The Prodigal's Return

“But when ho was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had

passion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” — Luke xv. 20.

All jiersons engaged in education -will tell you that they find it far more difficult to make the mind unlearn its errors than to make it receive truth. It’ we could sup2)0se a man totally ignorant of anything, we should have a fairer chance of instructing him quickly and eftcctually than we should have had if his mind had been previously stored with falsehood. I have no doubt you, each of you, find it harder to unlearn than to learn. To get rid of old prejudices and preconceived notions is a very hard struggle indeed. It has been well said, that those few words, “I am mistaken,” are the hardest in all the English language to pronounce, and certainly it takes very much force to compel us to pronounce them: and after having done so, it is even then difficult to wipe away th3 slime which an old serpentine error has left upon the heart. Better for us not to have known at all than to have known the wrong thing. Now, I am sure that this truth is never more true than when it aiplies to God. If I had been let alone to form my notion of God, entirely from Holy Scriplure, I feel, that with the assistance of his Holy Spirit it would have been far more easy for me to understand what he is, and how he governs the world, than to learn even the truths ol his own Word, after the mind had become perverted by th opinions of others. Why, brethren, who is it that gives a fair representation of God? The Arminian slanders God by accusing” him (not in his own intention, but really so) of unfaithfulness; for he teaches that God may promise what ho never performs; that he may give eternal life, aid promise

146 THE prodigal’s retuen.

that those who have it shall never perish, and yet they may perish after all. He speaks of God as if he were a mutablo being, for he talks of his loving men one day, and hating them the next; of his writing their names in the Book of Life ono hour, and then erasing their names in the next. And the inlluence of such an error as that, is very baneful. IMany children of God, who have imbibed these errors in early youth, have had to drag along their poor wearied and broken frames for many a day, whereas they might have walked joyfully to heaven if they had known the truth from the beginning. On the other hand, those who hear the Calvinistic preachei’, are very apt to misinterpret God. Although Ave trust we would never speak of God in any other sense than that in which we find him represented in sacred Scripture, yet are we well aware that many of our hearers, even through our assertions, when most guarded, are apt to get rather a caricature of God, than a true picture of him. They imagine that God is a severe being, angry and fierce, very easily to be moved to wrath, but not so easily to be induced to love; they are apt to think of him as one who sits in supreme and lofty state, either totally indilFerent to the wishes of his creatures, or els8 determined to have his own way with them, as an arbitrary Sovereign, never listenmg to their desires, or compassionating their woes. O that we could unlearn all these fallacies, and believe God to be what he is! O that we could come to Scripture, and there look into that glass which reflects his sacred image, and then receive him as he is, the all- Wise, the all-Just, and yet the all-Gracious, and all-Loving Jehovah! I shall endeavor this morning, by the help of God’s Holy Spirit, to represent the lovely character of Christ; and if I shall be happy enough to have some in my audience who are in the position of the pi’odigal son in the i)arable — coming to Christ, and yet a great way oif fro;n him — I shall trust that they will be led by the same Divine Spirit, to believe in the loving kindness of Jehovah, and so may find peace with God now, ere they leave this house of prayer.

“When ho was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.”

THK PRODIGAL’S KETUliN. 141

First, I shall notice the 2yositlon intended in the words, “a ureat way olF;” secondly, I shall notice the peculiar troubles which agitate the minds of those, who are in this condition; and then, thirdly, 1 shall endeavor to teach the great loving kindness of our own adorable God, inasmuch as when we «i-e “a great way oif,” he runs to us, and embraces us in the arms of his love.

