Holiness Demanded

“Thou restrainest prayer before God.” — Job xv. 4.

CHAEGE brought by Ellphaz the Temanite against Job, Yea, thou castest off fear, and restrainest prayer before God!” I shall not use this sentence as an accusation against those who never pray, though there may be some in this house of prayer whose heads are unaccustomed to bow down, whose knees are unaccustomed to kneel before the Lord their Maker. You have been fed by God’s bounty, you owe all the breath in your nostrils to him, and yet you have never done homage to his name. The ox knoweth its owner, and the ass his master’s crib, but these know not, neither do they consider the Most High. The cattle on a thousand hills low forth their gratitude, and every sheep praiseth God in its bleatings; but these beings, worse than natural brute beasts, still continue to receive from the lavish hand of divine benevolence, but they return no thanks whatsoever to their Benefactor. Let such remember, that the ground which has long been rained upon, and ploughed and sown, which yet bringeth forth no fruit, is nigh unto cursing, whose end is to be burned. Prayerless souls are Christless souls, Christless souls are graceless souls, and graceless souls shall soon be damned souls. See your peril, ye that neglect altogether the blessed privilege of prayer. You are in the bonds of iniquity, you are in the gall of bitterness. God deliver you for his name’s sake.

Nor do I intend to use this text in an address to those who are in the habit of formal prayer, though there are many such. Taught from their childhood to utter certain sacred words, they have carried through youth, and even up to manhood, the same practice. I will not discuss that question just now, whether the practice of teaching children a form of prayer is proper or not. I would not do it. Children should be instructed in the meaning of prayer, and their little minds should be taught to pray; but it should be rather the matter of prayer than the words of prayer that should be suggested; and I think they should be taught to use then’ own words, and to speak unto God in such phrases and terms as their own childlike capacities, assisted by a mother’s love, may be able to suo-CTest. Full manv there are who from early education grow up habituated to some form of words, which either stands in lieu of the heart’s devotion, or cripples its free exercise. No doubt there may be true prayer linked with a form, and the soul of many a saint has gone up to heaven in some holy collect, or in the words of some beautiful liturgy; but for all that, we are absolutely certain that tens of thousands use the mere language without heart or soul, under the impression that they are praying. I consider the form of prayer to be no more prayer than a coach may be called

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a horse; the horse will be better without the coach, travel much more rapidly, and find himself much more at ease; he may drag the coach, it is true, and still travel well. Without the heart of prayer, the form is no prayer; it will not stir or move, it is simply a vehicle that may have wheels that might move; but it has no inner force or power within itself to propel it. Flatter not yourselves that your devotion has been acceptable to God, you that have been merely saluting the ears of the Most High with forms. They have been only mockeries, when your heart has been absent. What though a parliament of bishops should have composed the words you use! what though they should be absolutely faultless! ay, what if they should even be inspired, or though you have used them a thousand times, yet have you never prayed if you consider that the repetition of the form be prayer. No! there is more than the chatter of the tongue in genuine supplication; more than the repetition of words in truly drawing near to God. Take care lest with the form of godliness you neglect the power, and go down to the pit, having a lie in your right hand, but not the truth in your heart. What I do intend, however, is to address this text to the true people of God, who understand the sacred art of prayer and are prevalent therein; but who, to their own sorrow and shame, must confess that they have restrained prayer. If there be no other person in this congregation to whom the preacher will speak personally, he feels shamefully conscious that he will have to speak very plainly to himself. We know that our prayers are heard; we are certain — it is not a question with us — that there is an efficacy in the divine office of intercession; and yet (oh, how we should blush when we make the confession!) we must acknowledge that we do restrain prayer. Now, inasmuch as we speak to those who grieve and repent that they should so have done, we shall use but little sharpness; but we shall try to use much plainness of speech. Let us see how and in what respect we have restrained prayer.

Do you not think, dear friends, that we often restrain prayer in the fewness of the occasions that we set apart for supplication? From hoary tradition and modern precedents we have come to believe that the morning should be opened with the offering of prayer, and that the day should be shut in with the nightly sacrifice. We do ill if we neglect those two seasons of prayer. Do you not think that often in the morning we rise so near to the time of labour, when duty calls us to our daily avocation, that we hurry through the wonted exercises with unseemly haste, instead of diligently seeking the Lord and earnestly calling upon his name? And even at night, when we are very weary and jaded, it is just possible that our prayer is uttered somewhere between sleeping and waking. Is not this restraining prayer? And throughout the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, if we continue thus to pray, and this be all, how small an amount of true supplication will have gone up to heaven! I trust there are none here present who profess to be followers of Christ, who do not also practise prayer in their families. We may have no positive commandment for it, but we believe that it is so much in accord with the genius and spirit of the gospel, and that it is so commended by the

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example of the saints, that the neglect thereof is a strange inconsistency. Now, how often this family worship is conducted in a slovenly manner! An inconvenient hour is fixed; and a knock at the door, a ring at the bell, the call of a customer, may hurry the believer from his knees to go and attend to his worldly concerns. Of course, many excuses might be offered, but the fact would still remain, that in this way we often restrain prayer. And then, when you come up to the house of God — I hope you do not come up to this Tabernacle without prayer — but yet I fear we do not all pray as we should, even when in the place dedicated to it. There should always be a devout prayer lifted up to heaven, as soon as you enter the place where you would meet with God. What a preparation is often made to appear in the assembly! some of you get here half an hour before the service commences; if there were no talking, if each one of you looked into the Bible, or if the time was spent in silent ejaculation, what a cloud of holy incense would go smoking up to heaven I I think it would be comely for you and profitable for us if, as soon as the minister enters the pulpit, you engaged yourselves to plead with God for him. For me I may especially say it is desirable. I claim it at your hands above every other man. With this overwhelming congregation, and with the terrible responsibility of so numerous a church, and with the word spoken here published within a few hours, and disseminated over the country, scattered throughout all Europe, nay, throughout the length and breadth and to the ends of the earth, I may well ask you to lift up your hearts in supplication that the words spoken may be those of truth and soberness, directed of the Holy Spirit, and made mighty through God, like arrows shot from his own bow, to find a target in the hearts that he means to bless. That shoukl be certainly a time of prayer. And on going home, with what earnestness should we ask the Master to let what we have heard live in our hearts. We lose very much of the effects of our Sabbaths through not pleading with God on the Saturday night for a blessing upon the day of rest, and through not also pleading at the end of the Sunday, beseeching him to make that which we have heard abide in our memories, and appear in our actions. We have restrained prayer, I fear, in the fewness of the occasions. Indeed, brethren, every part of the day and every day of the week should be an occasion for prayer. Ejaculations such as these, *’ Oh, would that! “” Lord, save me! “” Help me! “‘More liMit, Lord!” “Teach me!” “Guide me!” and a thousand such, should be constantly going up from our hearts to the throne of God. You may enjoy a refreshing solitude, if you please, in the midst of crowded Cheapside, or contrariwise you may have your head in the whirl of a busy crowd when you have retired to your closet. It is not so much where wx are as in what state our heart is. Let the regular seasons for devotion be constantly attended to. These things ought ye to have done; but let your heart be habitually in a state of prayer; ye must not leave this undone. Oh that we prayed more, that we set apart more time for it! Good Bishop Farrar had an idea in his head which he carried out. Being a man of some substance, and having some twenty-four persons in his household, he divided the day, and there was always some person engaged either in holy song or else in devout supplication through the whole of the twenty-four hours; never was there a moment when the censer ceased to smoke or the altar was without its sacrifice. Happy shall it be for us when, day without night, we shall circle the throne of God rejoicing; but till then let us emulate the ceaseless praise of seraphs before the throne, continually drawing near unto God, and making supplication and thanksgiving.

But to proceed to a second remark. Dear friends, I think it will be very clear, upon a little reflection, that we constantly restrain prayer by not having our hearts in a proper state when we come to its exercise. We rush into prayer too often; we would think it necessary if we were to address the Queen that our petition should be prepared; but often we dash before the throne of God as though it were but some common house of call, without even having a thought in our minds of what we are going for. Now just let me suggest some few things which I think should always be subjects of meditation before our season of prayer, and I think, if you confess that you have not thought of this, you will also be obliged to acknowledge that you have restrained prayer.

We should, before prayer, meditate upon him to whom it is to be addressed. Let our thoughts be directed to the living and true God. Let me remember that he is omnipotent, then I shall ask large things. Let me remember that he is very tender, and full of compassion, then I shall ask little things and be minute in my supplication. Let me remember the greatness of his covenant, then I shall come very boldly. Let me remember, also, that his faithfulness is like the great mountains, that his promises are sure to all the seed, then I shall ask very confidently, for I shall be persuaded that he will do as he has said. Let me fill my soul with the reflection of the greatness of his majesty, then I shall be struck with awe; with the equal greatness of his love, then I shall be filled with delight. We could not but pray better than we do if we meditated more before prayer upon the God whom we address.

Then, let me meditate also upon the way through which my prayer is offered; let my soul behold the blood sprinkled on the mercy-seat; before I venture to draw near to God, let me go to Gethsemane and see the Saviour as he prays. Let me stand in holy vision at the foot of Calvary and see his body rent, that the veil which parted my soul from all access to God might be rent too, that I might come close to my Father, even to his feet. Oh, dear friends, I am sure if we thought about the way of access in prayer, we should be more mighty in it, and our neglect of so doing has led us to restrain prayer.

