The Hope of Future Bliss

As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awalce, with thy likeness.” — Ps. xvii. 15,

It would be diflacult to say to which the gospel owes most, to its friends or to its enemies. It is true, that by the help of God, its friends have done much for it; they have preached it in foreign lands, they have dared death, they have laughed to scorn the terrors of the grave, they have ventured all things for Christ, and so have glorified the doctrine they believed; but the enemies of Christ, unwittingly, have done no little, for when they have persecuted Christ’s servants, they have scattered them abroad, so that they have gone everywhere preaching the Word; yea, when they have trampled upon the gospel, like a certain herb we read of in medicine, it hath grown all the faster: and if we refer to the pages of sacred writ how very many precious portions of it do we owe, under God, to the enemies of the cross of Christ! Jesus Christ would never have preached many of his discourses had not his foes compelled him to answer them; had they not brought objections, we should not have heard the sweet sentences in which he replied. So with the book of Psalms: had not David been sorely tried by enemies, had not the foemen shot their arrows at him, had they not attempted to malign and blast his character, had they not deeply distressed him, and made him cry out in misery, we should have missed many of those precious experimental utterances we here find, much of that holy song which he penned after his deliverance, and very much of that glorious statement of his trust in the infallible God. We should have lost all this, had it not been wrung from him by the iron hand of anguish. Had it not been for David’s enemies, he would not have penned his Psalms; but when hunted like a partridge on the mountains, when driven like the timid roe before the hunter’s dogs, he waited for awhile, bathed his sides in the brooks of Siloa, and panting on the hill-top a little, he breathed the air of heaven and stood and rested his weary limbs. Then was it that he gave honour to God; then he shouted aloud to that mighty Jehovah, who for him had gotten the victory. This sentence follows a description of the great troubles which the wicked bring upon the righteous, wherein he consoles himself with the hope of future bliss. As for me,” says the patriarch, casting his eyes aloft; “As for me,” said the hunted chieftain of the caves of Engedi — “As for me,” says the once shepherd boy, who was soon to wear a royal diadem — “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied, when I awake with thy likeness.”

In looking at this passage to-night, we shall notice first of all, the spirit of it, secondly, the matter of it; and then, thirdly, we shall close by speaking of the con” trast which is implied in it.

I. First, then, the spirit op this utterance, for I always love to look at the spirit in which a man writes, or the spirit in which he preaches; in fact, there is vastly more in that than in the words he uses.

Now, what should you think is the spirit of these words? “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.”

First, they breathe the spirit of a man entirely free from envy. Notice, that the Psalmist has been speaking of the wicked. “They are inclosed in their own fat: with their mouth they speak proudly.’* “They are full of children, and leave the rest of their substance to their babes.” But David envies them not. “Go,” sayt

A he, “rich man, in all thy riches — go, proud man, in all thy pride — go, tY.OM happy man, with thine abundance of children; I envy thee not; as for me, my lot is different: I can look on you without desiring to have your possessions; I can well keep that commandment, ‘Thou shalt not covet,’ for in your possessions there is nothing wcrth my love; I set no value upon your earthly treasures; I envy you not your heaps of glittering dust; for my Redeemer is mine.” The man is above envy, because he thinks that the joy would be no joy to him — that the portion would not suit his disposition. Therefore, he turns his eye heavenward, and says, “As for me I shall behold thy face in righteousness.” Oh! beloved, it is a happy thing to be free from envy. Envy is a curse which blighteth creation; and even Eden’s garden itself would have become defaced, and no longer fair, if the wind of envy could have ’ blown on it; envy tarnisheth the gold; envy dimneth the silver; should envy breathe on the hot sun, it would quench it; should she cast her evil eye on the moon, it would be turned into blood, and the stars would fly astonished at her. Envy is accursed of heaven; yea, it is Satan’s first-born — the vilest of vices. Give a man riches, but let him have envy, and there is the worm at the root of the fair tree; give him happiness, and if he envies another’s lot, what would have been happiness becomes his misery, because it is not so great as that of some one else. But give me freedom from envy; let me be content with what God has given me, let me say, Ye may have yours, I will not envy you — I am satisfied with mine;” yea, give me such a love to my fellow creatures that I can rejoice in their joy, and the more they have the more glad I am of it. My candle will burn no less brightly because theirs outshines it. I can rejoice in their prosperity. Then am I happy, for all around tends to make me blissful, when I can rejoice in the joys of others, and make their gladness my own. Envy! oh! may God deliver us from it! But how, in truth, can we get rid of it so well as by believing that we have something that is not on earth, but in heaven? If we can look upon all the things in the world and say, As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied by-and-bye!” then we cannot envy other men, because their lot would not be adapted to our peculiar taste. Doth the ox envy the lion! Nay, for it cannot feed upon the carcase. Doth the dove grieve because the raven can gloat itself on carrion? Nay, for it lives on other food. Will the eagle envy the wren his tiny nest? Oh, no! So the Christian will mount aloft as the eagle, spreading his broad wings, he will fly up to his eyrie amongst the stars, where God hath made him his nest, saying, “As foi- me, I will dwell here; I look upon the low places of this earth with contempt; I envy not your greatness, ye mighty emperors; I desire not your fame, ye mighty warriors; I ask not for wealth, O Croesus; I beg not for thy power, O Caesar; as for me, I have something else; my portion is the Lord.” The text breathes the spirit of a man free from envy. May God give that to us!

Then, secondly, you can see that there is about it the air of a man who is looking into the future. Read the passage thoroughly, and you will see that it all has relation to the future; because it says, “As for me, I shall.” It has nothing to do with the present: it does not say, “As for me I do, or I am, so-and-so,” but “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied, when I awake.” The Psalmist looks beyond the grave into another world; he overlooks the narrow death-bed where he has to sleep, and he says, “When I awake.” How happy is that man who has an eye to the future; even in worldly things we esteem that man who looks beyond the present day; he who spends all his money as it comes in will soon bring himself to rags. He who lives on the present is a fool; but wise men are content to look after future things. When Milton penned his book he might know, perhaps, that he should have little fame in his lifetime; but he said, “I shall be honoured when my head shall sleep in the grave.” Thus have other worthies been content to tarry until time has broken the earthen pitcher, and suflered the lamp to blaze; as for honour, they said, “We will leave that to the future, for that fame which comes late is often most enduring,” and they lived upon the “shall” and fed upon the future. “I shall be satisfied” by-and-bye. So says the Christian. I ask no royal pomp or fame now; I am prepared to wait, I have an interest in reversion; I want not a pitiful estate here — I will tarry till I get my domains in heaven, those broad and beautiful domains that God has provided for them that love him. Well content will I be to fold my arms and sit me down in the cottage, for I shall have a mansion of God, “a house not made with hands, eteniaj in the heavens.” Bo any of you know what it is to live on the future — to live on expectation — to live on what you are to have in the next world — to feast yourselves with some of the droppings of the tree of life that fall from heaven — to live upon the manna of expectation which falls in the wilderness, and to drink that stream of nectar which gushes from the throne of God? Have you ever gone to the great Niagara of hope, and drank the spray with ravishing delight; for the very spray of heaven is glory to one’s soul! Have you ever lived on the future, and said, “As for me I shall have somewhat, by-and-bye?” Why, this is the highest motive that can actuate a man. I suppose this was what made Luther so bold, when he stood before his great audience of kings and lords, and said, “I stand by the truth that I have written, and will so stand by it till I die; so help me God!” Methinks he must have said, “I shall be satisfied by-and-bye; I am not satisfied now, but I shall be soon.” For this the missionary ventures the stormy sea; for this he treads the barbarous shore; for this he goes into inhospitable climes, and risks his life, because he knows there is a payment to come by-and-bye. I sometimes laughingly tell my friends when I receive a favour from them, that I cannot return it, but set it up to my Master in heaven, for they shall be satisfied when they awake in his likeness. There are many things that we may never hope to be rewarded for here, but that shall be remembered before the throne hereafter, not of debt, but of grace. Like a poor minister I heard of, who, walking to a rustic chapel to preach, was met by a clergyman who had a far richer berth. He asked the poor man what he expected to have for his preaching. “Well,” he said, “I expect to have a crown.” “Ah!” said the clergyman, “I have not been in the habit of preaching for less than a guinea, anyhow.” “Oli!” said the other,” I am obliged to be content with a crown, and what is more, I do not have my crown

now, but I have to wait for that in the future.” The clergyman little thought that he meant the “crown of life that fadeth not away!” Christian! live on the future; seek nothing here, but expect that thou shalt shine when thou shalt come in the likeness of Jesus, with him to be admired, and to kneel before his face adoringly. The Psalmist had an eye to the future.

And again, upon this point, you can see that David, at the time he wrote this, was full of faith. The text is fragrant with confidence. “As for me,” says David, no perhaps about it; “I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake up in thy likeness.” If some men should say so novr, they would be called fanatics, and it would be considered presumption for any man to say, “I will behold thy face, I shall be satisfied;” and I think there are many now in this world who think it is quite impossible for a man to say to a certainty, “I know, I am sure, I am certain.” But, beloved, there are not one or two, but there are thousands and thousands of God’s people alive in this world who can say with an assured confidence, no more doubting of it than of their very existence, “I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied, when I awake in thy likeness.” It is possible, though perhaps not very easy, to attain to that high and eminent position wherein we can say no longer do I hope but I know; no longer do I trust, but I am persuaded; I have a happy confidence; I am sure of it; I am certain; for God has so manifested himself to me that now it is no longer “if” and “perhaps,” but it is positive, eternal, “shall.” “I shall be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness.” How many are there here of that sort? Oh! if ye are talking like that, ye must expect to have trouble, for God never gives strong faith without fiery trial; he will never give a man the power to say that “shall” without trying him; he will not build a strong ship without subjecting it to very mighty storms; he will not make you a mighty warrior, if he does not intend to try your skill in battle. God’s swords must be used; the old Toledo blades of heaven must be smitten against the armour of the evil one, and yet they shall not break, for they are of true Jerusalem metal, which shall never snap. Oh! what a happy thing to have that faith to say, ‘*I shall.” Some of you think it quite impossible, I know; but it is the gift of God,” and whosoever asks it shall obtain it; and the very chief of sinners now present in this place may yet be able to say long before he comes to die, I shall behold thy face in righteousness.” Methinks I see the aged Christian. He has been very poor. He is in a garret where the stars look between the tiles. There is his bed. His clothes ragged and torn. There are a few sticks on the hearth: they are the last he has. He is sitting up in his chair; his paralytic hand quivers and shakes, and he is evidently nar his end. His last meal was eaten yestr AMUPti t and m you stand and look at him, poor, weak, and feeble, who would

THE HOPE or FUTURE RLI8S.

desire his lot? But ask him, “Old man, wouldst thou change thy garret for Caesar’s palace? Aged Christian, wouldst thou give up these rags for wealth, and cease to love thy God?” See how indignation burns in his eyes at once! He replies, “* As for me, I shall’ within a few more days, ’ behold his face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied’ soon; here I never shall be. Trouble has been my lot, and trial has been my portion; but I have ‘a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”* Bid high; bid him fair; offer him your hands full of gold; lay all down for him to give up his Christ. “Give up Christ?” he will say, “no, never!”

