to one or other of the divine persons of the blessed Trinity. The shepherd, with much pain and self-sacrifice, seeks the reckless, wandering sheep; the woman diligently searches for the insensible but lost piece of money; the father receives the returning prodigal. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. The three life-sketches are one, and one truth is taught in the whole three, yet each one is distinct from the other, and by itself instructive.

May we be taught of God while we try to discover the mind of the Spirit in this parable, which, as we believe, represents the work of the Holy Spirit in and through the church. The church is evermore represented as a woman, either the chaste bride of Christ, or the shameless courtesan of Babylon; as for good a woman sweeps the house, so for evil a woman takes the leaven and hides it in the meal till all is leavened. Towards Christ a wife and towards men a mother, the church is must fitly set forth as a woman. A woman with a house under her control is the full idea of the text, her husband away and herself in charge of the treasure: just such is the condition of the church since the departure of the Lord Jesus to the Father.

To bring each part of the text under inspection we shall notice man in three conditions — lost, sought, found.

I. First, the parable treats of man, the object of divine mercy, as LOST.

Notice, first, the treasure was lost in the dust. The woman had lost Ker piece of silver, and in order to find it she had to sweep for it, which proves that it had fallen into a dusty place, fallen to the earth, where it might be hidden and concealed amid rubbish and dirt. Every man of Adam born is as a piece of silver lost, fallen, dishonoured, and some are buried amid foulness and dust. If we should drop many pieces of money they would fall into different positions; one of them might fall into actual mire, and be lost there; another might fall upon a carpet, a cloth, or a clean, well-polished floor, and be lost there. If you have lost your money, it is equally lost into whatever place it may have fallen. So all men are alike lost, but they have not all fallen into the like condition of apparent defilement. One man from the surroundings of his childhood and the influences of education, has never indulged in the coarser and more brutalising vices; he has never been a blasphemer, perhaps never openly even a Sabbath -breaker, yet he may be lost for all that. Another, on the other hand, has fallen into great excess of riot; he is familiar with wantonness and chambering, and all manner of evil; he is lost, he is lost with an emphasis: but the more decorous sinner is lost also. There may be some here this morning (and we wish always to apply the truth as we go on), who are lost in the very worst of corruption: I would to God that they would take hope and learn from the parable before us, that the church of God and the Spirit of God are seeking after them, and they may be among the found ones yet. Since, on the other hand, there are many here who have not dropped into such unclean places, I would affectionately remind them that they are nevertheless lost, and they need as much to be sought for by the Spirit of God as if they were among the vilest of the vile. To save the moral needs divine grace as certainly as to save the immoral. If you be lost, my dear hearer, it will be small avail to you that you perished respectably, and were accursed in decent company: if you lack but one thing, yet if the deficiency be fatal, it will be but a poor consolation that you had only one lack. If one leak sent the vessel to the bottom; it was no comfort to the crew that their ship only leaked in one place. One disease may kill a man; he may be sound everywhere else, but it will be a sorry comfort to him to know that he might have lived long had but that one organ been sound. If, dear hearer, thou shouldst have no sin whatever save only an evil heart of unbelief, if all thy external life should be lovely and amiable, yet if that one fatal sin be in thee, thou canst draw small consolation from all else that is good about thee. Thou art lost by nature, and thou must be found by grace, whoever thou mayst be.

In this parable that which was ‘lost was altogether ignorant of its being lost. The silver coin was not a living thing, and therefore had no consciousness of its being lost or sought after. The piece of money lost was quite as content to be on the floor or in the dust, as it was to be in the purse of its owner amongst its like. It knew nothing about its being lost, and could not know. And it is just so with the Binner who is spiritually dead in sin, he is unconscious of his state, nor can we make him understand the danger and terror of his condition. When he feels that he is lost, there is already some work of grace in him. When the sinner knows that he is lost, he is no longer content with his condition, but begins to cry out for mercy, which is evidence that the finding work has already begun. The unconverted sinner will confess that he is lost because he knows the statement to be scriptural, and therefore out of compliment to God’s word he admits it to be true, but he has no idea of what is meant by it, else would he either deny it with proud indignation, or he would bestir himself to pray that he might be restored to the place from which he has fallen, and be numbered with Christ’s precious property. 0 my hearers, this it is that makes the Spirit of God so needful in all our preachings, and every other soul-saving exercise, because we have to deal with insensible souls. The man who puts the fire-escape against the window of a burning house, may readily enough rescue those who are aware of their danger, and who rush to the front and help him, or at least are submissive to him in his work of delivering them; but if a man were insane, if he played with the flames, if he were idiotic and thought that some grand illumination were going on, and knew nothing of the danger but was only “glamoured by the glare,” then would it be hard work for the rescuer. Even thus it is with sinners. They know not, though they profess to know, that sin is hell, that to be an alien from God is to be “condemned already, to live in sin is to be dead while you live. The insensibility of the piece of money fairly pictures the utter indifference of souls unquickened by divine grace.

The silver piece was lost but not forgotten. The woman knew that she had ten pieces of silver originally; she counted them over carefully, for they were all her little store, and she found only nine, but she well remembered that one more was hers and ought to be in her hand. This is our hope for the Lord’s lost ones, they are lost but not forgotten, the heart of the Saviour remembers them, and prays for them. 0 soul, I trust you are one whom Jesus calls his own, if so he remembers the pangs which he endured in redeeming you, and he recollects the Father’s love which was reflected on you from old eternity, when the Father gave you into the hands of his beloved Son. You are not forgotten of the Holy Spirit who seeks you for the Saviour. This is the minister’s hope, that there is a people whom the Lord remembers and whom he never will forget, though they forget him Strangers to him, far-off, ignorant, callous, careless, dead, yet the everlasting heart in heaven throbs towards them with love; and the mind of the Spirit, working on earth, is directed to them. These, who were numbered and reckoned up of old are still in the inventory of the divine memory; and though lost they are earnestly remembered still. In some sense this is true of every sinner here. You are lost, but that you are remembered is evident, for I am sent to-day to preach the gospel of Jesus to you. God has thoughts of love concerning you, and bids you turn unto him and live. Have respect, I pray you, to the word of his salvation.

Next, the piece of silver was lost but still claimed. Observe that the woman called the money, “my piece which was lost.” When she lost its possession she did not lose her right to it; it did not become somebody else’s when it slipped out of her hand and fell upon the floor. Those for whom Christ hath died, whom he hath peculiarly redeemed, are not Satan’s even when they are dead in sin. They may come under the devil’s usurped dominion, but the monster shall be chased from his throne. Christ has received them of old of the Father, and he has bought them with his precious blood, and he will have them; Le will chase away the intruder and claim his own. Thus saith the Lord, “Your covenant with death is disannulled, and your agreement with hell shall not stand.” Ye have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money. Jesus shall have his own, and none shall pluck them from his hold; he will defend his claim against all coiners.

