Mercy

The Music of Mercy. — When loitering upon the Island of Liddo, off Venice, and listening to the sound of the city’s bells, I thought the music charming as it floated across the lagune; but when I returned to the city, and sat down in the center of the music, in the very midst of all the bells, the sweetness changed to a horrible clash, the charming sounds were transformed into a maddening din; not the slightest melody could I detect in any one bell, while harmony in the whole company of noisemakers was out of the question. Distance had lent enchantment to the sound. The words of poets and eloquent writers may, as a whole, and heard from afar, sound charmingly enough; but how few of them bear a near and minute investigation! Their belfry rings passably, but one would soon weary of each separate bell. It is never so with the divine words of Jesus. You hear them ringing from afar and they are sweetness itself. When as a sinner, you roamed at midnight like a traveller lost on the wilds, how sweetly did they call you home! But now you have reached the house of mercy, you sit and listen to each distinct note of love’s perfect peal, and wonderingly feel that even angelic harps cannot excel it.

The Stream of Mercy. — There is the stream of mercy, deep, broad, and clear: you have drunk of it, and are refreshed, but it is as full as ever. It will flow on, will it not? You do not suppose that you and I have dammed up the stream so as to keep it to ourselves. No, it is too strong, too full a stream for that. It will flow on from age to age. God will bless others as he has blessed us. Unbelief whispers that the true church will die out. Do not believe it. Christ will live, and his church will live with him till the heavens be no more. Hath he not said, “Because I live, ye shall live also?” “Oh,” you say, “but we shall not see such holy men in the next generation as in past ages.” Why not? I hope the next age will see far better men than any of those who are with us at this time. Pray that it may be so. Instead of the fathers, may there be the children, and may these be princes before the Lord!

Covenant Mercies. — I like to think of the old Scotch woman, who not only blessed God for the porridge as she ate it, but thanked God that she had a covenant-right to the porridge. Daily mercies belong to the Lord’s household by covenant-right; and that same cov enant-right which will admit us into heaven above, also gives us bread and water here below. The trifles in the house, and the jewels of the house, equally belong to the children. We may partake of the common mercies of providence, and the extraordinary mercies of grace, without stint. None of the dainties of the royal house are locked up from the children. The Lord says to each believer, “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.” “Ye are Christ’s and Christ is God,” and therefore “all things are yours.”

Mercy Through Christ. — Once on a time, Mercy sat upon her snow-white throne, surrounded by the troops of love. A sinner was brought before her, whom Mercy designed to save. The herald blew the trumpet, and after three blasts thereof, with a loud voice, he said, “0 heaven and earth, and hell, I summon you this day to come before the throne of Mercy, to tell why this sinner should not be saved.” There stood the sinner, trembling with fear; he knew that there were multitudes of opponents, who would press into the hall of Mercy, and with eyes full of wrath, would say, “He must not, and he shall not escape; he must be lost! “The trumpet was blown, and Mercy sat placidly on her throne, until there stepped in one with a fiery countenance; his head was covered with light; he spoke with a voice like thunder, and out of his eyes flashed lightning! “Who art thou?” said Mercy. He replied, “I am Law; the law of God.” “And what hast thou to say? ““I have this to say,” and he lifted up a stony tablet, written on both sides; “these ten commands this wretch has broken. My demand is blood; for it is written, ‘The soul that sinneth it shall die, Die he, or Justice must.” The wretch trembles, his knees knock together, the marrow of his bones melts within him, as if it were ice dissolved by fire, and he shakes with very fright. Already he thought he saw the thunderbolt launched at him, he saw the lightning penetrate into his soul, hell yawned before him in imagination, and he thought himself cast away for ever. But Mercy smiled, and said, “Law, I will answer thee. This wretch deserves to die; Justice demands that he should perish — I award thee thy claim.” And, 0! how the sinner trembles. “But there is one yonder who has come with me to-day, my King, my Lord; his name is Jesus; he will tell you how the debt can be paid, and the sinner can go free.” Then Jesus spake, and said, “0 Mercy, I will do thy bidding. Take me, Law; put me in a garden; make me sweat drops of blood; then nail me to a tree; scourge my back before you put me to death; bang me on the cross; let blood run from my hands and feet; let me descend into the grave; let me pay all the sinner oweth; I will die in his stead.” And the Law went out and scourged the Savior, nailed him to the cross, and coming back with his face all bright with satisfaction, stood again at the throne of Mercy, and Mercy said, “Law, what hast thou now to say? ““Nothing,” said he; “fair angel, nothing.” “What! not one of these commands against him1?” “No, not one. Jesus, his substitute, has kept them all — has paid the penalty for his disobedience; and now, instead of his condemnation, I demand, as a debt of Justice, that he be acquitted.” “Stand thou here,” said Mercy; “sit on my throne; I and thou together will now send forth another summons.” The trumpet rang again.’ “Come hither, all ye who have aught to say against this sinner, why he should not be acquitted; “and up comes another — one who often troubled the sinner — one who had a voice not so loud as that of the Law, but still piercing and thrilling — a voice whose whispers were like the cuttings of a dagger. “Who art thou?” says Mercy. “I am Conscience; this sinner must be punished; he has done so much against the law of God that he must be punished; I demand it; and I will give him no rest till he is punished, nor even then, for I will follow him even to the grave, and persecute him after death with pangs unutterable.” “Nay,” said Mercy, “hear me; “and while he paused for a moment, she took a bunch of hyssop and sprinkled Conscience with the blood, saying,” Hear me, Conscience, l The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth from all sin.’ Now has thou aught to say? “” No,” said Conscience,” nothing —

