Cries of Distress

“I cried zuitk my whole heart; hear?)ie, O Lord: I will keep thy statutes. I cried unto thee; save me, and I shall keep thy testimonies.’’^ — Psalm cxix. 145, 146.

THE fear of punishment leads many people to think about their sins, and a dread of hell ia the future fills the retrospect of their past life with gloom and remorse. This is natural. It may happen to any one, as it has happened to tens of thousands, that the peril has haunted them till at length the penalty has overtaken them. Although they have been constantly terrified with a sense of the Divine wrath, they have never penitently looked to the Divine mercy. Thus they have continued to despond, and they have gone on to despair, and that utter desperation has curdled into a bitter remorse, which has been the forecast of their eternal torment. But it appears to me that there is a work of grace in the heart where there is a fear of sin rather than a fear of hell, — where the desire of the soul is not so much to escape from the punishment as to escape from the guilt which is the cause of the punishment. What thief, what murderer, when he has been arrested, convicted, sentenced, and brought to the gallows, does not wish he had not committed the crime that seals his doom? Yet there is a wide difference between the dread of suffering for the wrong you have done and a dread of doing wrong. Judge yourselves, if you are under religious impressions of any sort, whether you have merely a fear of punishment, for that is an instinct of nature, or whether you have a fear and an abhorrence of sin, for that is a work of Divine grace.

Now, our text exhibits to us the frame of mind of one whose chief prayer was that he might keep God’s statutes, and his chief anxiety lest he should fail to observe them. Oh, that you might be brought to this state of heart, those of you who are not saved, and may those of you who are saved have this state of heart perpetually in exercise! A tender heart, a scrupulous conscience, a tenacity of offending God in thought, in word, or in deed, should hold us in check every day and every hour. Let us continually cry unto God to save us from violating his precepts, and constrain us to keep his testimonies. I address myself very indiscriminately to all who hear my voice, desiring that the text may prove a test whereby every one should examine himself. Do we, or do we not, desire to get rid of every evil way? Are we anxious to be sincere and without offence, holy in our character, and obedient to God’s statutes in our lives? The man who really does desire this will be sure to pray for it. “I cried,” says the Psalmist; and then again he says, ‘* I cried.” Moreover he combines his prayer with strong resolution. “I cried unto thee; hear me, 0 Lord: I will keep thy statutes.” Still further, he seasons his prayer with a deep sense of his own weakness, for he puts it thus: “1 cried unto thee; save me, and 1 shall keep thy statutes.”

I. Well, then, every man who desires purity of heart and character will betake himself to prayer. While struggling after purity he will soon discover that he is unable to reach it of himself Plave you never thought that you had destroyed an evil tendency in your disposition, and then found in an unguarded moment that you fell into the temptation, from the coils of which you had supposed yourself to have fully escaped? You have resolved in the morning, may be at the hour of prayer, that throughout the day your temper should be calm and quiet.. Yet very likely before breakfast was over you were more ruffled than usual. Where you fancied you had set a double guard, there it was that you were taken by surprise. You thought yourself weak in one point, but it did not happen to be that on which you were beset. Where you said to yourself, “I am safe,” there you were betrayed. You must have found this out, if you are striving against sin. When it has occurred many times, you will have a habitual mistrust of yourself Does it happen but once, you will be driven by a sense of your own incompetence to call in the sacred, might of God, that with the arms of the Eternal you may defeat the infernal adversary, prevail over your evil passions, and conquer your besetting sin. “I cried unto thee,” says David; not as though it were a trifling skirmish, but as one who felt that he was perilously besieged. “I cried unto thee with my whole heart, for 1 must vanquish this sin, or be vanquished by it. I could not conquer it by myself, so 1 cried unto thee, 0 my God, and I said, Oh, display thy power, and by the irresistible might of thy Holy Spirit crush this dragon within my nature; beat it down, that it may rise up no more.”

The importunity of this prayer shows the Psalmist’s estimate of the value he set on the blessing he craved. Read verses 145, 146, and 147, and you will perceive how he repeats himself — “I cried;*’ “I cried unto thee;”’ “I prevented the dawn of the morning, and cried.” Three times does he reiterate it. He was not to be put off. He felt he must get the mastery of sin. There it stands. Sin will destroy us if we do not destroy it. It will be our ruin if we do not fight against it, and get the mastery over it. Hence, in sheer desperation, the good man cries again, and again, and again: “0 God, deliver me, that I may keep thy testimonies.” Pray often, beloved, for sin will tempt often. Cry mightily, for Satan will tempt mightily. Innumerable snares will he place in your path; let your countless entreaties outnumber his devices.

The expression by which he memorializes his prayer shows us the intensity of it. “I cried;” “I cried;” ‘’ I cried.” 1 do not know a better form of prayer than crying. It implies that the whole nature is full of anguish. Crying is the consequence of pain. His entire soul was stirred up. A cry is the expression of desire. It is a natural unpremeditated utterance. There is no affectation about it. A man that knows no Latin or Greek can cry. He that cannot speak with eloquence may yet give eloquent vent to his feelings in tears and entreaties. There are some with whom prayer is a ceremony. They call the servants together; they march in, and they march out to the routine of family worship. They read out of a book some form of words, or else they compose a little piece themselves, and say it; and that is their idea of prayer! Not so. Prayer is crying, laying hold on God, and spreading our wants before him with an earnest entreaty that he would not reject us, but would give us what we ask of him. It is a wrestling with the covenant angel; it is a sacred resolve, “I will not let thee go except thou bless me.” If you want to conquer sin, know that it cannot be overcome by cold prayers, muttered in a heartless manner; it will not yield to empty ceremonies. It is unmoved by your litanies and your collects, your postures and your vestments. Sin only flies before the blood of Christ and the power of the Eternal Spirit. These come to our rescue when, with cries and tears, we importune the Lord to help us. “I cried;” ‘’I cried;” “I cried.” Thrice does he repeat the words. His whole heart cried to God that he might be delivered from sin. Wherever there is a real and -^true prayer about this matter, it must be a prayer of faith. God can, in answer to prayer, help me to conquer sin. Beloved, you pray in vain unless you steadfastly believe that there is no sin which you cannot overcome. I meet with men who say, “I can never give up drink.” My dear friend, God can make you. 1 meet with a man who has a violent temper; and he thinks he never can curb or subdue it. Surely you do not think of takinsj it to heaven with you. They have no passionate people in that happy clime. You will have to get that anger put away, and God can accomplish it. Do you say — ‘’ It Mould be like turning a lion into a lamb “? That is just what his grace is able to do. He can bring you from darkness to light. He can work such a transformation in you that you would not know yourself if you could see yourself after you have passed under the divine hand. Resolve in your soul that sin must be conquered, believe that it is possible, and cry to God with a full conviction that he is able to save you from it. Yet methinks there are some who would not like to have their prayers answered. They ask for a humble heart. Well, 1 question whether they would like it, if it was sent them, — whether they would not want to send it back. They pray that they may have a pure conscience; but how, then, could they carry on that business of theirs? They ask that they may be upright in God’s statutes, and they know very well that they preferfollowing their own crooked devices. There are thousands of prayers that are insults to heaven; but where the Spirit of God really is at work, the man who wants to be pure prays sincerely, and cries mightily to God for purity; nor will he be content to tolerate anything, either in his disposition or in his daily life, which would be inconsistent with the perfect holiness of God. Oh, that God might implant in all of us this desire, and then set us a-praying that we might secure the blessing we crave!

