Stephen

Acts vii. 55 — 60.

But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God; and said, Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God. Then they cried out with a loud voice, and stopped their ears, and ran upon him with one accord. And cast him out of the city, and stoned him: and the witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man’s feet, whose name was Saul. And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit! And he kneeled down, and cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge! And when he said this, he fell asleep.

Stephen is the name of the man around whom we this day assemble. When his parents called their beloved infant thus, and said — doubtless with joyful and hopeful hearts — “The boy shall be called Stephen” — they knew not what they did; and that which they predicted in the name of the boy was hidden from their eyes. But God, in whose book all his days were written, from the first to the last, knew well what would at length become of him, and it was he who secretly suggested this name to them; for it was a significant name: Stephen means a crown. The boy was to be the first witness in the new kingdom, about whose temples the martyr’s blood-stained wreath should be wound. What the name predicted, we see this day fulfilled. A great and sacred scene presents itself to our view. Let us approach nearer, and contemplate, to the praise of Almighty grace, and, with the help of God, to the strengthening of our faith, the end of the first evangelical martyr.

We direct our attention to, —

I. The cause for which he dies;

II. The Divine aid which he experiences; and,

III. The state of mind in which he leaves this

world.

I.

We are in the city of Jerusalem. Wre meet in the streets a number of learned Jews in animated and hot discussion — a select company — all of them men of note from the most celebrated schools of the Libertines, Cyrenians, and Alexandrians, — men who unite a classical education with their Judaism, and are well versed in the wisdom of Greece and Rome. And in the midst of them stands a young man, of a lively and cheerful aspect, and a firm and calm deportment, against whom they all seem to have conspired. It is Stephen, one of the seven deacons, who after solemn prayer, had been chosen a short time before to that office by the little church of Jesus, for the daily distribution of alms, and who, probably from being a fisherman himself, had been taken in the Gospel-net. Unlearned, untaught, and without worldly accomplishments, but a man of good report, as the Scriptures testify; full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, faith, and power — and the latter is of greater importance than the former; — a man who had already unfurled a bold banner, valiantly contended for the honour of his crucified King in many a combat, and was known far and wide in the land by miracles and mighty deeds; — such is the individual who is assailed by these learned men, well equipped with every weapon with which wit, learning and eloquence can furnish them, in order to overthrow Jesus, the Man of his heart, in his esteem, and eject Him from the fortress of his faith. But, however heated the logicians become, the simple messenger of the cross is not afraid of these armed men; the weapons of his warfare are not carnal. His dignified opponents can obtain no advantage over the spirit from which he speaks. The power of truth evinced in his words, condemns their lying arts, and confounds their devices. The cobwebs of their fallacious arguments and subtleties fall in tatters at their feet. And oh, the mortifying circumstance! they are compelled, whilst red with shame and confusion, to strike their sails before the plain and artless wisdom of this Nazarene.

But even as the enemies of truth are wont to act in such defeats — who must always have the last word whatever happens, and, when wisdom is at an end, give vent to their evil passions; and, if arguments are wanting, uproariously demonstrate the point by the fist and the pummel of the sword — so it is likewise in the present case. These learned men and doctors of the law, furious at seeing themselves so shamefully and unwontedly driven from the field, hastily separate with looks of rage; stir up the people, together with the elders and the scribes; then return triumphing with an armed mob, attack the sectarian, and drag him by violence and with rage before the Sanhedrim.

There, before the assembled council, a couple of hired villains are suborned to appear against Stephen with a number of false accusations. “And all that sat in the council looked steadfastly at him.” But what did they seel “Beloved,” writes St. John, “if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God,” The holy calm of his righteous soul reflected itself like solar radiance in his features; and his countenance was like that of an angel, bright, venerable, and heavenly. “Are these things so 1” inquired the high priest in a furious tone, completely enraged at the equanimity of the accused. Stephen then opened his mouth j and with a collectedness, as though he were unconscious of being in such a den of lions, he begins to narrate something to the venerable assembly.

At the rather lengthy discourse which now follows, many a reader has shaken his head: nor can I deny having done so likewise. One would have thought that, in the last moments of his life, the messenger of God would have been able to say something more powerful and energetic than this. A wo upon the generation of vipers, and a thunder from Mount Ebal against the wicked and adulterous race; and then a joyful and valiant confession that Jesus was Lord to the glory of the Father: — something of this kind would have appeared more heroic and more in its place on such an occasion. But instead of that, we have a sober statement of facts which are known to every one, the intention or use of which is not apparent — a dry and uninteresting harangue! Such it appears; and it is difficult to recognize in it the man “full of wisdom, spirit, and power.” But only look a little deeper. What, this a dull and insipid address! There are nothing but drawn daggers beneath it! It is the most striking, pungent, and irresistible call to repentance that perhaps ever issued from the mouth of man. Certainly an excellent archer! Arrow fast follows arrow; and how he hits the mark, both to the right and left!