And yet, again, ought I not before prayer to be duly conscious of my many sins? Oh! when I hear men pray cold, careless prayers, surely they forget that they are sinners, or else, abjuring gaudy words and flowing periods, they would smite upon their breast with the cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner; “they would come to the point at once, with force and fervency. ^’ I, black, unclean, defiled, condemned by the law, make my appeal unto thee, O God!” What prostration of spirit, what zeal, what fervour, what earnestness, and then, consequently, what prevalence would there be if we were duly sensible of our sin!

If we can add to this a little meditation upon what our needs are, how much better we should pray! We often fail in prayer because we come without an errand, not having thought of what our necessities are; but if we have reckoned up that we need pardon, justification, sanctification, preservation; that besides the blessings of this life we need that our decaying gi’aces should be revived, that such and such a temptation should be removed, and that through such and such a trial we should be carried, and prove more than conquerors; then, coming with an errand, we should speed before the Most High. But we bring bowls to the altar that have no bottom, and if the treasure should be put in them it would fall through. We do not know what we want, and therefore we ask not for what we really need; we affect to lay our necessities before the Lord, without having duly considered how great our necessities are. See thyself as an abject bankrupt; weak, sick, dying, and this will make thee plead. See thy necessities deep as the ocean, broad as the expanse of heaven — this will make thee cry. There will be no restraining of prayer, beloved, when we have got a due sense of our soul’s poverty; but because we think we are rich and increased in goods, and we have need of nothing, therefore it is that we restrain prayer before God.

How well it would be for us if before prayer we would meditate upon the past with regard to all the mercies we have had during the day — what courage that would give us to ask for more! the deliverances we have experienced through our life — how boldly should we plead to be delivered yet again! He that hath been with me in six troubles will not forsake me in the seventh. Do but remember how thou didst pass through the fires, and wast not burnt, and thou shouldst be confident that the flame will not kindle upon thee now. Christian, remember how when thou passedst through the rivers aforetime he was with thee; and surely thou mayst plead with him to deliver thee from the flood that now threatens to inundate thee. Think of the past ages too, of what he did of old, when he brought forth his people out of Egypt, and of all the mighty deeds which he has done — are they not written in the book of the wars of the Lord? Plead all these, and say unto him in thy supplications: — “Oh! thou that art a God that heareth prayer, hear me, and now send me an answer of peace!” I think, without needing to point that arrow, you can see which way I would shoot. Because we do not come to the throne of grace in a proper state of supplication, therefore it is that too often we restrain prayer before God.

Now, thirdly, it is not to be denied by a man who is conscious of his own error, that in the duty of prayer itself we are too often straitened in our own bowels and do restrain prayer. Prayer has been differently divided by different authors. We might roughly say of it, prayer consists, first, of invocation, “Our Fathei’, which art in heaven.” We begin by stating the title and our own apprehension of the glory and majesty of the Person whom we address. Do you not think, dear friends, that we fail here, restrain prayer here? Oh! how we ought to sound forth his praises! I think on the

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Sabbath it is always the minister’s special duty to bring out the titles of the Mighty One — ‘’ King of kings, and Lord of lords I “He is not to be addressed in common terms. How should we endeavour, as we search the Scripture through, to find those mighty phrases which the ancient saints were wont to apply to Jehovah! And how should we make his temple ring with his glory, and make our closet full of that holy adoration with which prayer must always be linked. “Oh 1 good heaven,” I think the rebuking angel might say, “thou thinkest that he is even such a one as thyself, and thou talkest not to him as to the God of the whole earth, but, as though he were a man, thou dost address him in slighting and unseemly terms.” Let all our invocations come more deeply from our souls’ reverence to the Most High, and let us address him not in high-sounding words of fleshly homage, but still in words which set forth our awe and our reverence while they express his majesty and the glory of his holiness.

From invocation we usually go to confession, and how often do we fail here! Li your closet, are you in the habit of confessing your real sins to God? Do you not find, brethren, a t-endency to acknowledge that sin which is common to all men, but not that which is certainly peculiar to you? We are all Sauls in our way, we want to spare the best of the cattle and the sheep; those favourite sins, those Agag sins, it is not so easy to hew them in pieces before the Lord. The right eye sin! happy is that Christian who has learned to pluck it out by confession. The right hand sin! he is blessed and well taught who aims the axe at that sin, and cuts it from him. But no, we say we have sinned — we are willing to use the terms of any general confession that any church may publish; but to say, “Lord, thou knowest I love the world and the things of the world; I am covetous;” or to say, “Lord, thou knowest I was envious of So-and-so, because he shone brighter than 1 did at such-and-such a public meeting; Lord, I was jealous of such-and-such a member of the church, because I evidently saw that he was preferred before me;” and for the husband also to confess before God that he has been overbearing, that he has spoken rashly to a child; for a wife to acknowledge that she has been wilful, that she has had a fault — this would be letting out prayer; but the hiding of these things is restraining prayer, and we shall surely come under that charge of having restrained prayer, unless we make our private confessions of sin very explicit, coming to the point. I have thought, in teaching children in the Sabbath-school, we should not so much talk about sin as the sins in which children most commonly indulge, such as little thefts, naughty tempers, disobedience to parents; these are the things that children should confess. Men in the dawn of their manhood should confess those ripening evil imaginations, those lustful things that rise in the heart; while the man in business should ever make this a point, to see most to the sins which attack business men. I have no doubt that I might be very easily led in my confession to look to all the offences I may have committed against the laws of business, because I should not need to deal very hardly with myself there, for I do not have the temptations of these men; and I should not wonder if some of you merchants will find It very easy to examine yourselves according to a code that is proper to me, but not to you. Let the workman pray to God as a workman, and confess the sins common to his craft. Let the trader examine himself according to his standing, and let each man make his confession like the confessions of old, when every one confessed apart — the mother apart and thu daughter apart, the father apart and the son apart. Let each one thus make a clean breast of the matter, and I am sure there will not be so much need to say we have restrained prayer before God.

As to the next part of prayer, which is petition, lamentably indeed do we all fail. We have not, because we ask not, or because we ask amiss. We are ready enough to ask for deliverance from trial, but how often we forget to ask that it may be sanctified to us. We are quite ready to say, “Give us this day our daily bread;” how often, however, do we fail to ask that he would give us the bread which cometh down from heaven, and enable us to feed blessedly — to feed upon his flesh and his blood! Brethren, we come before God with such little desires, and the desires we get have such little fervency in them, and when we get the fervency we so often fail to get the faith which grasps the promise and believes that God will give, that in all these points, when we come to the matter of spreading our wants before God, we restrain prayer.

Oh, for the Luthers that can shake the gates of heaven by supplication! Oh, for men that can lay hold upon the golden knocker of heaven’s gate, and make it ring and ring again as if they meant it to be heard! Cold prayers court a denial. God hears by fire, and the God that answers by fire let him be God. But there must be prayer in Elijah’s heart first — fire in Elijah’s heart first — before the fire will come down in answer to the prayer. Our fervency goeth up to heaven, and then God’s gi’ace, which gave us the fervency, cometh down and giveth it the answer.

But you know, too, that prayer has in it — all true prayer has in it — thanksgiving. “Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, for ever and ever.” What prayer is complete without the doxology? And here, too, we restrain prayer. We don’t praise, and bless, and magnify the Lord as we should. If our hearts were more full of gratitude, our expressions would be far more noble and comprehensive when we speak forth his praise. I wish I could put this so plainly that every Christian might mourn on account of his sin, and mend his ways. But, indeed, it is only mine to speak; it is my Master’s to open your eyes, to let you see, and to set you upon the solemnly important duty of self-examination. In this respect I am sure even the prayers that you and I have offered to-day may well cry out against us and say, ‘’ Thou hast restrained prayer.”

Yet, again, I fear also we must all join in acknowledging a serious fault with regard to the after-part of our prayers. When prayer is done, do you not think we very much restrain it? For after prayer we often go into the world immediatL4y — that may be absolutely necessary — but we go there, and leave behind us what we ought to carry with us. When we have got into a good frame in prayer, we should consider that this is like the meat which the angel gave to Elijah that he might go on his journey — on the forty days’ journey — in its strength. Have we felt heavenly minded? yet the moment we cross the threshold and get into the family or business, where is the heavenly mind? Oh, to get prayer, inwrought prayer — not the surface prayer, as though it were a sort of sacred masquerading after all — to have it inside, in the warp and woof of our being, till prayer becomes a part of ourselves; then, brethren, we have not restrained it. We get hot in our closets — when I say “we,” oh, how few can say so much as that I — but still we gQi hot in our closets, and go out into the world, into the draughts of its temptations, without wrapping ourselves about with promises, and we catch well nigh our death of cold. Oh, to carry that heat and fervour with us I You know as you carry a piece of hot iron along, how it begins soon to return to its common ordinary appearance and the heat is gone. How hot, then, we ought to make ourselves in prayer, that we may burn the longer; and how all day long we ought to keep thrusting the iron into the fire again, so that when it ceases to glow, it may go into the hot embers once more and the flame may glow upon it, and we may once again be brought into a vehement heat. But we are not careful enough to keep up the grace and seek to nurture and to cherish the young child, which God seems to give in the morning into our hands that we may nurse it for him.

Old Master Dyer speaks of locking up his heart by prayer in the morning and giving Christ the key. I am afraid we do the opposite — we lock up our hearts in the morning and give the devil the key, and think that he will be honest enough not to rob us. Ah! it is in bad hands when it is trusted with him; and he keeps filching all day long the precious things that were in the casket, until at night it’s all empty, and needs to be filled over again. Would God we put the key in Christ’s hands, by looking up to him all the day!