II. Now, secondly, the man who desires to walk in God’s way, not merely prays, but he resolves. “I cried with my whole heart; hear me, 0 Lord. I will keep thy statutes.” He puts his whole heart into it. His prayer is no deceit. Then he throws that same heart into a strong resolution that he will find out what God’s statutes are; and when he has found them out, he will keep them, cost whatever it may. Need I say that nobody becomes holy against his will? No man keeps God’s statutes without he exercises a resolve to do so. The very essence of obedience to God lies in the heart, so the heart must be set upon obedience. It must be a sincere, willing, cheerful obedience, or else it is not a genuine submission to the Almighty. Do I address any one who is living in sin, and yet saying, “I wish I could get rid of it “? I have often heard such a wish expressed by persons who must themselves have known that they were uttering an untruth. A man says, “1 wish I could be set free from sin to-night,” and to-morrow he will mix with gay associates and loose companions.

and go to places of amusement where he is as sure he will be led into sin as he is sure that his coat would burn if he put it into the fire. He goes into the middle of the mischief; he takes the tinder of his heart where he knows there are sparks, and he says, “There will come no harm of it.” He puts a candle near the gunpowder, and he hopes he will not be blown away. That is what he says, and this is what he does. Do you perceive the inconsistency V If you do not want to be besmeared, do not go amongst the pitch and the tar. If you do not want to be defiled avoid all ungodly fellowships. The man who means to conquer sin, and resolves to conquer it, will keep himself out of mischiefs way, that he may be clean before the living God. Such a man will give up everything that tempts him. If there is any weak point of which he is conscious, he will just mortify himself rather than offend his conscience. He cuts off his right arm, and plucks out his right eye, according to the gospel precept, which means, I suppose, whatever he is fond of, if it becomes a temptation to sin, he will forthwith have done with it once for all. It does not matter what it is, — whether it be drunkenness or gluttony, levity or lust, ambition or avarice — whatever is his besetting sin — he just gays, ‘’ No; this may be allowable to some men to go just so far, but I cannot go as far without going farther; therefore I will have nothing to do with it.” He is ready to deny himself anything and everything. -He completely reforms his habits, lest he should be decoyed into sin. ‘* I will keep thy testimonies.” Oh, what a blessed thing it is when a man really resolves to be upright! when he says, “I will keep out of the way of temptation, and I will deny myself aught that charms, entices, or allures me, lest by any means 1 grieve the Holy Spirit of God.” And he will be sure, if his resolution be of the true metal, to follow that course which strengthens it. He knows that to hear the gospel keeps his conscience in exercise; therefore he will not waste the morning hours of the Lord’sday in slothful sleep; but he will welcome the assembly of the saints and rejoice in the preaching of the word. He knows that reading good books will often be helpful to make his thoughts active, and his imagination pure; therefore he prefers sound study to light literature. He knows that association with Christian people will stimulate his piety, so he consorts with those whose conversation is edifying. He knows that to lift up his heart in prayer to God, not occasionally, but regularly at set intervals, has often proved an aid to faith and an incentive to courage, and he accordingly endeavors to maintain such secret engagements as strictly as circumstances will allow. If there be anything of good repute to enable him to get rid of sin, he is enamored of it. When he prays to God to keep him pure, he takes care to choose all such means as God may put in his way to resist evil and to follow after holiness. Such a man will achieve his purpose. You may laugh at him for being too precise. His heart will not be wounded by your ridicule. He will lose the Sunday trade if thereby he lose half his living rather than break God’s command. It may be that his association with some worldly persons contributed much to his prosperity, though it involved him in serious temptations: he falters not, for he would sooner run the risk of losing all the world than stake his reputation or jeopardize his soul, for he is bent upon getting rid of sin. Sin is the plague he hates. He would sooner be poor as Lazarus, and even covered with sores, and licked by dogs, than have the sins of the rich man upon him. He wants to be clean delivered from every foul thing and every false way. One thing has he asked of the Lord, and

that one thing has he set his heart upon that he may possess himself in righteousness, that he may be without offence, that he may maintain his integrity. To obtain this, through the power of the Holy Spirit, being cleansed by the blood of Jesus, he will cheerfully suffer any imaginable privation. I hail such a man, and I honor him. He has the courage, and the composure, the manliness and the meekness, of which martyrs were made in days of yore, though he has not actually given his body to be burned. To that noble army, in my belief, he belongs, though only one of the file.

Do observe how David sought after a thorough allegiance and a perfect conformity to the will of God. He says, ‘’ I cried with my whole heart; I will keep thj statutes;” not some of the statutes that were agreeable to him, but all of the statutes that had the Divine sanction. I do not intend to be uncharitable when I suspect that some Christians do not wish to know too much, or to inquire too minutely into the Lord’s demands upon their resources. I have noticed a great many people lately who have looked upon perfection as a prize within their reach, and even as an attainment to which they have already come. This conceit is getting rather common. They profess to be perfectly sanctified. But what can I think of some of them who, to the best of my belief, are possessed of fortunes to the extent of two or three hundred thousand pounds? Were they perfectly sanctified, could they look on the outlying world, living in vice and ignorance, out of which a chosen people are being saved by the gospel, without supporting those agents and agencies that have the Divine blessing manifestly resting upon them to the utmost of their ability? They look to me as if they were a long way off from that degree of consecration illustrated for all the ages by the poor widow who gave “all her living” to the Lord’s treasury. I do not believe in a perfect sanctification which allows a man to lay up so much treasure on earth, while so many works for the Lord Jesus need his help. Systematic hoarding of wealth, to my mind, does not indicate a ‘perfect character. I am not judging ordinary Christian men, but only those who talk of full consecration, a ad I can never accredit their sterling sincerity till I see their gold, and their silver, dedicated to a larger, ay, even to a perfect degree. I like to see the hall-mark on every link of the chain. Do not let them boast, but give. As to those who are satisfied that they are perfect in spirit, soul, and body, we wait for their last testament, to see what their wills look like when they die. A man who is perfect before the Lord lays out his substance for God’s cause, depend on that. He does not merely attend conferences, and talk of unfulfilled prophesies and plausible unravelings of spirituality of mind, and sanctification by faith, and listen to the like glittering subjects descanted upon in glowing periods; but he lives for Jesus in some practical work, and gives himself up, and his substan-ce too, for the honor of the Redeemer’s name and the diffusion of the glorious gospel. I have no leading member of any of these guilds in my mind’s eye at the present moment, but I am deeply concerned for certain of their disciples. Far less do I find fault with them for their searching the Scriptures; but I do challenge them to reconcile their large wealth with their still larger professions of perfect consecration.

The true seeker for holiness is one who, while he resolves on obedience to God, will dare to be singular, if no man will accompany him in it. “I cried with my whole heart: I will keep thy statutes.” He meant to do it, though he should be without a companion. He was prepared to stand alone. I always admire that speech of Athanasius, when he, seeing others had turned aside to Arianism, said, “I, Athanasius, against the world.” He is a true man who can be a true man by himself. Give me no semi-detached cottage, but a house that stands compact on its foundation, and give me such a man as can let the wind blow all around him, and yet stand upright. He will hold his own whether men will bear or forbear. Let his fellow-creatures applaud or hiss him, he will remain true to his own convictions. If they bear him on their shoulders in triumph, it is the truth he has espoused they honor, or if they trample him under their feet in contempt, it is for righteousness’ sake he suffers. But, like Luther, he will defy devil, death, and hell, to withstand his purpose to keep God’s statutes. Now, the word of God animates a man’s soul, and the work of God is the enterprise of his life when this is the strong desire of his spirit. He prays to God, and invokes his aid; yet at the same time he records his vow with a mind that is not given to vacillate. He has put his foot down where he meant to stand. He has knit his brow and closed his teeth, and set all his features to the aspect of defiance, for he means to hold out till he does achieve the victory. He is not going to compromise himself, or to tolerate any wrong thing. He will foil temptation, master evil propensities, and slay the sin that offends, and aggrieves, and harasses him. In the armor of God he arrays himself, and through the grace of God he will prevail.

III. The man who is thus seeking purity, while he prays and resolves, if he be really wise and taught of the Spirit, will have a deep sense of his own weakness and depravity; therefore he supplicates the Lord in the language of the one hundred and forty-sixth verse: “I cried unto thee; hear me; I shall keep thy testimonies.” His tender misgivings are an incentive to his restless importunities. As though he should say, “Oh, Lord, I am praying and resolving: but my prayers want thine answers, and my resolutions need thy might to fulfill them. My prayers — what are they? My resolves — what can they do? I am a frail leaf, and I bend before the wind of temptation. My righteousness is like the sere leaf of autumn: it is soon carried away; yea, it is like a filthy rag that ought to be set aside and hidden from view. My God, I want sifting, I want sifting. Oh, save me, and then I shall keep thy testimonies.” There is no holiness in any man by nature, and never will be. Some ingenious author has said that man is not dead like a stone, but dead like an ^^^. There was some disposition to life in him that wanted brooding over to develop. Well, I shoul4 not like to be the hen that had to sit on that till it was hatched! That a long eternity of disappointed hopes would spread out before me, I am quite certain. It is a stone this humanity of ours. There is no real spiritual life whatever in it. Who shall bring a clean thing out of an unclean? No one. And they may set on that unclean as long as they like, but a vile unclean chick will be the only result of it. Before ever we can keep God’s testimonies we must be saved. AVe must be saved first from the guilt of the past. By substitution, by redemption, by the application of the precious blood of Jesus, by that expiatory sacrifice in which our blessed Lord bore for us the vengeance of God that was due to our sin, must our salvation be procured. Sinner, you will never go out of the Egypt of your bondage to sin till the blood of the Paschal Lamb has been sprinkled on the lintel and the two side-posts. You may strive against sin as you will, but you will never overcome it except through the blood of the Lamb. Inquire of those in heaven who have conquered sin, and do now wear the snow white garments.