Stephen is accused of a fourfold blasphemy.

They accuse him of blaspheming God and Moses, the law and the holy place. Stephen, instead of justifying himself, throws back the entire accusation on the head of his accusers, and shows that they are worthy of death. Admirable is the manner in which he puts them to shame. The Holy Spirit is a powerful combatant. Stephen relates their history to them. To this they willingly listen, and at first suspect nothing evil. But before they are aware, they have swallowed goads and nails by so doing; and the little book which was sweet in the mouth proves bitter in the belly. Stephen begins with Abraham, and shows them from the commencement, how the existence of the whole Israelitish nation is rooted in the free mercy of Goid, who, from mere grace, was gracious to the Patriarch; snatched him from the midst of heathen darkness; bore him on eagles’ wings to the promised land; gave him the covenant of circumcision; and, at a time when Abraham possessed neither a child nor an inheritance in the land, promised him, according to the good pleasure of his free grace, the whole country, together with a numerous and blessed posterity.

Stephen then notices the sons of Jacob, the patriarchs of the people. But wherewith does he begin the history of these patriarchs’? With a piece of wickedness. They envied their brother Joseph, and sold him into Egypt; “but God was with him.” A famine arose in the land, and great affliction. The patriarchs had deserved, on account of their impious deed, to have died of hunger. But the unsearchable mercy of God had otherwise determined. They were received by Joseph their brother; thus experiencing grace instead of justice. “Joseph sent and called his father to him, and all his kindred, threescore and fifteen souls.”

Under the gracious protection of the Most High, who was not forgetful of the promise which he had sworn to Abraham, the people grew and increased in Egypt. Another king arose, who knew not Joseph. He dealt harshly with the people, and ruled Israel with a rod of iron: and they deserved it. But Jehovah did not regard their unworthiness; they experienced grace instead, of justice. Moses was born, exposed, wonderfully preserved, and chosen to be the ruler, judge, and deliverer of his people. But how did the latter act 1 Even as they had always resisted the Lord, in spite of all the manifestations of his grace, so now they resist his ambassador. “They refused him,” relates Stephen, and said, “Who made thee a ruler and a judge 1” Moses was obliged to flee; but Eternal compassion did not forsake the people. The angel of the Lord appeared to his servant in the burning bush: “I have seen the affliction of my people, and am come down to deliver them!” This Moses, adds Stephen, whom they refused, saying, “Who made thee a ruler and a judge IV the same did God send to be a ruler and a deliverer. This Moses, continues he, who brought them out with signs and wonders j this Moses, who said to the children of Israel, “A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto you of your brethren, like unto me, him shall ye serve; this Moses, *vho was with the angel in the desert, which spake to him in Mount Sinai, who received the lively oracles to give unto us; this Moses — oh! shameful and insane behaviour! — our fathers would not obey, but thrust him from them, and in their hearts turned back again into Egypt, made a golden calf, and sacrificed to the idol.” The tabernacle of witness was in the wilderness, and God was in the tabernacle. But did they give heed to it “Yea, ye took up the tabernacle of Moloch, and the star of your god Remphan, figures which ye made, to worship them j and I will carry you away beyond Babylon.”

Nevertheless, God continued gracious. Israel entered the promised land. The Lord cast out the heathen before the face of the fathers. The tabernacle was continued in Judah until the times of David. David found favour with God, and entreated it as a favour — for as to right, that was out of the question — that he might find a habitation for the God of Jacob. Wonderful and unwearied 13 mercy! The Lord heard, and Solomon built him a house....

Thus far had Stephen related the history; but he was now at liberty to close. It was enough; the proof was irrefutably adduced, that they — they themselves — were the blasphemers; and that they, from ancient times, had been the despisers of God, of Moses, of the law, and the holy place. The conclusion was easily drawn: if from time immemorial ye have resisted the visitation of grace, and trodden under foot God and his messengers, where is the wonder that ye have now rejected and murdered the Son of Eternal Love himself] Ye are the people, from whom nothing better is expected, and in whom such abominations are not regarded as strange.

