Christ and the First Sinners

11 Hosanna!” Thus let us rejoice to-day, with the multitude who at Christ’s entrance into Jerusalem went forth to meet him, with branches of palm in their hands, and strewed their garments in the way! Let us transport ourselves into the midst of the joyful crowd, and witness the scene of our Lord’s advent. The cry is already heard, “Who is he that cometh?” And the words, “Help us! Take pity upon us!” resound, on every side. Jesus comes, the sinner’s Friend — the promised One whom many prophets and kings desired to see, but had not seen. In the name of the Lord, in the place of God, he offers peace and joy to a lost world. He comes as Israel’s King to destroy the kingdom of darkness, and to raise a throne of grace upon its ruins. Never did one come like unto him. “What are all the triumphal entrances of the great and powerful of this world, when compared to his! Verily, had the people been silent, the stones would have opened their mouths, and the very tiles upon the house-tops would have called out “Hosanna!”

Hosanna! resounds among the people. Why is it that they shout and rejoice in this manner now? Because he never came before in such pomp and glory. He comes from the grave of Lazarus, as he who has the keys of hell and of death. He comes as described t in an ancient prophesy, which is at this moment remembered by the people: “Rejoice greatly, O daughfter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem; behold, thy King cometh unto thee; he is just, and having salvation j lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass!” Glorious anticipations stir within the soul of the multitude, and it is these anticipations make them cry out “Hosanna! Hosanna!”

The voices of his friends are heard, for they rejoice to behold their King in such beauty and glory. The voices of his enemies are heard, though they have a sad presentiment that He is the person who shall one day trample them in the dust. Thus the various voices resound together in one mighty chorus, “Hosanna! blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”

Hosanna! had often been cried already. Through every age, from the beginning of the world, we hear the sound of the advent-bell greeting the coming Christ. Let us now employ the present season of Advent profitably, and lend an attentive ear to those beautiful tones throughout the various periods of God’s government. Our plan is this. We shall consider Christ as the desire and refuge of sinners — in the infancy of our racein the still and quiet patriarchal times — in the age of Moses and the giving of the law — during the time of kings and prophets — and lastly, in those latter dayg which kings and prophets desired to see but only saw afar off. May the blessing of God accompany our meditations!

Genesis iv. 1.

“And Eve hare Cain, and said, I have gotten a man from the Lord.”

Our journey to-day leads us back to the far-distant, dim, and misty past. The words of the text carry us to the commencing point of the history of our race — to the very threshold of the scarcely closed Paradise. In spirit we pay a visit to our great ancestors; not to be a witness of their misery, but for another and more joyful reason. Though their first glory has passed away, yet a new one shines forth to-day, and casts a halo over their existence. Hark! the advent-bells are chiming over the lost earth! “Christ and the first sinners” is the title of this day’s contemplation. To this Christ let us now direct our eyes, and consider him — in the hope of our first parents — in their supposed possession of him — and in their longing and desiring love.

Where is it that we meet our first parents? Alas! we need no longer knock at the gate of the garden of Eden. No longer does the voice of man sound from within; but instead we hear the words thundered forth, “Away from hence!” and the flaming sword of the cherubim presents to us a fearful barrier. The Fall, which draws along with it such disastrous consequences, has taken place; the light of the divine image has been turned into darkness; the decree of Eternal Justice has interposed, and the “murderer from the beginning” is now rejoicing at his own manifold and gigantic triumph. The whole human race have fallen into his snaYe, and a world lies exposed to his machinations on the lost field of combat. The first created of our race dwell no more in the holy place of God: driven from their Father’s house, we meet them to-day upon a soil, over which the Almighty has pronounced the curse of his fierce anger. They rest no longer like beloved and confiding children on the bosom of their Creator; for, alas! sin has been committed; and heaven is now gathering its black clouds over their heads. They who a short time before were the lords of earth and of all that therein is, are now exposed to the fury of the elements; and all the powers of nature seem leagued against them. They who had personal intercourse with Jehovah, who were nourished by his hands, and who received from his table those fruits of life which no earthly tree can now bear, — they must by the sweat of their brow compel the fields to afford them the bread of sorrow; cultivate the stubborn earth, which is more inclined to produce thorns and thistles than the wholesome grain; and, weighed down by cares and sufferings, they must struggle and toil to procure every temporal gratification. Everywhere the sword of the cherub is to be seen. Everywhere they must use force to protect their own lives; and they cannot even defend themselves from the beasts of the field but by destroying or subjecting them. Alas! a curse is upon all, and the universal misery may well give occasion to the wise man’s complaint, “For what hath a man of all his labour, and of the vexation of his heart, wherein he hath laboured under the sun? For all his days are sorrows, and his travail grief.”