I, First, then, what is the rosiTiON signified by being ’ a great way off?” I musi just notice what is not that positio... It is not the position of the man who is careless and entirely regardless of God; for you mjlice that the prodigal is represented now as having come to himself, and as returning to his father’s house. Though it be true that all sinners are a great way off from God, Alhether they know it or not, yet in thia particular instance, the position of the poor prodigal is intended to signify the character of one, who has been aroused by conviction, who has been led to abhor his former life, and who sincerely desires to return to God. I shall not, then, this morning, specially address the blasphemer, and the profane. To him, there may be some incidental warning heard, but I shall not specially address such a character. It is another person for whom this text is intended: the man who has been a blasphemer, if you please, who may have been a drunkard, and a swearer, and what not, but who has now renounced these things, and is steadfastly seeking alter Christ, that he may obtain eternal life. That is the man who is here said to be, though coming to the Lord,” a great way oftV

Once again, there is another person who is not intended by this description, namely, the very great man, the Tharisee who thinks himself extremely righteous, and has never learned to confess his sin. You, sir, in your apprehension, are not a great way off. You are so really in the sight of God; you are as far from him as light from darkness, as the east is from the west; but you are not si)oken of here. You are like the prodigal son, only that instead of spending your life righteoualy, you ha e run away from your Father, and hidden in the earth the gold which he gave yon, and are able to feed upon the husks which swine do eat, whilst by a miserable economy

148 THE puodigal’s return.

of good works you are hoping to save enough of your for. tune to support yoinself here and in eternity. Your hope oi 6elt-salvation is a fallacy, and you are not addressed in the words of the text. It is the man who knows himself lost, hut desires to be saved, who is here declared to be mot by God, and r»)ceived with affectionate embraces.

And now we come to the question, Who is the man, an<l why is he said to be a great way off? For he seems to be very near the kingdom, now that he knows his need and is seeking the Saviour. I reply, in the hist place, he is a great way off in his own apprehensions. You are here this morning, and you have an idea that never was man so far from God as you are. You look back upon your past life, and you recollect how you have slighted God, despised his Sabbath, neglected his Book, trampled upon the blood of sprinkling, and rejected all the invitations of his mercy. You turn over the pages of your history, and you remember the sins Mhich you have committed — the sins of your yoi;th and your former transgressions, the crimes of your manhood, and the riper sins of your older years; like black waves dashing upon a dark shore, they roll in wave upon wave, upon your poor troubled memory. There comes a little wave of your childish folly, and over that there leaps one of your youthful transgressions, and over the head of this there comes a very Atlantic billow of your manhood’s transgressions. At the sight of them you stand astonished and amazed. “O Lord my God, how deep is the gulf which divides me from thyself, and where is the power that can bridge it? I am separated from thee by leagues of sin, whole mountains of my guilt are piled upward between me and thyself 0 God, shouldest thou destroy me now, thou wouldest be just; and if thou dost ever bring me to thyself, it must be nothing less than a power as Omnipotent as that which made the woild, which can ever do it. 01 how far am I from God!”

Some of you would be startled this moniing, if your neigiiboi-s were to give you revelations of their own feelings. If yonder man standing there in the crowed could coni’^ into this Dulpit, and tell you what he now feels, you might perhaps be

TIIK PROniGAl/S liKTUUN, 149

honifiod al Lis description of his own heart. FTow ra.’iny of you have uo notion of the way in Avhieh a soul is cut and hacked about, when it is under the convictions of the hwvl If you should hear the man tell out what he feels, you would say, “Ah! he is a poor deluded enthusiast; men are not so bad af that;” or else you would be ai)t to think he nad committed some nameless crime which he dare not menrion. that was preying on his conscience. Nay, sir, he has been as mora. and upright as you have been; but should he describe nimsclf as he now discovers himself to be, he would shock you utterly. And yet you are the same, though you feel it not, and would indignantly deny it. When the light of God’s grace comes into your heart, it is something like the opening of the windows of an old cellar that has been shut up for many days. Down in that cellar, which has not been opened for many months, are all kinds of loathsome creatures, and a iew siokly plants blanched by the darkness. The walls are dark and damp with the trail of reptiles; it is a horrid filthy place, in which no one would willingly enter. You may walk there in the dark very securely, and except now and then for the touch of some slimy creature, you would not believe the place was so bad and filthy. Open those shutters, clean a pane of glass, let a little light in, and now see how a thousand noxious things have made this place their habitation. Sure, ’twas not tJie light that made this place so horrible, but it was the light that showed how horrible it was before. So let God’p grace just open a window and let the light into a man’s soul, and he wiil stand astonished to see at what a distance he is from God. i’’es, sir, to-day you think yourself second to none but the Eternal; you fancy that you can approach his throne with steady step; it is but a little that you have to do to be savod; you imagine that you can accomplish it at any hour, and s.ive yourself upon your dying bed as well as now. Ah I Pir, if you could but be touched by Ithuriel’s wand, and mad*; to be in appearance what you ai-e in reality, then you would isee that you are far enough from God even now, and so far fr-^m hhn that unless the arms of his grace were stretched out lc bring you to himself, you aiust perish in your sin. Not I