I think, too, that after prayer we often fail in unbelief. We don’t expect God to hear us. If God were to hear some of you, you would be more surprised than with the greatest novelty that could occur. We ask blessings, but do not think of having them. When you and I were children, and had a little piece of garden, we sowed some seed one day, and the next morning, before breakfast, we went to see if it was up; and the next day, seeing that no appearance of the green blade could be discovered, we began to move the mould to look after our seeds. Ah! we were children then. I wish we were children now, with regard to our prayers. We should go out the next morning to look and see if they had begun to sprout, and disturb the ground a bit to look after our prayers, for fear they should have miscarried. Do you believe God hears prayer? I saw the other day in a newspaper, a little sketch concerning myself, in which the author, who is evidently very friendly, gives a much better description of me than I deserve; but he offers me one rather pointed rebuke. It would appear I was preaching at the time in a tent. Only part of the people were covered. It began to rain just before prayer, and one petition was, “O Lord, be pleased to grant us favourable weather for this service, and command the clouds that they rain not upon this assembly.” Now he thought this very preposterous. To say the least, it was rash, if not blasphemous. He admits it did not rain a drop after it. Still, of course,

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He did not infer that God heard and answered the ]) raver. If I had asked for a rain of grace, it had been ([uite credible that God would send that; but when you ask him not to send you a temporal rain, that is fanaticism. To think that God meddles with the clouds at the wish of a man, or that he may answer us in temporal things, is pronounced absurd. I bless God, however, that I fully believe the absurdity, preposterous as it may appear. I know that God hears prayer in temporal things. I know it by as clear a demonstration as ever proposition in Euclid was solved. I know it l)y abundant facts and incidents which my own life has revealed. God does hear prayer. The majority of people do not think that he does. At least, if he does, they suppose that it is in some high, clerical, mysterious, unknown sense. As to ordinary things ever happening as the result of prayer, they account it a delusion. ^’The bank of faith!” How many have said it is a bank of nonsense; and yet there are many who have been able to say, “We could write as good a book as Huntington’s ‘Bank of Faith,’ that would be no more believed than Huntington’s Bank was, though it might be even more true.”

We restrain prayer, I am sure, by not believing our God. We ask a favour, wdiich, if gi’anted, we should attribute to accident rather than ascribe it to grace, and we do not receive it; then the next time we come of course we cannot pray, because unbelief has cut the sinews of prayer, and left us powerless before the throne.

My dear friends, is it not very clear that in many of our daily actions we do that which necessitates restrained prayer?

You are a professor of religion. After you have been to a party of ungodly people, can you pray You are a merchant, and profess to be a follower of Christ; when you engage in a hazardous speculation, and you know you ought not, can you pray? Or when you have had a heavy loss in business, and will repine against God, and will not say, “The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” — can you pray? Pity the man that can sin and pray too. In a certain sense, Brooks was right when he said, “Praying will make you leave off sinning, or else sin will make you leave off praying.” Of course that is not meant in the absolute sense of the term; but as to certain sins, especially gross sins — and some of the sins to which God’s people are liable are gross sins — I am certain they cannot come before their Father’s face with the confidence they had before, after having been rolling in the mire, or wandering in the By-path Meadow. Look at your own child; he meets you in the morning with a smiling face, so pleased; he asks what he likes of you, and you give it him. He has been doing wrong, he knows he has; and you frowned on him; you have chastened him. How does he come? He may come because he is a child, and with tears in his eyes because he is a penitent; but he cannot ask with the power he once had. Look at a king’s favourite; as long as he feels he is in the king’s favour, he lfi take up your suit and plead for you. Ask him to-morrow whether he will do you a good turn, he says, “No, I am out of favour; I don’t feel as if I could speak now.” A Christian is not out of covenant favour, but he may be experimentally under a cloud; he loses the light of God’s countenance; and then he feels he cannot plead, his prayers become weak and feeble. Take heed unto yourselves, and consider your ways. The path of declension is very abrupt in some parts. We may go on gradually declining in prayer till faith grows weak, and love cold, and patience is exhausted. We may go on for years, and maintain a consistent profession, but all of a sudden the road which had long been descending at a gradual incline may come to a precipice, and we may fall, and that when we little think of it; we ma, have ruined our reputation, blasted our comfort, destroyed our usefulness, and we may have to go to our graves with a sword in our bones because of sin. Stop while you may — stop, believer. Now stop, and guard against the temptation. I charge you by the trials you must meet with, by the temptations that surround you, by the corniptions that are within, by the assaults that come from hell, and by the trials that come from heaven, watch in this matter — “Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.” To this church I speak especially. What hath God wrought for us! When we were a few people, what intense agony of prayer we had! We have had prayer-meetings in Park Street that have moved our souls. Every man seemed like a crusader besieging Jerusalem, each man determined to storm the Celestial City by the might of intercession; and the blessing came upon us, such that we had not room to receive it. The hallowed cloud rests o’er us still; the holy drops still fall. Will ye now cease from intercession? At the borders of the promised land will ye turn back to the wilderness, when God is with us,

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and the standard of a King is in the midst of our armies? Will ye now fail in the day of trial? Who knoweth but ye have come to the kingdom for such a time as this? Who knoweth but that he will preserve in the land a small company of poor people who fear God intensely, hold the faith earnestly, and love God vehemently; that infidelity may be driven from the high places of the earth; that Naphtali again may be a people made triumphant in the high places of the field? God of heaven, grant this! Oh, let us restrain prayer no longer! You that have never prayed, may you be taught to pray. “God be merciful to me a sinner,” uttered from your heart, with, your eye upon the cross, will bring you a gracious answer, and ye shall go on your way rejoicing.

‘^ifliwm ^iwmikl

“Holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord,” —

Hebrews xii. 14.

NE feels most happy when blowing the trumpet of jubilee, proclaiming peace to broken hearts, freedom to the captives, and the opening of the prisons to them that are bound. But God’s watchman has another trumpet, which he must sometimes blow; for thus saith the Lord unto him: — “Sound an alarm in Zion, sound an alarm in my holy mountain.” Times there are when we must ring the tocsin; men must be startled from their sleep; they must be roused up to inquire: — “What are we? Where are we? Whither are we going?” Nor is it altogether amiss for the wisest virgins to look to the oil in their vessels, and for the soundest Christians to be sometimes constrained to examine the foundations of their hope, to trace back their evidences to the beginning, and make an impartial sun-ey of their state before God. Partly for this reason, but with a further view to the awakening and stirring up of those who are destitute of all holiness, 1 have selected for our topic, “Holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord.”

There lias been a desperate attempt made by certain Antinomians to get rid of the injunction which the Holy Spirit here means to enforce. They have said this is the imputed holiness of Christ. Do they not know, when they so speak, that, by an open perversion, they utter that which is false? I do not suppose that any man in his senses can apply that interpretation to the verse, “Follow peace with all men, and holiness.” Now, the holiness meant is evidently one that can be followed like peace; and it must be transparent to any ingenuous man that it is something which is the act and duty of the person who follows it. We are to follow peace; this is practical peace, not the peace made for us, but “the fruit of righteousness which is sown in peace of them that make peace.” We are to follow holiness — this must be practical holiness too; the opposite of impurity, a it is written, “God hath not called us to uncleanness, but to holiness.” The holiness of Christ is not a thing to follow; I mean if we look at it imputatively. That we have at once; it is given to us the moment we believe. The righteousness of Christ is not to be followed; it is bestowed upon the soul in the instant when it lays hold of Christ Jesus. This is another kind of holiness. It is, in fact, as every one can see who chooses to read the connection, practical, vital holiness which is the purport of this admonition. It is conformity to the will of God, and obedience to the Lord’s command. It is, in fine, the Spirit’s work in the soul, by which a man is made like God, and becomes a partaker of the divine nature, being delivered from the corruption which is in the world through lust. No straining, no hacking at the text can alter it.

There it stands, whether men like it or not. There are some who, for especial reasons best known to themselves, do not like it; just as no thieves ever like policemen or gaols — yet there it stands, and it means no other than what it says: “Without holiness “— practical, personal, active, vital holiness — “no man shall see the Lord.” Dealing with this solemn assertion, fearfully exclusive as it is, shutting out as it does so many professors from all communion with God on earth and all enjoyment of Christ in heaven, I shall endeavour, first, to give some marks and signs whereby a man may know wdiether he hath this holiness or not; secondly, to give sundry reasons by way of improvement of the solemn fact, “Without holiness no man shall see the Lord;” and then, thirdly, to plead hard in Christ’s stead with those who are lovers of gain, that they may bethink themselves ere time be over and opportunity past.

I. First, then, brethren, ye are anxious to know whether ye have holiness or not. Now, if our text said that without perfection of holiness no man could have any communion with Christ, it would shut every one of us out, for no one, who knows his own heart, ever pretends to be perfectly conformed to God’s will. It does not say, “Perfection of holiness,” mark; but “holiness.” This holiness is a thing of growth. It may be in the soul as the grain of mustard-seed, and yet not developed; it may be in the heart as a wish and a desire, rather than anything that has been fully realised — a groaning, a panting, a longing, a striving. As the Spirit of God waters it, it will grow till the mustard-seed shall become a tree. Holiness, in a regenerate heart, is but an infant; it is not matured — perfect it is in all its parts, but not perfect in its development. Hence, when we find many imperfections and many failings in ourseh’ts, we are not to conclude that, therefore, we have no interest in the grace of God. This would be altogether apart from the meaning of the text. As it is not so much my present purpose to show wdiat this holiness is as what it is not, I think, while I am endeavouring to undeceive those who have not this holiness, those who are not condemned may reasonably draw some comfortable inferences as to their own pursuit of this inestimable grace.