A miserable hut or wanderer’s tent hastily put together, is the dwelling in which we now find the former inhabitants of Paradise. They have been obliged to take refuge here; for all nature, as we said before, wields against them a cherub’s sword, and persecutes them with cold and storms, hail and thunderbolts. They are clad with the skins of wild animals, and, like ourselves at present, are surrounded by unceasing cares and toils; while death and the grave are hovering in the distance. They might perhaps accommodate themselves to these miserable circumstances, were it not for the terrible contrast between their present and former condition. They are not like those who merely fall from affluence into poverty. Alas! they are kings deprived of their crown, princes and rulers who have exchanged a throne of glory for a bed of straw, a sceptre for a beggar’s staff. This remembrance of the bright and beautiful past, must be to them now the bitterest drop in their cup of suffering. The sunshiny splendour, not yet faded away, of the days that are gone, can only serve to show more strikingly the mournful present in all its gloom and darkness. Yet this hard fate might be borne — this host of eternal evils and afflictions might be supported — were it not for the worm within! — the weight upon their conscience — the fearful conviction of having involved their whole posterity along with themselves in destruction — the total change and disorganization of their characters once so perfect — the law of sin in their members — and the feeling in their miserable souls of the divine anger, and of that curse which burns down even into hell! O my God! what overwhelming misery and woe!

How shall we find those unfortunates? Can we find them otherwise than weeping and wringing their hands? Grief must already have almost consumed them, and plunged them in the very abyss of despair. Certainly one might well have expected this. But lo! what do we behold 1 We step nearer, and find every thing completely different; and the mournful picture which we a moment ago beheld in spirit, has now vanished into air. It is true that Adam, once the king of earth, now labours in the fields, tilling the ground and planting seed, the sweat meanwhile dropping from his brow; nevertheless he is joyful and of good courage, as if he had never known a higher and better condition. Eve, formerly so beautiful and glorious, is now no longer a queen, but, surrounded by cares and toils, she labours within the compass of her narrow dwelling; yet it seems as though she no longer missed the delights of Paradise, for she is as serene and contented as if she had always been accustomed to her present miserable habitation. How different from all we had expected! We should have thought that even in the brilliancy of the morning red, the flaming sword of the cherub would have appeared to them. But no! they salute the coming mom with outstretched arms, and praise the name of the Lord. We should have thought that every morsel of the bread which they eat would be bathed in tears before it reached their mouths. Not so They eat their bread in silent cheerftilness, and, with smiles of thankfulness on their countenances, look up from the gifts they enjoy, towards their heavenly Giver. It does indeed astonish us to behold in those fallen ones such unexpected composure and serenity. It does not proceed merely from a sense of security, and far less from presumption and defiance of their Creator; but happiness is depicted in every look and every motion, because the divine compassion has been shown, and their God has once more received them. Yes, already the cross shines, though but with a feeble glimmer, through the midst of the clouds which have darkened their early existence. Already, through the night of misery and woe, we can distinguish the joyful words, “There is a rest at hand.” In the horizon of the future we see a new Paradise blooming for them; and it seems as though we beheld an angel with a palm branch in his hand passing through their dwellings; for the joyful promise is heard, “A Saviour is coming.” Happy for us, we all know this great and glorious word, which in a moment removed the unutterable sorrow of our first parents, and with a hand of power dried up their tears. We know that blessed gospel, which clad their heaven in the brilliant hues of morning, and sounded day and night in their ears, as a clear and joyful advent-bell. Immediately after the Fall, the Almighty consoled the trembling sinners; and opening his mouth, said to the serpent, “I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.” Adam and Eve had marked these words; they prized them now as the star of their dreary existence, or as a refreshing brook out of which they might drink deep draughts of consolation and peace, while it flowed through the fields groaning under the curse of their Creator. This promised salvation raised them upon angels’ wings far above the annoyances and hardships of their earthly pilgrimage, and enabled them once more thankfully and joyfully to open their hearts to the God from whom they had so mournfully estranged themselves.

“Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and forget not all his benefits!” Though I have fallen along with Adam from the height on which I stood, yet have I not received a great salvation! 0 who would not be willing to live even on this sorrowful earth, when such a God of love has stretched out his arms to save us! It is good for us to reside in this vale of tears, and to encounter the stormy billows of the waters of affliction, since such a Saviour meets us. Though it is dark and gloomy around us, yet the cross of salvation is shining through the clouds. An eternal refuge is opened; the Saviour of sinners has come; and there stands engraved on the pillars of the world a mighty name, “Immanuel.” We have but to read this name, when we fall down rejoicing, and no longer regret the lost Paradise.

