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CHRIST 
 
 AND THE 
 
 INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS. 
 
I. 
 
 THE GOSPEL IN EZEKIEL. Illustrated in a Series 
 
 JL of Discourses. 12mo $1 50 
 
 “ Nothing has appeared since the publication of Chalmers’ ‘Astronomi- 
 cal Discourses’ to be compared with this inimitable volume of ‘prose- 
 poems.’ It contains the finest specimens of pulpit literature the age has 
 produced .” — British Messenger, 
 
 II. 
 
 p HEIST AND INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS. 
 
 \J Illustrated in a Series of Discourses. 12mo $1 50 
 
 “We have a book before us written by one of the most eloquent divines 
 of the present century, and upon one of the most precious subjects of 
 which the human mind can conceive. The great truth which is the bur- 
 den of these discourses is one well suited to the mind of the author, and 
 he has illustrated it by many of the most graphic pictures which the 
 imagination can portray .” — Louisville Journal . 
 
 III. 
 
 HE WAY TO LIFE. 12mo $1 50 
 
 “ Dr. Guthrie is well known as the greatest of Scotland’s pulpit ora- 
 tors. His writings have a strength and a charm that secure alike the 
 interests of all classes, educated and illiterate. These discourses afford 
 excellent and instructive devotional reading. They are marked by sim- 
 plicity of expression, and relieved and made attractive by frequent and 
 telling narratives and illustrations.” — Congregationalist. 
 
 IV. 
 
 C PEAKING TO THE HEART; or, Sermons for the 
 
 0 People. 12mo 
 
 V. 
 
 T HE CITY, ITS SINS AND SORROWS. A Series of 
 
 Discourses from Luke xix. 41 75 
 
 VI. 
 
 A PLEA FOR RAGGED SCHOOLS. 
 
 90 
 
CHRIST 
 
 AND THE 
 
 INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED IN A SERIES OE DISCOURSES 
 FROM THE COLOSSIANS. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS GUTHRIE, D. XX, 
 
 AUTHOR OF “THE GOSPEL IK EZEKIEL,” “ THE CITY, ITS SINS AND SORROWS,* 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 
 No. 53 0 BEOABWAT. 
 
 1869. 
 
EDWARD 0. JENKINS, 
 printer Sc .Stcvrotcper, 
 
2L i"- 2 - 
 
 <5 ?fc. 
 
 \ 
 
 N 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 FOX LORD PANMURE, K.T., G.C.B. 
 
 AS AN EXPRESSION OP RESPECT 
 
 FOR 
 
 SERVICES RENDERED TO THE RELIGIOUS AND PUBLIC 
 INTERESTS OF THE COUNTRY, 
 
 AND OF 
 
 GRATITUDE FOR HIS CONSTANT FRIENDSHIP TO 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 
 EniNBuitau, November 186 & 
 
DISCOURSES 
 
 PAGK 
 
 L— THE INHERITANCE 1 
 
 II.— THE POWER OF DARKNESS .... 21 
 
 HI.— THE POWER OF DARKNESS — continued . . 36 
 
 IV.—' THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST . 54 
 
 V.— THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST — continued ... 72 
 
 VI. — THE TRANSLATION 88 
 
 VII. — REDEMPTION 110 
 
 VIII.— CHRIST THE REDEEMER 126 
 
 IX.— THE IMAGE OF GOD 143 
 
 X. — THE IMAGE OF GOD — continued .... 159 
 
 XI. — THE FIRST-BORN 176 
 
 XII.— THE CREATOR 192 
 
 XIII. — THE END OF CREATION ..... 206 
 
 XIV. — CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE . 222 
 
 XV.— THE HEAD 240 
 
 XVI. — THE HEAD — continued 258 
 
via 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 TAGS 
 
 XVII.— THE BEGINNING 276 
 
 XVIII.— THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD . . .291 
 
 XIX.— THE FULLNESS 307 
 
 XX.— THE RECONCILER 
 
 825 
 
Ifu gufttrUBtu*. 
 
 Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to he partak- 
 ers of the inheritance of the saints in light. — Colossians i. 12. 
 
 One thing is often set against another in the expe- 
 rience of the Christian ; and also in the every-day 
 procedure of the providence of God. So fared it with 
 Jacob that night he slept in Bethel. A stone was his 
 pillow, and the cold hard ground his bed ; yet, while 
 sleep sealed his eyelids, he had God himself to guard 
 his low-laid head, and dreams such as seldom bless a 
 couch of down. A ladder rose before him in the vision 
 of the night. It rested on earth, and reached to the 
 stars. And forming a highway for a multitude of angels, 
 who ascended and descended in two dazzling streams 
 of light it stood there the bright sign of a redemption 
 which has restored the intercourse between earth and 
 heaven, and opened a path for our return to God. 
 