Well, now, let us note four sorts of people who try to get on without holiness. First, there is the Pharisee, The Pharisee goes to work with outward ceremonies. He pays tithes of all that he possesses — his anise, his mint, his cummin — everything, even to the tithe of his parsley-bed, he gives. He gives alms to the poor, he wears his phylacteries, and makes broad the borders of his garment — in fact, anything and everything that is commanded ceremonially he most pnnctiliously attends to; but all the while he is devouring widows’ houses, he is living in the practice of secret sin, and he thinks that by ceremonies he shall be able to propitiate God and be accepted. Sinner, pharisaic sinner, hear the death-knell of thy hopes tolled out by this verse — “Without holiness” — and that is a thing thou knowest nothing of — “no man shall see the Lord.” Thy ceremonies are vain and frivolous; even if God ordained them, seeing thou puttest thy trust in them, they shall utterly deceive and fail thee, for they do not constitute even a part of holiness. Thou canst not see God till thy heart be changed, till thy nature be renewed, till thine actions, in the tenor of them, shall become such as God would have them to be. Mere ceremonialists think they can get on without holiness. Fell delusion! Do I speak to any Ritualist who finds himself awkwardly situated here? Do I speak to any Romanist who has entered into a place where not the works of the law, but the righteousness of Christ is preached ‘^ Let me remind you again, very solemnly, my hearer, that those fine hopes of yours, built upon the manoeuvres of the priests, and upon your own performances, shall utterly fail you in that day when most you shall need them. Your soul shall then stand in shivering nakedness when most you need to be well equipped before the eyes of God. These men know not true holiness.

Then there is the moralist. He has never done anything wrong in his life. He is not very observant of ceremonies, it is true; perhaps he even despises them; but he treats his neighbour with integrity, he believes that, so far as he knows, if his ledger be examined it bears no evidence of a sino-le dishonest deed. As touching the law he is blameless: no one ever doubted the purity of his manner; from his youth up his carriage has been amiable, his temperament what every one could desire, and the whole tenor of his life is such that we may hold him up as an example of moral propriety. Ah, but this is not holiness before God. Holiness excludes immorality, but morality does not amount to holiness; for morality may be but the cleaning of the outside of the cup and the platter, while the heart may be full of wickedness. Holiness deals with the thoughts and intents, the purposes, the aims, the objects, the motives of men. Morality doth but skim the surface, holiness goes into the veiy caverns of the great deep; hoUness requires that the heart be set on God, and that it beat with love to him. The moral man may be complete in his morality without that. Methinks I might di-aw such a parallel as this. Morality is a sweet, fair corpse, well washed and robed, and even embalmed with spices; but holiness is the living man, as fair and as lovely as the other, but having life. Morality lies there, of the earth, earthy, soon to be food for corruption and worms; holiness waits and pants with heavenly aspirations, prepared to mount and dwell in immortality beyond the stars. These twain are of opposite nature: the one belongs to this world, the other belongs to that world beyond the skies. It is not said in heaven, “Moral, moral, moral ai’t thou, O God!” but “Holy, holy, holy art thou, O Lord!” You note the difference between the two words at once. The one how icy cold! the other, oh, how animated! Such is mere morality, and such is holiness! Moralist I — I know I speak to many such — remember that your best morality will not save you; you must have more than this, for without holiness — and that not of yourself, it must be given you of the Spirit of God — without holiness no man shall see the Lord.

Another individual who thinks to get on without holiness, and who does win a fair reputation in certain circles, is the experimentalist. You must be aware that there are some professed followers of Christ whose whole religious life is inward; to tell you the truth, there is no life at all; but their own profession is that it is all inward. I have had the misery to be .-acquainted with one or two such. They are voluble talkers, discoursing with much satisfaction of themselves, but bitter critics of all who differ from them in the slightest degree; having an ordained standard as to the proper length to which Christian experience shoukl go; cutting off everybody’s head who was taller than they were, and stretching every man out by the neck who happened to be a little too short. I have known some of these persons. If a minister should say “duty “in the sermon, they would look as if they would never hear him again. He must be a dead legalist — a” letter man,” I think they call him. Or, if they are exhorted to holiness, why, they tell you they are perfect in Christ Jesus, and therefore there is no reason why they should have any thought of perfection in the work of the Spirit within. Groaning, grunting, quarrelling, denouncing — not “following peace with all,” but stirring up strife against all — this is the practice of their reh’gion. This is the summit to which they climb, and from which they look down with undisguised contempt upon all those worms beneath who are striving to serve God and to do good in their day and generation. Now I pray you to remember that against such men as these there are many passages of Scripture most distinctly levelled; 1 think this is one among many others. Sirs, you may say what you will about what you dream you have felt, you may write what you please about what you iancy you have experienced; but if your own outward life be unjust, unholy, ungenerous, and unloving, you shall find no credit among us as to your being in Christ. “Without holiness no man shall see the Lord.” The moment you know a man that is drunk on a Saturday night, and then enjoys So-and-so’s preaching on a

Sunday; the moment you know certain parties who can tell you what a child of God should be, and then appears himself exactly what he should not be, just quit his company and let him go to his own place, and where that is Judas can tell you. Oh, beware of such high-fliers, with their waxen wings, mounting up to the very sun — how great shall be their fall, when he that searches all hearts shall open the book and say, “I was an hungred, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink. Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of these my brethren, ye did it not to me.”

There is another class of persons, happily fewer than they once were, but still there are some among us still — opi7iionists, who think they can do without holiness. These, too, it has sometimes been my misfortune to know. They have learned a sound creed, or perhaps an unsound one, for there are as many Arminians as Calvinists in this line — they think they have got hold of the truth, that they are the men, and that when they die the faithful will fail from among men. They understand theology very accurately. They are wiser than their teachers. They can

“A hair divide
Betwixt the west and north-west side.”

There is no question about their being masters in divinity. If degrees went according to merit, they would have been dubbed “D.D.” years ago, for they know everything, and are not a little proud that they do. And yet these men live a life that is a stench even in the nostrils of men who make no profession of religion. We have some of this kind in all congi’egations. I wish you would not come here. If one could do you good we might be glad to see you, but then you do so much hurt to the rest, and bring so much discredit upon the cause at large that your room would be better than your company. You listen to the sermon, and sometimes perhaps have the condescension to speak well of the preacher, who wishes you would not. Yet after the sermon is done, on the road home, there may be a public-house door just opened at one o’clock, and the brother refreshes himself, and perhaps does so many times. Even if it be the holy day it is all the same, and yet he is a dear and precious child of God. No doubt he is in his own estimation. And then during the week he lives as others live, and acts as others act, and yet congratulates himself that he knows the tmth, and understands the doctrines of the gospel, and therefore he will surely be saved! Out with thee, man! out with thee! Down with thy hopes! ‘^AVithout holiness no man shall see the Lord.”

“No big words of ready talkers,

No mere doctrines will suffice;

Broken hearts, and humble walkers —

These are dear in Jesus’ eyes.’’

Heart-work, carried out afterwards into life-work, this is what the Lord wants. You may perish as well with true doctrines as with false, if you pervert the true doctrine into licentiousness. You may go to hell by the cross as surely as you may by the theatre, or by the vilest of sin. You may perish with the name of Jesus on your lips, and with a sound creed sealed on your very bosom, for, “except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” “Be not deceived; God is not mocked; whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.” Now if any of you belong to either of these four classes, I think you cannot help knowmg it, and, being destitute of gospel holiness, you have good cause to bewail your character and tremble for your destiny. But to help you still further, brethren, that man is destitute of true holiness who can look hack upon his own past sin without sorrow. Oh, to think of our past lives! There were some of us who knew the Lord at fifteen years of age, but those fifteen years of unregeneracy — we can never forget them I Others may say, “Ye did not know him till we were fifty or sixty.” Ah! my dear brethren, you have much to weep over, but so have those of us who knew the Lord in early life. I can look back upon God’s mercy with delight, but I hope I shall never be able to look back upon my sins with complacency. Whenever a man looks to any of his past faults and shortcomings, it ought to be through his tears. Some men recall their past lives and talk of their old sins, and seem to roll them under their tongues as a sweet morsel. They live their sins over again. As it was said of Alexander —

“He fought his battles o’er again,
And twice he slew the slain.”

There are those who revel in the memory of their iniquities. They live their life in imagination over again. They recollect some deed of lewdness or some act of infamy, and as they think it over they dare not repeat it, for their profession would be spoiled; but they love the thought and cultivate it with a vicious partiality. Thou art no friend to true holiness, but an utter stranger to it unless the past causes

Holiness DemandetL 195

thee profound sorrow and sends thee to thy knees to weep and hope that God for Christ’s sake has blotted it out.

And I am quite sure that you know nothing of true holiness if you can look forward to any future indulgence of sensual appetites loith a certain degree of delightful witicipafion. Have I a man here, a professed Christian, who has formed some desimi in his mind to indulofe the flesh and to enjoy forbidden dainties when an opportunity occurs? Ah! sir, if thou canst think of those things that may come in thy way without tremor, I suspect thee: I would thou wouldst suspect thyself. Since the day that some of us knew Christ we have always woke up in the morning with a fear lest we should that day disown our Master. And there is one fear which sometimes haunts me, and I must confess it, and were it not for faith in God it would be too much for me. I cannot read the life of ]3avid without some painful emotions. All the time he was a young man his life was pure before God, and in the light of the living it shone with a glorious lustre; but when grey hairs began to be scattered on his head, the man after God’s heart sinned. I have sometimes felt inclined to pray that my life may come to a speedy end, lest haply in some evil hour some temptation should come upon me and I should fall. And do you not feel the same? Can you look forward to the future without any fear? Does not the thought ever cross your mind — “He that thinketh he standeth may yet fall”? and the very possibility of such a thing — does it not drive you to God’s mercy-seat, and do you not cry, “Hold thou me up and I shall be safe”? There is no doxology in Scripture which I enjoy more than that — ‘* Now unto him who is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before his presence with exceeding joy, to him be glory.” I say you are a stranger to holiness of heart if you can look forward to a future fall without great alarm.