“I asked them whence their victory came?
They, with united breath,
Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
Their triumph to his death.”

Never till you see a bleeding Saviour will you be able to put your sins to death. They may be crucified on the Cross. They will die nowhere else than there. “Save me, and I shall keep thy testimonies.”

We need to be saved, however, not only from the guilt of sin, but saved from our sinful selves. We whose nature is evil cannot do much with so bad a nature to baffle all our efforts to cleanse our way. This nature must be removed and a new one implanted, or else, whilst the old nature is extant the old evil will assert itself. There are different ways of treating diseases. A man has a bad malady upon hiui, and it breaks out in his flesh. He goes to a quack, who gives him an ointment, which he applies outwardly to heal the sore till the morbid appearances vanish, and he congratulates himself on the cure, and commends the charlatan for his skill. •’ What a capital doctor he is, and how well my money was expended,” he says; “he has taken away all that eruption.” B3“-and-by the man is lying so grievously sick and ill that he does not know what to do. “Oh,” thinks he to himself, “have I made a mistake?” And when the true physician comes he says, “What have been your symptoms?” He tells the tale of an eruption on his skin, and the remedies he resorted to. “Ah,” says the physician, “the disease is driven inwards; you have taken the wrong course; your present symptoms are fatal; you will die. It was well that it should come out on your flesh, seeing it lurked in your constitution. When you have a disease, you had need lay the axe at the root, and not at the branches. It is not the disfigurement of the skin that is so alarming as the blood-poisoning that caused it.” Forthwith he begins to deal with the real evil.

So, my dear friends, you are only tinkering with the symtoms, the mere eruption on the skin, while you aim at outward reformation. You must be born again: that is the only cure for the leprosy of sin. I am glad to hear of people insisting on the importance of reforming every kind of vicious custom and evil habit; but they do not go to the root of the Upas-tree unless they resort to the gospel, which lays the axe right at the root of all manner of sin and blasphemy with its imperative demand that ye repent and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out. This is the vital and vitalizing process that will turn out to be a radical blessing. Lord, save me, save me; change my heart; renew my spirit; make the fountain clear; set the mainspring right! Oh, Holy Ghost, regenerate me, and, if thou do this, then, not till then, shall I keep thy testimonies.

The like is true in respect to every Christian, beloved. We require God to keep on sifting us. Unless his spiritual work be carried on every day in us, we shall be unable to keep his testimonies. We are to be resolved against sin; I have told you that. We are to pray against it: I have enlarged upon that. Still we must fall back upon the naked fact that a real conquest of sin is the work of God himself “1 cried unto thee; hear me: I shall keep thy testimonies.”

Brethren, beloved in Christ, live near to God; live at the foot of the cross. Go every day to Jesus. Never get away from the spot on which you stood when you first believed. There and then you looked as sinners, to find everything in him and nothing in yourselves. Do not expect to overcome sin by any other means but by the atoning blood. Do not seek anything like perfection apart from Jesus Christ, who “is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctifi cation, and redemption.” Oh, I would charge upon the members of this church to labor after holy walking. It cuts me to the quick when I hear it said of any one of the members of this church, “Well, they may be professors of religion, but they are not honest in their dealings, or they are not choice in their language, or they do not govern their tempers. They may be saints at the prayer-meeting, but they are devils at home. They may look very amiable at the communion-table, but they are very cross at their own tables.” Do not let it be so; give no cause for such an evil report, I pray you. I do invite all that attend my ministry, who are truly converted, to cast in their lot with us and join the church, for so you ought to do; but, oh, do not bring dishonor — 1 will not say upon us; that is of small consequence — but do not bring dishonor upon the gospel that we preach, and the Christ whom we love. The world will not say, “There, that is a false professor.” They ought to say it, and if they were honest that is how they would put it; but, in general, they will say “That is your religion!” and the Cross of Christ will be evilly spoken of; and many a poor believer, who has trouble enough as it is, finds it more difficult to give an answer to the scoffer through having the inconsistencies of others thrown in his teeth. Better die than deny the Saviour! Better that we lie sick at home, covered with boils and blains, than that we go al)ont the world grieving the Holy Spirit, and puting an evil word into the mouth of the ungodly. Follow after holiness, I charge you. You are not saved by works. We give no uncertain sound about that doctrine. We have told you, and we continually do tell you, that you are only to be saved by the blood of Jesus; but, remember, Jesus came to save us from our sins. If we hug our sins we cannot have Christ to be our Saviour. Christ and you must part, unless you and your sins part. Jesus Christ will take any sinner to heaven, but he will not take any sin to heaven. He will spare the sinner, but he will not spare his sin. If you want to spare your own sins, depend upon it you will lose your souls. Watch, I pray you, against what are called *’ little “sins. Remember, when thieves want to get into the house, if they cannot find a ready entrance they will often put a child through a little window, and then he open a the front or the back door. And so a little sin will often open the door to a big sin. Watch, 1 pray you — watch against secret sins. We have heard of some who barred the door at night, and fastened the windows, but there was a thief under the bed. Mind that it is not so with you — some hidden evil — some secret lust. Watch, pray, resolve, but still come back to this, “Lord, help me; Lord, save me; Lord, keep me.” The old plowman whom I sometimes used to talk with before he went to heaven, said to me, “Depend upon it, if you and I get one inch above the ground, we shall get that inch too high.” There is much truth in his plain remark. If we get any high notions of what we are, we shall soon sink below what we should be. Lie low; aspire high; be nothing; take Christ to be your all in all; renounce self coniidence, and have faith in God. In this way you shall conquer sin. Your prayer shall be accepted, your resolution shall be carried out, the purpose of your heart shall be verified. “I will keep thy statutes.” Amen, and amen.

“Js not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” Zechariah. iii. 2

T T may be well to explain these words, for, sim- -*- pie as they are, a few words of exposition may be useful to open up the metaphor, and enforce the thrilling truth that underlies it.

There is mention of a fire, A cry of “Fire!” has something fearful in it. When a fire begins to get the upper hand with us, it is terrible in its destructiveness. The fire here meant is more awful than any flame that makes havoc of matter, and its devastations ten thousand times more appalling. It is the fire of sin. It blazed in the heart of an angel, and he became a devil. Its sparks fell into the bosom of mother Eve, and into the heart of father Adam, and paradise was burned up, and the world became a wilderness. Sin is a fire which destroys the comfort of mankind here, and all the joy of mankind hereafter. It is a flame which jdelds no comfortable warmth. The sinner may dance in the light of it for a moment, but in sorrow will he have to lie down in it forever. Woe unto those who have to make their bed in this fire, to dwell with these consuming flames for a term that knows no ending.

There is further mention of a brand. Nothing can be more suitable to burn in the fire than a brand. It is not a branch just taken from the tree, full of sap; it is a brand — dry, sere timber, fit for the burning; it is not a mass of stone or iron, but a combustible brand. And what does this indicate but man’s natural heart, which is so congenial to the fire of sin? Our heart is like the tinder, and Satan has but to strike the spark, and how readily does the spark find a nest within our bosom! As the firebrand fits the fire, so does the sinner fit in with sin. When sin and the sinner come in contact, it is “Hail fellow, well met!” They are boon companions. The sinner’s heart is the nest well prepared, and sins are the foul birds which come to nestle there. Not to go a step without a particular application, it will be well for us all to understand that we are ourselves like the brands; there is a fitness between us and sin; if we burn in the fire of sin it is no wonder; with our fallen nature, it is no greater marvel that we should be instigated by sin than that the firebrand should kindle in the flame.