The assembly is in great perplexity. They feel that what is said applies to them j they are convicted and vanquished. They are forced to condemn themselves against their will. They are enraged to the highest degree; but what does it avail! They must yield. Truth is too strong for them. Their own history testifies against them. Who can refute it 1 Stephen perceives what is passing in his honourable auditory. He reads the result of his sermon in their faces. The deer is hit. The tree is tottering. The axe must now te laid at its root. The young hero draws his sword, rushes in upon them, hews about him with all its edge, in order to cause the total overthrow of their self-righteousness: and hence he exclaims, in a manner enough to make their ears tingle: “Ye stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, ye do always resist the Holy Ghost; as your fathers did, so do ye. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted! And they have slain them which showed before of the coming of the Just One, of whom ye have been now the betrayers and murderers: who have received the law by the disposition of angels, but have not kept it,”

Thus spake the man of God, undaunted, and full of holy zeal, in the midst of the noble and the mighty in Israel, its rulers and representatives. Dreadful is the accusation brought against the chosen people! Terrible the testimony against the children of the family! Such an alarm had never yet been sounded in the synagogue; such a storm had never before assailed them. It was unexampled and unheard of. Even the Master of Nazareth had stood more reverentially before the high Sanhedrim, than this his scholar, and had refrained from pronouncing any judgment upon them. But the Master was the Lamb, which was, of necessity, dumb before its shearers; for he bare our iniquities. Hence he refrained from using the sword; but placed it in the hands of his disciple, and selected Stephen to be the herald, who, in his stead, should proclaim to Israel their guilt from the house-tops; tear away the covering from their mountains of sins; condemn the whole nation and its rulers; and thus justify the inflictions of the Divine indignation, which were, in a short time, to crush the peculiar people, and whirl them asunder, that the promise of Abraham might come upon the heathen. We know what the discourse of the valiant witness effected. It necessarily brought the minds of his audience to a decision, either one way or other. A call to repentance of such an especial kind — a sentence upon the sinner from the tribunal of his own history — never fails of its effect. Let me only come out against thee, my friend, armed with thy own history, and prove to thee, step by step, and irrefutably, how God called to thee on one occasion, and thou turnedst thy back upon him; how grace was near thee on another, and thou choosedst the curse; how thou at one time didst hear a knocking at thy door, but turnedst a deaf ear to it; how at another a light from God flashed through thy soul, but thou clavest firmly to thy darkness; how thou wast in one place allured by the goodness of God to repentance, but didst harden thine heart; and how, in another,’ that appalling wrord ‘Eternity,’ awoke thee, and yet thou wouldst continue to sleep, and wilfully remain in thy carnal security. Let me have the power thus to assault thee on every side with thine own history, as with a battering-ram, and to support my address by the blood-red chart of thy life, and thou wilt most assuredly succumb. I have the iron upon the anvil: it will be formed into one shape or other; it will either bend or break. Either thou wilt condemn thyself, and become spiritually bankrupt, and weep; or thou wilt harden thyself, and overcome the power of truth with thy evil will. Either thou wilt cast down thine eyes, and wring thy hands; or, with an embittered spirit, and gnashing of teeth, thou wilt resort to hell for weapons, and with Satanic powers repulse the attack upon thine heart; and thus thou wilt be approaching one step nearer to maturity in wickedness and to judicial hardness. It was in this latter manner that the words of Stephen wrought upon the minds of the Sanhedrim. Rage ensued instead of repentance; foaming at the mouth instead of tears; hardness instead of humiliation. The labour had not been in vain. Vessels were formed by it — but vessels of wrath, fitted for destruction. “When they heard these things,” it is said, “they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth.” And God only knows what would be the consequence, even amongst us; my friends, were I now to begin and unfold before your eyes the registers of your life; or even to place before one or other of you the catalogue of guilt, which he has added during the last ecclesiastical year, with impious hands, to those decisions which lie ready, like so many sentences of death, to be pronounced against him,

and are preserved in the archives of the eternal Judge. I could do so, my friends, and am less a stranger to your history than you suppose. I know the path of one and another, and have cast a look into their most secret deportment. I know of the powerful admonitions to return which have at various times reached their hearts, and of the flashes of Divine light which have fallen brightly into the sinful darkness of their lives. I know of the sounds of the trumpet which have once and again thundered into their fatal repose — a “Wake up, 0 man, from thy sleep of sin!” and of the hooks which on various occasions have been cast into the soul. But I also know how they convulsively clung to the devil’s neck on account of them, and forcibly held sin fast to them; how they intentionally fortified themselves in death, and with a false spirit kicked against the pricks, which they were well aware were of God. I know how they armed themselves with mockery and falsehood against the approach of truth, and resisted, with infernal vehemence, the Holy Spirit; how that, against conscience and their better knowledge, they gave their hands anew to the devil, and with the audacity of a Pharaoh, hardened the iron sinew of their necks, and said in their hearts, “Who is the Lord, that we should obey him 1” God knows what would be the result were I now to disclose it, individually and particularly, and to lift the veil. A day such as this demands such an occupation, and it is only fitting that we give an account of our stewardship, and strike the balance.