While my faith can keep her hold,
I envy not the miser’s gold.”

Oh! what a glorious thing to be full of faith, and to have the confidence of assurance, so as to say, “I will behold thy face; I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.*’

Thus much concerning the spirit of David. It is one very much to be copied and eminently to be desired.

n. But now, secondly, the matter of this passage. And here we will dive into the very depths of it, God helping us; for without the Spirit of God I feel I am utterly unable to speak to you. I have not those gifts and talents which qualify men to speak; I need an afflatus from no high, otherwise I stand like other men and have nought to say. May that be given me; for without it I am dumb. As for the matter of this verse, methinks it contains a double blessing. The first is a beholding — “I will behold thy face in righteousness;” and the next is a satisfaction — “I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.”

Let us begin with the first, then. David expected that he should behold GocTs face. What a vision will that be, my brethren! Have you ever seen God’s hand? I have seen it, when sometimes he places it across the sky, and darkens it with clouds. I have seen God’s hand sometimes, when the cars of night drag along the shades of darkness. I have seen his hand when, launching the thunder-bolt, his lightning splits the clouds and rends the heavens. Perhaps ye have seen it in a gentler fashion, when it pours out the water and sends it rippling along in rills, and then rolls into rivers. Ye have seen it in the stormy ocean — in the sky decked with stars, in the earth gemmed with flowers; and there is not a man living who can know all the wonders of God’s hand. His creation is so wondrous that it would take more than a life-time to understand it. Go into the depths of it; let its minute parts engage your attention; next take the telescope, and try to see remote worlds, and can I see all God’s handiwork — behold all his hand? No, not so much as one millionth part of the fabric. That mighty hand wherein the callow comets are brooded by the sun, in which the planets roll in majestic orbits; that mighty hand which holds all space, and grasps all beings — that mighty hand, who can behold it? but if such be his hand, what must his face be? Ye have heard God’s voice sometimes, and ye have trembled; I, myself, have listened awe-struck, and yet with a marvellous joy, when I have heard God’s voice, like the noise of many waters, in the great thunderings. Have you never stood and listened, while the earth shook and trembled, and the very spheres stopped thei? music, while God spoke with his wondrousj deep bass voice? Yes, ye have heard that voice; and there is a joy marvellously instinct with love which enters into my soul, whenever I hear the thunder. It is my Father speaking, and my heart leaps to hear him. But you never heard God’s loudest voice. It was but the whisper when the thunder rolled. But if such be the voice, what must it be to behold his face? David said, “I will behold thy face.” It is said of the temple of Diana, that it was so splendidly decorated with gold, and so bright and shining, that a porter at the door always said to every one that entered, Take heed to your eyes, take heed to your eyes; you will be struck with blindness unless you take heed to your eyes.” But oh! that view of glory! That great appearance. The vision of God! to see him face to face, to enter into heaven, and to see the righteous shining bright as stars in the firmament; but best of all, to catch a glimpse of the eternal tnrone I Ah! there he sits! ‘Twere almost blasphemy for me to attempt to describe him. How infinitely far my poor words fall below the mighty subject I But to behold God’s face. I will not speak of the lustre of those eyes, or the majesty of those lips, that shall speak words of love and affection; but to behold his face! Ye who have dived into the Godhead’s deepest sea and have been lost in its immensity, ye can tell a little of it I Ye mighty ones, who THE HOPE W FtTTUnE BLISS.

have lived in heaven these thousand years, perhaps ye know, hut ye cannot tellt what it is to see his face. We must each of us go there, we must be clad with immortality. We must go above the blue sky, and bathe in the river of life: we must outsoar the lightning, and rise above the stars, to know what it is to see God’s face. Words cannot set it forth. So there I leave it. The hope the Psalmist had was, that he might see God’s face.

But there was a peculiar sweetness mixed with this joy, because he knew that he should behold God’s face in righteousness. “I shall behold thy face in righteousness.” Have I not seen my Father’s face here below? Yes, I have, through a glass darkly,” But has not the Christian sometimes beheld him, when in his heavenly moments earth is gone, and the mind is stripped of matter? There are some seasons when the gross materialism dies away, and when the ethereal fire within blazes up so high that it almost touches the fire of heaven. There are seasons, when in some retired spot, calm and free from all earthly thought, we have put our shoes from oflf our feet, because the place whereon we stood was holy ground; and we have talked with God! even as Enoch talked with him, so has the Christian held intimate communion with his Father. He has heard his love-whispers; he has told out his heart, poured out his sorrows and his groans before him. But after all he has felt that he has not beheld his face in righteousness. There was so much sin to darken the eyes, so much folly, so much frailty, that we could not get a clear prospect of our Jesus. But here the Psalmist says, “I will behold thy face in righteousness.” When that illustrious day shall arise, and I shall see my Saviour face to face, I shall see him “in righteousness.” The Christian in heaven will not have so much as a speck upon his garment; he will be pure and white; yea, on the earth he is

“Pure through Jesus’ blood, and white as angels are.”

But in heaven that whiteness shall be more apparent. Now, it is sometimes smoked by earth, and covered with the dust of this poor carnal world; but in heaven he-will have brushed himself, and washed his wings, and made them clean; and then will he see God’s face in righteousness. My God! I believe I shall stand before thy face as pure as thou art thyself; for I shall have the righteousness of Jesus Christ; there shall be upon me the righteousness of a God. “I shall behold thy face in righteousness.” O Christian, canst thou enjoy this? Though I cannot speak about it, dost thy heart meditate upon it? To behold his face for ever; to bask in that, vision! True, thou canst not understand it; but thou may est guess the meaning. To behold his face in righteousness!

The second blessing, upon which I will be brief, is satisfaction. He will be satisfied, the Psalmist says, when he wakes up in God’s likeness. Satisfaction! this is another joy for the Christian when he shall enter heaven. Here we are never thoroughly satisfied. True, the Christian is satisfied from himself; he has that within which is a well-spring of comfort, and he can enjoy solid satisfaction. But heaven is the home of true and real satisfaction. When the believer enters heaven I believe his imagination will be thoroughly satisfied. All he has ever thought of he will there see; every holy idea will be solidified; every mighty conception will become a reality; every glorious imagination will become a tangible thing that he can see. His imagination will not be able to think of anything better than heaven; and should he sit down through eternity, he would not be able to conceive of anything that should outshine the lustre of that glorious city. His imagination will be satisfied. Then his intellect will be satisfied.

“Then shall I see, and hear, and know.
All I desired, or wished, below.”

Who is satisfied with his knowledge here? Are there not secrets we want to know — depths in the arcana of nature that we have not entered? But in that glorious state we shall know as much as we want to know. The memory will be satisfied. We shall look back upon the vista of past years, and we shall be content with whatever we endured, or did, or suffered on earth.

“There, on a green and flowery mount,
My wearied soul shall sit,
And with transporting joys recount
The labours Qf my feet,”

Hope will be satisfied, if there be such a thing in heaven. We shall hope for a future

eternity, and believe in it. But we shall be satisfied as to our hopes continually: and the whole man will be so content that there will not remain a single thing in all God’s dealings, that he would wish to have altered; yea, perhaps I say a thing at which some of 3-ou will demur — but the righteous in heaven will be quite satisfied with the damnation of the lost. I used to think that if I could see the lost in hell, surely I must weep for them. Could I hear their horrid wailings, and see the dreadful contortions of their anguish, surely I must pity them. But there is no such sentiment as that known in heaven. The believer shall be there so satisfied with all God’s will, that he will quite forget the lost in the idea that God has done it for the best, that even their loss has been their own fault, and that he is infinitely just in it. If my parents could see me in hell they would not have a tear to shed for me, though they were in heaven, for they would say, “It is justice, thou great God, and thy justice must be magnified, as well as thy mercy;” and moreover, they would feel that God was so much above his creatures that they would be satisfied to see those creatures crushed if it might increase God’s glory. Oh! in heaven I believe we shall think rightly of men. Here men seem great things to us; but in heaven they will seem no more than a few creeping insects that are swept away in ploughing a field for harvest; they will appear no more than a tiny handful of dust, or like some nest of wasps that ought to be exterminated for the injury they have done. They will appear such little things when we sit on high with God, and look down on the nations of the earth as grasshoppers, and “count the isles as very little things.” We shall be satisfied with everything; there will not be a single thing to complain of. “I shall be satisfied.”

But when? “I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.” But not till then. No, not till then. Now here a difficulty occurs. You know there are some la heave 1 who have not yet waked up in God’s likeness. In fact, none of those in heaven have done so. They never did sleep as respects their souls; the waking refers to their bodies, and they are not awake yet — but are still slumbering. 0 earth! thou art the bedchamber of the mighty dead! What a vast sleeping-house this world is! It is one vast cemetery. The righteous still sleep; and they are to be satisfied on the resurrection morn, when they awake. “But,” say you, “are they not satisfied now? They are in heaven: is it possible that they can be distressed?” No, they are not; there is only one dissatisfaction that can enter heaven — the dis satisfaction of the blest that their bodies are not there. Allow me to use a simile which will somewhat explain what I mean. When a Roman conqueror had been at war, and won great victories, he would very likely come back with his soldiers, enter into his house, and enjoy himself till the next day, when he would go out of the city and then come in again in triumph. Now, the saints, as it were, if I might use such a phrase, steal into heaven without their bodies; but on the last day, when their bodies wake up, they will enter in their triumphal chariots. And, methinks, I see that grand procession, when Jesus Christ, first of all, with many crowns on his head, with his bright, glorious body, shall lead the way. I see my Saviour entering first. Behind him come the saints, all of them clapping their hands, all of them touching their golden harps, and entering in triumph. And when they come to heaven’s gates, and the doors are opened wide to let the king of glory in, now will. the angels crowd at the windows, and on the house-tops, like the inhabitants in the Roman triumphr. to watch them as they pass through the streets, and scatter heaven’s roses and lilies upon them, crying, “crying, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!” “I shall be satisfied” in that glorious day, when all his angels shall come to see the triumph, and when his people shall be victorious with him.