Beyond the distinct allusion to a fire and a brand, we read of a brand in the fire. Nor is it merely a brand hitherto lying upon the heap, to be by-and-by put upon the flames; it is “a brand plucked out of the fire.” It has been in the fire. Does not this portray our condition — not only congenial for the fire of sin, but actually burning and blazing in it? We began very early. Disobedience to parents, angry tempers, petty falsehoods, many sorts of childish obstinacies and wrong-doings — all these were like the first catchings on fire of the brand. We have blazed away the reverse of merrily since then; some have become charred with sin, till their very bodies contain the marks of that tremendous fire, while in every case the soul receives a charring and blackening from the flame. Not one of us has been able, even with Godly training and Christian parentage, to escape from burning to some extent in this fire. Alas! alas! for those who are even now in it! What with the lusts of the flesh, or pride, or unbelief, or some other form of departing from the living God, how many are still like the firebrand, blazing and flashing in the flame!

There is a fair side to the picture. It is not altogether gloomy. While we have a fire, and a brand, and a brand in the fire, we also have, blessed be God! ahrand plucked out of the fire. Sinners these, who though they have still within them the propensity to sin, are no longer in the fire of sin. They have been taken away from it. They sin through infirmity, but willful sin they do not commit. Their nature has been changed. They have received the renewing grace of God. The fire that once burned within them has been quenched. They recollect, to their grief and sorrow, the mischief that sin did to them, but it is not doing them the same mischief now. They are delivered from the body of sin and death. They are, in short, rescued from that fire which once threatened their everUisting destruction. They are brands still, but they are brands no longer in the lire; they are out of the fire now.

Still, the force of the passage seems to lie in the words — ‘’plucked out of’’ You may sit down on the settle by the hearth in one of those good old country fire-places where they still burn the logs, and perhaps a brand drops out upon the hearth, where it flames a little while and then goes out. This is not a picture that we can appropriate, for there never was an instance known of a man by himself dropping out of the fire of sin. Alas! we love it too well. “The burnt child dreads the fire,” says the proverb; but we are like the silly moth that flies at the candle and singes its wings, but useth those wings to mount up again into the flame, and if it falls all full of pain and torment, with burnt legs, and with almost all his wings gone, it struggles, it pants, it labors to get into the fire again. Such is man. He loves the fire which is his destruction. In youth we put our finger into the flame. We feel it is burnt; yet again we put our hand into it. Then in after years we persist deliberately till that sin has consumed us from head to foot, and we lie down in our grave with our bones filled with disease — foul fruit of the sins of our youth; our very corpses in their mortality bearing witness to the corruption of our morals.

Albeit the Christian is relieved of that peril, he does not escape by his own free will. He is plucked out of it. To be plucked out there needs a hand quick to rescue. You know that pierced hand, and how it burnt itself when it was thrust into the hot coals to pluck us out like brands from the burning. It was no use waiting till we dropped out, for we should never have done so. There was no hope of that. With all the appliances of grace and of judgment, the two together could not bring us out. But effectual vocation did it, when the Spirit of the living God took the firebrand by the hand, and without asking it whether it would or not, by the sweet and irresistible compulsions of divine grace plucked the brand out of the fire. Now, every believer in the Lord Jesus is to-night a trophy of the strength as well as of the mercy of God. It took as much omnipotence to snatch him from the fire as it needs to make a world, and every believer may feel that he is to-night a brand plucked from the fire.

We come now to take the matter up as a whole,. God helping us. May he bless the words we speak to some here who are still in the fire!

This question, as it appears to me, will bear three renderings; first it may he looked wpon as an exclamation of wonder. *’ Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? “Secondly, as an inquiry or hope — “Is not tJiis a brand” — this one particularly — *’ plucked out of the fire? “And in the third place, it is certainly a defiance for us, assured of our safety, to throw into the face of Satan, the accuser. “Is not this a brand plucked out of

the fire?”

I. The text bears the sense of wonderment — “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

It was said of Joshua, the high priest. There was such astonishment at his preservation, that, with hands uplifted, the question was asked, “Is not this man just like a firebrand snatched from among the glowing coals?” Nor is this marvel confined to Joshua. I believe this is a matter of tuonder in the case of every saved sinner. Was there ever a man saved by grace who was not a wonder? Is not every Christian conscious that there is some peculiarity about his own salvation which makes it marvelous? If you cannot all chime in with “Yes,” I must at last lead the chorus, in which an overwhelming multitude will join, confessing that it was so with myself. I could not believe that it was possible that my sins could be forgiven. I do not know why, but I seemed to be the odd person in the world. When the catalogue was made out, it seemed to me that for some reason I must be left out. If God had saved me, and not the world, I should have wondered indeed, but if he had saved all the world and not me, that would have seemed to be according to the common course; and a course of right too. And now, being saved by grace, I cannot help saying, “Yes, I am a brand plucked out of the fire!” And does not each believer say the same? Why, look at the believer. He is fallen, and yet, though lost, in his first parent, he is saved in Christ. The believer’s own nature is depraved like that of other men, and yet, contrary to nature, he is made a new creature. As though Niagara were suddenly made to leap upwards instead of down, our nature, so mighty for sin, has been suddenly turned into the opposite direction, and we have been constrained to seek after grace and holiness.

Out of the state of our natural depravity we have been plucked, so that every man who is delivered from its sway may well say — “Am not I a brand plucked out of the fire?” Each Christian knowing his own heart, and having a special acquaintance with his own peculiar besetting sin, feels as if the conquest of his own will by the grace of God were a more illustrious trophy of that grace than the conquest of a thousand others. I can well understand that none of us will yield the palm in heaven to any other as to our indebtedness to the mercy of God. You may sing, and sing loudly, each one of you, and each one say — “I owe more to God’s grace than any other;” but there is not one of us who will concede the point. We shall each strike up our own peculiar note, and louder yet, and louder yet, and louder still our notes of gratitude will rise to the seventh heaven “unto him that loved us and washed us from oui sins in his blood, to whom be glory for ever and ever.” Each Christian, then, for some reason, will feel that he is peculiarly a brand plucked out of the fire. I envy not the feeling of any believer who should dispute this. May you and I be more thoroughly baptized into the spirit of humility, that with deeper gratitude we may feel how peculiarly we are indebted to the grace of God.

Though this is the case universally, there are instances so uncommon that they excite surprise in the minds of all who hear. In the cases of extraordinary conversion, one of the first is the salvation of the extremely aged. Imagine a person here who has lived to be seventy or eighty years old, and all this time his heart has never heard the sigh of repentance, and never felt the joy of pardon. You have lived only to cumber the ground all these years, and you are still an enemy to God; while on the borders of the grave you have no hope of heaven. Oh, soul, your case is very sad! It were enough to make angels weep, if weep they could, to think that ch a one as you, after so many years of long-suffering, should not be melted thereby. Now, suppose the Lord should appear to you to-night, and say to you — “I have loved thee with an everlasting love, and, therefore, with loving-kindness have I drawn thee.” I took thee into the house of God to-night on purpose that the word might come with power to thy soul, and I have this to say to thee — Come now, and let us reason together: though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as wool, though they be red like crimson they shall be whiter than snow.” What eayest thou, thou hoary Jacob, but without Jacob’s faith, leaning upon thy staff — would it not be a wonder if now thou shouldest begin to love — begin to believe? Oh, may God give thee grace to do so, and then I am sure thou wilt say to thy kinsfolk and acquaintance — “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” There have been instances of persons converted at the most advanced age. There was one who went to hear, I believe, Mr. Toplady preach, the very day when he was aged a hundred. He had been a constant neglecter of the house of God, but when he arrived at the age of a hundred, attracted by the fame of Mr. Toplady, who was an exceedingly popular, as he certainly was a highly evangelical, preacher, and happened to be preaching in the town where the man lived, he said he would go on that day to hear him, that he might recollect his birthday. He went, and that day God in his grace met with him. I remember, too, the instance of a man who was converted by a sermon which he heard Mr. Flavel preach, and which was blessed to him eighty-three years after he had heard it, when he was at the age of ninety-eight. The word came with power to his soul after all that interval of time. Just as he was on the borders of the tomb, he was made to enter into eternal life. May the God of infinite mercy give such a blessing to aged ones here, and they will be brands plucked out of the fire.