But there is one thing that restrains me; one thing binds my tongue; it is the fear lest my feet should this day become dreadful on the mountains, and my discourse a savour of death unto death. It is the apprehension lest I might awaken fury instead of humiliation, and beat the iron hard instead of rendering it malleable; and, 0 horrible thought! be compelled perhaps to become to my beloved congregation such a messenger as Isaiah once was to Israel, when it was said to him — “Go and make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes, lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their hearts, and convert, and be healed.” May the Lord mercifully spare me from such commissions to my dear brethren!

II.

Stephen’s fate is decided. His discourse has ruined every thing, and produced a dreadful sensation. How the heathen rage, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and against his anointed! The whole assembly is in an uproar. How should it be otherwise 1 The Sanhedrim has been insulted, and with it the whole nation. Such a disgrace and mortification inflicted upon the sacred council of the elders cannot be expiated otherwise than by the blood of the criminal. Ha! what a hissing amongst the viper brood! What a glow of infernal rage and revenge in their minds! How they roll their fiery eyes, the irritated tigers, and horribly and satanically deform their visages! Every feature is a murderous threat — every look a dagger — every word a biting adder. They murmur, smash with their teeth, clench their fists, and stamp with their feet upon the ground. The pit opens itself, darkness has thrown aside its mask, and the black flag of hell waves openly in the breeze.

Stephen perceives what is approaching; but in the measure in which the powers of hell predominate among his enemies, the power of the Holy Spirit increases in him. God does not forsake his servants, nor suffer them to be confounded before their adversaries. As often as Satan arms his host it is also the time for equipment in the kingdom of God; and when the weapons of darkness spring forth from their scabbards, those of light glitter whetted against them. Through the clouds of oppression and persecution, the Lord imperceptibly pours down his dew and his sacred fire upon his people, so that they flourish like blossoming trees in a thunder-shower; and the more furiously the battle rages, the brighter does he polish their armour and their helmets, that they may glitter and shine, and all the world see that the Lord is in the battle. The Lord is then wont occasionally to uncover the star of nobility, which his elect wear concealed under their vesture. He then places them in the midst of the cloud, “fair as the moon, and terrible as an army with banners,” and sets his servants as it were in array for his honour’s sake, glorious and resplendent like the angels of God, to the confusion of Satan and in defiance of his foes.

Look at Stephen; like an osprey, which is at home on the watery element and in the storm; or the albatross, which, when all is calm, solitarily sinks his plumage, but flies to meet the storm with a cry of joy, and never more cheerfully claps his wings than when beneath him the breakers foam, and the howling hurricanes rush fiercely through each other: so Stephen stands, upheld and sustained by the Lord. The world has cast him out, and rages around him like an ocean to swallow him up. The prospect is horrible beneath and all round him, and there is no way of escape. But upwards the path is clear. Blissful privilege of the children of God, to be able to escape from the pressure of the present state, even through the clouds! His spirit soars on high, under the powerful impetus of faith, away from the tumult. He lays hold on the hope held out to him in Christ Jesus, “which we have as an anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast;” and he throws out his anchor above him, within the veil,

STEPHEN.

Thus the dear disciple lies at a good anchorage, however the depths may roar around his little bark. He is like a pilgrim on the lofty Alps, standing above the storm, whilst thunder and lightning rage beneath his feet.

And now, whilst looking up on high, through the windows of the council-chamber, after the world and its most venerable tribunal have condemned him, in order to deposit his cause entirely in the hands of his heavenly Advocate, oh what a wonder occurs! Dare he trust his own eyes 1 He, the meanest among the servants of his King, and yet

favoured with such a manifestation? The clouds

divide, heaven opens, and he beholds the glory of God — God himself, in that radiant glory in which he appears in the third heaven to the just made perfect and the holy angels. He sees the Ancient of Days, as Daniel saw him, on his fiery throne, and as afterwards the eagle-eyed John beheld him in the midst of the four-and-twenty elders and the seven spirits of God. And on the right hand of the Most Excellent Glory! — 0 ravishing sight! — he perceives the Man of his heart — Him in whose cause his blood is now to be spilt, after He had first shed His for him. And it is no dreaming vision which he sees — no phantom of the brain — no lying illusion. Stephen is awake; he is sober; he knows where he is; and the circumstances in which he is placed are not exactly adapted to afford room for the play of fantastic reveries. What he beholds is real and substantial. It is Jesus in bodily form; it is the figure of Him who is the chief among ten thousand; it is His glorified body, the most glorious and beautiful of all created things; it is His incomparable and lovely countenance.