One thought here ought not to be forgotten; and that is, the Psalmist says we are to wake up in the likeness of God. This may refer to the soul; for the spirit of the righteous will be in the likeness of God as to its happiness, holiness, purity, infallibUity, eternity, and freedom from pain; but specially, I think, it relates to the body, because it speaks of the awaking. The body is to be in the likeness of Christ. What a thought! It is — and alas! I have had too many such, to-night — a thought too heavy for words, I am to awake up in Christ’s likeness, I do not know what Christ is like, and can er.arcely imagine. I love sometimes to sit and look at him in his crucifixion. I care not what men say — I know tbr..t sometimes I have derived benefit from a picture of my dying crucified Saviour; and I look at him with his crown of thorns, his pierced side, his bleeding hands and feet, and all those drops

of gore hanpng from him; but I cannot picture him in heaven, he is so bright, so glorious; the God so shines through the man; his eyes are like lamps of fire; his tongue like a two-edged sword; his head covered with hair as white as snow, for he is the Ancient of days; he binds the clouds round about him for a girdle; and when he speaks, it is like the sound of many waters! I read the accounts given in the book of Revelation, but I cannot tell what he is; they are Scripture phrases, and I cannot understand their meaning; but whatever they mean, I know that I shall wake up in Christ’s likeness. Oh! what a change it will be, when some of us. get to heaven! There is a man who fell in battle with the word of salvation on his lips; his legs had been shot away, and his body had been scarred by sabre thrusts; he wakes in heaven, and finds that he has not a broken body, maimed and cut about, and hacked and injured, but that he is in Christ’s likeness. There is an old matron, who has tottered on her staff for years along her weary way; time has ploughed furrows on her brow; haggard and lame, her body is laid in the grave. But oh! aged woman, thou shalt arise in youth and beauty. Another has been deformed in his life-time, but when he wakes, lie wakes in the likeness of Christ. Whatever may have been the form of our countenance, whatever the contour, the beautiful shall be no more beautiful in heaven than those who were deformed. Those who shone on earth, peerless, among the fairest, who ravished men with looks from their eyes, they shall be no brighter in heaven than those who are now passed by and neglected: for they shall all be like Christ.

III. But now to close up, here is a vert sad contrast implied. We shall all slumber. A few more years and where will this company be? Xerxes wept, because in a little while his whole army would be gone; how might I stand here and weep, because within a few more years others shall stand in this place, and shall say, “The fathers, where are they?” Good God! and is it true? Is it not a reality? Is it all to be swept away? Is it one great dissolving view? Ah! it is. This sight shall vanish soon; and you and I shall vanish with it. We are but a show. This life is but “a stage whereon men act;” and then we pass behind the curtain, and we there unmask ourselves, and talk with God. The moment we begin to live we begin to die. The tree has long been growing that shall be sawn to make you a coffin. The sod is ready for you all. But this scene is to appear again soon. One short dream, one hurried nap, and all this sight shall come o’er again. We shall all awake, and as we stand here now, we shall stand together, perhaps, even more thickly pressed. But we shall stand on the level then — the rich and ])oor, the preacher and hearer. There will be but one distinction — righteous and wicked. At first we shall stand together. Methinks I see the scene. The sea is boiling; the heavens are rent in twain; the clouds are fashioned into a chariot, and Jesus riding on it, with wings of fire, comes riding through the sky. His throne is set. He seats himself upon it. With a nod he hushes all the world. He lifts his fingers, opens the great books of destiny, and the book of our probation,wherein are written the acts of time. With his fingers he beckons to the hosts above. “Divide,” said he, “divide the universe.” Swifter than thought all the earth shall part in sunder. Where shall I be found when the dividing comes? Methinks I see them all divided; and the righteous are on the right. Turning to them, with a voice sweeter than music, he says, “Come! Ye have been coming — keep on your progress! Come! it has been the work of your life to come; so continue. Come and take the last step. ‘Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from before the foundation of the world.’” And now the wicked are left alone; and turning to them, he says, “Depart! Ye have been departing all your lifelong; it was your business to depart from me; ye said, ‘Depart from me, I love not thy ways.’ You have been departing, keep on, take the last step!’” They dare not move. They stand still. The Saviour becomes the avenger. The hands that once held out mercy, now grasp the sword of justice; the lips that spoke lovingkindness, now utter thunder; and with a deadly aim. he lifts up the sword, and sweeps amongst them. They fly like deer before the lion; and enter the jaws of the bottomless pit.

But never, I hope, shall I cease preaching, without telling you what to do to be saved. This morning I preached to the ungodly, to the worst of sinners, and many wept — I hope many hearts melted — while I spoke of the great mercy of God. I have not spoken of that to-night. We must take a different line sometimes; led, 1

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trust, by God*8 Spirit. But oh! ye that are thirsty, and heavy laden, and lost and ruined, meicy speaks yet once again to you! Here is the way of salvation. “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.” “And what is it to believe?” say* one; “is it to say I know Christ died for me?” No, that is not to believe; it is part of it, but it is not all. Every Arminian believes that; and every man in the world believes it who holds that doctrine, since he conceives that Christ died for every man. Consequently that is not faith. But faith is this: to cast yourself on Christ. As the negro said, most curiously, when asked what he did to be saved; “Massa,” said he, “I fling myself down on Jesus, and dere I lay; I fling myself flat on de promise, and dere I lay.” And to every penitent sinner Jesus says, “1 am able to save to the uttermost;” throw thyself flat on the promise, and say, “Then, Lord thou art able to save ;we.” God says, “C!“ome now, let us reason together; though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow, and though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool.” Cast thyself on him, and thou shalt be saved. “Ah!” says one, “I am afraid I am not one of God’s people; I cannot read my name in the book of life.” A very good thing you can’t; for if the Bible had everybody’s name in it, it would be a pretty large book; and if your name is John Smith,, and you saw that name in the Bible, if you do not believe God’s promise now, you would be sure to believe that it was some other John Smith. Suppose the Emperor of Russia should issue a decree to all the Polish refugees to return to their own country; you see a Polish refugee looking at the great placards hanging on the wall,, he looks with pleasure, and says, “Well, I shall go back to my country.” But some one says to him, “It does not say Walewski.” “Yes,” he would reply, “but it says Polish refugees: Polish is my Christian name, and refugee my surname, and that is me.” And so, though it does not say your name in the Scriptures, it says, lost sinner. Sinner is your Christian name, and lost is your surname; therefore, why not come? It says, “lost sinner;” — is not that enough? “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners of whom I am chief.” “Yes, but,” another one says, “I am afraid I am not elect.” Oh! dear souls, do not trouble yourselves about that. If you believe in Christ,, you are elect. Whoever puts himself on the mercy of Jesus is elect; for he would never do it if he had not been elect. Whoever comes to Christ, and looks for mercy through his blood, is elect, and he shall see that he is elect afterwards; but do not f xpect to read election till you have read repentance. Election is a college to which you little ones will not go till you have been to the school of repentance. Do not begin to read your book backwards, and say Amen before you have said your paternoster. Begin with” Our Father,” and then you will go on to “thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory;” but begin with “the kingdom,” and you will have hard work to go back to “Our Father.” We must begin with faith. We mu&t begin with —

••Nothing in my hands I bring.”

As God made the world out of nothing, he always makes his Christians out of nothing; and he who has nothing at all to-night, shall find grace and mercy, if he will come for it.

Let me close up by telling you what I have heard of some poor woman, who was converted and brought to life, just by passing down a street, and hearing a child, sitting at a door, singing —

“I am nothing at all.
But Jesus Christ is all in all.”

That is a blessed song; go home and sing it; and he who can rightly apprehend those little words, who can feel himself vanity without Jesus, but that he has ia things in Christ, is not only fiir from the kingdom of heaven, but he is there in faith, and shall be there in fruition, piien he shall -rake up in God’s lik^nc^ir;.

“ALAS FOR us, IF THOU WERT ALL,
AND NOUGHT BEYOND, 0 EARTH.”

Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 27th, 18G4, by the

REV. C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

“If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.” —

1 Corinthians xv. 19^

You will understand that the apostle is arguing with professedly Christian people, who were dubious about the resurrection of the dead. He is not saying that all men are now miserable if there be no hope of the: world to come, for such an assertion would be untrue. There are very many who never think of another life, who are quite happy m their way, enjoy themselves, and are very comfortable after a fashion. But he speaks of Christian people — “If we, who have hope in Christ,, are led to doubt the doctrine of a future state and of a resurrection, then we are of all men most miserable.” The argument has nothing to do with some of you who are not Christians; it has nothing to do with you who have never been brought out of a state of nature into a state of grace; it only respects those who are real, living followers of the Saviour, and who are known by this, that they have hope in Christ — hope in his blood for pardon, in his righteousness for justification, in his power for support, in his resurrection for eternal glory. “If we who have hope in Christ, have that hope for this life only, then we are of all men most miserable.” You understand the argument; he is appealing to their consciousness; they, as Christians,, had real enjoyments, “but,” says he, “you could not have these enjoyments if it were not for the hope of another life; for once take that away, if you could still remain Christians and have the same feelings which you now have, and act as you now do, you would become of all men most miserable,” therefore to justify your own happiness and make it all reasonable, you must admit a resurrection; there is no other method of accounting for the joyous peace which the Christian possesses. Our riches are beyond the sea; our city with firm foundations lies on the other side the river: gleams of glory from the spirit-world cheer our hearts, and urge us onward; but if it were not for these,, our present joys would pine and die.

We will try and handle our text this morning in this way. First,. we are not of all men most miserable; but secondly, without the hope of another life we should be — that we are prepared to confess — because thirdly, our chief joy lies in the hope of a life to como; and thus, fourthly.

METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE PULPIT.

the future influences the present; and so, in the last place, tve may to-day judge ivliat our future is to he,

i. First then, ave are not of all men most miserable. Who ventures to say we are? He who will have the hardihood to say so knoweth nothing of us. He who shall affirm that Christianity makes men miserable, is himself an utter stranger to it, and has never partaken of its joyful influences. It were a very strange thing indeed, if it did make us wietched, for see to tvhat a position it exalts us I It makes us sons of God. Suppose you that God will give all the happiness to his enemies, and reserve all the mourning for his sons? Shall his foes have mirth and joy, and shall his own home-born children inherit sorrow and wretchedness? Are the kisses for the wicked and the frowns for us? Are we condemned to hang our harps upon the willows, and sing nothing but doleful dirges, while the children of Satan are to laugh for joy of heart? ‘-We are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ Jesus. Shall the sinner, who has no part nor lot in Christ, call himself happy, and shall we go mourning as if we were penniless beggars? No, we will rejoice in the Lord always, and glory in our inheritance, for we “have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.” The rod of chastisement must rest upon us in our measure, but it worketh for us the comfortable fruits of righteousness; and therefore by the aid of the divine Comforter, we will rejoice in the Lord at all times. We are, my brethren, married unto Christ; and shall our great Bridegroom permit his spouse to linger in constant grief? Our hearts are knit unto him: we are members of his body, of his flesh, arid of his bones, and though for awhile we may suffer as our Head once suffered, yet we are even now blessed with heavenly blessings in him. Shall our Head reign in heaven, and shall we have a hell upon earth? God forbid: the joyful triumph of our exalted Head is in a measure shared by us, even in this vale of tears. We have the earnest of our inheritance in the comforts of the Spirit, which are neither few nor small. Think of a Christian I He is a king, and shall the king be the most melancholy of men? He is a priest unto God, and shall he oflfer no sweet incense of hallowed joy and grateful thanksgiving? We are fit companions for angels: he hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light; and shall we have no days of heaven upon earth? Is Canaan ours from Dan to Beersheba, and shall we eat no fruit from Eshcol’s vine on this side of Jordan? Shall we have no taste of the figs, and of the pomegranates, and of the flowing milk and honey? Is there no manna in the wilderness? Are there no streams in the desert? Are there no streaks of light to herald our eternal sunrising? Heritors of joy for ever, have we no foretastes of our portion? I say again, it were the oddest thing in the world if Christians were more miserable than other men, or not more happy. Think again of what God has done for them! The Christian knows that his sins are forgiven; there is not against the believer a single sin recorded in God’s book. “I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins.” More than that, the believer is accounted by God as if he had perfectly kept the law, for the righteousness of Christ is imputed to him, and he stands clothed in that fair white linen which is the righteousness of the saiats. And shall the man whom God accepts be “wretched? Shall the pardoned offender be less happy than the man upon whom the wrath of God abideth? Can you conceive such a thing? Moreover, my brethren, we are made temples of the Holy Ghost, and is the Holy Ghost’s temple to be a dark, dolorous place, a place of shrieks, and moans, and cries, like the Druidic groves of old? Such is