 Now, the scheme of salvation, of which that ladder 
 was a glorious emblem, may be traversed in either of 
 these two ways. In studying it, we may descend by 
 the steps that lead from the cause to the consumma- 
 tion, or, taking the opposite course, we may rise from 
 the consummation to the cause. So — as a matter 
 
 sometimes of taste, sometimes of judgment — men do 
 1 
 
2 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 in other departments of study. The geographer for 
 example, may follow a river from the lone mountain- 
 tops where its waters spring, down into the glen, into 
 which, eager to leave sterility behind, it leaps with a 
 joyous bound ; and from thence, after resting awhile 
 in black, deep, swirling pool, resumes its way, here 
 spreading itself out in glassy lake, or there winding like 
 a silver serpent through flowery meadows ; until forcing 
 a passage through some rocky gorge, it sweeps out 
 into the plain, to pursue, 7 mid shady woods and by 
 lordly tower, through corn-fields, by smiling villages 
 and busy towns, a course that, like the life of man, 
 grows calmer as it nears its end. Or, starting from the 
 sea-beach, lie may trace the river upwards ; till, passing 
 town and church, tower and mill, scattered hamlet and 
 solitary shepherd’s cot, in some mossy well, where 
 the wild deer drink, or mountain rock beneath the 
 eagle’s nest, he finds the place of its birth. The bota- 
 nist, too, who describes a tree, may begin with its fruit ; 
 and from this, whether husky shell, or rugged cone, oi 
 clustering berry, he may pass to the flower ; from that 
 to the buds ; from those to the branches ; from the 
 branches to the stem ; and from the stem into the 
 ground, where he lays bare the wide-spread roots, on 
 which — as states depend upon the humbler classes for 
 power, wealth, and worth — the tree depends both for 
 nourishment and support. Or, reversing the plan, with 
 equal justice to his subject, and advantage to his pupils, 
 he may begin at the root and end with the fruit. 
 
 The inspired writers, in setting forth salvation, 
 adopt sometimes the one course, and sometimes the 
 other. With Paul, for instance, the subject of heaven 
 now introduces Christ, and now from Christ, the Apos- 
 tle turns to expatiate on the joys of heaven. Here, as 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 3 
 
 on an angel 7 s wing that sheds light on every step, we 
 see him ascending, and there descending the ladder. 
 Taking flight from the cross, he soars upward to the 
 crown ; and now, like an eagle sweeping down from 
 the bosom of a golden cloud, he leaves the throne of 
 the Redeemer to alight on the heights of Calvary. As 
 an example of the ascending method, we have that 
 well-known passage in his epistle to the Romans — 
 “ For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate 
 to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might 
 be the first-born among many brethren : moreover, 
 whom he did predestinate, them he also called ; and 
 whom he called, them he also justified ; and whom he 
 justified, them he also glorified . 77 There we pass from 
 the root to the fruit, from the cause, step by step, to 
 its effects ; here again, Paul guides us upward along 
 the stream of blessings to their perennial fountain. 
 He first shows the precious gift, and then reveals the 
 gracious giver ; the purchase first, and afterwards the 
 divine Purchaser. From the crown of glory, flashing 
 on the brow of a Magdalene, he turns our dazzled 
 eyes to another crown, a trophy hung upon a cross ; a 
 wreath of thorns, armed with long sharp spikes — each, 
 in place of a pearly gem, tipped with a drop of blood. 
 He first introduces us to heaven as our inalienable heri- 
 tage, and then to the throne and person of him who 
 won heaven for us. He conducts us up to Jesus, that 
 we may fall at his feet with adoring gratitude, and join 
 in spirit the saintly throng who dwell in the full frui- 
 tion of his presence, and praise him throughout eternity. 
 
 The words of my text, and those also of the verse 
 which follows it, are introductory to a sublime descrip- 
 tion of Jesus Christ — a picture to which, after consid- 
 ering these preliminary verses, we intend to draw your 
 
4 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 attention. To the eye both of saints and sinners it 
 presents a noble subject. If his great forerunner felt 
 himself unworthy even to loose the latch et of his shoes, 
 how unworthy are these hands to sustain a theme so 
 sacred and sublime. May he who ordaineth strength 
 “out of the mouth of babes and sucklings/’ without 
 whose aid the strongest are weak, and by whose help 
 the weakest are strong, fulfil among us his own great 
 and gracious promise — “ I, if I be lifted up from the 
 earth, will draw all men unto me!” 
 