And in what position does the ravished disciple behold him? Not sitting at the right hand of Majesty. He is standing, as if on the point of hastening towards him with his aid. He is standing, as if thereby He meant to say to him — “Be of good cheer, my son! Here is thy shield and the sword of thy victory.” He is standing, as if calling out to him — “Tremble not, neither despond; I am waiting for thee with open arms.” How happy is the highly-favoured disciple! The bliss is almost too great — how shall he support it! Every thing within him exclaims — “My Lord and my God!” “Hail, Saviour, in thy glorious exaltation — a thousand times, hail!” And tears of joy probably streamed from his glistening eyes. Had his triumphal wreath and crown of glory been shown him in the clouds above; had the prospect been unfolded to him of the golden streets in the eternal city, and the palm-groves of paradise; had he been given to hear from afar the high praises of angels on their golden harps, and the hallelujahs of the just made perfect — oh, this would also have been lovely and an encouragement in the conflict! But what would it have been, compared with such a sight — compared with the manifestation of the fairest upon earth, or in heaven itself? It is not that which we possess through Jesus, but Jesus himself, which constitutes the heaven of his children. He is the banner under which we fight, and the prize for which we strive. He is the magnet whose attraction draws us, and the fountain after whose waters we thirst. He is our glory and our crown; he is our home and our couch of repose j the end and aim of all our longing and desire, our joy and perfect satisfaction; He, the Saviour himself, is our all. What the house is to the sparrow, the nest to the swallow, water to the fish, light and warmth to the flower, Jesus is to us — our element and our life; the possession of Him is the summit of our happiness — the beholding Him, the supreme delight of our eyes — and resting on His bosom, the heaven of heavens.

O how sweet and strong is the union of affection between Jesus and his sheep; how incomparable, and above all comprehension and expression! One of his little ones is in danger; a reason sufficient for the Divine Friend immediately to rend the heavens, and personally to appear to him in the clouds. And nothing more is necessary than the mere manifestation of himself to his oppressed follower, and the last remains of fear vanish from his breast, and he treads on the necks of his enemies. Like the lark, which, intoxicated with the odours of spring, and melted into love and joy, exultingly soars aloft into the calm, pure air; so Stephen’s soul hovers above in the light of the countenance of his Jesus: and that which otherwise distressed him — affliction, shame, death, and the terrors of the grave — all is now overcome, abundantly, suddenly, in a moment, in a look.

Yes, in one look! Oh that you all were acquainted with this mystery! Believe it, my dear friends, as often as you see us sorrowful and oppressed; and if we are so occasionally, it is only a sign that we are not in our element; our station is no longer beneath the cross, and a mist hangs before the eyes of our faith. Let the fog only subside, and the sun again break through the clouds, that the image of my Divine friend may again portray and transfigure itself in me, and let me again lay hold of and embrace Him — I am then a hero, and ascend on wings as an eagle; then death no more affrights me, nor sin any longer troubles me J I then laugh Satan to scorn, and clap my hands at the hosts of hell, and even when in difficulties, ye shall see my countenance shine as on a nuptial festival. The sight of Jesus is my triumph and my strength; the sight of Jesus is health to the sick, and victory to the dying; the sight of Jesus is my source of sanctification and my armour for the fight; yea, that which causes me to run in the way of his commandments, and smile in the furnace of

n affliction, is the clear view, by faith, of the sun of my life, of my Jesus!

Stephen cannot contain himself. He must make known what he sees. There the holy hero stands, with nothing but the expression of serenity and victorious joy in his countenance; and in the midst of the disturbance of his raging foes, he extends his arm towards heaven, and loudly and exultingly exclaims, “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God!”

On hearing this, their rage rose to its height; and the last barriers, which had restrained the complete breaking forth of their fury, completely gave way at these words. They began to cry out with a loud voice, stopped their ears, ran upon him with one accord, and dragged him tumultuously out of the city, in order to stone him.

Oh, he who knows the human heart — that unfathomable, deceitful, and desperate thing — will not be surprised at this result! He perceives how it is, that the bold testimony of the blessed disciple caused such an impression; how the sacred collectedness of the accused man, and his sublime and Divine serenity, only excited the rage of his adversaries to the utmost. Alas! it was natural, very natural, that this decided, calm, yet mighty triumph of the Nazarene, should vex and excite them most deeply; and this unexampled heroism, which he derived from the hated Jesus, be to them a thorn in the flesh, an abomination, a savour of death unto death. The exhibition of this confounded their accusations much too decisively; his angelic countenance, in the midst of their curses, condemned them more powerfully than even his words; and from the discourse and deportment of the man an odour of truth reached them, against which their deceit was scarcely able to stand; and it contained an argument in favour of Christianity, which really threatened to convince them, in the centre of their hearts, that they were in arms against the cause of the living God, and laying murderous hands upon a messenger of Jehovah. The voice of truth spoke strongly at that moment — very strongly. The wretches were not far from the kingdom of God. Had they only now given ear to the secret voice, which testified so powerfully in their hearts for Stephen, and against them: for the truth and against their devilishness and lies; but, alas! alas! they would not have the truth, but lies; and the more mightily and victoriously truth assailed them, the more powerfully did they harden their hearts, and the more impetuously do they present their breast against it. They stifle the reproving voice in their souls; they stop their ears to the accusations of conscience; and, instead of humiliation, the most horrible exasperation ensues, and a fury which proceeds from the lowest hell. 0 dangerous state! to be not far from the kingdom of God, and yet to be equally as near to judicial hardness and hell!