“* .Covered is his unrighteousness;
From condemnation he is free.’

Henceforth I will not grieve him; I will be a good conscience unto him, through the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.” The trumpet rang a third time, and growling from the innermost vaults, up there came a grim black fiend, with hate in his eyes, and hellish majesty on his brows. He is asked, “Hast thou anything against that sinner 1” “Yes,” said he, “I have; he has made a league with hell, and a covenant with the grave, and here it is, signed with his own hand. He asked God to destroy his soul in a drunken fit, and vowed he would never turn to God; see here is his covenant with hell!” “Let us look at it,” said Mercy; and it was handed up, while the grim fiend looked at the sinner, and pierced him through with his black looks. “Ah! but,” said Mercy, “this man had no right to sign the deed; a man must not sign away another’s property. This man was bought and paid for long beforehand; he is not his own; the covenant with Death is disannulled, and the league with hell is rent in pieces. Go thy way, Satan.” “Nay,” said he, howling again, “I have something else to say: that man was always my friend; he listened ever to my insinuations; he scoffed at the gospel; he scorned the majesty of heaven: he is to be pardoned, while I repair to my hellish den, for ever to bear the penalty of guilt?” Said Mercy, “Avaunt, thou fiend; these things he did in the days of his unregeneracy; but this word ’ nevertheless ’ blots them out. Go thou to thy hell; take this for another lash upon thyself — the sinner shall be pardoned, but thou — never, treacherous fiend!” And then Mercy, smilingly turning to the sinner, said, “Sinner, the trumpet must be blown for the last time!” Again it was blown, and no one answered. Then stood the sinner up, and Mercy said, “Sinner, ask thyself the question — ask thou of heaven, of earth, of hell — whether any can condemn thee?” And the sinner stood up, and with a bold, loud voice, said, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?” And he looked into hell, and Satan lay there, biting his iron bonds; and he looked on earth, and earth was silent; and in the majesty of faith the sinner did even climb to heaven itself, and he said, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect1? God?” And the answer came, “No; he justifieth.” “Christ?” Sweetly it was whispered, “No; he died.” Then turning round, the sinner joyfully exclaimed, “Who shall separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord?” And the once condemned sinner came back to Mercy; prostrate at her feet he lay, and vowed henceforth to be hers for ever, if she would keep him to the end, and make him what she would desire him to be. Then no longer did the trumpet ring, but angels rejoiced, and heaven was glad, for the sinner was saved.

God’s Mercy for All. — Let us divide these creatures once more. There were creeping things, and there were flying things. On the morning when the ark door was opened, you might have seen in the sky a pair of eagles, a pair of sparrows, a pair of vultures, a pair of ravens, a pair of humming-birds, a pair of all kinds of birds that ever cut the azure, that ever floated on wing, or whispered their song to the evening gales. In they came. But if you had watched down on the earth, you would have seen come creeping along a pair of snails, a pair of snakes, and a pair of worms. There ran along a pair of mice, there came a pair of lizards, and in there flew a pair of locusts. There were pairs of creeping creatures, as well as pairs of flying creatures. Do you see what I mean by that? There are some of you that can fly so high in knowledge, that I should never be able to scan your great and extensive wisdom; and others of you so ignorant, that you can hardly read your Bibles. Never mind; the eagle must come down to the door, and you must go up to it. There is only one entrance for you all; and as God saved the birds that flew, so he saved the reptiles that crawled. Are you a poor, ignorant, crawling creature, that never was noticed — without intellect, without repute, without fame, without honor? Come along, crawling one! God will not exclude you. I have often wondered how the poor snail crawled in; but I dare say he started many a year before. And some of you have started for years, and still you keep crawling on. Ah! then, come along with thee, poor snail! If I could just pick thee up, and help thee on a yard or two, I would be glad to do it. It is strange how long you have been nigh to the ark, but not yet entered in; how long you have been near the portals of the church, but never joined it.