Again, methinks you have gi-eat cause for questioning, unless your holiness is imiform; I mean, if your life is angelic abroad and devilish at home. You must suspect that it is at home that you are what you are, I question whether any man is much better than he is thought to be by his wife and family, for they, after all, see the most of us, and know the tnith about us; and if, sir, though you seem in the pulpit, or on the platform, or in the shop, to be amiable. Christian, and Godlike to the passer-by, your children should have to mark your unkindness, your want of fatherly affection for their souls; and your wife has to complain of your domineering, of the absence of everything that is Christlike, you may shrewdly suspect that there is something wrong in the state of your heart. O sirs, true holiness is a thing that will keep by night and by day, at home and abroad, on the land and on the sea. That man is not right ^^^[th God who would not do the same in the dark that he would do in the light; who does not feel, “If every eye should look upon me I would not be different from what I am when no eye gazes upon me; that which keeps me right is not the judgment and opinions of men, but the eye of the Omnipresent and the heart of the Supreme that loves me.” Is your obedience uniform? Some farmers I know in the country maintain a creditable profession in the village where they live; they go to a place of worship, and very good people they are: but there is a farmers’ dinner once a-year; it is only once a-year — we will not saw anything about how they get home — the less that is said the better for their reputation. “It is only once a-year,” they tell us; but holiness does not allow of dissipation even “once a-year.” And we know some who, when they go on the Continent, for instance, say, “Well, we need not be quite so exact there;” and therefore the Sabbath is utterly disregarded, and the sanctities of daily life are neglected, so reckless are they in their recreations. Well, sirs, if your religion is not warranted to keep in any climate it is good for nothing. I like the remark which I heard from one of the sailors on board ship in crossing the Irish Channel. A passenger said, to try him, *’ Wouldn’t you like to attend a certain place of amusement? “which he mentioned. “Well, sir,” said the sailor, “I go there as often as ever I like; I have a religion that lets me go as often as I think proper.” “Oh, how is that?” he inquired. “Because I never like to go at all,” was the reply; “I do not keep away because of any law, for it is no trial to me; but I should be unhappy to go there.” Surely the fish, were it asked if it did not wish to fly, would reply, “I am not unhappy because I am not allowed to fly; it is not my element.” So the Christian can say, “I am not unhappy because I do not spend my nights in worldly society — because I do not mingle with their revelry and wantonness; it is not my element, and I could not enjoy it. Should you drag me into it, it would be a martyrdom which to my spirit would be alike repulsive and painful.” You are a stranger to holiness if your heart does not feel that it revolts at the thought of sin.

Then, let me further remark, that those who can look with delight or any degree of pleasure upon the sins of others are not holy. We know of some who will not lend themselves to perpetrate an unseemly jest, yet if another does so, and there is a laugh excited upon some not over-decent remark, they laugh, and thus give sanction to the impropriety. If there is a low song sung in their hearing, which others applaud, though they cannot quite go the length of joining in the plaudits, still they secretly enjoy it; they betray a sort of gratification that they cannot disguise; they confess to a gusto that admires the wit while it cannot endorse the sentiment. They are glad the minister was not there; they are glad to think the deacon did not happen to see them just at that moment; yet still, if there could be a law established to make the thing pretty respectable, they would not mind. Some of you know people who fall into this snare. There are professing Christians who go where you at one time could not go, but seeing that they do it, you go too, and there you see others engaged in sin, and it becomes respectable because you give it countenance. There are many things in this world that would be execrated if it were not that Christian men go to them, and the ungodly men say, “Well, if it is not righteous, there is not much harm in it after all; it is innocent enough if we keep within bounds.” Mind! mind! mind, professor, if your heart begins to suck in the sweets of another man’s sin it is unsound in the sight of God: if thou canst even wink at another man’s lust, depend upon it thou wilt soon shut thine eye on thine own, for we are always more severe with other men than we are with ourselves. There must be an absence of the vital principle of £]^odliness when we can become partakers of other men’s sins by applauding or joining with them in the approval of them. Let us examine ourselves scrupulously, then, whether we be among those who have no evidences of that holiness without which no man can see God.

But, beloved, we hope better things of you, and things which accompany salvation. If you and I, as in the sight of God, can feel to-night that we would be holy if we could; that there is not a sin we wish to spare; that we would be like Jesus — O that we could I — that we would sooner suffer affliction than ever run into sin and displease our God; if our heart be really right in God’s statutes, then, despite all the imperfections we bemoan, we have holiness, wherein we may rejoice, and we may see the Lord.

II. Now, then, for the second point very briefly indeed: “Without holiness no man shall see the Lord;” that is to say, no man can have communion with God in this life, and no man can have enjoyment with God in the life to come without holiness. “Can two walk together except they be agreed?” If thou goest with Belial dost thou think Christ will go with thee? lyill Christ be a pot companion for thee? Dost thou expect to take the Lord of love and mercy with thee to the haunts of sin? Professor, dost thou think the just and holy One will stand at thy counter to be co-trader with thee in thy tricks? What thinkest thou, O man! wouldst thou make Christ a sharer of thy guilt? and yet he would be so if he had fellowship with thee in it.

Kay, if thou wilt go on in acts of unrighteousness and unholiness, Christ parts company with thee, or rather thou never didst have any fellowship with him. Thou hast gone out from us because thou wert not of us, for if thou hadst been of us doubtless thou wouldst have continued with us. And as to heaven, dost thou think to go there with thine unholiness? God smote an angel down from heaven for sin, and will he let man in with sin in his right hand? God would sooner extinguish heaven than see sin despoil it. It is enough for him to bear with thine hypocrisies on earth; shall he have them flung in his own face in heaven? What, shall an unholy life utter its licentiousness in the golden streets? Shall there be sin in that higher and better paradise? No, no, God has sworn by his holiness — and he will not, he cannot lie — that those who are not holy, whom his Spirit has not renewed, who have not been by the regenerating power of the Holy One of Israel made to love that which is good and hate that which is evil, shall never stand in the congregation of the righteous. Sinner, it is a settled matter with God that no man shall see God without holiness.

III. I come to my last point, which is, pleading with you. Doubtless there are some in this vast crowd who have some sort of lonmncrs after salvation and after heaven. ]My eye looks round; yes, sometimes it has been my wont to gaze with sorrow upon some few here whose case I know. Do I not remember one % he has been very often impressed, and so impressed too that he has not been able to sleep. Night after night he has prayed, he has wrestled with God, and there is only one thing in his way — and that is drink! strong drink I

Cy the time that AYedncsday or Thursday comes round he begins to forget what he heard on Sunday. Sometimes lie has taken the pledge and stood to it three months, but the passion has been too strong on him, and then he has given all resolutions and vows up, and has plunged into his besetting sin worse than before. Others I know in whom it is another sin. You are here now, are you? You do not come of a morning, and yet when you come at night you feel it very severely; but why not come here in the morning? Because your shop is open, and that shop seems to stand between you and any hope of salvation. There are others who say, “AYell, now, if I go to hear that man, I must give up the vice that disquiets my conscience; but I cannot yet, I cannot yet.” And you are willing to be damned for the sake of some paltry joy? Well, if you will be damned, it shall not be for want of reasoning with you and weeping over you. Let me ]Hit it to you — do you say you cannot give up the sin because of the profit? Profit! Profit, forsooth! ‘’ What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? “What profit have you obtained hitherto? You have put it all into a bag full of holes; what you have earned one way you have spent another, and you know that if this were all you surely have not been any the better for it. Besides, what is profit when compared with your immortal soul? Oh, I adjure you, lose not gold for dross; lose not substance for shadows! Lose not your immortal soul for the sake of some temporary gain! But it is not profit with some of you, it is pleasure, it is a morbid passion. You feel, perhaps, for some particular sin which happens to beset you, such an intense longing, and in looking back upon it afterwards you think you could give up everything but that. Young man, is it some secret sin which we must not mention, or is it some private guilt which is hidden from all hearts but thine own? O soul, what is this pleasure after all? Weigh it, weigh it; what does it come to? Is it equal to the pain it costs thee now, to the pangs of conscience, to the agonies of remorse? When an American doctor who had led a loose life came to die he seemed to wake up from a sort of stupor, and he said,” Find that word, find that word.” “What word?” they said. ‘’ Why,” he said, ‘’ that awful word — remorse! “He said it again — *’ Remorse I “and then, gathering up his full strength he fairly seemed to shriek it out — ‘^ Remorse!” “Write it,” said he, ‘^ write it.*’ It was written. “Write it with larger letters and let me gaze at it; underline it. And now,” said he, “none of you know the meaning of that word, and may you never know it; it has an awful meaning in it, and I feel it now — Remorse! liemorse!! Bemorse! I!” What, I say, is this pleasure contrasted with the results it brings in this life? and what, I ask, is this pleasure compared with the joys of godliness? Little as you may think I know of the joys of the world, yet so far as I can form a judgment, I can say that I would not take all the joys that earth can ever afford in a hundred years for one half -hour of what my soul has known in fellowship with Christ. We do have our sorrows, but, blessed be God, we do have our joys, and they are such joys — oh, such joys, such substance in them, and such reality and certainty, that we could not and would not exchange them for anything except licaven in its fruition. And then, bethink thee sinner, what are all these pleasures when compared with the loss of thy soul! There is a gentleman, hih in position in this world, with fair lands and a large estate, who, when he took me by the button-hole after a sermon — and he never hears me preach without tears — said to me, ‘^ O, sir, it does seem such an