not like our God. Our God is a God of love, and it is his very nature to make his creatures happy; and we, who are his twice-made creatures, who are the partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption which is in the world through lust, is it to be supposed that we are bound by a stern decree to go mourning all our days? Oh! if ye knew the Christian’s privilege, if ye understood that the secret of the Lord is laid open to him, that the wounds of Christ are his shelter, that the flesh and blood of Christ are his food, that Christ himself is his sweet companion and his abiding friend, oh! if ye knew this, ye would never again foolishly dream that Christians are an unhappy race. “Happy art thou, 0 Israel: who is like unto thee, 0 people saved by the Lord?” Who can be compared with the man who is “satisfied with favour and full with the blessing of the Lord.” Well might the evil prophet of Bethor exclaim, “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.”

We will go a step farther. We will not only say that from the nature of his position and privileges, a Christian should be happy, but we declare that he is so, and that among all men there are none who enjoy such, a constant peace of mind as believers in Christ. Our joy may not be like that of the sinner, noisy and boisterous. You know what Solomon says — “The laughter of fools is as the crackling of thorns under a pot” — a great deal of blaze and much noise, and then a handful of ashes, and it is all over. Who hath woe, who hath redness of the eyes? They that tarry long at the wine — men of strength to mingle strong drink.” The Christian, in truth, does not know much of the excitement of the bowl, the viol and the dance, nor does he desire to know; he is content that he possesses a calm deep-seated repose of soul. “He is not afraid of evil tidings, his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord.” He is not disturbed with any sudden fear: he knows that “all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’’ He is in the habit in whatever society he may be, of still lifting up his heart to God; and therefore he can say with the Psalmist, “My heart is fixed, 0 God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise.”

“He waits in secret on his God;
His God in secret sees;
Let earth be all in arms abroad,
He dwells in heavenly peace.

His pleasures rise from things unseen.

Beyond this world and time,
Where neither eyes nor ears have been,

Nor thoughts of sinners climb.

He wants no pomp nor royal throne

To raise his figure here:
Content and pleased to live unkncvvn,

Till Christ his life appeai “There is a river the streams whereof make glad the city of God.*’ Believers drink of that river and thirst not for carnal delights. They are made” to lie down in green pastures,” and are led “beside the still waters.” Now this solid, lasting joy and peace of mind sets the Christian 80 on high above all others, that I boldly testify that there are no people in the world to compare with him for happiness. But do not suppose that our joy never rises above this settled calm; for let me tell you, and I speak experimentally, we have our seasons of rapturous delight and overflowing bliss. There are times with us when no music could equal the melody of our heart’s sweet hymn of joy. It would empty earth’scoffers of every farthing of her joy to buy a single ounce of our delight. Do not fancy Paul was the only man who could say, “Whether in the body or out of the body, I cannot tell; God knoweth,” for these ecstasies are usual with believers; and on their sunshiny days when their unbelief is shaken off and their faith is strong, they have all but walked the golden streets; and they can say, “If we have not entered within the pearly gate, we have been only just this side of it; and if we have not yet come to the general assembly and Church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven, if we have not joined the great congregation of the perfect in actual body, yet still —

“E’en now by faith we join our hands
With those that went before,
And greet the blood-besprinkled bands
On the eternal shore.”

I would not change one five minutes of the excessive joy my soul has sometimes felt for a thousand years of the best mirth that the children of this world could give me. 0 friends, there is a happiness which can make the eye sparkle and the heart beat high, and the whole man as full of bounding speed of life as the chariots of Amminadib. There are raptures and high ecstasies, which on festival days such as the Lord allotteth to his people, the saints are permitted to enjoy. I must not fail to remind you that the Christian is the happiest of men for this reason, that Ms joy does 7iot depend upon circumstances. We have seen the happiest men in the most sorrowful conditions. Mr. Renwick, who was the last of the Scotch martyrs, said a little before his death, “Enemies think themselves satisfied that we are put to! wander in mosses and upon mountains, but even amidst the storm j of these last two nights I cannot express what sweet times I have had when I have had no coverings but the dark curtains of night: yea, in the silent watch my mind was led out to admire the deep, and inexpressible ocean of joy wherein the whole family of heaven I do swim. Each star led me to wonder what He must be who is the star of Jacob, and from whom all stars borrow their shining.’^ Here is a martyr of God driven from house and home and from all comforts, and yet having such sweet seasons beneath the curtains of the black night as kings do not often know beneath their curtains of silk. A minister of Christ going to visit a very, very poor man, gives this description. He says, “I found him alone, his wife having gone out to ask help of some neighbour. I was startled by the sight of the pale emaciated man, the living image of death, fastened upright in his chair by a rude mechanism of cords and belts hanging from the ceiling. totally unable to move hand or foot, having been for more than four years entirely deprived of the use of his limbs, and suffering extreme pain from swellings in all his joints. I approached him full of pity, and I said,” Are you left alone, my friend, in this deplorable situation?” He answered with a gentle voice — his lips were the only parts of his body which he appeared to have power to move — “No, sir, I am not alone, because the Father is with me.” I began to talk with him, and I soon observed what was the source of his consolation, for just in front of him lay the Bible upon a pillow, his wife having left it open at some choice Psalm of David so that he might read while she was gone, as he had no power to turn over the leaves. I asked him what he had to live upon, and found that it was a miserable pittance, scarcely enough to keep body aad soul together, “But,” said he, “I never want anything, for the Lord has said, ‘Your bread shall be given you, and your water shall be sure,’ and I trust in him, and I shall never want while God is faithful to his promise.” “I asked him,” says this minister “whether he did not often repine on account of suffering so acutely for so many years.

Sir,’’ said he, “I did repine at first, but not for the last three years, blessed be God for it, for I know whom I have believed, and though I feel my own weakness and unworthiness more and more, yet I am persuaded that he will never leave me nor forsake me; and so graciously does he comfort me that when my lips are closed with lock-jaw and I cannot speak a word for hours together, he enables me to sing his praises most sweetly in my heart.” Now here was a man to whom the sun of all earthly comfort was set, and yet the sun of heaven shone fall in his face, and he was more peaceful and happy in deep poverty and racking pain than all you or I have been in the health and strength of youth. John Howard spent his time in visiting the gaols and going from one haunt of fever to another, he was asked how he could find any ground of happiness when he was living in miserable Russian villages, or dwelling in discomfort in an hospital or a gaol. Mr. Howard’s answer was very beautiful. “I hope,” said he, “I have sources of enjoyment which depend not upon the particular spot I inhabit. A rightly cultivated mind, under the power of divine grace and the exercise of a benevolent disposition affords a ground of satisfaction that is not to be affected by heres and theres’’ Every Christian will bear you his witness that he has found his sad times to be his glad times, his losses to be his gains, his sicknesses means to promote his soul’s health. Our summer does not depend upon the sun, nor our flood-tide upon the moon. We can rejoice even in death. We look forward to that happy hour when we shall close oar eyes in the peaceful slumbers of death, believing that our last day will be our best day. Even the crossing of the river Jordan is but an easy task, for we shall hear him say, “Fear not; I am with thee: be not dismayed, I am thy God; when thou passest through the rivers I will be with thee, and the floods shall not overflow thee.” We dare to say it, then, very boldly, we are not of all men most miserable: we would not change with unconverted men for all their riches, and their pomp, and their honour thrown into the scale.

“Go you that boast in all your stores,
And tell how bright they shine,
Your heaps of glittenng dust are yours,
And my Redeemer’s mine.”

METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE PULPIT.

II. This brings us to the second point — without the hope of

ANOTHER LIFE, WE WILL ADMIT, THAT WE SHOULD BE OF ALL MEN
MOST MISERABLE.

Especially was this true of the apostles. They were rejected by their countrymen; they lost all the comforts of home; their lives were spent in toil, and were daily exposed to violent death. They all of them suffered the martyr’s doom, except John, who seems to have been preserved not from martyrdom, but in it. They were certainly the twelve most miserable of men apart from that hope of the world to come, which made them of all men the most happy. But this is true, dear friends, not merely of persecuted, and despised, and poverty-stricken Christians, but of all believers. We are prepared to grant it, that take away from us the hope of the world to come we should be more miserable than men without religion. The reason is very clear, if you think that the Christian has renounced those common and ordinary sources of joy from which other men drinh. We must have some pleasure: it is impossible for men to live in this world without it, and 1 can say most truthfully I never urge any of you to do that which would make you unhappy. We must have some pleasure. Well then, there is a vessel filled with muddy filthy water which the camels’ feet have stirred: shall I drink it? I see yonder a rippling stream of clear flowing water, pure as crystal and cooling as the snow of Lebanon, and I say, No, I will not drink this foul, muddy stuff; leave that for beasts; I will drink of yon clear stream.” But if I be mistaken, if there be no stream yonder, if it be but the deceitful mirage, if I have been deluded, then I am worse off than those who were content with the muddy water, for they have at least some cooling draughts; bn 1 1 have none at all. This is precisely the Christian’s case. He passes by the pleasures of sin, and the amusements of carnal men, because he says, “I do not care for them, I find no pleasure in them: my happiness flows from the river which springs from the throne of God and flows to me through Jesus Christ — I will drink of that,”* but if there were no hereafter, if that were proved to be a deception, then were we more wretched than the profligate and licentious.