III.

We have left the council-chamber, and are outside the city walls. What a tumult! What rage and fury! The execution takes place. 0, dreadful! dreadful! The witnesses who, according to the law, wTere to cast the first stones, lay down their garments, as the sacred historian informs us, at the feet of a young man named Saul, and he took pleasure in his death! Good God! and yet this Saul became a Paul! O free, unfathomable, omnipotent grace!

The witnesses take up stones; Stephen sees it; but his countenance continues firm and cheerful. He knows in whom he believes, and whither he is going. Do not expect, my friends, that the Almighty will now stretch forth his strong arm from the clouds, and dash the tools of Satan to pieces with his thunders. No; Stephen must fall. The Lord requires people for the martyrs’ crowns which angels weave above, and the blood of the martyrs enriches the soil of the church. Stephen is also well satisfied with it: he longs to be at home. The storm breaks upon him; the stones fly; his head already bleeds. He then joyfully opens his mouth, as if he were pelted with roses, and exultingly exclaims, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!” Lord Jesus! Lord Jesus! Thou precious war-cry of God’s children — the watchword by which we recognize each other — the trumpet’s blast at which the walls of Jericho fall down! That which the ringing- of the alarum-bell is to the inhabitants, when fire is in the city — the signal-gun in the field at the approach of the enemy — all this and much more are the words “Lord Jesus!” to the church of God — they are never silent in it. It is the cry with which the babe is born in the Lord, and with which the aged pilgrim leaves the world — in which all their sighs are clothed, and all their longing vents itself. Lord Jesus! Thou precious watchword! O, if we had not thee, we should be the most miserable of all creatures! Wherewith should we adjure the storm’? Wherewith should we tranquillize the poor disturbed heart 1 Wherewith should we face the devil and sin, and soar aloft above the storms of the present state 1 We have our sword, our staff, and every thing together, in the words “Lord Jesus!”

“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!” With these words he commits his soul into the hands of his King. 0, refuge in every age! O, secure resort! 0, sweet resting-place! It is not dreadful to fall into these priestly hands, and happy is he who offers up himself upon this altar! Many a one becomes conscious, only in the last moments of his life, that he has a soul which cannot go the same way with the flesh. Whither shall he go with it 1 back into the wrorld 1 The gates to it are closed. Into the hands of the devil 1 That would be dreadful. Into the Almighty’s hands 1 He is a consuming fire. To the Lord Jesus 1 He does not believe in him. Horrible dilemma! But Stephen is at no loss. He has way and space enough. He sinks upon the bosom of his Mediator, exclaiming, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!” We hear nothing of a — “Be not dreadful to me!” — “Impute not my sins unto me!” — “Be my advocate in judgment!” All this had preceded. There is no longer any mountain in the wTay; no whirlpool causes him trouble, no rock obstructs his passage home. Every thing is removed out of the way; he is able to steer a direct course, as upon a smooth and level mirror, into his desired haven, and cast his soul into the hands of God without further ceremony. Stephen dies by no means like one who at the last moment is plucked like a brand from the burning, and at his last breath, environed by his sins, surrenders at discretion, and then with his eyes bound, not knowing what land his vessel will make, passes over, half hoping, half despairing, into eternity, as into an unknown country. Stephen dies like one who has already felt the hands into which he commits himself rest with blessing on his head, and who has long before received from them the wedding garment in which he is able to stand before God, and confidently feels whither he is going. Such is indeed a happy death. And, after embracing the horns of the altar, and casting his soul into the pierced hands of his King, he sinks down into the dust, streaming with blood and with broken limbs; and upon his knees, and with folded hands, he once more opens his mouth, the dear hero, for the last time in this world, and exclaims with a loud voice

You already know, my brethren, what was his

exclamation: if you did not, who would have guessed it 1 If Stephen had broken out into accusations and execrations against the infernal brood; had he thundered upon them an anathema-maranatha 5 who would have been particularly surprised? We should have found it pardonable, and perhaps in order; for it would have been human and natural. But here is something more than human; here is a ray of that nature which is not of the blood of man, but of God. Stephen presses in spirit his murderers to his breaking heart, and lifting them up in the arms of love before the throne of grace, he exclaims with a fervour as if it were for his own soul — “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge!” Even as his Lord and God on the cross, when in one breath he spoiled one of Satan’s fairest triumphs, and, writh a “Father, forgive them,” victoriously and instantaneously deprived him of the whole troop of his most devoted slaves; so here