Further, observe that the lost piece of money was not only remembered and claimed, but it was also valued. In these three parables the value of the lost article steadily rises. This is not very clear at first sight, because it may be said that a sheep i? of more value than a piece of money; but notice that the shepherd only lost one sheep out of a hundred,“but the woman lost one piece out often, and the father one son out of two. Now, it is not the value of the thing in itself which is here set forth, for the soul of a man, as absolutely valued in comparison with the infinite God, is of small esteem; but because of his love it is of great value to him. The one piece of money to the woman was a tenth part of all she had, and it was very valuable in her esteem. To the Lord of love a lost soul is very precious: it is not because of its intrinsic value, but it has a relative value which God sets at a high rate. The Holy Spirit values souls, and therefore the church prizes them too. The church sometimes says to herself,” “We have but few conversions, few members; many are called, but few chosen.” She counts over her few converts, her few members, and one soul is to her all the more precious because of the few there are who in these times are in the treasury of Christ, stamped with the image of the great King, and made of the precious genuine silver of God’~j own grace. 0 dear friend, you think yourself of small value, you ho are conscious that you have sinned, but the church does not think you of small value, and the Holy Spirit does not despise you. He sets a high price upon you, and so do his people. We value your souls, we only wish we knew how to save them; we would spare no expense or pains if we might but be the means of finding you, and bringing you once more into the great Owner’s hand.

The piece of money was lost, but it was not lost hopelessly. The woman had hopes of recovering it, and therefore she did not despair, but set to work at once. It is a dreadful thing to think of those souls which are lost hopelessly. Their state reminds me of a paragraph I have cut from this week’s newspaper: — “The fishing smack Veto, of Grimsby, S. Cousins, master, arrived in port from the Dogger Bank on Saturday night. The master reports that on the previous VVednesday, when about two hundred miles from Spurn, he sighted to the lee-’ ward what at first appeared to be a small schooner in distress, but on bearing down to her found her to be a full- sized lifeboat, upwards a* twenty feet long, and full of water up to her corks. There was no name on the boat, which had evidently belonged to some large ship or steamer. It was painted white both inside and out, with a brown streak round the rim. When alongside, on closer examination, three dead sailors were perceived lying aft, huddled together, and a fourth athwart in the bow, with his head hanging over the rowlocks. They seemed from their dress and general appearance to be foreigners, but the bodies had been frightfully ’ washed about,’ and were in a state of decomposition, and had evidently been dead some weeks. The water-logged waif drifted on with its ghastly cargo, and the horrible sight so shocked the crew of the Veto that afterwards they were almost too unnerved to attend to their trawling, and the smack, in consequence, returned to port with a comparatively small catch, and sooner than expected.” Do you wonder at the men sickening in the presence of this mystery of the sea? I shudder as I think I see that Charon-like boat floating on and on; mercy need not follow it, she can confer no boon; love need not seek it, no deed of hers can save. My soul sees, as in a vision, souls hopelessly lost, drifting on the waves of eternity, beyond all hope or help. Alas! Alas! Millions of our race are now in that condition. Upon them has passed the second death, and powerless are we all to save them. Towards them even the gospel has no aspect of hope. Our joy is that we have to deal to-day with lost souls who are not yet hopelessly lost. They are dead in sin, but there is a quickening power which can make them live. 0 mariner of the sea of life, fisher of men upon this stormy sea, those castaways whom you meet with are accessible to your efforts of compassion, they can be rescued from the pitiless deeps; your mission is not a hopeless one. I rejoice over the ungodly man here to-day that he is not in torment, not in hell, he is not among those whose worm dieth not and whose fire is not quenched. g I congratulate the Christian church too, that her piece of money has not fallen where she cannot find it. I rejoice that the fallen around us are not past hope; yea, though they dwell in the worst dens of London, though they be thieves and harlots, they are not beyond the reach of mercy. Up, 0 church of God, while possibilities of mercy remain! Gird up your loins, ye soul-winners, and resolve by the grace of God that every hour of hope shall be well employed by you.

One other point is worthy of notice. The piece of silver was lost, but it was lost in the house, and the woman knew it to be so. If she had lost it in the streets, the probabilities are she would not have looked for it again, for other hands might have closed over it. If she had lost it in a river, or dropped it in the sea, she might very fairly have concluded that it was gone for ever, but evidently she was sure that she had lost it in the house. Is it not a consolation to know that thoe here, who are lost, are still in the house? They are still under the means of grace, within the sphere of the church’s operations, within the habitation of which she is the mistress, and where the Holy Spirit works. What thankfulness there ought to be in your minds that you are not lost as heathens, nor lost amid Romish or Mohammedan superstition, but lost where the gospel is faithfully and plainly preached to you; where you are lovingly told, that whosoever believeth in Christ

Jesus is not condemned. Lost, but lost where the church’s business ifc to look after you, where it is the Spirit’s work to seek and to find you.

This is the condition of the lost soul, depicted as a lost piece of silver

II. Secondly, we shall notice the soul under another condition, we shall view it as SOUGHT.

By whom was the piece of silver sought? It wah zouytii oij us oivn&i personally. Notice, she who lost the money lit a candle and swept the house, and sought diligently till she found it. So, brethren, I have said that the woman represents the Holy Spirit, or rather the church in which the Holy Spirit dwells. Now, there will never be a soul found till the Holy Spirit seeks after it. He is the great soul finder. The heart will continue in the dark until he cornes with his illuminating power. He is the owner, he possesses it, and he alone can effectually seek after it. The God to whom the soul belongs must seek ‘the soul. But he does it by his church, for souls belong to the church too; they are sons and daughters of the chosen mother, they are her citizens and treasures. For this reason the church must personally seek after souls. She cannot delegate her work to anybody. The woman did not pay a servant to sweep the house, but she swept it herself. Her eyes were much better than a servant’s eyes, for the* servant’s eyes would only look after somebody else’s money, and perhaps would not see it; but thepmistress would look after her own money, and she would be certain to light upon it if it were anywhere within sight. When the church of God solemnly feels, “It is our work to look after sinners, we must nofc delegate it even to the minister, or to the City-missionary, or the Bible-woman, but the church as a church must look after the souls of sinners,” then I believe souls will be found and saved. When the church recognises that these lost souls belong to her, she will be likely to find them. It will be a happy day when every church of God is actively at work for the salvation of sinners. It has been the curse of Christendom that she has ventured to delegate her sacred duties to men called priests, or that she has set apart certain persons to be called the religious, who are to do works of mercy and charity and of evangelisation. We are, every one of us who are Christ’s, bound to do our own share; nay, we should deem it a privilege of which we will not be deprived, personally to serve God, personally to sweep the house and search after the lost spiritual treasures. The church herself, in the power of the indwelling Spirit of God, must seek lost souls.

Note that this seeking became a matter of chief concern with the woman. I do not know what other business she had to do, but I do know that she put it all by to find the piece of money. There was the corn to be ground for the morning meal, perhaps that was done, at any rate, if not so, she left it unprepared. There was a garment to be mended, or water to be drawn, or the fire to be kindled, or the friends and neighbours to be conversed with — never mind, the mistress forgets everything else, she has lost her piece of money, and she must find it at once. So with the church of God, her chief concern should be to seek the perishing sons of men. To bring gouls to know Jesus, and to be saved in him with a great salvation should be the church’s great longing and concern. She has other things to do. She has her own edification to consider, she has other matters to be attended to in theii place, but this first, this evermore and always first. The woman evidently said, “The money is lost, I must find that first.” The loss of her piece of silver was so serious a matter that if she sat down to her mending, her hands would miss their nimbleness, or if any other household work demanded her attention, it would be an irksome task to her, for she was thinking of that piece of coin. If her friend came and talked with her, she would say to herself, “I wish she were gone, for I want to be looking after my lost money.” I wish the church of God had such an engrossing love for poor sinners that she would feel everything to be an impertinence which hindered her from soul-saving. We have every now and then, as a church, a little to do with politics, and a little to do with finance, for we are still in the world, but I love to see in all churches everything kept in the background, compared with soulfiaving work. This must be first and foremost. Educate the people — yes, certainly; we take an interest in everything which will do good to our fellow citizens, for we are men as well as Christians; but first and foremost our business is to win souls, to bring men to Jesus, to hunt up those who bear heaven’s image, though lost and fallen. This is what we must be devoted to, this is the main and chief concern of believers, the very reason for the existence of a church; if she regard it not, she forgets her highest end.

