The Grace of Faith

“Now abide th faith.” — i COR. xiii. 13.

IN a Sabbath-day, years ago, a young minister appeared in a church of this city as a candidate for the vacant charge. He preached; the people were all attention. The discourse was worthy of one whose ministrations since then have been elsewhere much blessed to bring many souls to Christ. That did not save it, however, from the adverse judgment of a critic. So soon as the sermon was concluded, this modern Athenian turned round to him who related the circumstance, and said, with a shrug of his shoulders, and a tone bordering on contempt, Ha! there is nothing new there! Fancy a man to whom I offer a rose fresh plucked from the parterre, dyed in the richest hues, breathing the most fragrant odour, with the dew-drops still shining like diamonds on its pure bosom, tossing it from him with an air of contempt, to say, Ah! there is nothing new there! This were not more absurd than that. New’? Anything in religion that professes to be new, beyond the light which modern researches into the geography and natural history, the manners, customs, and languages of the East, may throw on the contents of the Bible, is to be regarded with grave suspicion; and, since the tendency of our times is to leave the old paths, and seek for something new —

I. Let me exhort those in whom faith abideth, to abide in the faith.

It is not much more than a century since Galvani, a native of Bologna, happened one day to bring two metals in contact with the limb of a dead frog. It quivered. The result was the discovery of a power whereby, making us able to annihilate space, rival the flight of time, and so flash our thoughts through the bosom of the ocean and the bowels of the earth, we can send a message and get an answer almost as soon from the capital of Russia as from the house of an acquaintance in the street next to our own. Modern facts are more wonderful than old fables. It is not even one century since Benjamin Franklin, by means of a child’s plaything, entered, if I may say so, the bosom of the cloud, and, seizing the thunder bolt, returned with it to the earth, like a magician who has thrown his spell on some mighty spirit, and bound it to his service. Every day almost presents us with some new invention, and science is ever and anon interesting its votaries by some new discovery, or startling the world by some strange one. We know what our forefathers never so much as dreamed of, —

76 The Grace of laith.

that there are metals which swim on the top of water, and take fire at the touch of snow — that the diamond which flashes on a lady’s finger is but a bit of coal — that the pearls which gem a royal crown are but the excrescences of disease — that the water which we employ to extinguish fire is composed of two elements which burn with the brightest light and fiercest heat — and that there is thus stored up in the sea itself a magazine of combustibles sufficient, when God shall kindle them, to wrap this world in flames, and turn it to a heap of ashes. In new planets and comets, new plants and animals, new metals and earths, science is adding page on page to the volume of nature’s wonders, teaching the Christian to kneel before the Lord our Maker, and exclaim with deeper, devouter feelings, The earth is full of thy glory — the earth is full of thy riches. Such progress has the world made since the days of Solomon, that, were he to return to the scene of his former studies, he would no longer be a wonder queens might go to see, but, in point of know ledge, would stand below some whom we count little better than fools. Indeed, there is not a boy whom you meet in a morning, creeping with satchel on his back to school, but knows much that even Newton did not know, and is familiar with facts which would have excited the astonishment, perhaps the doubts, of that prince of philosophers.

How different the region of religion! and different because our faith has been revealed from heaven. Inspired of God, it is intended not for the learned and wise only, but also for the humble and the poor; complete — nothing can be added to it perfect — nothing can be taken from it; plain — there is line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; intelligible to the humblest understanding, he who runs may read, and the wayfaring man, though a fool, shall not err therein. Since the days when heads now gray wrere black, since mothers were giris and men were boys, discoveries have been made in science which would have astonished Newton; but during the last eighteen centuries has anything been discovered in the Bible that would have astonished Paul? Since the beloved disciple closed this volume on the shores of Patmos, has one line been added to the Word of God, one doctrine or one duty been discovered there with which he was not acquainted? I know nothing in the writings of modern theologians that would have astonished the apostles but the audacity with which, not avowed infidels, but professed Christians, have treated their characters and their writings. We are to search the Scriptures with the eagerness of one who digs for hidden treasure. But this field is not like those gold regions on California!! coasts or the Australian continent which, left for long ages to the lowest savages, have been but recently explored. The road to heaven has been too long travelled by the feet of devout men, and too carefully surveyed and examined by them on their knees, for anything of importance to have escaped their notice. Long as familiar to the wise and good, as the path between a cottage door and cottage well, there is nothing in the world so improbable as that the gospel of Jesus Christ will yield anything new in matters either of doctrine or duty to the keenest or most curious eye; and therefore, though inapplicable to works on science or art, to books of theology, to systems of doctrine, or codes of duty that pretend to set forth discoveries in the Word of God, we may safely apply the adage, What is new in them is not true, and what is true is not new.*