STEPHEN.

the disciple, in whom we behold the glory of the Lord reflecting itself, as the sun in the dew-drop of the morning. It was no mere showy imitation of his great Master, no ostentatious or theatrical deception; it was truth — the man’s profoundest feeling — his inmost intention and sentiment — a consequence of thorough self-condemnation, and of the blissful humiliating consciousness of the unmerited mercy which he had obtained. Whilst regarding himself, in a lively feeling, as the unworthiest of sinners, revenge no longer found a place in his contrite mind, and he was compelled to give way to compassionating love and pity. The blood of the Lamb, which had washed him from his sins, flowed now through his veins as the sap of the vine. Divested of his own burden, he had time and heartfelt compassion enough to bear the burden of his enemies’ sins before God, as if it had been his own, and to entreat for them his eternal mercy: “Lord,” cries he, “lay not this sin to their charge!” or, according to the original, “Do not establish it against them — let it not remain!” O what a dreadful judgment did he avert by this intercession for his murderers! When God establishes a man’s sins against him, there is nothing more horrible that the individual can experience. No washing nor purifying then any longer avails; sin remains firm and indelible, like a mark that is branded. No anxious perspiration erases it, nor any flood of tears washes it away. It maintains its seat like some cancer which no herb can cure; and for it there is no more sacrifice, but a fearful looking-for of judgment and of fiery indignation, that shall devour the adversaries. Horrifying wo! Stephen had reason to fear that such a judgment would fall upon his murderers. He knew to what an extent God loved the sheep of his Son, and how he was wont to recompense them that dared to touch those whom he calls the apple of his eye. But his whole soul trembled at the thought, that his enemies, whom he really could not regard as worse than he had found himself to be in his own nature, should incur any thing of the kind on his account, and because of the wrong they were doing him. He opposes himself to it with all his might; stands, as it were, in the breach for them; and restrains the lifted rod of the Almighty Avenger. “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge!” He prayed thus from the Holy Spirit, who is a Spirit of love and compassion; and God, who is one with the Spirit, and knows the mind of the Spirit, did not close his ear to such a request. The prayer at least produced one fruit, which refreshes us even to the present day. If Stephen had not prayed, we say, with St. Augustine, the church would have had no Paul.

It was almost with his last breath that the beloved martyr, opposing his bosom to the judgments of God, offered up this prayer of interceding love ‘, for, when he had thus spoken, the sacred narrative informs us, “he fell asleep” — as it were with an olive leaf in his mouth. How wonderful is the language of the Bible! Only think — the death Stephen died is called falling asleep! A death of the most dreadful kind that can be imagined; a death in the bloom of his years; a death whilst in perfect bodily health; a death in convulsions and nameless pangs, amidst a shower of stones from infuriated foes, and, as it were, on the scaffold and gallows of shame; and this is called “a falling asleep!” How little truth does there seem to be in such an expression! But though this seems to be the case, it is in reality otherwise. The language of this world is dipped in falsehood; that of the Bible is true and purified like gold. The former, as the mirror of the thoughts of fallen man, speaks only according to appearances; but the language of Scripture is the language of the Spirit, who searches into the essence of things. This Spirit saw, in the death of Stephen, something more than the horrifying exterior. His look penetrated into the interior of the departing spirit. He saw the wondrous light from God, which irradiated this soul; and the boldness of the conscience purified in the blood of the Lamb; and the sacred sabbatism of the mind in the enjoyment of the fruits of the cross 5 and the blissful home-ache of the breaking heart; and the peaceful willingness with which the soul, longing after the liberty of the just made perfect, suffered the dissolution of the bands of the body, and clapped its wings to meet the morning of an eternal day. He saw it; and to call it dying was then out of the question. It was a going home — a falling asleep in the arms of Eternal Love. There his body now lies crushed, bathed in its blood, and covered with stones upon the field — himself a polished stone and well chiselled piece of workmanship in the foundation-wall of the Apostolic church — a grain of wheat that was to fall into the ground and die, that it might not abide alone, but bring forth much fruit. But this bleeding corpse is not Stephen, it is only his travelling dress — Stephen has shaken off the dust of this earth from his feet. The moment of his falling asleep was that of his eternal awaking. Lift up your heads and look upwards. There the young hero stands, elevated above all night, shone, upon by the same light, in which, with longing ecstasy, he had seen the glorified form of his King from the hall of the Sanhedrim. The beatified disciple now stands before Him, and sees Him eye to eye, and sees nothing but Him, and cjesires to see nothing but Him alone, and is satisfied in this one look. The angels of peace approach with cordial salutations, and bring with them the white robe and the triumphal palm, and the conqueror’s wreath wherewith to adorn him. And Stephen, with downcast look, receives the wreath and cast sit at the feet of his Bridegroom, exclaiming, “Thou art worthy!” and embraces his knees, and is silent, and adores, and knows not how he feels, nor where he shall find words, until a Seraph reaches him the golden harp. The first hallelujah of his blissful and ravished heart then resounds with its notes, and mingles with the songs of the thousand times ten thousand, “Honour, and praise, and glory, and immortality unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever.”