Again, the Christian man has learned the vanity of all earthly joys. We know when we look upon pomp that it is an empty thing. We walk through the world, not with the scorn of Diogenes, the cynical philosopher, but with something of his wisdom, and we look upon the common things in which men rejoice, and say with Solomon, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” And why do we say this? Why, because we have chosen eternal things in which there is no vanity, and which are satisfying to the soul. But, my brethren, it is the most unhappy piece of knowledge which a man can acquire, to know that this world is vain, if there be not another world abundantly to compensate for all our ills. There is a poor lunatic in Bedlam, plaiting straw into a crown which he puts upon his head, and calls himself a king, and mounts his mimic throne and thinks that he is monarch over all nations, and is perfectly happy in his dream. Do you think that I would undeceive him? Nay, verily, if I could, I would not. If the delusion makes the man happy, by all means let him indulge in it; but, dear friends, you and I have leen undeceived; our dream of perfect bliss beneath the skies is gone for ever; what then if there be no world to come? Why then it is a most sorrowful thing for us that we have been awakened out of our sleep unless this better thing which we have chosen, this good part which shall not be taken from us, should prove to be real and true, as we do believe it is.

Moreover, the Christian man is a man who has had high nolle, and great expectations, and this is a very sad thing for us if our expectations be not fulfilled, for it makes us of all men most miserable. I have known poor men waiting and expecting a legacy. They had a right to expect it, and they have waited, and waited, and borne with poverty, and the relative has died and left them nothing; their poverty has ever afterwards seemed to be a heavier drag than before. It is an unhappy. thing for a man to have large ideas and large desires, if he cannot gratify them. I believe that poverty is infinitely better endured by persons who were always poor, than by those who have been rich and have had to come down to penury, for they miss what the others never had, and what the originally poor would look upon as luxuries they consider to be necessary to their existence. The Christian has learned to think of eternity, of God, of Christ, of communion with Jesus, and if indeed it be all false, he certainly has dreamed the most magnificent of all mortal visions. Truly, if any man could prove it to be a vision, the best thing he could do would be to sit down and weep for ever to think it was not true, for the dream is so splendid, the picture of the world to come so gorgeous, that I can only say, if it be not true, it ought to be — if it be not true, then there is nothing here worth living for, my brethren, and we are disappointed wretches indeed — of all men most miserable.

The Christian, too, lias learned to looh upon everything here on earth as fleeting, I must confess every day this feeling grows with me. I scarce look upon my friends as living. I walk as in a land of shadows, and find nothing enduring around me. The broad arrow of the great skeleton king is, to my eye, visibly stamped everywhere. I go so often to the grave, and with those I least expected to take there, that it seems to be rather a world of dying than of living men. Well, this is a very unhappy thing — a very wretched state of mind for a man to be in, if there be no world to come. If there be no resurrection of the dead, then is the Christian indeed committed to a state of mind the most deplorable and pitiable. But, 0 my brethren, if there be a world to come, as faith assures us there is, how joyous it is to be weaned from the world, and to be ready to depart from it! To be with Christ is far better than to tarry in this vale of tears.

“The cords that bound my heart to earth
Are broken by his hand;
Before his cross I find myself,
A stranger in the land.

My heart is with him on his throne,

And ill can brook delay;
Each moment listening tor the voice,

‘Make haste, and come away.’”

May I not pant to be in my own sweet country with my own fair Lord, to see him face to face? Yet, if it be not so and there be no resurrection of the dead, “we are of all men mcsil mifierable.”

METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE FTJLriT.

III. Our chief joy in the hope of the world to come. Think of the world to come, my brethren, and let your joys begin to kindle jnto flames of delight, for heaven offers you all that you can desire. You are, many of you, weary of toil; so weary, perhaps, that you can scarcely enjoy the morning service because of the late hours at which you have had to work at night. Ah! there is a land of rest — of perfect rest, where the sweat of labour no more bedews the worker’s brow, and fatigue is for ever banished. To those who are weary and spent, the word “rest” is full of heaven. Oh! happy truth, there remaineth a rest for the people of God. “They rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.” Others of you are always in the field of battle; you are so tempted within, and so molested by foes without, that you have little or no peace. I know where your hope lies. It lies in the victory, when the banner shall be waved aloft, and the sword shall be sheathed, and you shall hear your Captain say, “Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast fought a good fight; thou hast finished thy course: henceforth wear thou the crown of life which fadeth not away.” Some of you are tossed about with many troubles; you go from care to care, from loss to loss: it seems to you as if all God’s waves and billows had gone over you; but you shall soon arrive at the land of happiness, where you shall bathe your weary soul in seas of heavenly rest. You shall have no poverty soon; no mud-hovel, no rags, nor hunger. “In my Father’s house are many mansions,” and there shall you dwell, satisfied with favour, and full of every blessing. You have had bereavement after bereavement; the wife has been carried to the tomb, the children have followed, father and mother are gone, and you have few left to love you here; but you are going to the land where graves are unknown things, where they never see a shroud, and the sound of the mattock and the spade are never heard; you are going to your Father’s house in the land of the immortal, in the country of the hereafter, in the home of the blessed, in the habitation of God Most High, in the Jerusalem which is above, the mother of us all. Is not this your best joy, that you are not to be here for ever, that you are not to dwell eternally in this wilderness, but shall soon inherit Canaan? With all God’s people their worst grief is sin. I would not care for any sorrow, if I could live without sinning. Oh! if I were rid of the appetites of the flesh and the lusts thereof, and the desires which continually go astray, I would be satisfied to lie in a dungeon and rot there, so as to be delivered from the corruption of sin. Well but, brethren, we shall soon attain unto perfection. The body of this death will die with this body. There is no temptation in heaven, for the dog of hell can never cross the stream of death; there are no corruptions there, for they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb; there shall by no means enter into that kingdom anything which defileth. Methinks as I hear the joyous «ong of the glorified this morning, as I catch floating down from heaven the sound of that music which is like many waters and like the great thunder, and as I hear the harmony of those notes w’hich are sweet as harpers harping with their harps, my soul desireth to stretch her wings, and fly straight to yonder worlds of joy. I know it is so with you, my brethren in the tribulation of Christ — as you wipe the sweat

^’iLlS FOR US, IF THOU WEET ALL,” ETC. from your brow, is not this the comfort: there is rest for the people of God? As you stand out against temptation and suffer for Christ’s sake, is not thi? your comfort: “If we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him.” When you are slandered and despised by men, is not this your hope: “He will remember me when he cometh into his kingdom. I shall sit upon his throne, even as he has overcome, and sitteth down upon life Father’s throne?” Oh! yes, this is the music to which Christians dance; this is the wine which maketh glad their hearts; this is the banquet at which they feast. There is another and a better land, and we, though we sleep with the clods of the valley, shall in our flesh see God, when our Redeemer shall stand in the latter days upon the earth. I think you catch my drift — we are w?^ of all men most miserable; apart from the future hope we should be, for our hope in Christ for the future is the mainstay of our joy.

IV. Now, dear friends, this brings me to a practical observation in the fourth place, which is, that thus the future operates upon

THE present.

I had some time ago a conversation with a very eminent man whose fame is familiar to you all, but whose name I do not feel justified in mentioning, who was once a professed believer but is now full of scepticism. He said to me in the course of our argument, “Why, how foolish you are, and all the company of preachers. You tell people to think about the next world, when the best thing they could do would be to behave themselves as well as they can in this!” I granted the truth of the observation; it would be very unwise to make people neglect the present, for it is of exceeding great importance, but I went on to show him that the very best method to make people attend to the present was by impressing them with high and noble motives with regard to the future. The potent force of the world to come supplies us through the Holy Spirit with force for the proper accomplishment of the duties of this life. Here is a man who has a machine for the manufacture of hardware. He wants steam power to work this machine. An engineer puts up a steam engine in a shed at some considerable distance. “Well,” saith the other, “I asked you to bring steam power here, to operate upon my machine.” “That is precisely,” says he, “what I have done. I put the steam engine there, you have but to connect it by a band and your machine works as fast as you like; it is not necessary that I should put the boiler, and the fire, and the engine close to the work, just under your nose: only connect the two, and the one will operate upon the other.” So God has been pleased to make our hopes of the future a g:reat engine wherewith the Christian man may work the ordinary machine of every-day life, for the band of faith connects the two, and makes all the wheels of ordinary life revolve with rapidity and regularity. To speak against preaching the future as though it would make people neglect the present is absurd. It is as though somebody should say, “There, take away the moon, and blot out the sun. What is the use of them — they are not in this world?” Precisely so, but take away the moon and you have removed the tides, and the sea becomes a stagnant, putrid pool. Then take away the sun — it is not in the world — take it away, and light, and heat, and life; everything is gone. What the sun and moon are to this natural world, the hope METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE PCJLPIT.

of the future is to the Christian in this world. It is his light — he looks upon all things in that light, and sees them truly. It is his heat; it, gives him zeal and energy. It is his very life: his Christianity, his virtue would expire if it were not for the hope of the world to come. Do you believe, my brethren, that apostles and martyrs would ever have sacrificed their lives for truth’s sake if they had not looked for a hereafter? In the heat of excitement, the soldier may die for honour, bat to die in tortures and mockeries in cold blood needs a hope beyond the grave. Would yon poor man go toiling on year after year, refusing to sacrifice his conscience for gain; would yon poor needle-girl refuse to become the slave of lust if she did not see something brighter than earth can picture to her as the reward of sin? 0 my brethren, the most practical thing in all the world is the hope of the world to come; and you see the text teaches this, for it is just this which keeps us from being miserable; and to keep a man from being miserable, let me say, is to do a great thing for him, for a miserable Christian — what is the use of him? Keep him in a cupboard, where nobody can see him; nurse him in the hospital, for he is of no use in the field of labour. Build a monastery, and put all miserable Christians in it, and there let them meditate on mercy till they learn to smile; for really there is no other use for them in the world. Bat the man who has a hope of the next world goes about his work strong, for the joy of the Lord is our strength. He goes against, temptation mighty, for the hope of the next world repels the fiery darts of the adversary. He can labour without present reward, for he looks for a reward in the world to come. He can saffer rebuke, and can afford to die a slandered man, because he knows that God will avenge his own elect who cry day and night unto him. Through the Spirit of God the hope of another world is the most potent force for the product of virtue; it is a fountain of joy; it is the very channel of usefulness. It is to the Christian what food is to the vital force in the animal frame. Let it be said of any of us, that we are dreaming about the future and forgetting the present, but let the future sanctify the present to highest uses. I fear our prophetical brethren err here. They are reading continually about the last vials, the seventy weeks of Daniel, and a number of other mysteries; I wish they would set to work instead of speculating so much, or speculate even more if they will, but turn their prophecies to present practical account. Prophetical speculations too often lead men away from present urgent duty, and especially from contending earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints; but a hope of the world to come is, I think, the best practical power which a Christian can have. V. And now, to conclude, this will let us see very clearly what

OUR FUTURE IS TO BE.