awful thing that I should be such a fool.” ^’And what forT’ said I. ^’Why,” he said, ‘-for the sake of that court and of those gaieties of life, and of mere honour and dress and fashion, I am squandering away my soul. I know,” he said, ‘’ I know the truth, but I do not follow it. I have been stirred in my heart to do it, but I shall go on as I have done before; I fear I shall sink back into the same state as before. Oh, what a fool I am,” said he, “to choose pleasures that only last a little while, and then to be lost for ever and for ever.” I pleaded hard with him, but I pleaded in vain; there was such intoxication in the gaiety of life that he could not leave it. Alas! alas! if we had to deal with sane men our preaching would be easy, but sin is a madness, such a madness that when men are bitten with it they will not be persuaded, though one should rise from the dead. *’ Without holiness no man shall see the Lord.*’ But I hear one say, “It is impossible; I have tried it and I have broken down: I did try to get better, but I did not succeed; it is of no use, it cannot be done.” You are right, my dear friend, and you are wrong. You are right, it is of no use going about it as you did; if you went in your own strength, holiness is a thing you cannot get; it is beyond you. The depth says, “It is not in me;” and the height saith, “It is not in me.” Tou can no more make yourself holy than you could create a world. But you are wrong to despair, for Christ can do it; he can do it for you, and he can begin it now. Believe on him and he will begin with you; in fact, that believino; will be the fruit of his havino; beo-un with you. Trust him, and he that has overcome thy sins, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, shall come in and put to rout the Lion of the pit. He will bruise Satan under thy feet shortly. There is no corruption too strong for him to overcome, there is no habit too firm for him to break it. He can turn a lion to a lamb, and a raven to a dove. Trust him to save thee and he will do it, whatsoever thou mayst be, whatever thy past life may have been. “He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved” — that is, he shall be saved from his sins and delivered from his evil practices; he shall be made a new man in Christ Jesus by the power of the Spirit, received through the medium of his faith. Believe, poor soul, that Christ is able to save thee and he will do it. He will be as good as thy faith and as good as his own word. May he now add his own blessing to the word we have spoken, and to the people who have heard it, for bis oti sake. Amen.

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“And they all forsook him, and fled. And there followed him a certain young man, having a linen cloth cast about his naked body, and the young men laid hold on him: and he left the linen cloth, ami fled from them naked.” — Markxiv. 50 — 52.

HIS little episode in the narrative of the evangelist is very singular. One wonders why it is introduced; but a moment’s reflection will, I think, suggest a plausible reason. It strikes me that this “certain young man” was none other than Mark himself. He was probably asleep; and, aroused by a great clamour, he asked what it was about. The information was speedily given — “The guards have come to arrest Jesus of Nazareth.” Moved by sudden impulse, not thinking of what he was doing, he rises from his bed, rushes down, pursues the troopers, dashes into the midst of their rank, as though he alone would attempt the rescue, when all the disciples had fled. The moment they lay hold upon him his heroic spasm is over; his enthusiasm evaporates; he runs away, leaves the cloth that was loosely wrapped about his body behind, and makes his escape. There have been many who acted like Mark since then. It seems to me that this digression from the main narrative is intended to point a moral. First, however, you will say, “Why suppose It to be Mark?” I grant you it is merely a supposition, but yet it is supported by the strongest chain of probabilities, and will sufficiently account for the manner in which he has inserted it. Calvin, following Ambrose and Chrysostom, thinks it was John, albeit few modern critics attach much weight to that conjecture. I find that the more recondite critics of the modern school ascribe this transaction to Mark for these reasons; — It was common among the evangelists to relate transactions in which they themselves took part without mentioning their own names. This commonly occurs in the case of John, for instance. He bashfully keeps back his name when there is anything to his credit, and he does the same when it is to the reverse. I could quote one or two instances in the Gospel of Luke, and it is not at all remarkable that such a thing should have occurred in the case of Mark, Whoever it was, the only person likely to know it was the man himself. I cannot think that any one else would have been likely to tell it to Mark, and, therefore, I conceive it to have been himself; for he might scarcely have thought it worthy of recording if it had been told him by some one else; and it is not likely that any one to whom it had occurred would have felt it was much to his credit, and been likely to relate it to Mark with a view to its being recorded. Again, we know that such a transaction as this was quite in keeping with Mark’s common character. We gather his character partly from the book which he has written: the evangel of Mark is the most impulsive of all the evangels. You are aware, and I have frequently mentioned it to you, that the word eutheosy translated “straightaway,” “forthwith,”

“Immediately,” is used a very great numLer of times by this evangelist in his book. He is a man who does everything straightway; full of impulse, dash, fire, flash; the thing must be done, and done forthwith. His gospel is of that description. You do not find many of Christ’s sermons in Mark. He gives you a sketch, an outline. He had not perseverance enough to take the whole down; and he scarcely finishes the narration of the death of Christ. His book seems to break off abruptly, yet he is the most picturesque of all. There are pieces of imagination, and there are Hogarthian touches, in the sacred biogi’aphy he writes, that are not to be found In Matthew, or Luke, or John. The man is a man of fire. He is all enthusiasm. Poetry has filled his soul, and, therefore, he dashes at the thing. Ble lacks in perseverance, and will hardly finish what he takes in hand; but yet there is a genius about him not altogether uncommon to Christian men in this age, and there are faults in him exceedingly common. Once more: the known life of John Mark tends to make it very probable that he would do such a thing as is referred to in the text. As soon as ever Paul and Barnabas set out on their missionary enterprise they were attended by Mark. As long as they were sailing across the blue waters, and as long as they were in the island of Cyprus, Mark stuck to them. Nay, while they travelled along the coast of Asia Minor, we find they had John Mark to be their minister; but the moment they went up Into the inland countries, among the robbers and the mountain streams — as soon as ever the road began to be a little too rough, John [Mark left them. His missionary zeal had oozed out. After a short time there was a hot contention between Panl and Barnabas. Paul would not have Mark with him any longer. He could not trust him; he did not believe in these impulsive people, who could not hold on under difficulties; but Barnabas knowing him better — for Mark is sister’s son to Barnabas — and feeling a kinsman’s lenity to his faults, insists upon it that they should take John Mark; and the altercation grew so violent between Paul and Barnabas, that they separated on this iaccount, and would not proceed together on their divine mission. Yet Barnabas was right. Paul was not wrong either. I think Barnabas w as right in his mild judgment of Mark, for he was a sound believer at bottom, and, notwithstanding this fault, he was a real, true-hearted disciple. We find him afterwards reconciled entirely to the Apostle Paul. Paul says, Send Mark, for he is profitable unto me for the ministiy; “and we find Paul mentioning, with affection and love, ^’Mark as sister’s son to Barnabas,” wdiich shows on the one hand the apostle’s Christian candour and kindness, and on the other hand that Mark had retrieved his character by perseverance. Tradition says that Mark became the Bishop of Alexandria. We do not know whether it is correct or not, but it is likely enough that he was. Certainly he was with Paul at Rome, and the latter part of his life was spent with Peter at Babylon. See what a man he is. He goes to Rome, but he cannot stop there long. He has done his work in Rome. He is one of your fidgety people that’ do things all of a sudden; and away he is to Alexandria. But methinks he must have found a very congenial friend in Peter. He would be a blessing to Peter, and

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Peter would be a blessing to him; for Peter’s disposition was cast in something of the same mould. You will notice that Mark gives the most explicit account of Peter’s fall. He enters very fully into it. I believe he received it from Peter viva voce, and Peter bade him write it down; and I think the modest spirit of Mark seemed to say, “Friend Peter, while the Holy Ghost moves me to tell thy fault and let it stand on record, he also constrains me to write mine as a sort of preface to it, for I, too, in my mad, hair-brain folly, would have run, unclothed as I was, upon the guard to rescue my Lord and Master, yet at the first sight of the rough legionaries, at the first gleam of their swords, away I fled, timid, faint-hearted, and afraid that I should be too roughly handled.”

For these reasons, the supposition that it was John Mark appears to me not to be utterly baseless. There is no hypothesis in favour of any other supported by equal probabilities. Very well, then. We will assume that he was the man, and use the incident as the irroundwork of our discourse. We have some counterparts of him here to-night, and we shall try to find them out and make use of Mark’s blunder for their correction, in respect both to hasty following and hasty rimning away.

Here is hasty following. John lark does not wait to robe himself, but just as he is, he dashes out for the defence of his Lord. Without a moment’s thought, taking no sort of consideration, down he goes into the cold night air to try and deliver his Master. Feiwent zeal waited not for charv prudence. There was sometiling good and something bad in this, something to admire as well as somethino; to censure.