II. Let us principally contemplate Eve, who now approaches us with such a mysterious and joyful air, that we cannot for a moment doubt that something altogether unprecedented either has happened to her, or is about to happen. The radiancy which illumines her countenance, and betokens so much internal happiness, was never hitherto observed on her features. The commotion of thought and feeling, in which we find her to-day, is not the customary voice of her heart. What is it, then, that elevates her so, and renders her so joyful and glad 1 Is it the anticipation of the mother’s happiness, which is to be hers so shortly? Yes, my brethren, it is so, but in a very different sense from what you may imagine. Her delight is far above that of women, for her expectation has a more glorious object. She and her husband both imagine they behold a star of hope beaming in their humble dwelling. Eve’s anticipations are the same as Mary’s were long ages after. She hopes that, although she has involved her whole posterity along with herself in destruction, yet that she is the person who shall present to them the Restorer and Saviour of the world; and that, instead of cursing her, the children of men shall revere her as the mother of Him through whom they shall all be made alive.

Eve’s hour is come; and that is fulfilled which the Lord had spoken, “In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children.” Cain comes into the world in the midst of pain and suffering — but his mother disregards all this, for her soul is filled with blissful anticipations. As the babe rests upon its mother’s lap, what stupendous thoughts pass through her mind! Her countenance is illumined like that of a glorified saint. She regards the little being before her with an emotion such as only one mother since that time has hailed her infant. It is not motherly joy alone; it is veneration, devotion, and heavenly rapture, with which she greets her first-born — her soul meanwhile crying, Hosanna! Can she do otherwise, when she believes that the child whom she holds in her arms is God? Yes — God! She thinks that she has borne the “seed of the woman” which is to bruise the serpent’s head; for how should she know the times of the Lord? She believes that it is the Messiah, the Lord of glory, who now rests upon her breast; that the promised Mediator and Saviour is now her son, a new and better shoot from the decaying tree. He is to be her justification: the mother does not carry the child, but the child carries the mother upward along with himself into the third heaven. Is this child Immanuel 1 She believes it firmly; and, enraptured with this idea, she calls out, “I have gotten a man from the Lord,” or, as it may be rendered, “I have the man Jehovah!” Does she err in this? Alas! my brethren, she does err. The scene is most moving and hearttouching. Of what avail is it that we call out, “Eve! awake from this sweet dream!” or what good does it do that we say to her, “Alas! dost thou not see that no glory shines round the head of the child, no angels sing over his cradle, no salutation from on high comes to greet his advent?” She will not awaken from this blissful, though wonderful delusion. She remains fixed in her idea, and shouts for joy, “I have gotten the man, the Lord — the man Jehovah!” But again I say, how can she imagine that she has the Almighty God as a naked child on her lap, and that the Lord of glory reclines on her breast? We are almost ready to reject the idea as strange and unnatural; until we remember that in truth and reality a mortal mother did once look upon her infant and say, “I have gotten the man Jehovah!” and that Eve’s bold dream four thousand years later was realized. Know ye not Bethlehem — the Virgin, that blessed among women — the message of the angel Gabriel — and the Babe in the manger 1 Over his cradle all the morning stars shouted for joy; in his hands rested the sceptre of the world and the palm-branch of grace and peace.

Are we not happy that we have seen this miracle of compassion and eternal love? It is for us to say, “I have the man Jehovah!” And what fulness of riches, what plenitude of blessings does not this sentence express! If we have this possession, what more can we desire? We have, then, God’s righteousness for a garment, God’s love for a resting-place, God’s power to make us conquer, God’s shield for a covering, God’s gracious eye for a sun, and God’s heaven for an inheritance. Yes, this is a possession for which the angels might well envy us. / have — it is not / have had — nor yet is it’T shall have — no, it is / have! When I can say this, then all which I possess henceforward is but dust and ashes; I need nothing more, for the eternal heights are my inheritance. No one can mistake the child reposing on the lap of the king’s daughter: He is the man Jehovah. He himself will demonstrate it to you all. He will write it in your lives in inerfacable characters — to some He will do it with his right hand, plucking them as brands from tho burning, and raising them up into heaven — to others with his left hand, condemning them, and casting them into eternal fire, the dwelling-place of the devil and his angels.