150 THE FROT>IGAL’*s RETURN.

turn my eye again ^vth hope, and trust I have not a fcw in this large assembly who can say, “Sir, I feel I am fai from God, avd sometimes I fear I am so far from him that he will nc er have mercy upon me; I dare net lift so much as my eyes towards heaven; I smite on my breast, and say, ‘I^rd, have mercy upon me, a sinner ‘” Oh! poor heart; here is a (.’omforting passage for thee; “When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion on him.”

But again, there is a second sense in which some now present may feel themselves to be far off from God. Couscienca tells every man that if he would be saved he must get rid of his sin. The Antinomian may possibly pretend to believe that men can be saved while they live in sin; but conscience will never allow any man to swallow so egregious a lie as that. I have not one person in this congregation who is not perfectly assured that if he is to be saved he must leave off his drunkenness and his vices. Sure there is not one here so stupetied with the laudanum of hellish indifference as to imagine that he can revel in his lusts, and afterwards wear the M’hite robe of the redeemed in paradise. If ye imagine ye can be partakers of the blood of Christ, and yet drink the cup of Belial; if ye imagine that ye can be members of Satau and members of Christ at the same time, ye have less sense than one would give you credit for. No, you know that right arms must be cut off, and right eyes plucked out — that the most darling sins must be renounced, if ye would enter into the kingdom of God. And I have a man here who is convinced of the unholiness of his life, and he has striven to reform, not because he thinks reformation would save him, for he knows better than that, but because he knows that this is one of the first-fruits of grace — reformation from sin. Well, poor man, he has for many years been an inveterate drunkard, and he struggles now to overcome the passion. He has almost effected it; but he never had such an Herculean labor to attempt before; for noAV some temptation comes upon hiin 80 strongly that it is as much as he can do to stand against it; and perhaps sometimes since his first conviction of sin lie has even fallen into it. Or perhaps it is another vice, and you.

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n.; — brother, have set your face against it; but there are many bonds and fetters that bind us to our vices, and you find that though it was easy cnougli to spin the warp and woo: of sin together, it is not so easy to unravel that which you have spun. You can not purge your house of yoiu- idols; you do not yet know how to give up all your lustful ])le:a5ures. Not yet can you renounce the company of the ungodly. Yo;i have cut oif one by one your most intimate acquaintances, but it is very hard to do it completely, and you are struggling to accomplish it, and you often fall on your knees and cry, “0, Lord, how far I am from thee! what highsteps these are which I have to climb! Oh! how can I be saved? Sure, if I can not purge myself from my old sins, I shall never be able to hold ou my way; and even should I get rid of them, I should plunge into them once more.” You are crying out, “Oh, how great my distance from God! Lord, bring me near!”

Let me present you with one other asyect of our distance from God. You have read your Bibles, and you believe that faith alone can unite the soul to Christ. You feel that unless you can believe in him who died upon the cross for your sins, you can never see the kingdom of God; but you can say this morning,” Sir, I have striven to believe; I have searched the Scriptures, not hours, but days together, to find a promise on which my weary foot might rest; I have been upon my knees many and many a time, earnestly supplicating a Divine blessing; but though I have pleaded, all in vain I have urged my plea, for until now no whisper have I had of grace, no token for good, no sign of uv«*cy. Sir, I have striven to beUevo, and I have said,

“0 could I but boliovo

Til en all would Oiusj be;
I would, but can not — Lord, relicTe,
My help must come from thoe!”