Now note, that the woman having thus set her heart to find her money, she used the most fit and proper means to accomplish her end. First, she lit a candle. So doth the Holy Spirit in the church. In Eastern dwellings it would be necessary, if you lost a piece of money and wanted to find it, to light a candle at anytime; for in our Saviour’s day glass was not used, and the windows of houses were only little slits in the side of the wall, and the rooms were very dark. Almost all the Oriental houses are very dark to this day, and if anything be dropped as small as a piece of silver, it must be looked for with a candle even at high noon. Now, the sphere in which the church moves here on earth is a dim twilight of mental ignorance, and moral darkness, and in order to find a lost %soul, light must be brought to bear upon it. The Holy Spirit uses the light of the gospel; he convinces men of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment to come. The woman lit a candle, and even thus the Holy Spirit lights up some chosen man whom he makes to be a light in the world. He calls to himself whomsoever he wills, and makes him a lamp to shine upon the people. Such a man will have to be consumed in his calling, like a candle he will be burnt up in light-giving. Earnest zeal, and laborious self-sacrifice, will eat him up. So may this church, and every church of God, be continually using up her anointed men and women, who shall be as lights in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, to find out lost souls.

But she was not content with her candle, she fetched her broom, she swept the house. If she could not find the silver as things were in the house, she brought the broom to bear upon the accumulated dust. Oh, how a Christian church, when it is moved by the Holy Spirit, cleanses herself and purges all her work! “Perhaps,” saith she, u some of our members are inconsistent, and so men are hardened in sin; these offenders must be put away. The tone of religion is low — that may be hindering the conversion of souls, it must be raised. Perhaps our statements of truth, and our ways of proclaiming it, are not the most likely to command attention, we must amend them; we must use the best possible methods, we must in fact sweep the whole house.” I delight to see an earnest house-sweeping by confession of sin at a prayer meeting, or by a searching discourse, a house-sweeping when every one is earnest to reform himself, and to get nearer to God himself by a revival of his own personal piety. This is one of the means by which the church is enabled to find the hidden ones. Besides this, all the neighbourhood round the church (for the house is the sphere in which the church moves), must be ransacked, stirred, turned over, in a word “swept.” A church that is really in earnest after souls will endeavour to penetrate the gloom of poverty and stir the heaps of profligacy She will hunt high and hunt low if by any means she may rescue from; destruction the precious thing upon which her heart is set.

Carefully note that this seeking after the lost piece of silver with fitting instruments, the broom and the candle, was attended with no small stir. She swept the house — there was dust for her eyes; if any neighbours were in the house there was dust for them. You cannot sweep a house without causing some confusion and temporary discomfort. We sometimes hear persons complain of certain Christians for making too much ado about religion. The complaint shows that something is beingr done, and in all probability some success being achieved. Those people who have no interest in the lost silver are annoyed at the dust; it is getting down their throats, and they cough at it; never mind, good woman sweep again, and make them grumble more. Another will say, “I do not approve of religious excitement, I am for quiet and orderly modesof procedure.” I dare say that this good woman’s neighbour, when she came in to make a call, exclaimed in disgust, “Why, mistress, there is not a chair to sit down upon in comfort, and you are so taken up about this lost money that you scarce give me an answer. Why, you are wasting candle at a great rate, and seem quite in a fever.” “Well,” the good woman would answer, “but I must find my piece of silver, and in order to seek it out I can bear a little dust myself, and so must you if you wish to stop here while I am searching.” An earnest church will be sure to experience a degree of excitement when it is soul-hunting, and very cautious, very fastidious, very critical people will find fault. Never mind them, my brethren, sweep on and let them talk on. Never mind making a dust if you find the money. If souls be saved irregularities and singularities are as the small dust of the balance. If men be brought to Jesus, care nothing what cavillers say. Sweep on, sweep on, even though men exclaim, “They that turn the world upside down are come hither also.” Though confusion and stir, and even persecucution be the present result, yet if the finding of an immortal soul be the ultimate effect, you will be well repaid for it.

It is to be remarked, also, that in the seeking of this piece of silver the coin was sought in a most engrossing manner. For a time nothing was thought of but the lost silver. Here is a candle: the good woman does not read by the light of it, nor mend her garments; no, but the candle-light is all spent on that piece of money. All its light is consecrated to the search. Here is a broom: there is other work for the broom to do, but for the present it sweeps for the silver and for nothing else. Here are two bright eyes in the good woman’s head: ay, but they look for nothing but the lost money; she does not care what else may be in the house or out of it — her money she cares for, and that she must find; and here she is with candle, broom, strength, eyesight, faculties of mind, and limbs of body, all employed in searching for the lost treasure. It is just so when the Holy Ghost works in a church, the preacher, like a candle, yields his light, but it is all with the view of finding out the sinner and letting him see his lost estate. Whether it be the broom of the law or the light of the gospel, all is meant for the sinner. All the Holy Spirit’s wisdom is engaged to find the sinner, and all the living church’s talent and substance and power are put forth if by any means the sinner may be saved. It is a fair picture, may I see it daily. How earnestly souls are sought for when the Spirit of God is truly in his church!

One other thought only. This woman sought for Jwr piece of silver continuously — “till she found it.” May you and I, as parts of the church of God, look after wandering souls till we find them. We say they discourage us. No doubt that piece of silver did discourage the woman who sought it. We complain that men do not appear inclined to religion. Did the piece of money lend the housewife any help? Was it any assistance to her? She did the seeking, she did it all. And the Holy Ghost through you, my brother, seeks the salvation of the sinner, not expecting the sinner to help him, for the sinner is averse to being found. What, were you repulsed the other day by one whose spiritual good you longed for? Go again! Where your invitations laughed at? Invite again! Did you become the subject of ridicule through your earnest entreaties? Entreat again! Those are not always the least likely to be saved who at first repel our efforts. A harsh reception is sometimes only an intimation that the heart recognises the power of the truth, though it does not desire at present to yield to it. Persevere, brother, till you find the soul you seek. You who spend so much effort in your Sunday-school class, use still your candle, enlighten the child’s mind still, sweep the house till you find what you seek; never give up the child till it is brought to Christ. You, in your senior class, dealing with that young man or young woman, cease not from your private prayers and from your personal admonitions, till that heart belongs to Jesus. You who can preach in the streets, or visit the lodging-houses, or go from door to door with tracts, I charge you all, for you can all do something, never give up the pursuit of sinners until they are safely lodged in Jesus’ hands. We must have them saved! With all the intense perseverance of the woman who turned everything upside down, and counted all things but loss that she might but find her treasure, so may we also, the Spirit of God working in us, upset everything of rule and conventionality, and form and difficulty, if we may but by any means save some, and bring out of the dust those who bear the King’s image, and are dear to the King’s heart.