It is not the practice of Protestants blindly to follow any leader, to pin their faith to church or churchmen. Like the Bereans of old, who were therefore more honourable than those of Thessalonica, we regard it as a duty, and claim it also as a right, to bring every thing to the test of God’s Word and with all due respect to the creeds of Churches and the writings of the Fathers, to search the Scriptures whether these things

* “I believe,” said Webster, the great American statesman, “that the Bible is to be understood and received in the plain and obvious meaning of its passages; since I cannot persuade myself that a book intended for the instruction and conversion of the whole world should cover its true meaning in such mystery and doubt that none but critics and philosophers can discover it; and be lieve that the experiments and subtleties of human wisdom are more likely to obscure than to enlighten the revealed will of God, and that he is the most accomplished Christian scholar who hath been educated at the feet of Jesus, and in the College of Fishermen.”

are so. Still, he is a fool who, travelling over desert, moor, or mountain, allows himself to be easily persuaded to leave the beaten track for some new untrodden way. Depend on it that the old path which men with the Word of God in their hands and his grace in their hearts, took to serve him in this world, and to dwell with him in heaven in the next, is the right one. By abiding in their old path, we are most likely to abide in the true faith. Such is the very counsel which Christ himself gives to the Church, when, in the Song of Songs, she asks, Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon1? If thou know not, he replies, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock. God expresses himself to the very same effect by the prophet in a figure drawn from pastoral life, and intelligible to all who are in any measure familiar with the scenery of our glens and the habits of the sheep. Wherever they have to skirt a precipice, or wind through the black morass, they march in single file, and stick to the old, beaten path, trodden down and marked even on scattered stones and outlying rock by the feet of generations that have gone before; and referring to this, God addresses his people thus — “Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls.” And so shall we, in the old ways of keeping the Sabbath, amid the quiet observ-So 77/6’ Grace of Faith.

ances of that hallowed day; and so shall we likewise, in the old faith of “Jesus Christ and him crucified,” safely and sweetly sheltered from every storm in the clefts of that Rock of Ages.

II. Salvation through faith in the righteousness of Jesus Christ does not supersede the use of means.

A heathen relates how he, when about to set sail on a dangerous voyage, selected the best ship, manned her with the stoutest crew, chose the most propitious season of the year for the enterprise; and that after having done this, all that man could do, he com mitted himself to the protection of the gods. Were it needful to learn from a heathen, this old worshipper of the false might teach us how to trust in the true God — both for the bounties of providence and the blessings of grace. Faith is undoubtedly the gift ot God, the work of the Spirit, and the answer to prayer. But, if the necessity of looking above our selves for ability to believe, be clear, and if it be plain from the Word of God, that we cannot depend too much on Divine strength, it is equally evident that we cannot be too diligent in using the means of Divine appointment. “I can do all things,” says Paul, “through Christ which strengtheneth me,” — this his bold yet modest confidence, not that Christ would do the things, but would strengthen him to do them.

Therefore we ought to work at least as diligently for spiritual as for temporal mercies. But we do not.

Alas! Who does’? In proportion to their importance, who gives as much time to prayer as to business; as much thought to their Bibles as merchants to their ledgers; as much trouble to cultivate their souls as husbandmen expend in ploughing and sowing and weeding the soil, and reaping the crop? No wonder that many are lost; they take no trouble to be saved. And no wonder that even those who are saved make such slow progress in the divine life, that they find self-examination to be such an unpleasant task, and that their Christian course corresponds so little to the beautiful and familiar image of the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. Making the doctrine of man’s inability an excuse for sloth and idleness, we seem to entertain the vague and vain expectation that we shall be borne onwards to heaven like a boat without sail or oar on the bosom of a flowing tide; and that, instead of having laboriously to climb the ladder, hand over hand, we shall some how or other rise to glory as in angels’ arms and on angels’ wings. Is this to honour the grace of God? Certainly not. The diligent and anxious use of means casts no reflection or disparagement on the doctrine of faith, of salvation not by the law, but by grace. What madness is it for a man to rush naked into a battle-field 1 It is he who arms himself for the combat, and “none else, that honours the Providence without whose permission not a hair of his head shall be touched, though he charge up to the cannon’s mouth, or throw himself headlong into the fiery breach. It is the ship that has a steersman at her wheel, and an outlook on the bows, that sails under the flag of Providence — owning and honouring him who doth fly upon the wings of the wind and hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand. That is faith j anything else is presumption, and can only end in a miserable shipwreck. Who, for instance, considers himself guilty of mistrusting the promise, Thy bread shall be given thee, and thy water shall be sure, by toiling at his work? There is not more harmony between the divine perfections, between the Old and New Testaments, between the songs of saints and angels, than there is between the prayer for bread on a good man’s lips, and the sweat of honest labour on his brow; between the hard toil of the field and the hopeful trust of the closet. And, in calling on you, in entreating and urging you to put on the whole armour of God, to watch and pray, to guard against temptation, to flee youthful lusts, to depart from all iniquity, to give all diligence to make your calling sure, to work out your salvation with fear and trem bling, I am no more casting a doubt on salvation by grace than I am denying a presiding Providence when I tell a youth about to go out into the world that “the hand of the diligent maketh rich,” and that unless he work, “poverty” shall ‘’come as one that travelleth, and want as an armed man.”