Remarkable, too — I might almost say exceptional — is the conversion of feople ivJio have been accu3ix)med to hear the gospel from their youth tip, who though not, perhaps, absolutely aged, have nevertheless been for years receiving gospel privileges without any result. They have been lying at Bethesda’s pool, with its many porches, now for forty or fifty years. Oh! there are some such here. You have not heard me all that time. Some other ministry has, in times past, fallen upon your ear, and perhaps our own voice is now familiar to you through your having heard it these ten or twelve years. You listened to it at first with attention. You were riveted for a little while. Then it grew to be an ordinary thing, and though still you give the preacher a fair hearing, there is very little of that drinking in of the word which there once seemed to be. Some of you, perhaps, will almost even go to sleep now. I wish sometimes that you were elsewhere; perhaps another voice would make your ears to tingle; you know my voice full well. It is quite possible for a minister to preach too long to any one set of people, if they get so accustomed to the tones of his voice that they are never aroused. The “click, click” of the mill gets to be so customary to the miller that he goes to sleep. Over in Bankside, I am told, when a man is first put inside a boiler while the rivets are being fastened, he cannot stop long, the noise is so dreadful, but after a time the boiler-maker gets so used to the horrible din that he can almost go to sleep inside. Well, now, so it really is under any ministry when the people get gospel-hardened. The same sun which melts wax hardens clay. The influences which tend to make some people better make other people a great deal worse. Some of you have thus trifled with your own conscience. Should you be saved to-night you would be brands plucked out of the fire; and may we not hope that you shall be? Will not some of us pray for it? Will not all of us breathe the prayer, •’ Lord, thy minister has been firing his arrows, drawing his bow at a venture, but what can he do? He does not know where the joints in the harness are. 0 Lord! draw the bow thyself” Where God’s arrows go they are sharp in the hearts of the King’s enemies. He finds their hearts out. He takes such a good aim that he is sure to reach the heart. May he take such an aim to-night! May some fall down slain under hinri who have hitherto resisted the gospel! If such should be the case, we shall say of you — “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

Further still, and apparently the wonder increases. There have been cases of gross sinners in which this marvel has been still more exciting. It is a merciful thing that God forgives drunkenness. Some of those who have wallowed in it have been saved. We sometimes talk of a man being “as drunk as a beast,” but who ever heard of a beast being drunk? Why, it is more beastly than anything a beast ever does. I do not believe that the devil himself is ever guilty of anything like that. I never heard even him charged with being drunk. It is a sin which has no sort of excuse; those who fall into it generally fall into other deadly vices.

It is the devil’s back-door to hell, and everything that is hellish; for he that once gives away his brains to drink is ready to be caught by Satan for anything. Oh! but while the drunkard cannot have eternal life abiding in him while he is such, is it not a joy to think of the many drunkards who have been washed and saved? This night there are sitting here those who have done with their cups, who have left behind their strong drink, and who have renounced the haunts of their debauchery. They are washed and cleansed, and when they think of the contrast between where they used to be on Sunday night, and where they now are, they give echo to the question, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? “Very frequently where this sin comes, blasphemy is added to it; and how many we have who, though now saved by grace, were once fearful swearers, and could defy the God that made them to destroy them, or to inflict the most horrible judgments upon them, which it were a shame even to mention! Oh! but the mighty grace that takes the swearer, and says to him —” You shall curse no longer, for I have blessed; I do not intend that you should imprecate curses on yourself; you shall now begin to plead with me for saving mercy! “Many, many, many such, whose tongues might well have rotted in their mouths through blasphemy, have been cleansed by Jesu’s blood; and the tongue can sing that once could curse, and the lips can pray that once could utter oaths.” Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? “Oh! you are here, Jack, are you? You can swear. Sometimes when you are at sea you roll out an oath or two, and when you are on shore you know what you are! Oh! but may my Master meet you, and may he once for all transform you, and put his Holy Spirit to dwell in you, instead of the seven devils that are there now; and then you will say, ‘* Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

Can we pass over the case of some icho have given themselves up to sin, to tvork it icith greediness? Alas! how men turn aside with scorn from the harlot in the street, and they think of her as though she must be consigned to the seventh hell, albeit they themselves, perhaps, are viler still! But how shall we give a preference to one sinner rather than to another, when it must take two to commit this iniquity? But, alas! we know that in London our streets abound with those whose very names seem to make the cheek of modesty to mantle with a blush. Well, should there be such a one strayed in here — sister — for thou art a sister still — the Lord Jesus receiveth sinners, and though thou hast sinned very foully, “there is forgiveness wdth him that he may be feared,” and his voice is to-night, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Whoever you may be that have fallen into these polluting sins which do mischief, and which bring down God’s anger upon men, yet still the heart of God melts with pity to the chief of sinners, and he criea.

“How can I give thee up?” and lets the lifted thunder drop. Oh! when such are saved — and there are scores, and scores, and scores, to our knowledge, now rejoicing in Christ, who have found peace in this house, though once the chief of sinners — when such are saved, we say of them, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the burning?”

Or, what if you have even worn the felon’s dress? What if you have ever plunged into such sin that the very thought of it makes your ears to tingle? What if the darkness of the night could tell of such hideous crime that the brightness of day seems all too good for such an offender as you have been; still, the mountains and floods of mercy can break forth and rise above the loftiest Alps and Andes of iniquity. The deluge of the Saviour’s pardoning mercy shall mount to twenty cubits upwards, the tops of the mountains of sin are covered, and you, the chief of sinners, shall have it said of you, — “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

We have gone a good length in the way of wonderment, yet one wonder, I think, is greater than all these. I have almost ceased to wonder when the swearer is converted, when the harlot is saved; not because it is a mighty act of grace, but because it is common enough to be often repeated. God’s mercy extends very freely to these; but there is a wonder which I do not often see. I do see it, though not often. I wish I could. It is icJien a self-righteous religious man gets saved. “What,” say you, “do you mean by that?”

Why, I mean those good people who go to church and chapel regularly, have family prayers, and say their own prayers, and think themselves upright. They will not confess that they have sinned, except in the mere complimentary way in which they are accustomed to say that they are “miserable sinners,” though they do not look very miserable. Peradventure, I address some such now, who felt while I was preaching to the sinner as if their dainty holiness was quite shocked. They are double-distilled in their refinement, they are unutterably holy and free from hypocrisy, their heart all the while loathing the plan of salvation, and rejecting the grace of God, because they believe that they are as good as they need be. To talk to them of crying, “God be merciful to me a sinner,” is to insult them. Have they not been baptized? Have they not been confirmed? Have they not gone through all the means? It must be right with them, they are so good. Besides, who could think of finding fault with them? Now, if ever such people as those are saved from this terrible disease of self-righteousness, we should have to say indeed, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” And nowadays it is getting so common that it ought to be a subject of prayer with God’s people that God would deliver this land from the spreading miasma, the Romanism, alias Puseyism, which has covered it everywhere. If a man wants to make sure of everlasting wrath, let him fall into the deep ditch of Puseyism, for the abhorred of the

Lord do fall therein. You may get out the common sinner, but those who wrap themselves about with vestments and fine garments of ceremony, who shall reach these? The hocus-pocus of the priesthood, the gewgaws, the ceremonies, the trumpery mummery which they designate worship — these things form the refuge of lies behind which they hide themselves, and the true gospel of the blessed God is scarcely heard. What with their chantings and intonings, how can the still small voice of the gospel be heard? Through the dim smoke of incense, and the glare of gorgeous vestments, how shall Christ have a hearing? The Man of Nazareth is he alone who can save sinners. May he, in his mighty power to save, rend away these rags of Rome from before his cross, and let the naked beauty and simplicity of the gospel shine out again. Once more may we have to say, in the words of Cowper —

“Legible ODly by the light they give
Stand the soul-quickening words — * Believe and live.’”

If a priest should get saved, if one of these pretenders to apostolical succession should be brought down to humble himself before Almighty mercy, then will we say of such, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

II. With more brevity than the preacher likes, though with perhaps as muoh amplitude as will be be pleasant to yourselves, we shall now take the

text BY WAY OF INQUIRYT OR HOPE.

Our time is so far gone that I can only hint at what I meant to say.

When a sinner’s eye is suffused with tears, and a sigh breaks forth, “Alas! woe is me 1” you may then say, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” for the tear of sorrow for sin is a blessed omen of mercy’s dawning. May mercy reach her noontide soon! And when alone the knee is bent, and the soft prayer goes up, “Jesus, Master, pity me; save me, or I die,” the angels recognize the voice of prayer. They say, “Behold, he prays!” and then they feel that this is a brand plucked out of the fire. The sigh of penitence and the prayer of the seeking are evidences of grace.