III. Time has fled, alas! too swiftly, and so I must close with the third point, which is the piece of silver FOUND.

Found! In the first place, this was the woman’s ultimatum, and nothing short of it. She never stopped until the coin was found. So it is the Holy Spirit’s design, not that the sinner should be brought into a hopeful state, but that he should be actually saved: and this is the church’s great concern, not that people be made hearers, not that they be made orthodox professors, but that they be really changed and renewed, regenerated and born again.

The woman herself found the piece of money. It did not turn up by accident, nor did some neighbour step in and find it. The Spirit of God himself finds sinners, and the church of God herself as a rule is the instrument of their recovery. Dear brethren, a few years ago there was a kind of slur cast upon the visible church, by many enthusiastic but mistaken persons, who dreamed that the time was come for doing away with organised effort, for irregular agencies outside of the visible church were to do all the work. Certain remarkable men sprang up whose ferocious censures almost amounted to attacks upon the recognised churches. Their efforts were apart from the regular ministry, and in some cases ostentatiously in opposition to it. It was as much their aim to pull down the existing church as to bring in converts. I ask any man who has fairly watched these efforts, what they have come to? I never condemned them, nor will I; but I do venture to say to-day in the light of their history, that they have not superseded regular church work and never will. The masses were to be aroused, but where are the boasted results? What has become of many of these much-vaunted works? Those who have worked in connection with a church of God have achieved permanent usefulness; those who acted as separatist agencies, though they blazed for awhile before the public eye and filled the corners of the newspapers with spiritual puffery, are now either altogether or almost -extinct. Where are the victories which were to be won by these freeshooters? Echo answers, Where? We have to fall back on the old -disciplined troops. God means to bless the church still, and it ie through the church thut he will continue to send a benediction upon the sons of men. I am glad to hear of anybody preaching the gospel; if Christ is preached I therein do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice. 1 remember the Master’s words, “Forbid them not! He that is not against us is for us.” Still the mass of conversions will come through the church, and by her regular organised efforts. The woman who lights the candle and sweeps the house, to whom the silver belongs, will herself find it.

Now notice when she had found it what she did, she rejoiced. The greater her trouble in searching, the higher her joy in finding. What joy there is in the church of God when sinners are converted! We have our high holidays, we have our mirthful days downstairs in the lecture hall, when we hear of souls turned from the paths of the destroyer; and in the vestries behind, your pastors and elders often experience such joy as only heaven can equal, when we have heard the stories of souls emancipated from the slavery of sin, and led into the perfect liberty which Jesus gives. The church rejoices.

Next, she calls her friends and neighbours to share her joy. I am afraid we do not treat our friends and neighbours with quite enough respect, or remember to invite them to our joys. Who are they? I think the angels are here meant; not only the angels in heaven, but those who are watching here below. Note well, that when the shepherd took home the sheep, it is written, “There shall be joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth;” but it does not mention heaven here, nor speak of the future, but it is written, “There is joy in the presence of the angels of God.” Now, the church is on earth, and the Holy Spirit is on earth, at work; when there is a soul saved, the angels down below, who keep watch and ward around the faithful, and so are our friends and neighbours, rejoice with us. Know ye not that angels are present in our assemblies? for this reason the apostle tells us that the woman hath her head covered in the assembly. He saith, “Because of th*> angels, for they love order and decorum.” The angels are wherever the saints are, beholding our orders and rejoicing in our joy. When we see conversions we may bid them rejoice too, and they will praise God with us. I do not suppose the rejoicing ends there; for as angels are always ascending and descending upon the Son of Man, they soon convey the tidings to the hosts above, and heaven rejoices over one repenting sinner.

The joy is a present joy; it is a joy in the house, in the church in her own sphere; it is the joy of her neighbours who are round about her here below. All other joy seems swallowed up in this: as every other occupation was suspended to find the lost silver, so every other joy is hushed when the precious thing is found. The church of God has a thousand joys — the joy of her saints ascending to the skies, the joy of her saints ripening for glory, the joy of such as contend with sin and overcome it, and grow in grace and receive the promise; but the chief joy in the church, which swallows all others, as Aaron’s rod swallowed up the other rods, is the joy over the lost soul which, after much sweeping and searching, is found at last.

The practical lesson to the unconverted is just this. Dear friend, see what value is set upon you. You think that nobody cares for you — why, heaven and earth care for you! You say, “I am as nothing, a cast away, and I am utterly worthless.” No, you are not worthless to the blessed Spirit, nor worthless to the church of God — she longs for you.

See, again, how false thai suspicion of yours is that you will not be welcome if you come to Christ. Welcome! welcome! why, the church issearching for you; the Spirit of God is searching for you. Do not talk of welcome, you will be a great deal more than welcome. Oh, how glad will Christ be, and the Spirit be, and the church be, to receive you t Ah! but you complain that you have done nothing to make you fit for nercy. Talk not so, what had the lost piece of money done? What could it do? It was lost and helpless. They who sought it did all; he who seeks you will do all for you. 0 poor soul, since Christ now bids thee come, come! If his Spirit draws thee, yield I Since the protn?se now speaks, “Come now, and let us reason together: though you* sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like c.imson, they shall be as wool,” accept the promise. Believe in Jesus. God bless you and save you, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

PORTIONS OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON — Psalm cxxxvu
and Luke xv.

fjutyit

NUMBER ONE THOUSAND; OR,” BREAD ENOUGH AND

TO SPARE.”

DELIVERED ON LORD’S-DAY MORNING, JULY 16Tii, 1871, BY
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

“And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father’* have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!” — Luke xv. 17.

“HE came to himself.” The word may be applied to one waking out of a deep swoon. He had been unconscious of his true condition, and he had lost all power to deliver himself from it; but now he was coming round again, returning to consciousness and action. The voice which shall awaken the dead aroused him; the visions of his sinful trance all disappeared; his foul but fascinating dreams were gone; he came to himself. Or the word may be applied to one recovering from insanity. The prodigal son had played the madman, for sin is madness of the worst kind. He had been demented, he had put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter, darkness for light and light for darkness; he had injured himself, and had done for his soul what those possessed of devils in our Saviour’s time did for their bodies, when they wounded themselves with stones, and cut themselves with knives. The insane man does not know himself to be insane, but as soon as he comes to himself he painfully perceives the state from which he is escaping. Returning then to true reason and sound judgment, the prodigal came to himself. Another illustration of the word may be found in the old world fables of enchantment: when a man was disenthralled from the magician’s spell he “came to himself,” Classic story has its legend of Circe, the enchantress, who transformed men into swine. Surely this young man in our parable had been degraded in the same manner. He had lowered his manhood to the level of the brutes. It should be the property of man to have love to his kindred, to ha?e respect for right, to have some care for his own interest; this young man had lost all these proper attributes of humanity, and so had become as the beast that perisheth. But as the poet sings of Ulysses, that he compelled the enchantress to restore his companions to their original form, so here we see the prodigal returning to manhood, looking away from his sensual pleasures, and commencing a course of conduct more consistent with his birth and parentage. There are men No. 1,000. 30 here to-day perhaps who are still in this swoon; 0 God of heaven, arouse them! Some here who are morally insane; the Lord recovel them, the divine Physician put his cooling hand upon their fevered brow, and say to them: “I will; be thou made whole.” Perhaps there are others here who have allowed their animal nature to reign supreme; may he who destroys the works of the devil deliver them from the power of Satan, and give them power to become the sons of God. He shall have all the glory!