III. Consider how faith is a saving grace.

Can faith save him? says St James, speaking of one who says he has faith, but not works. Certainly not; for I no more believe in the reality of a faith with out works, than of a fire without heat. But assuming the faith to be genuine, Can faith save him? Well, it can, and it cannot. In explanation of this, I re mark —

i. It is not by our faith, but by Christ’s righteousness, that we are justified.

To illustrate this, let me recall two incidents in our Saviour’s history. He is standing one day by the shore of Galilee, when the lake, dotted with the white sails of fishing-boats, spreads itself out at his feet, and over his head a sycamine throws its branches, yielding a grateful shade from the heat of the burning sun. To a prayer of his disciples, which we would all do well to offer — Increase our faith, he returned this remarkable reply, If ye had faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye might say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted, in the sea; and it should obey you. Suppose that they, retreating to a safe distance, had tried the bold experiment, and with such success as Peter’s, when, in the strength of faith, he leaped from the boat to stand erect on the rolling billow, and advanced, stepping from wave to wave, to met his Master. Fancy this, and that the people, with wondering eyes, saw the sycamine, as by whirlwind power, torn up from the ground, rise like a balloon, sail through the air with leafy branches and naked roots, till, having been lowered slowly down, it buried its roots in the bosom of the waters, and stood there upright, firm, green as its neighbours on the shore. Might they not have pointed to the tree growing where never tree grew before, to say, See what faith has done! Yet faith had not done it. How could that which is but a feeling in the mind, reverse the laws of nature, and, plucking up a mighty tree, plant its roots as firmly in water as when they were anchored in the soil, or matted around a rock. Faith accomplishes the work only by bringing into play the power of God; as, to use a humble comparison, even a child can turn a gigantic wheel by opening the sluice, and letting the water on.

Or take, in illustration, a case that actually occurred. On another day our Lord is in a crowd. A woman, who has long suffered from an incurable disease, edges her way through the throng; and stooping down, unseen, reaches out her hand to touch the hem of his garment, and rises cured of the bloody issue. As she retreats, his voice arrests her. Trembling, she retraces her steps, and approaches him to hear these blessed words, Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. Such is Matthew’s account of the transaction. Mark throws further light on it, and on the point before us. According to his account, so soon as the woman touched our Lord, in an instant, suddenly as one who feels the stab of a knife, or the hand that steals his purse in a crowd, Jesus faces round on the throng, to demand, “Who touched my clothes?” The disciples were surprised; the woman was alarmed and, knowing herself to be the culprit, if this was a crime, she came, in the words of the Evangelist, fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. Now, what made Jesus ask a question, apparently so unreasonable that his own disciples remonstrated with him, saying, Thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me] Mark tells us the why and wherefore. He states, that our Saviour knew that virtue, or, as we should now say, power, had gone out of him. This it was — not her touch, nor his garment, nor her faith, but the power that had gone out of him, that cured the woman; just as it is the water, not the cup, that quenches the thirst; the medicine, not the hand that takes it, nor the faith that swallows it, which arrests my malady, and saves my life; or, as when I place my finger on the ball of a Ley den jar, it is the subtle, invisible, electric fluid enclosed within its crystal walls, that, discharged by the touch, sends a shock thrilling through my frame. Even so, notwithstanding that it is said, Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, it is not faith, but the virtue which faith draws out of Christ, that justifies us; in other words, that righteousness which he wrought out when, taking our sins on himself, as man’s substitute, he bore their punishment; and taking our obligations on himself, he performed our duty, and paid all our debt.