T have used all the power I have, and have desperately striven to cast myself at the Saviour’s feet and see my sins washed a vay in his blood. I have not been indifferent to the story

162 THE PKODir.AL’S RETUnjf.

of the cross; I have read it a hundred times, and even vrcpt over it; but when I strive to put my hand upon the si;apegoat’s head, and labor to believe that my shis are translerred to him, some demon seems to stop the breath that would breathe itself forth in adoration, and something checks the nand that would lay itself upon the head that died for me.” Well, poor soul, thou art indeed far from God. I will rei)eat the words of the text to thee. May the Holy Spirit repeat them in thine ear! “When he was yet a great way oif, his lather saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” So shall it be with thee if thou hast come thus far, though great may be the distance, thy feet shall not have to travel it, but God, the Eternal One, shall from his throne look down and visit thy poor heart, though now thou taniest by the way, afraid to approach him.

II. Our second point is the pkculiar troubles which agitate the breasts of those who are in this ])ositio;i. Let us introduce to you the poor ragged prodigal. After a life of ease, he is, by his own vice, plunged into penury and labor. After feeding swine for a time, and being almost starved, he set a about returning to his father’s house. It is a long and weaiy journey. He walks many a mile, until his feet are sore, and at last, from the summit of a mountain, he views his father’s house far away in the plain. There are yet many miles between him and his father whom he has neglected. Can you conceive his emotions when, for the first time after so long an ab«!ence, he sees the old house at home? He remembers it well in the distance, for though it is long since he trod its floors, he has never ceased to recollect it; and the remembrance of his father’s kindness, and of his oum prospeiity when he was with him, has never yet been erased fi-om his consciousness. You would imagine that for one moment he ieels a flash of joy, like some flash of lightning in the midst of the tempest, but anon a black darkness comes over his spirit. In the first place, it is probable he will think, “Oh! suppose I coidd reach my home, will my father receive me? Will he not shut the door in my face and tell me begone and spend the rest of my life where I have been spending the first of it?’’

THE PKODrGAL’S IlETURN, 153

Then another suggestion might arise: “Surely, the demon that led me first astray may lead me back again, before 1 salute my parent.” “Or mayhap,” thought he, “I may even dia upon the road, and so, before I have received my father’s blessing, my soul may stand before its God.” I doubt not each of these three thoughts has crossed your mind if you are now in the position of one who is seeking Christ, but mot.rns to feel himself far away from him.

First, you have been afraid lest yon should die before Christ has appeared to you. You have been for months seeking the Saviour without finding hitn, and now the black thought comes, “And what if I should die with all these ])rayei“s unanswered? Oil! if he would but hear me ere I departed this world I would be content, though he should keep me waiting in anguish for many years. But what, if before to-morrow morning I should be a corpse? At my bed I kneel to-night and cry for mercy. Oh! if he should not send the pardon before to-morrow morning, and in the night my spirit should stand before his bar! — What then?” It is singular that other men think they shall live for ever, but men convinced of sin, who seek a Saviour, are afraid they shall not live another moment. You have known the time, dear Christian brethren, when you dared not shut your eyes for feai you should not open them again on earth; when you dreaded the shadows of the night lest they should darken for ever the light of the sun, and you should dwell in outer darknesa throughout eternity. You have mourned as each day has entered, and you have wept as it has departed, because you fancied that your next step might preciijitate you into your eternal doom. I have known what it is to tread the earth and fear lest every tuft of grass should but cover a door to hell; trembling, lest every jxirticle, and every atom, and every stone, should be so at league with God against me, as to destroy me. John Bunyan says, that at one time in his experience, he felt that he had rather have been born a dog or a toad than a man; he felt so unutterably wretched on account of sin; and his great point of wretchedness was the flict, that though ho aad been three years seeking Christ, he might atlei