Beloved, it is a p’ood and rio-ht thine; for us to follow Christ, and to follow him at once; and it is a brave thing to follow him when his other disciples forsake him and flee. It is a bold and worthy courage to take deadly odds for Christ, and to rush, one against a thousand, for the honour of his dear hallowed name. Would that all professors of religion had the intrepidity of Mark! Would that all who have been careless about religion might emulate his haste, and be as precipitate in flying to Christ by faith as he was in running to the rescue in that hour of assault! The most of men are too slow; fast enough in the world, but, ah! how slow in the things of God! I protest that, if corporations and companies were half as dilatory about worldly things as the Church of God is about spiritual things, instead of a railway accident every three or four months, we should have one every hour; and instead of a revolution eveiy one or two centuries, it would be well if we did not have one every year, for of all indolent things the Church of God is the most sluggish. Of all people that dilly-dally in this world, I think professed servants of God are the most drony and faddling. How slothful are the ungodly, too, in divine things; tell them they are sick, they hasten to a surgeon; tell them that their title-deeds are about to be attacked, and they will defend them with legal power; but tell them, in God’s name, that their soul is in danger, and they think it matters so little, and is of so small import, that they will wait on, and wait on, and wait on, and doubtless continue to wait on till they find themselves lost for ever.

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Let me stir up those who have not believed on the Lord Jesus Christ to look dihgently to their eternal state. You have tarried long enough. The time that you have been out of Christ is surely long enough for the lusts of the flesh. What fruit have you gathered in your impenitence and sin? How much have you bettered by neglecting Christ and minding worldly things? Has it not been all a dreary toil? It may have been decked out with a few transient pleasures, but, putting the ungodly life into the scale, what does it come to? “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” Do you not confess this? Why, then, tarry any longer? Have you got any happiness in being an enemy to God? Why not be reconciled? Oh that the Spirit of God would make you see that the time past may suffice you to have wrought the will of the flesh! Besides, how little time you have to spare, and, if you have much, Jesus demands of you to repent now. “The Holy Ghost saith. To-day, to-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart.” The gospel invitation is not for to-morrow, but for to-day. The warnings of the gospel all bid you shun procrastination. Is not this Satan’s great net in which men, like the silly fishes of the deep, are taken to their eternal destruction? O thou dove pursued by the hawk, wait not, but Ry at once to the dove-cot — to the wounds of Jesus, and be sheltered! Jesus calls thee. Come to him while he calleth thee. Why wilt thou tarry? His cause wants you. Young men, there are some of you who will spend the best of your days in Satan’s cause, and when we get you, as we hope we shall, we shall have to baptise into Christ your shrivelled age, your palsied weakness. Let it not be so. In these days of error Christ needs for his kingdom men strong and vigorous, who are strong, as John saith, and have overcome the wicked one. Fain I would enlist you, and would turn recruiting-sergeant for my Master. Oh that you were on his side now! You cannot be too hasty here. If now the weapons of your rebellion are thrown down if now you “kiss the rod, ere he is angry,” you will have waited already too long; you will not, nor can you, come too soon. Hark! hark! I hear the chariot wheels of death. He comes! he comes! and the axles of his chariot are hot with speed. He stands aloft driving his white horse. The skeleton rider brandishes his awful spear, and you are the victim. God has spared you up till now, but he may not bid you spend another Sabbath-day. I hear the mower’s scythe everywhere, as I pass along, making ready to cut doMi the grass and the flower thereof. Ah! death’s scythe is being sharpened now. He proceeds to reap his harvest every day, and, whether prepared or not, you must be cut down when God’s time shall come. Fly, then, I pray you, and though you be, like John Mark, unfit and unprepared, remember you may come naked to Christ, for he can clothe you; you may come filthy ta Christ, for he can wash you; you may come all unholy and defiled to Jesus, for he can put away your sin. Come! The Spirit of God seems to-night to say, “Come.” I pray that he may bid you come and lay hold upon eternal life. I do not know how it is — I sometimes feel for many of my hearers, especially for those of you whose faces I have seen for these years, an avf ul earnestness when I am not in this pulpit, and I think

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ilien if I could get your ear I would labour with you. Bethink you how many have been buried. How often do I stand at the grave’s mouth, till sometimes, when, week after wxek, and twice each week, I stand there, I fancy myself but yet talking to dying men, and not to living men at all, talking to a company of shadows that come and go before me, and I stand still, myself a shadow, soon to flit like the rest. Oh that I could talk to you as I then feel, and pour out my soul to you! We want a Baxter to bring men to immediate decision — Baxter with weeping eyes and burning heart — Baxter, who says, ^’ I will go down on my knees to entreat you to think upon eternal things;” Baxter who cries and groans for men till they cry and groan for themselves. Why will ye die? why will ye let procrastination kill you? Wherefore will ye put off till your day is over? AYhy will ye still waste the candle which is so short? Why will ye let the day go when the sun dips already beneath the horizon? By the shortness of time, by the sureness of death, by the certainty of eternal judgment, I do beseech you fly to Jesus, and fly to Jesus now, though even it should be in the hurry of John ]Mark.

I change my note. There is a haste that we must reprove. The precipitate running of Mark suggests an admonition that should put you on your guard. He came on a sudden by his religion, and there are some people who do this who might as well have no religion. That, however, was not the case with Mark. He was a genuine character, yet with nine out of ten of these people I am afraid it is far otherwise. Let me address some here who have all of a sudden come to Christ. 1 do not want to throw doubts in their way as to their sincerity, but I do want to incite them to examine themselves. I am afraid some people make a hasty profession through the persuasion of friends. You walk with your friend, and he says, “I have joined the church? why don’t you do so? “He is not wise enough to put to you pointed questions which would let him see whether you are converted or not, but he unwisely presses you to make a profession when there is no grace in your heart. I pray you as soon as ever you know Christ, speak out for him, and go out and show your colours; but I also beseech you never profess to follow Christ through the persuasion of friends. I trust no pious mother would ever recommend you to da so. I am sure no wise father would ever urge it upon you. They would bid you fly to Christ at once, but as to making the profession, they would have you see whether, indeed, the root of the matter be in you, and when they are persuaded, and you are persuaded of ity they will throw no stumbling blocks in your way. Young people, I pray you don’t be deceived in this matter. How many have we seen in the revival times who have been induced to come forward to the ‘^ peni tent stool,” as it is called. That night, oh how much they felt, because their natural sensibilities were wrought upon; but the next morning, oh how little have they felt! When the agencies that stimulated them have been withdrawn, and when the meetings that stirred the embers, and the preacher that fanned the flame no longer exert any transient spell on them, their disenchanted souls sink down into a profound stupor. In many churches there are so few making profession of religion that there is not much danger; but here, where we receive so many every week, there is need for wise discrimination. I do beseech you never to sit down with a religion that comes to you merely through your being talked to by yoiu’ acquaintances.

“True religion’s more than notion:
Something must be known and felt:”

Nor arc there a mere few who get their religion through excitement. This furnishes another example of injudicious haste. They hear religion painted as being very beautiful; they see the beauty of it; they admire it; they think what a lovely thing it must be to be a Christian. Feeling this, and misled by a sort of excitement in their minds, they conclude that this is repentance. A false confidence they write down as faith! They eagerly infer that they are the children of God, whereas, alas 1 they are but the dupes of their own emotion, and still “heirs of wrath, even as others.” Beware, I pray you, of a religion which lives upon excitement. We ought to be filled with enthusiasm. A fervent love should make our hearts always glow. The zeal of God’s house should be our master-passion. Men never do much in politics till they grow warm upon a question; and in religion the very highest degree of excitement is not only pardonable, but praiseworthy. What, then, is it, which we deprecate? Not the emotions of spiritual life, but an exclusive dependence upon impulse. If you try to live upon the spell of a man’s words, upon the imposing grandeur of a multitude assembled together, upon the fascination of congregational singing, or even upon the heart-thrilling fervour of prayer-meetings, you will find the lack of substantial food, and the danger of an intoxicated brain. As the quails which the children of Israel did eat in the wilderness, God’s bounties may be fed upon to your injury. No, dear friends, there must be the real work of the Holy Ghost in the soul, or else the repentance we get will be a repentance which needs to be repented of. I well know a town where there was a certain eminent revivalist, whom I greatly respect. It was said that half the population were converted under him; but I do not think that if the numbers were told at the present moment there would be found a dozen of his converts. This revival work, where it is real and good, is God’s best blessing, but where it is flimsy and unreal, it is Satan’s worst curse. Eevivalists are often like the locusts. Before them it may not be quite an Eden, but certainly behind them it is a desert when the excitement is over. I like rather to see the Word so preached that men are brought under its power by the force of the truth itself, and not by excitement — by the truth of God being laid down in so clear a manner as to enlighten the judgment, rather than by perpetual appeals to the passions, which ultimately wear out the sinews of mental vigour, and make men more dull in religion than they were before. Beware, I pray you, of getting the mere religion of poetry, enthusiasm, and rhapsody. Many profess Christ and think to follow him without counting the cost. They fancy it is all sweet, forgetting that the way is rough, and that there are many foes. They set out like Mr. Pliable, for the Celestial City; but they stumble into the first bog, and they say if they can but get out on the side nearest to their own house. Christian may have the brave country all to himself for them. Oh! the many we have seen at divers times that did

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seem to run well, but they ran in the strength of the ilesh, and in the mists of ignorance. They had never sought God’s strength; they had never been emptied of their own works and their own conceits; consequently, in their best estate they were vanity; they were like the snail that melts as it crawls, and not like the snow-flake upon the Alps, which gathers strength in its descent, till it becomes a ponderous avalanche. God make you not meteors or shooting stars, but stars fixed in their places. I want you to resemble, not the ignis fatuus of the morass, but the steady beacon of the rock. There is a phosphorescence that creeps over the summer sea, but who is ever lighted by it to the port of peace? and there is a phosphorescence which comes over some men’s minds. Very bright it seems, but it is of no value; it brings no man to heaven. Be as hasty as John Mark, if it be a sound haste; but take care that it be not a spasm of excitement — a mere fit. Otherwise, when the fit is over, you will go back to your old haunts and your old habits with shame. You will be like Saul among the prophets one day, and hating the prophet king the next. So much, so earnestly would I warn you against hasty followings of Christ.