And when the poor soul at last, driven by necessity, throws itself flat at the foot of the cross, and rests its hope wholly and alone on Jesus, then we may say of it, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

And when in the midst of many a conflict and soul-struggle, the heart still flings away its idols, and hopes to love Christ, and vows in his strength to be devoted to his service, we may say again with pleasure, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

I would invite you to think over the signs of grace, and if you see them in yourselves, may you ask the question, and be able to answer it with joy, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

III. And what a question op defiance this is.

Do you not catch the idea of the text? There etood Joshua, there stood the angel of the Lord, and here stood the adversary. The adversary began to accuse Joshua, but the angel of the Lord said to him, ‘* The Lord rebuke thee, 0 Satan; even the Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem rebuke thee. Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? What hast thou to do with him? If God has plucked him out of the fire, thou canst never put him in again. Seeing God has plucked him out of the fire, go thou thy way, and mind thine own business! Thou hast nothing to do with this saved soul, this elect vessel, this one whom God hath chosen, in whom the Spirit’s power has shown itself He has plucked him out of the fire; go thy way, Satan! and leave this soul alone.”

It is a defiance, full of majesty and grandeur. It reflects a gorgeous lustre on the past. “God saved that soul,” says the angel to Satan. Why did he do it? Why, because he chose him, because he ordained him to eternal life, because everlasting love had set itself upon him. What hast thou to do with him? If God has chosen him, dost thou think to undo the divine decree? Canst thou reverse the counsels of the Most High, or dash in pieces the settled purposes of the infinite mind? Go thy way! God hath snatched him from the fire, determined to save him. Go thou, and think not to disappoint or to frustrate that design!

Nor less did the angel seem to dart a look forward. If God has plucked him from the fire, why did he do it? To let him go back again? Will *^God play fast and loose? Does he pluck brands out of the fire to thrust them into the flame again? Absurd! Preposterous! Why has he plucked it out of the fire? Why, to keep it from ever being burned. That brand taken out of the fire shall be exhibited in heaven as a proof of what grace can do; and therefore the angel says to the devil, “Get thee gone! What hast thou to do with this? God means to save this man, and canst thou destroy him? God has done that which is the earnest and the token of his perfect safety; dost thou think that thou canst disappoint God’s resolutions and resolve?”

Now, beloved in Christ, do realize in yourselves this precious thought, each one of you. If the Lord has changed thee, if, indeed, thou be a brand plucked out of the fire, why shouldest thou fear the temptation which now assails thee? Dread not all the temptations that may attack thee. Weak as thou art, the God that has done so much for thee cannot leave thee now. He will not leave his purpose half accomplished. He will not be disappointed. He will to the end carry on his work till he brings you up to heaven. Why, I think some of you who were very great offenders ought often to take comfort from your conversion. You can say — *’ What a change there is in me! How far beyond anyt^’“”- T ohave wrought myself! It must have been God’s work.

* And can he have taught me

To trust in his name,
And thus far have brought me
To put me to shame? ’

It is a good thing sometimes to go back to the time when first we knew the Lord, and to say — * One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.’ I am not what once I was; and though I am not what I wish to be, at the same time I am not what naturally I should have been. Well, then, if God has done this, did he bring me out of Egypt to let me die in the wilderness? Did -he begin to build without intending to finish? Did he proclaim war, and did he not intend to get the victory?” That be far from thee. Lord! Thou wilt complete the work thou hast begun, and the brand from the burning plucked shall be found in safety in the day of Christ’s appearing.

The whole end to which we drive is this — May God enable us all to see that our salvation is in him. Jonah had to go into the whale’s belly to learn that grand axiom of theology. The most of us have been sorely beaten before we find it out. “Salvation is of the Lord.” If thou knowest this, look to the Lord for it. Repose thyself on him now, and thou shalt be his for aye: thy place of defence the munition of rocks.

“And all the trees of the field shall know that I the Lord have brought down the high tree, have exalted the low tree have dried up the green tree, and have made the dry tree to fiourish: I the Lord have spoken, and have done it.” — EZEKIEL xvii. 24.

ly yfETHINKS I see a great forest which reaches for many a league. The trees are of divers growths, and of various ages. Some of them are very lofty. Here a towering cedar, and yonder the storks have made their nests among the tall fir trees. Stout oaks there are that laugh at storms, and elms that will not be twisted with the tempest. See how they rival each other! And there are lowlier trees; some bearing fruit though scarcely seen, others, like the vine, creeping upon the ground — so obscure they can hardly be observed. It is a strange forest, in which trees of every clime are to be found; some green, verdant, laden with blossoms and with fruit; others dead, dry, withered, with scarce here and there a leaf It is evening, the cool of the day. The Lord God that visited the fair garden of Eden is come to walk in this forest. Along those deep glades, amidst that thick shade, the Almighty appears. He comes. How see I him? Bears he in his hand an awful axe, and doth he pass his finger along its edge to see that it be keen? Strong is the arm that wields it. Howl, cedars, if once he lift that axe against you. What means that Woodman to do? Wait and let us hear him speak. Oh, ye trees of the field, be silent before the Lord. Clap not your hands until ye have heard him speak. “The trees of the field shall know that I the Lord have brought down the high tree” — beware, ye towering cedars! — “that I have exalted the low tree” — take courage, ye lowly vines! — “have dried up the green tree “! — wail, ye verdant elms! — “and have made the dry tree to flourish,” — hope, ye withered boughs! — “I the Lord have spoken, and have done it.” Let the trees be silent before the Lord, for he cometh to judge them, and he judgeth them with much jealousy. That forest I have before my eyes; men like trees appear to me in the vision. While I gaze on this dense mass of people listening to my voice, let me interpret the Mighty Woodman’s words to you. There are four notes of which we shall speak one after the other. May God sanctify the emblems to our profit, touching our ears, and teaching our hearts, that we may rightly understand what the Lord saith to the trees of the forest.

I. “Thus saith the Lord, the trees of the field shall hnoiv that I the Lord have brought down the high tree.”

Look over history, and you will see that every* thing gigantic in stature and colossal in dimensions; whatsoever has been great to human apprehenision, grasping at earthly fame, has become an object for God’s penetrating arrows, and a subject for his withering blight. A grand idea of universal monarchy flashed upon the mind of man. He would build a tower, the top whereof should reach to heaven. What did the Lord do with this tine scheme? “I will come down,” said he, “to Babel, and see if it be altogether as they have said.” Then he touched their tongues, and confounded their language, and scattered the imaginations of their hearts: so he laughed them to scorn, and left them to be a laughing-stock to all generations. Then came the great power of Egypt. Pharaoh said, “Am I not lord of Thebes, with its hundred gates, and its myriads of brazen chariots? Have I not a mighty host of cavalry? Who is equal to me? I speak and the nations tremble.” When the king hardened his heart, how did Jehovah — the King of kings — get himself honor from Pharaoh and his hosts? “Thou didst blow with thy wind; the sea covered them; they sank as lead in the mighty waters. Sing unto the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he cast into the sea! ‘’ In after years Babylon set herself up as a queen. “I shall be a lady forever,” said the gay metropolis of the earth, the mighty city of Euphrates. “I sit alone; I shall see no sorrow.” Behold, she decketh herself out in scarlet, she arrayeth herself with silk; all the nations of the earth are quiet when she ariseth, nor is the sound of a whisper heard when the voice of her command goeth forth. But where art thou, daughter of Assyria, where art thou now? 0 daughter of Chaldea, where is the crown which once circled thy brow and adorned thy head? Go, mark a heap of rubbish, and of desolate stones; hear the hooting of the owls and the howling of the dragons, as each one calleth to his fellows in the midst of a desolation which cannot be repaired! How art thou fallen i’rom heaven, Lucifer, son of the morning! Thus God breaketh in pieces with his right hand everything arrogant and supercilious, that dares to assert greatness apart from his endowment, or to presume on authority other than he delegates. I might prolong the strain. I might tell you of Rome, and all the boastings of that imperial mistress, point to her faded charms, and tell of her decay and her decadence. I might lead you back to Sennacherib and all his hosts overthrown, or recite the story of Nebuchadnezzar, driven out from the abodes of men, and feeding among the beasts. I might show you lesser kings, kings of Israel, brought exceeding low, until they who had sat on the throne as princes pined in the dungeon among slaves. To multiply instances would be only to confirm the general current of history, and illustrate the fact that the Lord, even the Lord of hosts, always cuts down the high tree, humiliates the creature that exalts itself, and suffers w flesh to glory in his presence. That is the law of his government. The question arises, How does it concern us? Doubtless it opens a sad prospect to those that are lifted up with pride, or inflated with self-opinion. Are there any among you who boast in heraldry a long succession of illustrious names which has ennobled your pedigree? Some people seem to think that the world is hardly good enough for them to tread upon, as if they were made of china, while other men are moulded but of common clay; they look down upon the public as an ignoble herd, and speak of the masses as the “many-headed” and the “great unwashed.” Such a man will play the parasite to his own dear self, passionately cherish his own conceits, and petulantly hold that whatever belongs to him is