164 Xnii PEODIGAL’S lihTOTiN.

all die oitliout finding’ lum. And in truth, this is no needles* alarm. It may be perhaps too alarming to some who already feel their need of Christ, but the mass of us need perpetually to be startled with the thought of death. IIow few of you ever indulge that thought! Because ye live and are in healili, and eat, and drink, and sleep, ye think ye shall not die. Do ye ever so])erly look at your last end? Do ye ever, when yt come to your beds at night, think how one day ye shall undress for the last slumber? And when ye wake in the morning, do ye never think that the trump of the archangel shall Biartle you to appear before God in the last day of the great assize, wherein an universe shall stand before the Judge? No. “All men think all men mortal but themselves;” and thoughts of death we still push off, until at last we shall find ourselves waking up in torment, where to wake is to wake too late. But thou to whom I specially speak this morning, thou who feelest that thou art a great way ofi:’ from Christ, thou shalt never die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord; if thou hast really sought him, thou shalt never die until thou hast found him. There was never a soul yet, that sincerely sought the Saviour, who perished before he found him. No; the gates of death shall never shut on thee till the gates of grace have opened for thee; till Christ has washed thy sins away tllou shalt never be baptized in Jordan’s flood. Thy life is secure, for this is God’s constant plan — he keeps his own elect alive till the day of his grace, and then he takes them to himself. And inasmuch as thou knowest thy need of a Saviour, thou art one of his, and thou shalt never die until thou hast found him.

Your second fear is, “Ah, sir! I am not afraid of dying before I find Christ, I have a worse fear than that; I have had convictions before, and they have often passed away; my greatest fear to-day is, that these will be the same.” 1 have heard of a poor collier, who on one occasion, having been deeply impressed under a sermon, was led to repent of sin and forsake his former life; but he felt so great horror of ever returning to his former conversation, that one day he knelt down and cried thus imto God,” O Lorc let me die on thi?

TOE PRODIGAL’S RKTURN. 15£

spot, rather than ever deny the religion whioli I have esjoused, and turn back to my former conversation:” and we are credibly told, that he died on that very spot, and so his prayer waa answered. God had rather take him home to heaven than sufier him to bear the brunt of temptation on earth. Now, when men come to Christ, they feel that they had lather suffer anything than lose their convictions. Scoies of times have you and 1 been drawn to Christ under the preaching of the Word. We can look back upon dozens of occasions on which it seemed just the turning point with us. Something said in our hearts, “Now, believe in Christ, now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.” But we said, “To-morrow, to-morrow;” and when to-morrow came our convictions were gone. We thought what we said yesterday would be the deed of to-day; but instead of it, the procrastination of yesterday became the hardened wickedness of to-day: we wandered farther from God and forgot him. Now you are crying to him for feai-, lest he should give you up again. You have this morning prayed before you came here, and you said,” Fatner, suffer not my companions to laugh me out of my religion; let not my worldly business so engross my tlu)ughts, as to prevent my due attention to the matters of another world. Oh, let not the trifles of to-day so absorb my thoughts that I mav not be prepaiing myself to meet my God —

* Deeply on my thoughtful heart,
Eternal things impress,’

and make this a real saving work that shall never die out, nor be taken from me.” Is that your earnest prayer? O poor prodigal, it shall be heard, it shall be answered. Thou shall not have time to go back. To-day thy Father views thee from his throne in heaven; to-day he runs to thee in the message of his gospel; to-day he falls upon thy neck and weeps for joy; to-day he says to thee, “Thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven;” to-day, by the preaching of the Word, he bids thee come and reason with him, “for though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall be as wool, though they be red like crimson, thoy shall be whiter than snow.”