It remains for me to notice the hasty running away. I do not know that the persons who are readiest to run away are always those who were the fastest to speed their profession. I am inclined to think not. But some who do run well at first have hardly breath enough to keep the pace up, and so turn aside for a little comfortable ease, and do not get into the road again. Such are not genuine Christians; they are only men-made, self-made Christians; and these self-made

218 Christiayi Energy.

Christians never hold on, and never can hold on, because time wears them out, and they turn back to their former state.

There are two kinds of desertion which we denounce as hasty running away: the one temporary, the other final. To the members of the church let me speak upon the former. My dear brethren and sisters, especially you that are young in years and have lately been added to our number, I pray you watch against temporary runnings away from the truth of Christ. Think what a fool Mark made of himself. Here he comes; here is your hero. What wonders he is going to do! Here is a Samson for you. Perhaps he will slay his thousand men. But, no; he runs away before he strikes a single blow. He has not even courage enough to be taken prisoner, and to be di’agged away with Christ to the judgment-seat, and bear a patient witness there; but he turns tail at once, and away he flies. How simple he looked! How everybody in the crowd must have lauo;hed at the venturesome coward — at the dastardly bravo! And what a fool will you seem if, after uniting yourself with the church, and seeming to be a servant of God, you shall give way under temptation. Some young man in the same shop laughs at you — “Aha, aha, you are baptised, I hear”; and you tremble, like Peter, under the questioning of the little maid; or your master sees something wrong, and he makes some rough remark to you, “Welt, this is a fine thing for a Christian soldier!” Cannot you face the enemy for the first time? ‘^If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses 1 and if in the land

John Mark; or, liable in Jiclifjion, 219

of peace, Avliereiii tlioutrustedst, they ^veilrie(.l thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan ‘^ “A religion that cannot stand a little laughter must be a very rotten one. We know some people whose religion is on so unsound a basis, their profession so hollow, and their position so shaky, that they make all sorts of noises about our touching them. Their system is of human construction, and rotten, and they know it, therefore are they angry if we do but allude to it. Were it sound and good, then whatever we could say would never frighten them. But, sirs, how many who have made a fair show in the flesh have been personally and individually tried and found wanting! “Mene, mene, tekel” has been written on the wall concerning them. Their first setting out was hasty, and they have been turned aside through a little laughter. Do you not see, dear friends, that this will always render you very untrustworthy? If you shrink in this way, the church will never trust you. I hope you will be a leader in God’s Israel one day, young man. We are looking to you, if not to be a preacher, yet to be a church officer one day; but who will ever ask you to do anything wdien you cannot keep steadfast and hold your own position? He who has not grace enough to prevent his running away in the time of tribulation is not at all likely to be made a leader of God’s host. The church will retain you as it retained Mark, but it will always look upon you with a sort of suspicion. We shall always say, ^’ Where is So-and-so? We know where he was yesterday; where is he to-day? “Therefore abstain from these inconsistencies for your own character’s sake. Besides, how much damage you do the church! All the persecutors and infidels outside the church’s walls can never harm us so much as inconsistent people inside. “Ah! there is one of the people who go to the meeting,” they say, when they see a man in the pot-house who sits at the communion table, ‘Ah! there is one of your religious people! He can cheat as well as anybody else. He knows how to thumb the yard measure. He knows how to give short weight. He knows how to promise on a certain day, and then run through the Bankruptcy Court according to the law of England, which is that nobody need pay his debts; “and a glorious honest law it is. ^’ Ah!” it is said, “the servants of Christ are not a bit better than other people. They make a great fuss about their purity, but see what they will do.” And then see what harm this will do to Christ’s church itself. How many who love God will sit down and weep when they see such inconsistencies. Good captains can stand a wound, they will even bear defeat, but they cannot bear to see cowardice on the part of their troops; they cannot bear to see the men running away. If “the men of Ephraim, being anned, and carrying bows, turn back in the day of battle,” then their leader weeps, for the glorious cross of Christ is dishonoured, the escutcheon is sullied, and the banner is trailed in the mud. The Lord so keep us that our garments may be always white, that though before God we may have many sins to confess, we may stand like Job, and say, “Lord, thou knowest that I am not wicked.” May your testimony be so clear towards the religion of Christ that those who watch you for your halting, and hate you with a perfect hatred, may nevertheless find nothing against you, but may be constrained

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to say, ^’ These are servants of God, and serve him in deed and of a truth.” I would ui’ge you not to flee or to flinch. Some of us have had enouoh of lying and slander to bear in our time, and are we a whit the worse? Nay, and if we had the choice to bear itagahi, would we not do so? We may have had to be laughed at and caricatured, but it breaks no bone, and should not make a brave man wince. AYho ought to be alarmed when the war cry is “the Lord of Hosts,” and when the banner of God’s own truth waves over his head? Courage, my brethren, and you shall have the victory. “In the world ye shall have tribulation, but in Christ ye shall have peace.” Value above all things the Holy Spirit. Kealise your entire dependence upon him. Pray for fresh grace. Venture not into the world without a fresh store of his hallowed influence. Live in the Divine love. Seek to be filled with that blessed Spirit; and then, my brethren, if the armed man take hold of you, you will not flee away; shame shall not overtake you, dismay shall not affright your souls, but ye shall stand in unblemished integrity to the end as the true servants of Jesus Christ.

And now, in concluding, what am I to say of a final apostasy? None of God’s people ever pursue their wanderings to this terrible issue. No vessel of mercy was ever cast away. No elect souls can run this fatal length of wickedness. But there are many in the Church who draw back to perdition. Many who profess Christ are branches bearing no fruit, and are cut off and cast into the fire. Such may be the condition of some here present. Such may be the lot of some of you who ‘^ have a name to live, and are dead.” Let me plead with you. Oil, what a dreadful thing it will be if you apostatise at all! Shall I live to see you go back into the world? I would sooner bury you. Shall I live to see some of you who have professed to know the Lord under our ministry at last sinning with a high hand and an outstretched arm, worse than you were before? God spare us this evil thing! Let him chastise his servant in any way he thinks fit, but, O Lord, let not this be the rod — to see professors become false. Remember, if you do apostatise, you have accumulated guilt by the profession you made, and impressed your character with a more uneradicable defilement. When the unclean spirit went out of the man, and afterwards returned, he brought seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they entered in, and dwelt there, and the last state of that man was worse than the first. Better for you never to have known the way of righteousness, than having known it, to turn aside to those crooked paths. Think what must be the dying bed of an apostate. Did you ever read of “The Groans of Spira”? That was a book circulated about the time of the Reformation — a book so terrible that even a man of iron could scarcely read it. Spira knew the gospel, but yet went back to the Church of Rome. His conscience woke on his dying bed, and his cries and shrieks were too terrible to be endured by his nurses; and as to his language, it was despair written out at full length in capital letters. My eminent predecessor, Mr. Benjamin Keach, published a like narrative of the death of John Child, who became a minister of the gospel, but afterwards went back to the church from which he had seceded, and died in the most frightful despair. May God deliver you from the death-bed of any man who has lived a professed Christian, and dies an apostate from the faith! But what must be the apostate’s doom when his naked soul goes before God? How must he hear that voice, ‘^ Depart, ye cursed; thou hast rejected me, and I reject thee; thou hast played the harlot, and departed from me; I also have divorced thee for ever, and will not have mercy upon thee.” What will be this wretch’s shame at the last great day, when before assembled multitudes the apostate shall be unmasked? I think I see the profane and sinners wdio never professed religion lifting themselves up from their beds of fire to point at him. “There he is,” says one; “will he preach the gospel in hell?” “There he is,” says another; “he rebuked me for cursing, and was a hypocrite himself.” “Aha!” says another, “here comes a psalm-singing Methodist — one that was always at his meeting; he is the man who boasted of his being sure of everlasting life; and here he is.” No greater eagerness will ever be seen among Satanic tormentors than in that day when devils drag the hypocrite’s soul and the apostate’s spirit down to perdition. Bunyan pictures this with massive but awful grandeur of poetry when he speaks of the back way to hell. The devils were binding a man with nine cords, and were taking him from the road to heaven, in which he had professed to walk, and thrust him through the back door of hell. Mind that back way to hell, professors! You professors of religion who have been in the church for years,” examine

yourselves whether ye be in the faith.” Examine yourselves whether you be deceived. hook well to vour state, see whether you be in Christ or not. It is the easiest thing in the world to give a lenient verdict when oneself is to be tried ;. but oh, be just and true here. Bo just to all, but be rigorous to yourself. Kemember, if it be not a rock on which you build, the house will fall, and great will be the fall of it. Oh, may the Lord give you sincerity, constancy, and firmness; and in no day, however evil, may you be tempted to turn aside; rather may you hold fast by God and by his truth — by Christ and by his word, come what may.

My soul longeth, however many years God may spare me, to walk in and out among you, and find you as earnest for God and as loving towards Christ as you are this day. I glory in you among all the churches. God has given you the spirit of faith and prayer, of earnest zeal, and a sound mind. Unto him be the glory. But, as a church, do not backslide. Let not our fervour diminish, let not our zeal die out. Let us love one another more tenderly than ever; let us cling fast to one another; let us not be divided, ‘^ let no root of bitterness springing up trouble ns”; firm and steadfast, shoulder to shoulder, like a phalanx of old, let us stand and repel the foe, and win the kingdom for Christ our Lord! “Kownnto him that is able to keep us from falling, and to present ns faultless before his presence with exceeding joy, be glory for ever and ever. Amen,”