There are some persons here to whom my text has nothing whatever to say. Suppose there were no hereafter, would they be more miserable? Why!! no; they would be more happy. If anybody could prove to them that death is an eternal sleep, it would be the greatest consolation that they could possibly receive. If it could be shown, to a demonstration, that as soon as people die they rot in the grave and there is an end of them — why some of you could go to bed at night comfortable, your conscience would never disturb you, you would be molested by none of those terrible fears which now haunt you. Do you see, then, this proves that you are not a Christian; this proves as plainly as twice two make tour, that you are no believer in Christ; for if you were, the taking away of a hereafter would make you miserable. Since it would not tend to make you happy to believe in a future state, this proves that you are no believer in Christ. Well, then, what have I to say to you? Why just this — that in the world to come, you will le of all men most miseralle. “What will become of you?’’ said an infidel once to a Christian man, “supposing there should be no heaven?” “Well,” said he, “I like to have two strings to my bow. If there be no hereafter I am as well off as you are; if there be I am infinitely better off. But where are you? Where are you?” Why then we must read this text in the future — “If in this life there be indeed a hope of a life to come, then you shall be in the next life of all men most miserable.” Do you see where you will be? Your soul goes before the great Judge, and receives its condemnation and begins its hell. The trumpet rings; heaven and earth are astonished; the grave heaves; yonder slab of marble is lifted up, and up you rise in that very flesh and blood in which you sinned, and there you stand in the midst of a terrified multitude, all gathered to their doom. The Judge has come. The great assize has commenced. There on the great white throne sits the Saviour who once said, “Come unto me, ye weary, and I will give you rest;” but now he sits there as a Judge and opens with stem hand the terrible volume. Page after page he reads, and as he reads he gives the signal, “Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire,” and the angels bind up the tares in bundles to burn them. There stand you, and you know your doom; you already begin to feel it. You cry to the lofty Alps to fall upon you and conceal you. “0 ye mountains, can ye not find in your rocky bowels some friendly cavern where I may be hidden from the face of him who sits upon the throne?” In terrible silence the mountains refuse your petition and the rocks reject your cry. You would plunge into the sea, but it is licked up with tongues of fire; you would fain make your bed even in hell if you could escape from those dreadful eyes, but you cannot; for now your turn is come, that page is turned over which records your history; the Saviour reads with a voice of thunder and with eyes of lightning. He reads, and as he waves his hand you are cast away from hope. You shall

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then know what it is to be of all mm most miserable. Ye had your pleasure; ye had your giddy hour; ye had your mirthful moments; you despised Christ, and you would not turn at his rebuke; you would not have him to reign over you; you lived his adversary; you died un« reconciled, and now where are you? Now, what will ye do, ye who forget God, in that day when he shall tear you in pieces, and there shall be none to deliver you? In the name of my Lord and Master I do conjure you, fly away to Christ for refuge. He that believeth in him shall be saved.” To believe is to trust; and whosoever this morning is enabled by faith to cast himself upon Christ, need not fear to live, nor fear to die. You shall not be miserable here; you shall be thrice blessed hereafter if you trust my Lord.

“Come, guilty souls, and flee away
To Christ, and heal your wounds;
This is the welcome gospel -day
Wherein free grace abounds.”

0 that ye would be wise and consider your latter end! 0 that ye would reflect that this life is but a span, and the life to come lasts on for ever! Do not, I pray you, fling away eternity; play not the foot with such solemn things as these, but in serious earnestness lay hold upon eternal life. Look to the bleeding Saviour; see there his five wounds, and his face bedewed with bloody sweat! Trust him, trust him and you are saved. The moment that you trust him your sins are gone* His righteousness is yours; you are saved on the spot, and you shall be Baved when he cometh in his kingdom to raise the dead from their graves. 0 that the Lord might lead us all thus to rest on Jesus, now and even Amen.

By C. H. S P U R G E O N.

LECTURES TO MY STUDENTS-In Two Volumes, Cloth, 2s. 6d. each.

First Series; — The Call to the Ministry — Sermons, their Matter — On the Choice of a Text — On Spiritualizing — On the Voice — Attention — On the Faculty of Impromptu Speaking — The Minister’s Fainting Fits — The Minister’s Ordinary Conversation — To Workers with slender Apparatus, &c., &c.

Second Series: — Open- Air Preaching: A Sketch of its History — Open-Air Preaching: Remarks thereon — Posture, Attitude, Gesture, &c. (Two Lectures, with Illustrations of Action) — Earnestness: Its Marring and Maintenance — The Blind Eye and Deaf Ear — On Conversion as our Aim, &c., &c.

Delivered on Sunday Morning, October 15th, 1865, by
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.” — Lamentations iii. 21.

Memory is very often the servant of despondency. Despairing minds call to remembrance every dark foreboding in the past, and every gloomy feature in the present. Memory stands like a handmaiden, clothed in sackcloth, presenting to her master a cup of mingled gall and wormwood. Like Mercury, she hastes, with winged heel, to gather fresh thorns with which to fill the uneasy pillow, and to bind fresh rods with which to scourge the already bleeding heart. There is, however, no necessity for this. Wisdom will transform memory into an angel of comfort. That same recollection which may in its left hand bring so many dark and gloomy omens, may be trained to bear in its right hand a wealth of hopeful signs. She need not wear a crown of iron, she may encircle her brow with a fillet of gold, all «pangled with stars. When Christian, according to Bunyan, was locked up in Doubting Castle, memory formed the crab-tree cudgel -v^ith which the famous giant beat his captives so terribly. They remembered how they had left the right road, how they had been warned not to do so, and how in rebellion against their better selves, they wandered into By-path Meadow. They remembered all their past misdeeds, their sins, their evil thoughts and evil words, and all these were so many knots in the cudgel, causing sad bruises and wounds in their poor suffering persons. But one night, according to Bunyan, this same memory which had scourged them, helped to set them free; for she whispered something in Christian’s ear, and he cried out as one haK amazed, “What a fool am I to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty 1 I have a key in my bosom, called Promise; that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.” So he put his hand into his bosom, and with much joy he plucked out the key, and thrust it into the lock; and though the lock of the great iron gate, as Bunyan says, went damnable hard,’’ yet the key did open it, and all the others too; and so, by this blessed act of memory, poor Christian and Hopeftd were set free.

Observe that the text records an act of memory on the part of

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Jeremiah: This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.” In the previous verse he tells us that memory had brought him to despair: “My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me.” And now he tells us that this same memory brought him to life and comfort yet again: This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.” We lay it down, then, as a general principle, that if we would exercise our memories a little more, we might, in our very deepest and darkest distress, strike a match, which would instantanously kindle the lamp of comfort. There is no need for God to create a new thing, in order to restore believers to joy; if they would prayerfully rake the ashes of the past, they would find light for the present; and if they would turn to the book of truth and the throne of grace, their candle would soon shine as aforetime.

I shall apply that general principle to the cases of three persons.

I. First of all, to the believer who is m deep tkouble.

This is no unusual position for an heir of glory. A Christian man is seldom long at easQ: the believer in Jesus Christ through much tribulation inherits the kingdom. If you will kindly turn to the chapter which contains our text, you will observe a list of matters which recollection brought before the mind of the prophet Jeremiah, and which yielded him comfort. First stands the fact, tJiat, however deep may he our present affliction, it is of the LorcVs mercy that we are not consumed. This is a low beginning certainly. The comfort is not very great, but when a very weak man is at the bottom of the pyramid, if he is ever to climb it, you must not set him a long step at first; give him but a small stone to step upon the first time, and when he gets more strength then he will be able to take a greater stride. Now, consider, thou son of sorrow, where thou mightest have been. Look down now through the gloomy portals of the grave to that realm of darkness, which is as the valley of the shadow of death, full of confusion, and without any order. Canst thou discern the sound as of the rushing to and fro of hosts of guilty and tormented spirits? Dost thou hear their dolorous wailing and their fearful gnashing of teeth? Can thine ears endure to hear the clanking of their chains, or thine eyes to see the fury of the flames? They are for ever, for ever, for ever shut out from the presence of God and shut in with devils and despair! They lie in flames of misery so terrible, that the dream of a despairing maniac cannot realize their woe. God hath cast them away, and pronounced his curse upon them, appointing them blackness of darkness for ever. This might have been thy lot. Contrast thy present position with theirs, and thou hast cause rather to sing than to lament. Why should a living man complain? “Have you seen those foul dungeons of Venice, which are below the water-mark of the canal, where, after winding through narrow, dark, stifling passages, you may creep into little cells in which a man can scarcely stand upright, where no ray of sunlight has ever entered since the foundations of the palace were laid — cold, foul, and black with damp and mildew, the fit nursery of fever, and abode of death? And yet those places it were luxury to inhabit compared with the everlasting burnings of hell* It were an excess of luxury to lost spirits if they could lie there with moss growing on their eyelids, in lonely inisery, if -they might but escape for a little season from a guilty conscience and the wrath of God. Friend, you are neither in those dungeons nor yet in hell; therefore pluck up courage, and say, ^’It is of the Lord’s mercy we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.” Slender comfort this may be, but then, if this flame shall yield but little heat, it may lead to somewhat better. When you are kindhng your household fire, before which you hope to sit down with comfort, you do not first expect to kindle the lumps of coal, but you set some lighter fuel in a blaze, and soon the more solid material yields a genial glow; so this thought, which may seem so light to you, may be as the kindling of a heavenly fire of comfort for you who now are shivering in your grief.

Something better awaits us, for Jeremiah reminds us that there are. some mercies, at any rate, which are still continued. His compassions fail not, they are new every nmrning: great is thy faithfulness,^^ You are very poor and have come down for wealth. This is very hard, still you are in good health. Just walk into the hospital, ask to be permitted to witness the work done in the operating room; sit down by one bedside and. listen to the story of pain and weariness; and surely you will leave the hospital feeling, I thank God that with all my poverty I have not sickness to complain of, and therefore I will sing of the mercies which I enjoy.” Are you sick, and have you dragged your weary body to this house this morning? Then I shall invite you to accompany me to those dark cellars and miserable attics where poverty pines away in wretched unpitied obscurity in the heart of this great city; and if jou mark the hard earned meal, too scant to yield sufficient refreshment, and the miserable heap of straw which is their only rest, you will escape from the foul den of filthy penury, and say, I will bear my sickness, for even that is better than filth, starvation, and nakedness.” Evil your plight may be, but there are others in a still worse condition. You can always if you open your eyes and choose to do so, see at least this cause for thankfulness that you are not yet plunged into the lowest depth of misery. There is a very touching little story told of a poor woman with two children who had not a bed for them to lie upon, and scarcely any clothes to cover them. In the depth of winter they were nearly frozen, and the mother took the door of a cellar off the hinges, and set it up before the corner where they crouched down to sleep that some of the draught and cold might be kept from them. One of the children whispered to her when she complained of how badly off they were, Mother, what do those dear little children do who have no cellar door to put up in front of them?” Even there, you see the little heart found cause for thankfulness; and we, if we are driven to our worst extremity, will still honour God by thanking him that his compassions fail not but are new every morning. This again is not a very high step, but still it is a little in advance of the other, and the weakest may readily reach it.