It appears that when the prodigal came to himself he was shut up to two thoughts. Two facts were clear to him, that there was plenty in his father’s house, and that he himself was famishing. May the twto kindred spiritual facts have absolute power over all your hearts, if you are yet unsaved; for they were most certainly all-important and pressing truths. These are no fancies of one in a dream; no ravings of & maniac; .no imaginations of one under fascination: it is most true that there is plenty of all good things in the Father’s house, and that the sinner needs them. No where else can grace be found or pardon gained; but with God there is plenitude of mercy; let none venture to dispute this glorious truth. Equally true is it that the sinner without ?God is perishing. He is perishing now; he will perish everlastingly. All that is worth having in his existence will be utterly destroyed, and he himself shall only remain as a desolation; the owl and the bittern of misery and anguish shall haunt the ruins of his nature for ever and for ever. If we could shut up unconverted men to those two thoughts, what hopeful congregations we should have. Alas! they forget that there is mercjr only with God, and fancy that it is to be found some where else; and they try to slip away from the humbling fact of their own lost estate, and imagine that perhaps there may be some back door of escape; that, after all, they are not so bad as the Scripture declares, or that perchance it shall be right with them at the last, however wrong it may be with them now. Alas! my brethren, what shall we do with those who wilfully shut their eyes to truihs of which the evidence is overwhelming, and the importance overpowering? I earnestly entreat those of you who know how to Approach the throne of God in faith, to breathe the prayer that he would now bring into captivity the uncon verted heart, and put these two strong fetters upon every unregenerate fioul; there is abundant grace with God, there is utter destitution with themselves. Bound with such fetters, and led into the presence of Jesus, the captive would soon receive the liberty of the children of God.

I intend only to dwell this morning, or mainly, upon the first thought, the master thought, as it seems to me, which was in the prodigal’s mind — that which really constrained him to say, “I will arise and go to ray father.” It was not, I think, the home-bringing thought that he was perishing with hunger, but the impulse towards his father found its mainspring in the consideration, “How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare!” The plenty, the abundance, the superabundance of the father’s house, was that which attracted him to return home; and many, many a soul has been led o seek God when it has fully believed that there was abundant mercy with him. My desire this morning shall be to put plainly before every sinner here the exceeding abundance of the grace of God

NUMBER ONE THOUSAND; OR, “JJREAD ENOUGH AND TO SPARE.” 387

in Christ Jesus, hoping thnt the Lord will find out those who are hit sons, and that they may catch at these words, and as they hear of the abundance of the bread in the Father’s house, may say,” I will arise and go to my Father.’*

I. First, then, let us consider for a short time TUB MORE THAN

ABUNDANCE OF ALL GOOD THINGS IN THE FATHER’S HOUSE. What dost

:thou need this morning, awakened sinner? Of all that thou needest, there is with God an all-sufficient, a super-abounding supply; “bread enough and to spare.” Let us prove this to thee. First, consider the Father himself, and whosoever shall rightly consider the Father, will at once perceive that there can be no stint to mercy, no bound to the possibilities of grace. What is the nature and character of the Supreme? “Is he harsh or loving?” saith one. The Scripture answers the question, not by telling us that God is loving, but by assuring us that God is love. God himself is love; it is his very essence. It is not that love is in God, but that God himself is love. Can there be a more concise and more positive way of saying that the love of God is infinite? You cannot measure God himself; your conceptions cannot grasp the grandeur of his attributes, neither can you tell the dimensions of his love, nor conceive the fulness of it. Only this know, that high as the heavens are above the earth, so are his ways higher than your ways, and his thoughts than your thoughts. His mercy endureth for ever. He pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage. He retaineth not his anger for ever, because he delighteth in mercy. “Thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive: and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.” “Thy mercy is great above the heavens.” “The Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.”

If divine love alone should not seem sufficient for your salvation, remember that with the Father to whom the sinner returns, there is as much of wisdom as there is of grace. Is thy case a very difficult one? He that made thee can heal thee. Are thy diseases strange and complex? He that fashioned the ear, can he not remove its deafness? He that made the eye, can he not enlighten it if it be blind? No mischief can have happened to thee, but what he who is thy God can recover thee from it. Matchless wisdom cannot fail to meet the intricacies of thy case.

Neither can there be any failure of power with the Father. Dost thou not know that he who made the earth, and stretched out the heavens like a tent to dwell in, hath no bound to his strength, nor limit to his might? If thou needest omnipotence to lift thee up from the slough into which thou hast fallen, omnipotence is ready to deliver thee, if thou cry to the strong Tor strength. Though thou shouldest need all the force with which the Creator made the worlds, and all the strength with which he bears up the pillars of the universe, all that strength and force should be laid out for thy good, if thou wouldst believingly seek mercy at the hand of God in Christ Jesus. None of his power shall be against thee, none of his wisdom shall plan thy overthrow; but love shall reign in all, and every attribute of God ehall become subservient to thy salvation. Oh, when I think of sin I cannot understand how a sinner can be saved; but when I think of God, and look into his -heart, I understand how readily he can forgive. “Look into his heart,” saith one; “how can we do that?” Hath he not laid bare hii heart to you? Do you enquire where he has done this? I answer, yonder, upon Calvary’s cross. What was in the very centre of the divine heart? What, but the person of the Well-beloved, his only begotten Son? And he hath taken his only begotten and nailed him to the cross, because, if I may venture so to speak, he loved sinners better than his Son. He spared not his Son, but he spares the sinner; he poured out his wrath upon his Son and made him the substitute for sinners, that he might lavish love upon the guilty who deserved his anger. 0 soul, if thou art lost, it is not from any want of grace, or wisdom, or power in the Father; if thou perish, it is not because God is hard to move or unable to save. If thou be a castaway, it is not because the Eternal refused to hear thy cries for pardon or rejected thy faith in him. On thine own head be thy blood, if thy soul be lost. If thou starve, thou starvest because thou wilt starve; for in the Father’s house there is “bread enough and to spare.”

But, now, consider a second matter which may set this more clearly before us. Think of the Son of God, who is indeed the true bread of life for sinners. Sinner, I return to my personal address. Thou needest a Saviour; and thou mayst well be encouraged when thon seest that a Saviour is provided — provided by God, since it is certain he would not make a mistake in the provision. But consider who the Saviour is. He is himself God. Jesus who came from heaven for our redemption was not an angel, else might we tremble to trust the weight of our sin upon him. He was not mere man, or he could but have suffered as a substitute for one, if indeed for one; but he was very God of very God, in the beginning with the Father. And does such a one come to redeem? Is there room to doubt as to his ability, if that be the fact? I do confess this day, that if my sins were ten thousand times heavier than they are, yea, and if I had all the sins of this crowd in addition piled upon me, I could trust Jesus with them all at this moment now that I know him to be the Christ of God. He is the mighty God, and by his pierced hand the burden of our sins is easily removed; he blotteth out our sins, he casts them into the depths of the sea.