III. Eve, the mother of all living, believed that the helpless little infant on her lap was the Man Jehovah. What bright views did not this idea give of the mysterious dignity of man, of the eternal counsel of reconciliation, and of the mediatorship of the promised Pledge! The first sinners required to look thus deeply into the secrets of God, to save themselves from the consciousness of their own gigantic guilt, and to keep from sinking in despair, under the weight of the misery they had brought upon themselves. We cannot, therefore, blame the poor mother for grasping so boldly the mighty consolation. It was not too early for the light of the new testament to shine upon her. God knows neither times nor seasons in the fulfilment of his promises, but gives to his chosen ones acording as they have need. They who had walked with God and had fellowship with him, as one friend with another, were also much more capable of comprehending the incarnation of a God than their descendants. But alas! the babe in Eve’s arms was not the Man Jehovah, as she supposed: we can see the angels looking mournfully on his cradle — for it is the murderer Cain, and this the poor mother quickly learns.

Although she grieves deeply when she discovers her error, yet her grief is but a small price for the moments of rapture she experienced while her sweet dream lasted. Although she had been mistaken with regard to her boy, and although he was not to prove the promised “seed of the woman,” yet when she discovered her error, the Man Jehovah was not taken away from her; it was only changing the supposed object of present possession into the object of hope and expectation for the future. She would now know from her own experience, what it is to have attained the promised goal. Oh! had she not been happy in her child! With what heavenly rapture had she cradled the boy in her arms, and pressed him to her bosom; her conscience for the moment becoming pure and light as that of the infant on her lap! The consciousness of sin ceased to weigh down her soul, for her heart rejoiced in the realization of God’s unutterable mercy. She fell that, justified and righteous, she could now rest on the bosom of her God; that she had a possession which amply repaid her for the loss of Paradise; and that she had been transported into a new and more beautiful Eden. Yet she has no reason to regret those sweet thoughts and experiences, though her imagination clothed them far too soon with reality. The Divine promise sounds now more beautiful than ever in her delighted ears; for higher than formerly she knows how to prize that immeasurable grace which in deed and in truth had promised to send the object of our hope — God become man. Free from all grovelling earthly thoughts as heretofore, her hopes and desires are still directed towards her little treasure, which now seems a type of the heavenly one; and more ardently than ever she calls out from the bottom of her soul, “0 thou that comest down from heaven, descend speedily!”

If we regard the spiritual life of Eve, we see that in faith and love she moved out of .Advent into the sweet light of Christmas; and that out of Christmas she retraced her steps into Advent again, although into a far more blessed one than the first. If God but once manifest himself unto us — if he enable us in our hearts to feel and know him as he is, “the man Jehovah,” — then the joyful and the true Advent begins. Formerly we stood trembling and afflicted, we sought help and found none. We looked behind us — alas! there lay paradise, now for ever closed, the inexorable cherub guarding its gates. We examined our own bosoms — woe unto us! sin. and the curse of God, were raging there, and we found nothing but weakness and frailty. We looked upon the mountains — dark clouds enveloped their summits, amidst which awful thunders were rolling; and we could only cry out, “O God, thine eye seeth us, therefore we die.” We beheld all around arrayed against us — nothing could be seen but tho sword of the cherub — nothing but wrath and destruction. We directed our gaze towards the distance — there, shadowy forms were threatening us — death, judgment, and the fiery terrors of hell. Whatever refuge we sought, we only found despair. Lo! who is it comes to meet us, surrounded as we are by the terrors of night? Who is it that accosts us with the salutation of love? WTho is it that calls to us, “Be consoled, for I come!” It is the good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, the Ruler of the storm; and our hour of salvation has arrived. No sooner does the sinner’s Friend enlighten our poor hearts with his glances of love — no sooner does he permit us to rest on his bosom — than our whole existence is changed; our dwelling-place is no longer here below; we cannot endure to remain at a distance from him; our hearts seem attracted by a heavenly magnet, for they burn to escape, and to rush, though it may be over rocks and mountains, towards him. The springs of our life flow to him as surely as the rivers to the sea; and our souls, which since his eye has enlightened ours have lain in silent adoration, now begin to cry out, “Come, Lord Jesus! O that we were with thee!”

This Advent is certainly followed by the jubilee of Christmas. What will it be, my brethren, when we hear this jubilee sounding in our ears — when we behold him face to face — when we sink down at his feet, touch him with our hands! — and then our souls, in an ecstasy of delight, shout, no more to be silenced, “I have — I have the man Jehovah!” This day shall certainly come. Until then let us sing^JJosanna! Come, Lord Jesus!” Amen.