The chapter offers us a third source of consolation. The Lord is my portion saith my soul; therefore loill I hope in him P You have lost much Christian, but you have not lost your portion. Your God is your all; therefore, if you have lost all but God still you have your all left since God is all. The text does not say that God is a part of our portion, but the whole portion of our spirit; in Him we have all the riches of our heart concentrated. How can we be bereaved since our Father lives? How can we be robbed since our treasure is on high? It is daylight and the sun is shining bright, and I have a candle lit,

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but some one blows it out. Shall I sit me down and weep, because my candle is extinguished? Nay, not while the sun shines. If God be my portion, if I lose some little earthly comfort I will not complain, for heavenly comfort remains. One of our kings, high and haughty in temper, had a quarrel with the citizens of London, and thought to alarm them by a dreadful threat that would cow the spirits of the bold burghers, for if they did not mind what they were at he would remove his Court from Westminster. Whereupon, the doughty Lord Mayor begged to enquire whether His Majesty meant to take the Thames away, for so long as the river remained, his majesty might take himself wherever he pleased. Even so the world warns us, you cannot hold out, you cannot rejoice: — this trouble shall come and that adversity shall befall.” We reply, so long as you cannot take our Lord away we will not complain. Philosophers,’’ said the wise man, can dance without music;’’ and true, believers in God can rejoice when outward comforts fail them. He who drinks from the bottle as did the son of the bondwoman may have to complain of thirst; but he who -dwells at the well as did Isaac, the child according to promise, shall never know lack. God grant us grace then to rejoice in our deepest distress, because the Lord is our sure possession, our perpetual heritage -of joy. We have now advanced to some degree of hope but there are other steps to ascend.

The prophet then reminds us of another channel of comfort, namely, that God is evermore good to all who seek him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him.^^ Let him smite never so hard, yet if we can maintain the heavenly posture of prayer we may rest assured that he will turn from blows to kisses yet. When a beggar wants an alms and is very needy, if he sees another beggar at -the door of some great man he will watch while he knocks, and when i;he door is opened and the man is liberally entertained and generously helped, he who has been looking on knocks with boldness in his turn. My soul, art thou very sad and very low this morning? The Lord is .good to them that seek him. Thousands have come from his door, but none have had reason to complain of a cold reception, for in every case he hath filled the hungry with good things. Therefore, my soul, go boldly and knock, for he giveth liberally and upbraideth not. In all states of dilemma or of difficulty prayer is an available source. Bunyan tells us that when the City of Mansoul was besieged it was the depth of winter and the roads were very bad, but even then prayer could travel them; and I will venture to affirm that if all earthly roads were so bad that they could not be travelled, and if Mansoul were so surrounded that there was not a gap left through which we could break our way to get to the king, yet the road upwards would always open. No enemy can barricade that; no blockading ships can sail between our souls and the haven of the mercy-seat. The ship of prayer may sail through all temptations, doubts and fears, straight up to the throne of God; and though she may be outward bound with only griefs, and groans, and sighs, she shall return freighted with a wealth of blessings. There is hope then. Christian, for you are allowed to pray.

“The mercy seat is open still,
Here let our souls retreat.”

We are getting into deeper water of joy, let us take another step, and this time we shall win greater consolation still, from the fact that it is good to be afflicted. It is good that a man should hear the yoke in his youth.^^ A little child needs to be coaxed to take its medicine. It may be very ill, and mother may assure it that this medicine will work its cure; but the child says, No, it is so bitter, I cannot take it.” But men need not thus to be persuaded. The bitter is nothing to them; they think of the health which it will bring, and so they take the draught, and do not even wince. Now we, if we be little children, and have not called to remembrance the fruit which affliction bears, may cry and murmur; but if we be men in Christ Jesus, and have learned that all things work together for good to them that love God,” we shall take the cup right cheerfully and willingly, and bless Grod for it. Why should I dread to descend the shaft of affliction if it leads nie to the gold mine of spiritual experience? Why should I cry out if the sun of my prosperity goes down, if in the darkness of my adversity I shall be the better able to count the starry promises with which my faithful God has been pleased to gem the sky? Go thou sun, for in thy absence we shall see ten thousand suns; and when thy blinding light is gone, we shall see worlds in the dark which were hidden from us by thy light. Many a promise is written in sympathetic ink, which you cannot read till the fire of trouble brings out the characters. “It is good for me that I have been afflicted that I might learn thy statutes.” Beloved, Israel went into Egyt poor, but they came out of Egypt with jewels of silver and jewels of gold. They had worked, it is true, at the brick-kilns, and suffered bitter bondage, but they were bettered by it; they came out enriched by all their tribulations. A child had a little garden in which it planted many flowers, but they never grew. She put them in, as she thought tenderly and carefully, but they would not live. She sowed seeds and they sprang up; but very soon they withered away. So she ran to her father’s gardener, and when he came to look at it, he said, I will make it a nice garden for you, that you may grow whatever you want.” He fetched a pick, and when the little child saw the terrible pick, she was afraid for her little garden. The gardener struck his tool into the ground and began to make the earth heave and shake for his pickaxe had caught the edge of a huge stone which underlayed almost all the little plot of ground. All the little flowers were turned out of their places and the garden spoiled for a season so that the little maid wept much. He told her he would make it a fair garden yet, and so he did, for having removed that stone which had prevented all the plants from striking root he soon filled the ground with flowers which lived and flourished. So the Lord has come, and has turned up all the soil of your present comfort to get rid of some big stone that was at the bottom of all your spiritual prosperity, and would not let your soul flourish. Do not weep with the child, but be comforted by the blessed results and thank your Father’s tender hand.

One step more, and surely we shall then have good ground to rejoice. The chapter reminds us that these troubles do not last for ever. When they have produced their proper result they will be removed, for” the Lord toill not cast off for ever Who told thee that the night would never end in day? Who told thee that the sea would ebb out till there

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should be nothing left but a vast track of mud and sand? “Who told thee that the winter would proceed from frost to frost, from snow, and ice, and hail, to deeper snow, and yet more heavy tempest? Who told thee this, I say? Knowest thou not that day follows night, that flood comes after ebb, that spring and summer succeed to winter? Hope thou then! Hope thou ever I for God fails thee not. Dost thou not know that thy Grod loves thee in the midst of all this? Mountains, when in darkness hidden, are as real as in day, and God’s love is as true to thee now as it was in thy brightest moments. No father chastens always; he hates the rod as much as thou dost; he only cares to use it for that reason which should make thee willing to receive it, namely, that it works thy lasting good. Thou shalt yet climb Jacob’s ladder with the angels, and behold him who sits at the top of it — thy covenant God. Thou shall yet, amidst the splendours of eternity, forget the trials of time, or only remember them to bless the God who led thee through them, and wrought thy lasting good by them. Come, sing on thy bed! Rejoice amidst the flames! Make the wilderness blossom like the rose! Cause the desert to ring with thine exulting joys, for these light afflictions will soon be over, and then for ever with the Lord,” thy bliss shall never wane.

Thus, dear friends. Memory may be as Coleridge calls it, the bosom-spring of joy,” and when the Holy Spirit bends it to his service, it may be chief among earthly comforters.

n. For a short time, we will speak to the doubting Christian,

WHO HAS LOST HIS EVIDENCES OF SALVATION.

It is our habit, in our ministry, to avoid extremes as much as possible, and to keep the narrow path of truth. We believe in the doctrine of predestination, we believe in the doctrine of free agency, and we follow the narrow path between those mountains. So in all other truths. We know some who think that doubts are not sins: we regret their thinking. We know others who believe doubts to be impossible where there is any faith, we cannot agree with them. We have heard of persons ridiculing that very sweet and admirable hymn, beginning

“‘Tis a point I long to know,”

We dare not ridicule it ourselves, for we have often had to sing it — we wish it were not so, but we are compelled to confess that doubts have vexed us. The true position, with regard to the doubts and fears of believers, is just this — that they are sinful, and are not to be cultivated, but to be avoided; but that, more or less, the most of Christians do sufi’er them, and that they are no proof of a man’s being destitute of faith, for the very best of Christians have been subject to them. To you who are labouring under anxious thought I now address myself.

Let me bid you call to remembrance in the first place matters of the past. Shall I pause and let your heart talk to you? Do you remember the place, the spot of ground where Jesus first met with you? Perhaps you do not. Well, do you remember happy seasons when he has brought you to the banqueting house? Cannot you remember gracious deliverances? “I was brought low and he helped me? Thou hast been my help.” When you were isx those circumstances past, you though; yourselyegj

MEMORY — THE HAITDMAID OF HOPE.

in overwhelming trouble. You have passed through them, and cannot you find comfort in them? At the south of Africa the sea was generally so stormy, when the frail barks of the Portuguese went sailing south, that they named it the Cape of Storms; but after that cape had been well rounded by bolder navigators, they named it the Cape of Good Hope. In your experience you had many a Cape of Storms, but you have weathered them all, and now, let them be a Cape of Good Hope to you. Remember, Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.” Say with David, Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul, why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him.” Do I not remember this day some hill Mizars, whereon my soul has had such sweet fellowship with God, that she thought herself in heaven? Can I not remember moments of awful agony of soul, when in an instant my spirit leaped to the topmost heights of ecstasy at the mention of my Saviour’s name? Have there not been times with me at the Lord’s table, in private prayer, and in listening to his word, when I could say,

“My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away,
To everlasting jbliss.”

Well, let me call this to remembrance and have hope, for

“Did Jesus once upon me shine.
Then Jesus is for ever mine.”

He never loved where he afterwards hates; his will never changes. It is not possible that he who said, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands,” should ever forget or cast away those who once were dear to him.

Possibly, however, that may not be the means of comfort to some of you. Pecall, I pray you, the fact that others have found the Lord true to them. They cried to God, and he delivered them. Do you not remember your mother? She is now in heaven, and you her son are toiling and struggling onward here below. Do not you recollect what she told you before she died? She said God had been faithful and true to her. She was left a widow, and you were but a child then, and she told you how God provided for her, and for you, and the rest of that little needy family, in answer to her pleadings. Do you believe your mother’s testimony, and will you not rest with your mother’s faith upon your mother’s God. There are grey heads here who would, if it were the proper season, testify to you that in an experience of fifty and sixty years, in which they have walked before the Lord in the land of the living, they cannot put their finger upon any date and say, Here God was unfaithful or, Here he left me in the time of trouble.” I, who am but young have passed through many and sore tribulations after my sort, and can say and must say it, foj* if I speak not, the timbers of this house might cry out against my ungrateful silence; he is a faithful God, and he remembereth his servants, and leaveth them not in the hour of their trouble. Hearing our testimonies, cannot you say in the words of the text, recall this to mind, and therefore I have hope.”