better than any one else can procure for love or money, be it his house, bis horse, the water from his well, or the wine from his cellar. At his wit let all inferiors laugh; to his creed let all who would receive his patronizing nod do obeisance. In stately isolation he will acknowledge no rival. Knowest thou, man, that in one respect thou hast a veritable pre-eminence? — thou mayest fairly challenge all thy fellows for one whose disposition the Lord hates more than he abhors thine. Among the seven abominations your order ranks highest. No liar or murderer can claim a pre-eminence over you in vice so long as the Proverbs stand. Ere long the heel of the Almighty shall be lifted higher than thy haughty head. He will cast thee down be thy look never so proud; for the Lord hath purposed it to stain the pride of all glory, to bring into contempt all the excellency of the earth. There is, again, an arrogance of mind, of judgment, of opinion, just as ignorant — if not quite so grotesque — as his who dreams that his birth is of higher caste and his blood of richer hue than other men. Humanity in the bulk is the idol of some people; and yonder 1 see the man who quotes himself as an illustrious specimen. He does not believe in the total depravity of human nature. Judging by himself, the statement that the whole head is sick, and the heart faint, is a myth; or if it were true of a recreant Jew, it never was a fair indictment against such an orthodox Christian as he is. No, no; he has kept the law; he feels that in all things he is blameless; he has not erred, neither will he humble himself before the word that God speaks to us. In the opinion of such, the gospel that we preach is very good for harlots, thieves, and drunkards, but it is of no use to the righteous, for they have put down their own names among those who need no repentance. Admirable in their conduct, their temper amiable, and their disposition generous, a salvation by free grace would be wasted on thera. The Lord will abase thee, be thou man or women, whosoever thou mayest be; he will shame thee; the axe is ready to be laid at thy root even now. Thy goodness is not God’s goodness, and thy righteousness is not Christ’s righteousness; therefore shall the moth consume it, and it shall be eaten away. Or it is my friend yonder, a working man who says, *’ Well, I work as hard as anybody; I bring up my children as well as I can; I have nothing from the parish; and if I see a poor mate out of work I always subscribe my mite, though I have not much to give away; can it be right to tell me that I am not in a fair way of going to heaven? “Ah! the Lord will deprive you of such boasting, for he will bring down all these high trees. You that have any righteousness of your own, whether you be rich or poor, the same word will apply to you all. What mattereth it whether you are born of princes, or the offspring of beggars, pride will nestle in any heart, and presumption will take advantage of any circumstances? Perhaps I may address some person who says,” Well, I am a member of the orthodox and true church; I have been baptized, and I have been confirmed after the most proper manner; I receive the Lord’s Supper on all fit and proper occasions. The clergyman from whom I take the sacrament has received apostolic ordination. The altar where I worship is illumined with fine candles. How tasteful the architecture! How decorous the congregation! How enchanting the music 1 There are none of your rough wild notes that give vent to the feelings. Our organ is the perfection of mechanism, and it is played with the Utmost skill. Our professional singers perform their parts with dramatic taste. Our litanies are wailed out in plaintive tones. We do the thing in the right style; and as I am a member

of a national branch of a catholic church, I hold myself to be an heir of eternal life.” From thy towering imaginations, O man, thou shalt speedily totter. God will cast thee down, as sure as thou livest. No boasting even of our orthodoxy, or of our attention to religious formalities, shall ever be allowed to abide his judgment. The Lord hath set his face against all boastings, and all confidences, other than a trust in the cross, and a holy reliance on the finished work and righteousness of Jesus Christ.

Or shall it fare better with another class? There is our friend who says, “Well, well, I do not believe in forms and ceremonies; but, mark you, I always judge and weigh everything.” He estimates himself as an independent thinker; he is bound by no precedents, fettered by no creeds, and considers that he is amenable to no judgment but his own. He owns no lord but his own conscience, no duty but such as he prescribes himself, and as for wisdom, he looks with indifference on all things whatsoever that his private judgment has not endorsed. Moreover, he doubts the inspiration of the Bible, and has his misgivings as to the authenticity of some parts of it. He indulges a little suspicion as to the deity of Christ, and as to the doctrines of grace; he professes much intelligence, but he exhibits gross negligence. Strong in his self-assertion, he makes light of the Word of God, and the will of God, while he holds prophets and apostles in little esteem. Ah, well, brother I God is against you, he will make a fool of you one of these days, if you are so wise as to exalt yourself” above his revelation. The world shall see your folly. I tell thee, captious questioner, that the Lord will bring thee down. “Tut, tut, tut, I do not believe in any of these things,” exclaims the successful merchant; “I say the best thing is to push ahead on one’s own account; I mean to save money, to get rich, to rise in the world, as others have done who have made capital of their own wits, and taken care of their own interest.” This is the religion of many people; their creed being that God will help those who help themselves: in their account the highest wisdom is to attend to this world, and for the world to come the best policy to ignore it. To the statutes of the Lord they give no heed. Evidently you see no need to depend on God. With a stout pair of arms and a good clear brain, you are confident you can make your own way in the world. Will you prosper, sir? 1 tell you no; for God is against you. The Lord will bring you down. Whether it be strength of limbs and lungs, force of brain and intellect, cunning works or scheming plans you rely upon, he will lay you level with the dust ere long. You shall know that he who exalteth himself against his Maker maketh a sorry adventure. Disaster and everlasting confusion are your inevitable fate. IL Furthermore the Lord says, I loill exalt the low tree.^’ Here is a word of comfort to some who specially need it. You remember Joseph in the dungeon, Israel in Egypt, Hannah in the family of Elkanah, David when Samuel would have passed him by, Hezekiah when Sennacherib rebuked him.

Are not all these instances of God exalting the low tree? We have no time to expatiate on them, though they are well worthy of attentive study. But rather now let us ask, where are the low trees here among ourselves? Who are they? The low trees are those poor in spirit who think others better than they are themselves, who, instead of carving their names high, are willing to have them written low, because they feel they have nothings whereof to glory, nought wherein to boast. The low trees are the penitents, those who take their stand afar off with the publican, and say, ‘’ God, be tnerciful to me a sinner;” you that feel your own weakness to do anything aright; you who are conscious of your own worthlessness, and afraid that God will never hear your prayers; you that are bowed down low with a sense of guilt, and hardly dare to look up to the place where his honor dwelleth; you are the low trees, you are such as God exalteth. You, too, who tremble at his word; when you see the threatening, fear lest it should be executed upon you; when you hear the promise, hardly think it possible that it can belong to you — you are the low trees — God shall exalt you. You that feel your ignorance, and are willing to be instructed; you that are modest as children, and ready to sit at the feet of Jesus; you that have broken in pieces till you feel that a crumb of mercy would be more than you deserve, and are willing to take any dole he is pleased to give — you are the low trees. And you that are despised, who walk in darkness and see no light; slandered for Christ’s sake; reproached with crimes you never committed; you of whom the world is not worthy, though the world accounts you to be unworthy of its esteem — you are the low trees, and God shall exalt you. God grant us grace to humble ourselves under his mighty hand. The Lord exalteth the low trees. Is there a soul among you that is ready to despair — low tree, so low that it can only compare itself to a bramble-bush. Well, God dwelt in a bush. You may think that if he should have mercy upon all other men, yet he must make an exception of you, so aggravated are your offences, so depraved your disposition, and so alien to anything good your natural temperament. Oh! bless the Lord! He exalteth the low tree. If this voice can reach now any humble, fearful, broken-hearted soul, even though that soul should say it is too good to be true, yet, in God’s name, let me assure you it is God’s message to you. Rejoice, yea, sing unto your God, for he will lift up the poor from the dunghill, while he casteth down the mighty from the seats of their pomp and their places of power.