This now is the narrative, my brethren, which brings before our view the fairest of what may be found under heaven, at least in some of its radiations. It unveils to us the hidden glory of a regenerate soul, the new creature born of water and the Spirit, than which there is nothing on earth more beautiful. This sacred deposit generally continues more or less hidden during the present life, like the tabernacle in its mean covering. In the case of Stephen it was. for once, partially developed before the world, that admiring it might behold what grace can effect, and be conscious of the gulf which is fixed between the work of nature and that of the Eternal Spirit. And this gulf is boundless! All the glitter and ostentation of national virtue — what is it, compared with the vivid brightness of the new life, which, like liquid silver in the smelting house, shines towards us from the whole appearance of this man of God I He leaves father and mother, in order, thenceforward, to devote himself with body and soul to the service of the truth, with which he has become acquainted in Christ. Resigning property and life in the confession of this truth, is a trifle to him. Impelled by the love of Christ, he esteems every thing the world calls precious as a loss, that he may make the brethren partakers of the salvation he has obtained. With a dauntlessness which does not tremble even at torture and death, he erects the standard of the cross in the midst of a hostile people. With a faith which has overcome the world, he carries it into the assembly of the Sanhedrim; is reviled, and reviles not again; is cursed, and blesses; is furiously assaulted, his soul takes refuge above the clouds; hell rages, he sees heaven open; he is fallen upon with murderous intentions, his countenance shines like that of an angel they overpower him, he raises his arm towards heaven from the midst of the hostile swarm, and exclaims, like one of the blest, “I behold my King!” he is dragged forth to the slaughter, and is quiet as a lamb; a shower of stones hurls him to the ground, but he conquers in succumbing, cheerfully commends his spirit into the hands of Jesus, bends his knee in the dust, prays, whilst swimming in his blood, fervently and with d 15 full heart, for his murderers, and then passes over, triumphantly, into eternal light.

0 say, what becomes of the most sublime of that which nature ever produced in its own strength, in the light of such a brilliant life of grace 1 However, it is not the man who is glorified here, nor is it human art or education which here celebrates its triumph. It is grace — omnipotent, wondrous grace. To it be the glory ascribed!

Even as the Bible is a book of Divine sketches and ground-plans, indicating the line of conduct which the Lord has resolved to observe, even to the end, both in his kingdom in general, and towards individuals in particular — so the narrative in which we have been expatiating is more than a mere historical event, and a terminated fact. It is, at the same time, like all the narratives of the gospel, typical — an actual promise for the whole church; an event full of the most sublime and universal meaning; a Divine seal, which, expressed in definite features, portrays to our view the glorious protection of grace; which is, in its essence, in reserve for every believer in seasons of distress, and particularly for confessors and warriors under the banner of the cross. The Church has had more than one Stephen, and more than once have the words, “I seethe heavens opened,” been uttered under the axe of the executioner, and amid the flames of the scaffold j and as soon as his church shall be again oppressed upon earth — and it will be the case in due time — our narrative will be reiterated a thousand different ways, and manifest itself in living instances. Certainly I know not whether any of us will be favoured in the same manner, here below, with the sight of the throne of his King and the man of his heart, as Stephen beheld him with his bodily eyes. But what need is there of it X Blessed be God, who, besides bodily eyes, has also given us other eyes! If these be clear and bright, the outward heaven may remain closed against us, yet these eyes penetrate through the thickest clouds, and with this sight, we daily and hourly see into the reality of that which Stephen was favoured with beholding with his bodily eyes. 0 how happy we may esteem ourselves on account of the blessed spectacle which presents itself to the view of our faith beneath the fogs of this vale of tears! Let the storms blow and the waves roar; let the thunder-clouds discharge themselves, and Satan, death, and hell march against us; we behold other things than these; we lift up our heads on high, and boldly stretch out our hands out of the midst of the tumult; and our watchword, which elevates us above the darkness and causes us to triumph in the midst of conflict, is, “I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God.” Amen.