But think of what Jesus the Son of God has done. He who was God, and thus blessed for ever, left the throne and royalties of heaven, and stooped to yonder manger. There he lies; his mother wraps him in swaddling clothes, he hangs upon her breast; the Infinite is clothed as an infant, the Invisible is made manifest in flesh, the Almighty is linked with weakness, for our sakes. Oh, matchless stoop of condescension! If the Redeemer God doe» this in order to save us, shall it be rhought a thing impossible for him to save the vilest of the vile? Can anything be too hard for him who comes from heaven to earth to redeem?

Pause not because of astonishment, but press onward. Do you see him who was Grod over all, blessed for ever, living more than thirty years in the midst of the sons of men, bearing the infirmities of manhood, taking upon himself our sicknesses, and sharing our sorrows: his feet weary with treading the acres of Palestine; his body faint oftentimes with hunger and thirst, and labour; his knees knit to the earth with midnight praye”; his eyes red with weeping (for ofttimes Jesus wept), tempted in all points like as we are? Matchless spectacle! An incarnate God dwells among sinners, and endures their contradiction! What glory flashed forth ever and anon from the midst of his lowliness! a glory which should render faith in him inevitable. Thou who didst walk the sea: thou who didst raise the dead, it is not rational to doubt thy power to forgive sins! Didst thou not thyself put it so when thou badest the man take up his bed and walk? “Whether is easier, to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Rise up and walk?” Assuredly he is able to save to the uttermost them that come unto God by him: he was able even here on earth in weakness to forgive sins, much more now that he is seated in his glory. He is exalted on high to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and remission of sins.

But, ah! the master proof that in Christ Jesus there is “bread enough lind to spare,” is the cross. Will you follow me a moment, will you follow him, rather, to Gethsemane? Can you see the bloody sweat as it falls upon the ground in his agony? Can you think of his scourging before Herod and Pilate? Can you trace him along the Via Dolorosa of Jerusalem? Will your tender hearts endure to see him nailed to the tree, and lifted up to bleed and die? This is but the shell; as for the inward kernel of his sufferings no language can describe it, neither can conception peer into it. The everlasting God laid sin on Christ, and where the sin was laid there fell the wrath. “It pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief.” Now he that died upon the cross was God’s only begotten Son. Can you conceive a limit to the merit of such a Saviour’s death? I know there are some who think it necessary to their system of theology to limit the merit of the blood of Jesus: if my system of theology needed such a limitation, I would cast it to the winds. I cannot, dare not, allow the thought to find a lodging in my mind; it seems so near akin to blasphemy. In Christ’s finished work I see an ocean of merit; my plummet finds no bottom, my eye discovers no shore. There must be sufficient efficacy in the blood of Christ, if God had so willed it, to have saved not only all this world, but ten thousand worlds, had they transgressed the Maker’s law. Once admit infinity into the matter, and limit is out of the question. Having a divine person for an offering, it is not consistent to conceive of limited value; bound and measure are terms inapplicable to the divine sacrifice. The intent of the divine purpose fixes the application of the infinite offering, but does not change it into a finite work. In the atonement of Christ Jesus there is “bread enough and to spare;” even as Paul wrote to Timothy, “He is the Saviour of all men, specially of those that believe.”

But now let me lead you to another point of solemnly joyful consideration, and that is the Holy Spirit. To believe and love the Trinity is to possess the key of theology. We spoke of the Father, we spoke of the Son; let us now “speak of the Holy Spirit. We do him all too little honour, for the Holy Spirit condescends to come to earth and dwell in our hearts; and notwithstanding all our provocations he still abides within his people. Now, sinner, thou needest a new life and thou needest holiness, for both of these are necessary to make thee fit for heaven. Is there a provision for this? The Holy Spirit is provided and given in the covenant of grace; and surely in him there is “enough and to spare.” What cannot the Hoi? Spirit do? Being divine, nothing can be beyond his power. Look at what he has already done. He moved upon the face of chaos, and brought it into order; all the beauty of creation arose beneath his moulding breath. We ourselves must confess with Elihu, “The Spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life.” Think of the great deeds of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, when men unlearned spake with tongues of which they knew not a syllable aforetime, and the flames of fire upon them were also within them, so that their hearts burned with zeal and courage to which they hitherto had been strangers. Think of the Holy Spirit’s work on such a one as Saul of Tarsus. That persecutor foams blood, he is a very wolf, he would devour the saints of God at Damascus, and yet, within a few moments, you hear him say, “Who art thou, Lord 1” and yet again, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do 1” His heart is changed; the Spirit of God has new created it; the adamant is melted in a moment into wax. Many of us stand before you as the living monuments of what the Holy Ghost can do, and we can assure you from our own experience, that there is no inward evil which he cannot overcome, no lustful desire of the flesh which he cannot subdue, no obduracy of the affections which he cannot melt. Is anything too hard for the Lord 1 Is the Spirit of the Lord straitened? Surely no sinner can be beyond the possibilities of mercy when the Holy Spirit condescends to be the agent of human conversion. 0 sinner, if thou perish, it is not because the Holy Spirit wants power, or the blood of Jesus lacks efficacy, or the Father fails in love; it is because thou believest not in Christ, but dost abide in wilful rebellion, refusing the abundant bread of life which is placed before thee.

A few rapid sentences upon other things, which will go to show still further the greatness of the provision of divine mercy. Observe well. that throughout all the ages God has been sending one prophet after another, and these prophets have been succeeded by apostles, and these by martyrs and confessors, and pastors and evangelists, and teachers; all these have been commissioned by the Lord in regular succession; and what has been the message they have had to deliver? They have all pointed to Christ, the great deliverer. Moses and the prophets all spoke of him, and so have all truly God-sent ambassadors. Dost thou think, sinner, that God has made all this fuss about a trifle? Has he sent all these servants to call thee to a table insufficiently furnished? Has he multiplied his invitations through so long a time to bid thee and others come to a provision which is not, after all, sufficient for them? Oh, it cannot be! God is not mocked, neither does he mock poor needy souls,. The stores of his mercy are sufficient for the utmost emergencies.

“B.ivers of love and mercy here

In a rich ocean join;
Salvation in abundance flows,
Like floods of milk and wine.

Great God, the treasures of thy love

Are everlasting mines,
Deep as our helpless miseries are,

And boundless as our sins.”

Recollect, again, that God has been pleased to stake his honour upon the gospel. Men desire a name, and God also is jealous of his glory. Now, what has God been pleased to select for his name? Is it riot the conversion and salvation of men? When instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle-tree, and instead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree, it shall be to the Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off. And dost thou think God will get a name by saving little sinners by a little Saviour? Ah 1 his great nume comes from washing out stains as black as hell, and pardoning sinners who were foulest of the foul. Is there one monstrous rebel here who is qualified to glorify God greatly, because his salvation will be the wonder of angels and the amazement of devils? I hope there is; 0 thou most degraded, black, loathsome sinner, nearest to being a damned sinner, if this voice can reach thee, I challenge thee to come and prove whether God’s mercy is not a match for thy sin. Thou Goliath sinner, come thou hither; thou shalt find that God can slay thine enmity, and make thee yet his friend, and the more his loving and adoring servant, because great forgiveness shall secure great love. Such is the greatness of divine mercy, that “where sin abounded, grace doth much more abound.”