III. The Lord has also declared that He will dry up the green tree Whether that green tree be high or low it does not matter; if it be green in itself, he will cut it down. Mark you, a man may be as high as heaven; if it is God that makes him high, he will stand; but if he be high in creaturestrength, and creature-merits, and creature-glory, he shall be brought down; and a man maybe low without merit, if he is m-erely mean and meager, paltry and pitiable, not worth a straw. That is not the spirit of lowliness that God blesses. In like manner a man may be green because he is planted by the rivers of God’s living waters, that is healthy enough; but those that are like the green bay tree of the Psalmist, trees growing in their own soil, never transplanted by grace, green in the verdure of worldly prosperity, and taking all their delight in earthly things — those are the trees God will dry up. Many I know of this kind! They profess to be God’s people, and they say, “Well, I never have any anxiety about my eternal state; I do not see why I should ever have any doubts or fears. I have no prickings of conscience.” This green tree boasts “that its leaves never fade, that its evidences are always bright.” “They have no charges, therefore they fear not God.” “They have not been emptied from vessel to vessel.” They have no cares, they walk confidently, they talk arrogantly, they smile disdainfully at some of God’s people who groan over their infirmities and bemoan their sins. Perhaps they go the length of protesting that they have no vices, and do no wrong; or they will say, “Why as for me, I have overcome my bad habits and made amends for my youthful follies and indiscretions; and if I have any faults they are only such as are natural to men, and they do not cause me any trouble.” He will even turn round and rail on this wise, “I cannot think how some of God’s people can do as they do.” No: he is such a blessed, heavenly-minded hypocrite, that after he lias condoned his own crimes he condemns other people’s customs; hence he holds up the severity of his judgment as a proof of the integrity of his character. He makes broad fringes to his own garment, and he cannot think how good men can wear such narrow fringes to theirs; he has a wide phylactery, and he cannot imagine how a godly man can wear a smaller one; he prays an hourand-a-half at the corner of the street, he cannot think that any man is godly who prays for ten minutes in his closet; he sounds a trumpet and gives away three-half-pence to the poor; he cannot understand people when they give away ten pounds or a hundred pounds in the cause of religion; he thinks they must have mercenary motives. He might stand up and say, “Look at me if you want to see what a man should be, how a Christian should live, and what his manner, and conduct, and conversation should be.” Behold the man who counts himself the paragon of perfection. Have you never met with such green trees? I have. These people feed without fear and mock without motive. They laugh at the idea of Paul’s apprehension, when he said, “I keep under my body, lest, after having preached to others, I myself should be a cast-away.” They think such fears inconsistent with the doctrine of final per-Bfeverance, though in this they are mistaken. A man may know that a true believer will persevere and yet be very much afraid that he shall not himself hold out, because he may suspect himself whether he is a true believer at all. This green tree is never troubled about the future; it is all right with him; he has launched upon a smooth, deceitful sea, and he believes it will be calm until he gets to the other side: as for human weakness, he knows nothing at all about that. He hears God’s children crying, “Who shall deliver us from the body of his death?” and he looks shocked.

The professor, too, who boasts his deep experience, is like this green tree. Young Christians he frowns at — he does not like young people. No, he would not have many yoimg people in the church, because they might adulterate it, and bring down its spiritual tone. As to doctrine, he is profoundly learned; “he can a hair divide, betwixt the west and north-west side;” and he censures at once the man who does not understand all the points. He understands more than the Bible reveals; he has improved upon the Scriptures: and those who cannot get up to his standard he despises. As for the poor, and meek, and the sickly among the people of God, he, one of the strong ones, pushes them on either side, and will give them no rest. Never a man yet had anything to boast of as his own, but God was sure to dry him up. Let your life be green as emerald, it shall be brown as March dust before long. You seek sap and nourishment from yourselves. The spider’s web — how soon it is blown away! Well it may, because it cometh out of the spider’s own bowels. Everything that comes out of self, and lives on self, and hangs on self, and fattens on self, no matter how green it may be, verily, verily, it shall be dried up.

IV. Lastly, the Lord makes ‘’tlie dry tree to flourishy There are some dry trees to be pitied in their present condition, yet to be congratulated on their prospects. I would not say a word to encourage doubting, but 1 would say a great many words to encourage doubters. How many of God’s people may be fitly compared to a dry tree! They have little joy; they have not got to full assurance. They are afraid to say, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” Every night before they go to bed they feel such a consciousness of sin that they can hardly sleep. They feel themselves so weak that where others go and think nothing of it, they dare not trust themselves. They are afraid to risk temptation; sometimes they are so conscious of their own weakness, that they do not exert themselves as they ought, and hence their low spirits, their melancholy, and their mourning. They think they are of no use to the church; they are half inclined to suspect it was a mistake for them to be baptized, and that they were to blame for uniting themselves with the people of God. “Oh,” say they, “If I be a lamb, I am the sickliest of the whole flock.” Were I an heir of promise, should I feel the assaults of sin as I do? or should I be, so much the prey of indwelling corruption, acd become so dry and with.*- ered? Do they retire to the closet to pray, hardly a word can they utter. They come to the assembly of believers, and though they do sing with their lips, the heart cannot sing as it would. There are times, too, when walking home they say “I go where others go, but I get no comfort; if I were really the Lord’s, should I be thus; if I did trust Christ, should I ever be so languid?” Brethren, if it is of your own bringing about that you are thus dry, I do not offer you any comfort; but if the Holy Spirit has led you to see your weakness, your nothingness, your deadness, then Lam glad you have been brought to this pass, for God will cause the dry tree to flourish. When we are weak, then are we strong. The death warrant is gone out from God against everything that is of the creature. All that is of nature’s spinning must be unravelled; not your bad nature only, but your good nature: not your vices only, but your virtues; not your sins alone, but your graces; all these must be contemned and despised so far as you venture to put them in the place of Christ. You must cry, “Away with them; away with them,” as if they were so much dung and dross. Christ’s blood only for our hope, the Spirit’s work only for our life. Here let us stand, and we shall be safe. The dry tree by divioe grace shall flourish; the green tree, deserted by the dew of heaven, shall dry up. The low tree, fostered by the husbandman, shall mount even to the stars; the high tree, cut down by the ax6 of judgment, shall lay outstretched along the plains of ruin forever.

I think I see the last great day. There is a greater forest than this; this is but one corner of it. I see that forest stretched over sea and land, over mountain and valley. It is a forest of men. There stand the Pharisees, the self-righteous, the tyrants, the autocrats of haughty mein, the men of profound intellect with lofty brows; the men that questioned God’s government, the infidels who said “Atheos,” and denied his being. I see the high trees, that towered to such an elevation, and attracted so much admiration; and there, too, are the low trees contented to be low, for Christ of Nazareth was lowly. He, whose disciples they are, came riding on an ass even in the day of his highest earthly triumph. And now I hear the trumpet ring exceedingly loud and long. Through the glades of that vast human forest the sound comes ringing broad and clear: “Smite! smite! smite! and let all the high trees fall!” 0 God, what a crash!

He smote great kings and slew famous kings; for his mercy endureth forever. He smites. What! another crash? the orthodox who rested in their orthodoxy, and the self-righteous men and women fall there; yonder the philosophic atheist, and here the scoffing skeptic; there the haughty persecutor, and there again the pompous priest and pretentious ceremonialist. Gather them in; Tophet ordained of old, pile them together, cfedar upon oak, and elm upon fir, gather them together; pile them on, pile them up; let the breath of the Lord, like a stream of brimstone, come upon the mighty pile. It is of the funeral pyre of the giants. There lies the dead body of sin, and here comes the living spouse of sin to be immolated upon that same pile. Her name is Pride. She comes; they clasp. The great transgression and the evil imagination, together they lie down, and the flames arise. Now the cedars full of resin give forth their flame, the sparks go up to heaven, and the flames even unto the throne of God, whilst I hear the voices of multitudes singing, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! for thou hast judged the great whore, even Pride, and thou hast given her up to be burned with fire! “But what of you, what of you, that will be faggots to that great burning? What of you, proud sons of men, that will be fuel to that flame? Turn ye. Turn ye! Fly ye to Christ, and then you shall stand in the judgment, and join in the anthem,” Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! “*’ Be wise now therefore, 0 ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth. Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.” Oh, that we all may be found among the humble — not the haughty — in our present life, and that we may be gathered among the blessed, not destroyed among those whom the Lord abhorreth, in our future destiny!