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Eemercber, again, and perhaps this may be consolatory to you, that though you think you are not a child of God at all now, yet %f you look within you will see some faint traces of the Holy Spirifs hand. The complete picture of Christ is not there, but cannot you see the crayon sketch — the outline — the charcoal marks? “What,” say you, “do you mean?’’ Do not you want to be a Christian? Have you not desires after God? Cannot you say with the Psalmist, My heart and my flesh panteth after God — after the living God?” Oh, I have often had to console myself with this, when I could not see a single Christian :grace beaming in my spirit, I have had to say, I know I shall never be satisfied until I get to be like my Lord.” One thing I know, whereas I was blind, now I see; — see enough, at least, to know my own defects, and emptiness, and misery; and I have just enough spiritual life to feel that I want more, and that I cannot be satisfied imless I have more. Well, now, where God the Holy Ghost has done as much as that, he will do more. Where he begins the good work, we are told he will carry it on and perfect it in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. Call that to mind, and you may have hope.

But I would remind you that there is a promise in this Booh that exactly describes and suits your case, A young man had been left by his father heir of all his property, but an adversary disputed his right. The case was to come on in the court, and this young man, while he felt sure that he had a legal right to the whole, could not prove it. His legal adviser told him that there was more evidence wanted than he could bring. How to get this evidence he did not know. He went to an old chest where his father had been wont to keep his papers, turned all out, and as he turned the writings over, and over, and over, there was an old parchment. He undid the red tape with great anxiety, and there it was — the very thing he wanted — his father’s will — in which the estate was spoken of as being left entirely to himself. He went into court boldly enough with that. Now, when we get into doubts, it is a good thing to turn to this old Book, and read until at last we can say, “That is it — that promise was made for me.” Perhaps it maybe this one: — “When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them; I the God of Jacob will not forsake them.” Or this one: Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” May, I beg you to rummage the old Book through; and you, poor doubting, despairing Christian, will soon stumble on some precious parchment, as it were, which God the Holy Ghost will make to you the title-deed of immortality and life.

If these recollections should not suffice, I have one more. You look at me, and you open your ears to find what new thing I am going to tell you. No, I am going to tell you nothing new, but yet it is the best thing that was ever said out of heaven, Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinner s.^^ You have heard that a thousand times — and is the best music you have ever heard. Lf I am not a saint, I am a sinner; and if I may not go to the throne of grace as a child, I will go as a sinner. A certain king was accustomed on set occasions to entertain all the beggars of the city. Around him sat his courtiers, all clothed in rich apparel; the beggars sat at the same table in their rags of poverty. Now, it came to pass, that on a certain day, one of the courtiers had spoiled his silken apparel so that he dare not put it on, and he felt, I cannot go to the king’s feast to-day, for my robe is foul.” He sat weeping, till the thought struck him, To-morrow, when the king holds his feast, some will come as courtiers happily decked in their beautiful array; but others will come and be made quite as welcome who will be dressed in rags. Well, well,” says he, “so long as I may see the king’s face, and sit at the king’s table I will enter among the beggars.” So, without mourning because he had lost his silken habit, he put on the rags of a beggar, and he saw the king’s face as well as if he had worn his scarlet and fine linen. My soul has done this full many a time, and I bid you do the same; if you cannot come as a saint, come as a sinner, only do come, and you shall receive joy and peace. In a lamentable accident which occurred in the North, in one of the coal pits, when a considerable number of the miners were down below, the top of the pit fell in, and the shaft was completely blocked up. Those who were down below, sat together in the dark, and sang and prayed. They gathered to a spot where the last remains of air below could be breathed. There they sat and sang after the lights had gone out, because the air would not support the flame. They were in total darkness, but one of them said he had heard that there was a connection between that pit and an old pit that had been worked years ago. He said it was a low passage, through which a man might get by crawling all the way, lying flat upon the ground — he would go and see: the passage was very long, but they crept through it, and at last they came out to light at the bottom of the other pit and their lives were saved. If my present way to Christ as a saint gets blocked up, if I cannot go straight up the shaft and see the Light of my father up yonder, there is an old working, the old fashioned way by which sinners go, by which poor thieves go, by which harlots go — come, I will crawl along lowly and humbly, flat upon the ground — I will crawl along till I see my Father, and cry, “Father, I am not worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants, so long as I may but dwell in thy house.” In your very worst case you can still come as sinners. Jesus “Christ cama into the world to save sinners,” call this to mind and you may have hope.”

III. I must have a few words with seekers.

Always in this Congregation we have some who are seeking the Lord — would to God we had many more! It were glorious preaching if all were either seeking or had found. If it were not for the mixed multitude who neither seek nor find our work were easy work indeed. Some of you are seeking God to-day and you are very much troubled with the fear that you cannot be saved. I will have a few words with you to recall to mind some common-place truths which may give hope.

First of all some of you are troubled about the doctrine of election, I cannot this morning explain it to you. I believe it and receive it with joy, and you may rest assured, however much it troubles you it is true. Though you may not like it, it is true, and remember it is not a matter of opinion as to what you like or do not like, as to what you think or do not think; you must turn to the Bible, and if you find it there you must believe it. Listen to me. You have got an idea that some persons will be sent to hell, merely and only because it is the

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will of Q-od that they should be sent there. Throw the idea overboard, because it is a very wicked one, and is not to be found in Scripture. There could not be a hell inside the man’s conscience, who knew that he was wretched merely because God willed he should be, for the very essence of hell is sin, and a sense of having wilfully committed it. There could not be the flame of hell if there were not this conviction on the mind of the person suffering it, “I knew my duty but I did it not — wilfully sinned against God and I am here, not because of anything He did or did not do, but because of my own sin.” If you drive that dark thought away you may be on the road to comfort. Remember again, that whatever the doctrine of election may be or may not be, there is a free invitation in the gospel given to needy sinners, “Whosoever will let him take of the water of life freely.” Now you may say, I cannot reconcile the two.” There are a great many other things that you cannot do. God knows where these two things meet though you do not, and I hope you do not intend to wait till you are a philosopher before you will be saved, because it is likely enough that while you are trying to be wise by persistently remaining a practical fool you will find yourself in hell where your wisdom will not avail you. God commands you to trust Christ, and promises that all believers shall be saved. Leave your difficulties till you have trusted Christ, and then you will be in a capacity to understand them better than you do now. In order to understand gospel doctrine you must believe in Christ first. What does Christ say, No man cometh unto the rather but by me.” Now election is the Father’s work. The Father chooses sinners; Christ makes the atonement. You must go then to Christ the atoning sacrifice before you can understand the Father as the electing God. Do not persist in going to the Father first. Go to the Son as he tells you.

Once more recollect that even if your own idea of the doctrine of election were the truth, yet if it were so, you can but perish should you seek the Lord.

*’ I can but perish if I go,
I am resolved to try;
For if I stay away I know,
I must for ever die.

But if I die with mercy sought,

When I the king have tried,
That were to die, delightful thought.

As sinner never died.”

Trust Christ even if thou should perish, and thou shalt never perish if thou trustest in him.

Well, if that difficulty were removed, I can suppose another, saying, “Ah! but mine’s a case of ^reat sin,^^ Recall this to mind and you will have hope, namely, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom,’^ Paul says, am cMef.” ‘^I am chief.” Paul was the chief of sinners, and he went through the door of mercy; and now there can be none greater than the chief, where the chief went through you can go through; if the chief of sinners has been saved why not you? Why not you?

We heard Mr. Offord say the other day that he knew a good woman who, when the Salt-ash Bridge was made down at Plymouth, would not go on it. She said she did not believe it was safe. She saw locomotive engines and trains go over it so that the bridge sustained hundreds of tons at a time, but she shook her head and said she wondered people were so immensely presumptuous as to cross it. When the bridge was totally clear and not an engine on it she was asked if she would not walk on it then. Well, she did venture a little way, but she trembled all the while for fear her weight should make it fall. It could bear hundreds of tons of luggage, but it could not bear her. You great sinner, it is much the same case with you. The stupendous bridge which Christ has flung across the wrath of God will bear the weight of your sin, for it has borne ten thousand across before, and will bear millions of sinners yet to the shore of their eternal rest. Call that to remembrance, and you may have hope.

Yes,” says one, but I believe I have committed the unpardonable sin My dear brother I believe you have not, but I want you to call one thing to remembrance, and that is that the unpardonable sin is a sin which is unto death. Now a sin which is unto death means a sin which brings death on the conscience. The man who commits it never has any conscience afterwards; he is dead there. Now, you have some feeling; you have enough life to wish to be saved from sin; you have enough life to long to be washed in the precious blood of Jesus. You have not committed the unpardonable sin, therefore have hope. “All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men.’’ But, you reply, “Oh, / cannot repent my heart is so hard.’’ Call to remembrance, that Jesus Christ is exalted to give repentance and remission of sins, and you may come to him to get repentance, and need not bring it to him. Come without any repentance and ask him to give it to you, and he will give it. Rest assured there is no fear whatever that if the soul seeks softness and tenderness it has that softness and tenderness in a measure even now, and will have it to the fullest extent ere long.” Oh, but,” you say, “I have a general unfitness and incapacity for being saved.” Then, dear Mend, I want you to caU this to remembrance, that Jesus Christ has a general fitness and a general capacity for saving sinners. I do not know what you want, but I do know Christ has it. I do not know the full of your disease, but I do know Christ is the physician who can meet it. I do not know how hard, and stubborn, and stolid, and ignorant, and blind, and dead your nature may be, but I do know that” Christ is able to save unto the

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uttermost them that come unto God by him.” What you are has nothing to do with the question, except that it is the mischief to be undone; the true answer to the question of how you are to be saved lies yonder in the bleeding body of the immaculate Lamb of God. Christ has all salvation in himself. He is Alpha, he is Omega. He does not begin to save and leave you to perish, nor does ho offer to complete what you must first begin. He is the foundation as well as the pinnacle. He commences with you as the green blade, and he will finish with you as the full corn in the ear.

0 that I had a voice like the trumpet of God that shall wake the dead at last! If I might only have it to utter one sentence, it would be this one, “In Christ is your help found.” As for you, there never can be found anything hopeful in your human nature. It is death itself, it is rottenness and corruption. Turn, turn away your eyes from this despairing mass of black depravity, and look to Christ. He is the sacrifice for human guilt. His is the righteousness that covers men, and makes them acceptable before the Lord. Look to him as you are, black, foul, guilty, leprous, condemned. Go as you are. Trust Jesus Christ to save you, and remembering this, you shall have a hope that maketh not ashamed,” which shall endure for ever.

1 have laboured to speak comfortable words, and words in season, and I have tried to speak them in homely language too. But, 0 thou. Comforter, what can we do without thee? Thou must cheer our Badness. To comfort souls is God’s own work. Let us conclude, then, with the words of the Saviour’s promise, If I go away, I will send you another Comforter, who shall abide with you for ever;” and let our prayer be, that he would abide with us to his own glory, and to our comfort evermore. Amen.

By C. H. Spurgeon.

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