But the last and the most prominent thought which I sup* pose the prodigal would have, would be, that Avheu he did get to his father, he would say to him, “Get along with you, I will have nothing more to do with you.” “Ah!” thought he to himself, “I lecollect the morning, when I rose up before day-break, because I knew I could not stand my mother’s tears; I remember how I crept down the back staircase and took all the money with me, how I stole down the yard and ran away into the land where I spent my all. Oh! what will the old gentlemen say of me when I come back? Why, there he is! he is running to me. But he has got a horsewhip with him,- to be sure, to whij) me away. It is not at all possible that if he comes he will have a kind woi-d for me. The most I can expect is that he will say, * Well John, you have wasted all your money, you can not expect me to do anything for you again. I won’t let you starve; you shall be one of my servants: there, come, I will take you as footman;’ and if ht will do that I will be obliged to him; nay, that is the very thing I will ask of him; I will say, ‘Make me as one of thy hired servants.’” “Oh,” said the devU within him, ‘* youi father will never speak comfortably to you: you had better run away again. I teil you if he gets near you, you will have such a dressing as you never received in your life. You will die with a broken heart; you will very likely fliU dead here; the old man will never bury you; the carrion crows will eat you. There is no hope for you: see how you have treated him. Put yourself in his place: what would you do if you had a son that had run away with half your living, and spent it upon harlots?” And the son thought if he were in his father’s place he should be very harsh and severe; and possibly, he almost turned upon his heel to run away. But he had not time to do that. When he was just thinking about running away, on a sudden his flither’s arms were about his neck, and he had received the paternal kiss. Nay, before he could get his whole prayer finished, he was arrayed in a white robe, the best in the house; and they had brought him to the table, and the fatted calf was being killed for his repast And poor soul, it shall be so with you. Thou saj est,” If 1

THB prodigal’s BBTURN. 157

go to God, he will never receive me. I ara too vile and wretched: others he may have pressed to his heart, but ho will not me. If my brother should go, lie might be saved; but there are such aggravations in my cnnie; I have groTi 60 old snice; I have done such a deal of mischief; I have so often blasphemed him, so frequently broken his Sabbaths; ah! and I have so often deceived him; I have promised I would repent, and when I got well I have lied to God, and gone back to my old sin. Oh, if he would but let me creep inside the door of heaven! I will not ask to be one of his children; I will only ask that he will let me be where the Syro-Phcenlcian woman desired to be — to be a dog, to eat the crumbs that fall from the IMaster’s table. That is all I ask; and oh! if he will but grant it to me, he shall never hear the last of it, for as long as I live I will sing his praise; and when the world d’oth fade away, and the sun gi-ow dim with age, my gratitude, immortal as my soul, shall never cease to sing his love, who pardoned my grossest sins and washed me in his blood.” It shall be so. Come and try. Now, sinners, dry your tears; let hopeless sorrows cease; look to the wounds of Christ, who died; let all your griefs now be removed, there is no further cause for them; your Father loves you; he acceptti and receives you to his heart.

III. Now, in conclusion, I may notice how these fears WERE MET IN THE prodigal’s CASE, and how they shall be met in ours if we are in the same condition.

The text says, “The Father saw him.” Yes, and God saw thee just now* That tear which was wi])ed away so hastily — as if thou wast ashamed of it — God saw it, and he stored it in his bottle. That prayer which thou didst breathe just a few moments ago, so flxintly, and with such little faith — God heard it. The other day thou wast in thy chamber, where no ear heard thee; but God was there. Sinner, let this be thy comfort, that God sees thee when thou beginnest to repent. He does not see thee with his usual gaze, with which he looks on all men; but he sees thee with an eye of intense interest. He has been looking on thee in all thy sin, and in all thy sorrow, hoi-ing that thou wouldst repent; and now he sees the first gleam of grace, and he beholds it with joy. Never warder oil the lonely castle top saw the first grey light of morning with more joy than that with which God beholds the first d(* sire in thy heart. Never physician rejoiced more when he saw the first heaving of the lungs in one that was supposed to be dead, than God doth rejoice over thee, now that he sees the first token for good. Think not that thou art despised, and unknown, and forgotten. He is marking thee fiora his high throne in glory, ajid rejoicing in what he sees. He saw thee pray, he heard thee groan; he marked thy tear; he looked upon thee and rejoiced to see that these were the first seeds of grace in thine heart.