This righteousness is not imputed in any case be cause it is deserved; but imputed, thank God, in every case where it is sincerely desired. Whosoever, however unworthy he be, is willing to receive Christ as his Saviour, as well from the power as from the punishment of sin — whosoever, in other words, believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life. Jesus stands in the presence of every congregation, willing and mighty to save, as on the day when he looked on the woman who lay trembling at his feet, to address her in the language of tender affection, and calm the tumult of her soul with these blessed words, Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. Were we as prompt as she was to seize the opportunity, our humility would be crowned with still greater honours, and our faith with a more enduring reward.

2. While we are not saved by faith, it is through faith only that we receive the righteousness of Jesus Christ.

There are two arts, the one simple and very old, the other very complex, but modern, which are illustrative of important Bible truths. We have, like Jeremiah, in the words of Scripture, gone down to the potter’s house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. Before him is a revolving horizontal disk; beside him a heap of clay. Seizing a handful of the clay, he throws it down, a rude, unformed, shapeless mass, on the flying wheel; and how curious it is to see that lump, as it spins round and round, begin at the touch of his skilfal fingers to lose its shapelessness, assume a definite form, and by and by swell out and rise up into a vessel of perfect proportions. It is more than curious; it is instructive. One can not watch the plastic clay growing to the workman’s will and touch into a vessel of honour or dishonour, for common or sacred uses, for roughest hands or jewelled fingers, without seeing God in the potter, and man in the clay — feeling the beauty of Scripture figures, and how much ourselves and fortunes are in the hands of him who said, “O house of Israel, can not I do with you as this potter 1 saith the Lord. Be hold, as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel.” — Shall the thing made say of him that made it, Why hast thou made me thus 1 An art much more complex and modern than the potter’s may supply us with an illustration of salvation through the transference of righteousness from the Saviour to the sinner. Before you stands a bath, as it is called, a large vessel full of acid liquor. At one end, immersed in the fluid, hangs a sheet of silver; while above, and passing from side to side, is ex tended a thread of metal, ready to be connected with a powerful battery, which, when I saw the process, was concealed in a room below. A vessel of common metal being produced, was hung on the wire and plunged into the bath, in which, I may remark, the fluid was so clear, that you could see to the bottom. The wire on which it was suspended was then connected with the electric battery; and what happened? A very remarkable result. By means of the mighty though unseen agent that was thus brought into action, the particles of silver were taken from the sheet of it, and, passing invisibly through the translucent fluid, were transferred to the vessel that had been immersed in the bath. No sound accompanied the mysterious process, no violent action, no sign of motion; the eye saw nothing but the dull metal beginning to assume a brilliant appearance, and in time, through what looked more like magic than common art, this base vessel shone in a coating of the purest silver. Such change, but far greater and more thorough, is wrought on the soul through the unseen and almighty influences of the Holy Spirit, so soon as faith has established a connexion between the Saviour and the sinner. Righteousness is withdrawn from the former and transferred to the latter. In the words of an inspired apostle, the believer puts on Christ — to stand before God .covered with those merits, and justified by that righteousness which makes a sinner just.

If this process of art suggested that resemblance, it presented under one aspect a mighty difference. Robbed of its precious metal, what was once a sheet of silver became in time a dull, attenuated, worth less thing. Its treasures were exhausted; Christ’s never are. It could coat and cover a certain number; no more. But in him there is righteousness sufficient for all the world; and, with enough of mercy in the Father, of merit in the Son, and of grace in the Spirit, oh! why should there be one of us, one child of guilt and sin, of whom it cannot, as it might, be said, Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered? It were easier to empty the sun of his light, or the ocean of her waters, than Jesus of merits which are as free to all as is that sun and sea. In him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. May that encourage you to go to Jesus. When? — — now. Where? — here. How? — just as you are. Pharaoh’s message found Joseph in prison, and in a prison dress; nor did the black, begrimed, bearded tenant of a dungeon, venture to present himself be fore the impatient king till he had “shaved himself and changed his raiment.” Must we likewise wait till our habits are changed ere, responding to his call, we go to Jesus 1 By no means. Go as you are, just as you are. There is no need for good works at this stage, nor may there be time for them — little more time for you than for the dying thief who threw him self on bleeding mercy, and, clasped in Jesus’ arms, was borne on his bosom to the gates of Paradise. May God help you to adopt the sentiments of this precious hymn: —

* ‘Just-as I am, without one plea,

But that thy blood was shed for me,
. And that thou bidst me come to thee;
O Lamb of God, I come i
” Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot;
O Lamb of God, I come!

“Just as I am, though toss’d about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without;
O Lamb of God, I come!

“Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind,
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in thee to find;

O Lamb of God, I come!

“Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come!”