Dost thou think, again, 0 sinner, that Jesus Christ came out of heaven to do a little deed, and to provide a slender store of mercy? Dost thou think he went up to Calvary, and down to the grave, and allr that he might do a commonplace thing, and provide a stinted, narrow, limited salvation, such as thine unbelief would imagine his redemption to be? No. We speak of the labours of Hercules, but these were child’s play compared with the labours of Christ who slew the lion of hell, turned a purifying stream through the Augean stables of man’s sin, and cleansed them, and performed ten thousand miracles besides: and will you so depreciate Christ as to imagine that what he has accomplished is, after all, little, so little that it is not enough to save you? If it were in my power to single out the man who has been the most dishonest, most licentious, most drunken, most profane — in three words, most earthly, sensual, devilish — I would repeat the challenge which I gave just now, and bid him draw near to Jesus, and see whether the fountain filled with Christ’s atoning blood cannot wash him white. I challenge him at this instant to come and east himself at the dear Redeemer’s feet, and see if he will say, “I cannot save thee, thou hast sinned beyond my power.” It shall never, never, never be, for he is able po the uttermost to save. He is a Saviour, and a great one. Christ will be honoured by the grandeur of the grace which he bestows upon the greatest of offenders. There is in him pardon “enough and to spare.”

I must leave this point, but I cannot do so without adding that I think “BREAD ENOUGH AND TO SPARE “might be taken for the motto of the gospel. 1 believe in particular redemption, and that Christ laid down his life for his sheep; but, as I have already said, I do not believe in the limited value of that redemption; how else could I dare to read the words of John,” He is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” There is a sure portion for his “own elect, but there is also over and above “to spare.” I believe in the electing love which will save all its objerts — “bread enough;” but I believe in boundless benevolence, “Bread enough and to spare.” We,.

when we have a purpose to accomplish, put forth the requisite quantity of strength and no more, for we must be economical, we must not waste our limited store; even charity gives the poor man no more than he absolutely needs; but when God feeds the multitude, he spreads the board with imperial bounty. Our water-cart runs up and down the favoured road, but when heaven’s clouds would favour the good man’s fields, they deluge whole nations, and even pour themselves upon the eea. There is no real waste with God; but at the same time there is no fitint. “BREAD ENOUGH AND TO SPARE;” write that inscription over the house of mercy, and let every hungry passer-by be encouraged thereby to enter in and eat.

II. We must now pass on to a second consideration, and dwell very briefly on it. According to the text, there was not only bread enough in the house, but THE LOWEST IN THE FATHER’S HOUSE ENJOYED

ENOUGH AND TO SPARE.

We can never make a parable run on all fours, therefore we cannot find the exact counterpart of the “hired servants.” I understand the prodigal to have meant this, that the very lowest menial servant employed by his father had bread to eat, and had “bread enough and to spare.” Now, how should we translate this? Why, sinner, the very lowest creature that God has made, that has not sinned against him, is well supplied and has abounding happiness. There are adaptations for pleasure in the organisations of the lowest animals. See how the gnats dance in the summer’s sunbeam; hear the swallows as they scream with delight when on the wing. He who cares for birds and insects will surely care for men. God who hears the ravens when they cry, will he not hear the returning penitent? He gives these insects happiness; did he mean me to be wretched? Surely he who opens his hand and supplies the lack of every living thing, will not refuse to open his hand and supply my needs if I seek his face.

Yet I must not make these lowest creatures to be the hired servants. Whom shall I then select among men? I will put it thus. The very worst of sinners that have come to Christ have found grace “enough and o spare,” and the very least of saints who dwell in the house of the .*ord find love “enough and to spare.” Take then the most guilty of sinners, and see how bountifully the Lord treats them when they turn unto him. Did not some of you, who are yourselves unconverted, once know persons who were at least as bad, perhaps more outwardly immoral than yourselves? Well, they have been converted, though you have not been; and when they were converted, what was their testimony? Did the blood of Christ avail to cleanse them? Oh, yes; and more than cleanse them, for it added to beauty not their own. They were naked once; was Jesus able to clothe them? Was there a sufficient covering in his righteousness? Ah, yes! and adornment was superadded; they received not a bare apparel, but a royal raiment. You have seen others thus liberally treated, does not this induce you also to come? Some of us need not confine our remarks to others, for we can speak personally of ourselves. We came to Jesus as full of sin as ever you can be, and felt ourselves beyond measure lost and ruined; but, oh, his tender love! I could sooner stand here and weep than speak to you of it. My soul melts in gratitude when I think of the infinite mercy of God to me in that hour when I came seeking mercy at his hands. Oh! why will not you also come? May his Holy Spirit sweetly draw you! I proved that there was bread enough, mercy enough, forgiveness enough, and to spare. Come along, come along, poor guilty one; come along, there ifi room enough for thee.

Now, if the chief of sinners bear this witness, so d3 the most obscure of saints. If we could call forth from his seat a weak beiiever in God, who is almost unknown in the church, one who sometimes questions whether he is indeed a child of God, and would be willing to be a hired servant so long as he might belong to God, and if I were to ask him, “Now after all how has the Lord dealt with you?” what would be his reply? You have many afflictions, doubts and fears, but have you any complaints against your Lord? When you have waited upon him for daily grace, has he denied you? When you have been full of troubles, has he refused you comfort? When you have been plunged in distress, has he declined to deliver you? The Lord himself asks, “Have I been a wilderness unto Israel?” Testify against the Lord, ye his people, if ye have aught against him. Hear, 0 heavens, and give ear, 0 earth, whosoever there be in God’s service who has found him a hard task-master, let him speak. Amongst the angels before Jehovah’s throne, and amongst men redeemed on earth, if there be any one that can say he hath been dealt with unjustly or treated with ungenerous churlishness, let him lift up his voice! But there is not one. Even the devil himself when he spoke of God and of his servant Job, said, “Doth Job serve God for nought?” Of course he did not: God will not let his servants serve him for nought; he will pay them superabundant wages, and they shall all bear witness that at his table there is “bread enough and to spare.” Now, if these still enjoy the bread of the Father’s house, these who were once great sinners, these who are now only very commonplace saints, surely, sinner, it should encourage you to say, “I will arise and go to my Father,” for his hired servants “have bread enough and to spare.”

III. Notice in the third place, that the text dwells upon THE MULTI TUDE OF THOSE WHO HAVE “BREAD ENOUGH AND TO SPARE.” The

prodigal lays an emphasis upon that word, “How many hired servants of my father’s!” He was thinking of their great number, and counting them over. He thought of those that tended the cattle, of those that went out with the camels, of those that watched the sheep, and those that minded the corn, and those that waited in the house; he ran them over in his mind: his father was great in the land, and had many servants; yet he knew that they all had of the best food “enough and to spare.” “Why should I perish with hunger? I am only one at any rate; though my hunger seem insatiable, it is but one belly that has to be filled, and, lo, my father fills hundreds, tlo*msands every day; why should I perish with hunger?” Now, 0 thou awakened sinner, thou who dost feel this morning thy sin and misery, think of the numbers upon whom God has bestowed his grace already. Think of the countless hosts in heaven: if thou wert introduced there to-day, thou wouldsc find it as easy to tell the stars, or the sands of the sea, as to count the multitudes that are before the throne even now.