And then, the text says, “he had compassion on him.” He did not merely see him, but he wept M’ithiu himself to think he should be in such a condition. The old father had a very long range of eye-sight; and though the prodigal could not see him in the distance, he could see the prodigal. And the father’s first thought when he saw him was this — “O my poor sou, O my poor boy! that ever he should have brought himself into such a state as this!” He looked through his telescope of love, and he saw him, and said, “Ah! he did not go out of my house in such trim as that. Poor creature, his feet are bleeding; he has come a long way, I’ll be bound. Look at his face, he doesn’t look like the same boy he was when he left me. His eye that was so bright, is now sunken in its socket; his cheeks that once stood out with fatness, have now become hollow with famine. Poor wretch, I can tell all his bones, he is so emaciated.” Instead of feeling any anger in his heart, he felt just the contrary; he felt such pity for his poor son. And so the Lord feels for you — you that are groanitig and moaning on account of sin. He forgets your sins; he only weeps to think you should have brought yourself to be vdiat you are: “Why didst thou rebel against me, and bi’ing thyself into such a state as this?” It was just like that day when Adam sinned. God walked in the garden, and he missed Adam. Ho did not cry out, “Adam, come here and be judged!” No; with a soft, sorrowful, and y)lnintive voice, he said, “Adam, where art thou? Oh, my fair Adam, thou whom I made SO happy, whore art thou now? Oh, Adam! thou didst think to become a God; where art thou now? Thou hast walked with me: dost thou hide thyself from thy friend? Little dost thou know, O Adam, what woes thou hast brought on thyself, and thine offspring. Adam, whore art thou?” And Jehovah’s bowels yearn to-day over you. He is not angry with you; his anger is passed away, and his hands are stretched out still. Inasmuch as he has brought you to feel that you have sinned against him, and to desire reconciliation with him, there is no wrath in his heart. The only sorrow that he feels is sorrow that you should have brought yourself into a state so mournful as that in which you now are fo-and.

But he did not stop in mere compassion. Having had compassion, “he ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” This you do not understand yet; but you shall. As sure as God la God, if you this day are seeking him aright through Christ, the day shall come when the kiss of full assurance shall bo on your lip, when the arms of sovereign love shall embrace you, and you shall know it to be so. Thou mayest have despised nim,’but thou shalt know him yet to be thy Father and thy Friend. Thou mayest have scoffed his name: tnou shalt one dav come to rejoice in it as better than pure gold. Thou mayest have broken his Sabbaths and despised his Word; the day is coming when the Sabbath shall be thy delight, and his Word thy treasure. Yes, marvel not, thou mayest have plunged into the kennel of sin, and made thy clothes black witlAniquity; but thou shalt one day stand before his throne white as the angels be; and that tongue that once cursed him shall yet sing his praise. If thou be a real seeker, the hands that have ue’en stained with lust shall one day grasp the harp of gold, and the head that has plotted against the Most High shall yet be girt with gold. Seemcth it not a strange thing that God should do so much for sinners? But strange though it seem, it shall be strangely true. Look at the staggering drunkard m the ale-house. Is there a possibility that one day he shall stand among the fairest sons of light? Possibility I ay, certainty, if he repents and turns from the error of his ways. Hear you yon cursor and swearer? See you the raao

160 TUB PEODlGAi’B ilBrrUBM.

who labels himself as a servant of hell, and is not ashamed to do so? Is it possible that he shall one day share the bhss of the redeemed? Possible! ay, more, it is sure, if he turneth from his evil ways. O sovereign grace, turn mev that they may repent! “Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die, O hoiwe ol l8rj»«l?”

“Lord, do thou the sinner turn,
For thy tender mercj’a eakoJ”