They have come from the east and from the west, and they are sitting down with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob, and there is room enough for thee. And beside those in heaven, think of those on earth. Blessed be God, his elect on earth are to be counted by millions, I believe, and the days are coming, brighter days than these, when there shall be multitudes upon multitudes brought to know the Saviour, and to rejoice in him. The Father’s love is not for a few only, but for an exceeding great company. A number that no man can number will be found in heaven; now, a man can number a very great amount. Set to work your Newtons, your calculators, they can count great numbers, but God and God alone can tell the multitude of his redeemed. Now, sinner, thou art but one at any rate, great sinner as thou art, and the mercy of God which embraces millions must have room enough in it for thee. The sea which holds the whales and creeping things innumerable, dost thou say, “It will overflow its banks if I bathe therein “? The sun which floods the universe with light, canst thou say, “I should exhaust his beams if I should ask him to enlighten my darkness “? Say not so. If thou comest to thyself thou wilt not tolerate such a thought, but thou wilt remember with hope the richness of the Father’s grace, even though thine own poverty stare thee in the face.

Let us add a few words to close with, close grappling words to some of you to whom God has sent his message this morning, and whom he intends to save. 0 you who have been long hearers of the gospel, and who know it well in theory, but have felt none of the power of it in your hearts, let me now remind you where and what you are! You sire perishing. As the Lord liveth, there is but a step between you and death; but a step, nay, but a breath between you and hell. Sinner, if. at this moment thy heart should cease its beating, and there are a thousand causes that might produce that result ere the clock ticks again, thou wouldst be in the flames of divine wrath. Canst thou bear to be in such peril? If you were hanging over a rock by a slender thread which must soon break, and if you would then fall headlong down a terrible precipice, you would not sleep, but be full of alarm. May you have sense enough, wit enough, grace enough, to be alarmed until you escape from the wrath to come.

Recollect, however, that while you are perishing, you are perishing in sight of plenty; you are famishing where a table is abundantly spread; what is more, there are those whom you know now sitting at that table and feasting. What sad perversity for a man to persist in being starved in the midst of a banquet, where others are being satisfied with good things!

But I think 1 hear you say, “I fear I have no right to come to Jesus.” I will ask you this: have you any right to say that till you. have been denied? Did you ever try to go to Christ? Has he ever rejected you? If then you have never received a repulse, why do you wickedly imagine that he would repel you? Wickedly, I say, for it is an offence against the Christ who opened his heart upon the cross, to imagine that he could repel a penitent. Have you any right to say, 11 But I am not one of those for whom mercy is provided “? Who told you so? Have you climbed to heaven and read the secret records of God election? Has the Lord revealed a strange decree to you, and said, “Go and despair, I will have no pity on you “? If you say that God has so spoken, I do not believe you. In this sacred book is recorded what God has said, here is the sure word of testimony, and in it I find it sai<] of no humble seeker that God hath shut him out from his grace. Why hast thou a right to invent such a fiction in order to secure thine own damnation? Instead thereof, there is much in the word of God and elsewhere to encourage thee in coming to Christ. He has not repelled one sinner yet; that is good to be»in with: it is not likely that he would, for since he died to save sinners, why should he reject them when they seek to be saved? You say, “I am afraid to come to Christ.” Is that wise? I have heard of a poor navigator who had been converted, who had but little education, but who knew the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and when dying:, very cheerfully and joyfully longed to depart. His wife said to him, “But, mon, ain’t ye afeared to stand before the judge?” “Woman,” said he, “why should I be afeared of a man as died for me?” Oh, why should you be afraid of Christ who died for sinners? The idea of being afraid of him should be banished by the fact that he shed his blood for the guilty. You have much reason to believe from the very fact that he died, that he will receive you. Besides, you have his word for it, for he saith, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out” — for no reason, and in no way, and on no occasion, and under no pretence, and for no motive. “I will noi not cast him out,” says the original. “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out,” You say it is too good to be true that there can be pardon for you: this is a foolish measuring of God’s corn with your bushel, and because it seems too good a thing for you to receive, you fancy it is too good for God to bestow. Let the greatness of the good news be one reason for believing that the news is true, for it is so like God.

“Who is a pardoning God like thee?
Or who hath grace so rich and free? ‘*

Because the gospel assures us that he forgives great sins through a great Saviour, it looks as if it were true, since he is so great a God.

What should be the result of all this with every sinner here at this time? I think this good news should arouse those who have almost gone to sleep through despair. The sailors have been pumping the vessel, the leaks are gaining, she is going down, the captain is persuaded she must be a wreck. Depressed by such evil tidings, the me*- refuse to work; and since the boats are all stove in and they cannot make a raft, they sit down in despair. Presently the captain has better news for them. “She will float,” he says; “the wind is abating too, the pumps tell upon the water, the leak can be reached yet.” See how they work; with what cheery courage they toil on, because there is hope*! Soul, there is hope! There is hope! THERE is HOPE! To the harlot, to the thief, to the drunkard.

“There is no hope,” says Satan. Liar that thou art, get thee back to thy den; for thee there is no hope; but for fallen man, though he be in the mire of sin up to his very neck, though he be at the gates of death, while he lives there is hope. There is hope for hopeless souls in the Saviour.

In addition to arousing us this ought to elevate the sinner’s thoughts, Some years ago, there was a crossing-sweeper in Dublin, with hi& broom, at the corner, and in all probability his highest thoughts were to keep the crossing clean, and look for the pence. One day, a lawyer put his hand upon his shoulder, and said to him, “My good fellow, do you know that you are heir to a fortune of ten thousand pounds a year?” “Do you mean it?” said be. “I do,” he said. “I have just received the information; I am sure you are the man.” He walked away, and he forgot Ms Iroom. Are you astonished? Why,. who would not have forgotten a broom when suddenly made possessor of ten thousand a year? So, I pray that some poor sinners, who have been thinking of the pleasures of the world, when they hear that there is hope, and that there is heaven to be had, will forget the deceitful pleasures of sin, and follow after higher and better things.

Should it not also purify the mind? The prodigal, when he said, “I will arise and go to my father,” became in a measure reformed from that very moment. How, say you? Why, he left the swine-trough: more, he left the wine cup, and he left the harlots. He did not go with the harlot on his arm, and the wine cup in his hand, and say, “I will take these with me, and go to my father.” It could not be. These were all left, and though he had no goodness to bring, yet he did not try to keep his sins and come to Christ. I shall close with this remark, because it will act as a sort of caveat, and be a fit word to season the wide invitations of the free gospel. Some of you, I fear, will make mischief even out of the gospel, and will dare to take the cross and use it for a gibbet for your souls. If God is so merciful, you will go therefore and sin the more; and because grace is freely given, therefore you will continue in sin that grace may abound. If you do this, I would solemnly remind you I have no grace to preach to such as you. “Your damnation is just;” it is the word of inspiration, and the only one I know that is applicable to such as you are; but every needy, guilty soul that desires a Saviour is told to-day to believe in Jesus, that is, trust in the substitution and sacrifice of Christ, trust him to take your sin and blot it out; trust him to take your soul and save it. Trust Christ entirely, and you are forgiven this very moment; you are saved this very instant, and you may rejoice now in the fact that being justified by faith you have peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord. 0 come ye, come ye, come ye; come and welcome; come ye now to the Redeemer’s blood. Holy Spirit, compel them to come in, that the house of mercy may be filled. Amen, and Amen.