 Turning your attention, meanwhile, to the matter of 
 these introductory verses, I remark — 
 
 I. Heaven is an Inheritance. 
 
 Examples, at once of pride and poverty — how prone 
 are men to attach importance to their own works, and 
 to seek at least some shining points of goodness in 
 them — like grains of gold in a mass of rock ! We are 
 loth to believe that those things for which others 
 esteem and love, and praise us, and even, perhaps, 
 crown our broAVS with laurel, apart from Christ, have 
 no merit ; but appear in the sight of the holy and 
 heart-searching God as, to use a Bible phrase, “filthy 
 rags.” It is not easy to bring human pride, no, nor 
 human reason, to admit that ; to believe that the love- 
 liest, the purest, the most virtuous of womankind, a 
 mother’s pride and a household’s honor, must be saved, 
 as the vilest outcast is saved — as a brand plucked out 
 of the fire, or he of whom God said, “ Take away the 
 filthy garments from him. Behold I have caused thine 
 iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with 
 change of raiment.” 
 
 These feelings arise in part, perhaps, from a secret 
 suspicion, that, if our works be entirely destitute of 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 5 
 
 merit, they must at the same time disincline God to 
 save us, and disqualify us for being saved. But how 
 base, unscriptural, God-dishonoring is this fear ! One 
 would think that the parable of the prodigal had been 
 refute it. 
 
 invented to refute it. There, recognizing him from 
 afar, God, under the emblem of an earthly father, runs 
 to embrace his son, all foul and ragged as he is ; he 
 holds him in his arms ; he drowns his confession in 
 this great cry of joy, “ Bring forth the best robe, and 
 put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes 
 on his feet ; and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill 
 it ; and let us eat, and be merry : for this my son was 
 dead, and is alive again ; he was lost, and is found. 77 \; 
 Nature herself proves it false by every little child who 
 lifts its hands and prayer to God as “ Our Father which 
 art in heaven . 77 What idea has he formed of God who 
 expects less of him than he would expect of any earthly 
 mother ? Let her be a queen. She is a mother ; and. ' 
 under the impulse of feelings that reign alike in palaces 
 and in cottages, how would that woman spring from 
 her throne to embrace a lost babe ; and, weeping tears 
 of joy, press it to her jewelled bosom, though plucked 
 from the foulest ditch, and wrapped in tainted rags ? 
 
 He knows little of human nature, fallen as it is, who 
 fancies any mother turning from the plaintive cry and 
 imploring arms of her offspring because, forsooth, it 
 was restored to her in loathsome attire. And he is 
 still more ignorant of “the God and Father of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ 77 who fancies that, unless man can 
 make out some merit, he will receive no mercy. Blessed * 
 be his name, “ God commendeth his love toward us, in 
 that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us . 77 
 
 Volumes of theology have been written, and long 
 controversies have waxed hot, about the question — • 
 
6 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 whether heaven is, or is not, in part, the reward of 
 our own good works ? Now it appears to me that 
 there is one word in my text, whose voice authorita- 
 tively and summarily settles that matter ; and would 
 have always settled it, had not men’s hearts been fired 
 with angry passions, and their ears confused with the 
 din of battle. That word is — inheritance . What is 
 inheritance? The pay of a soldier is not inheritance ; 
 neither are the fees of a lawyer or of a physician ; nor 
 the gains of trade ; nor the wages of labor. Rewards 
 of toil or skill, these are earned by the hands that 
 receive them. What is inherited, on the other hand, 
 may be the property of a new-born babe ; and so you 
 may see the coronet, which was won by the stout arm 
 of valor, and first blazoned on a battered shield, stand- 
 ing above the cradle of a wailing infant. True, the 
 ample estate, the noble rank, the hereditary honors 
 were won. But they that won them are long dead ; 
 “ their swords are rust, their bodies dust ; ” and under- 
 neath tattered banners, once borne before them in 
 bloody fight, but now hung high in the house of God, 
 the grim old barons sleep in their marble tombs. The 
 rewards of their prowess and patriotism have de- 
 scended to their successors ; who, holding these, enjoy 
 honors and estates, which we do not grudge them, but 
 which their wealth never bought, and their courage 
 never won. 
 
 Thus the saints hold heaven. In the terms of a 
 court of law, it is theirs, not by conquest, but by herit- 
 age. Won by another arm than theirs, it presents the 
 strongest imaginable contrast to the spectacle seen in 
 England’s palace that day when the king demanded to 
 know of his assembled nobles, by what title they held 
 their lands ? “ What title ? ;; At the rash question a 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 7 
 
 hundred swords leapt from their scabbards. Advan- 
 cing on the alarmed monarch — “ By these/ 7 they re- 
 plied, “we won, and by these we will keep them. 77 
 How different the scene which heaven presents ! All 
 eyes are fixed on Jesus ; every look is love ; gratitude 
 glows in every bosom, and swells in every song ; now 
 with golden harps they sound the Saviour’s praise ; and 
 now, descending from their thrones to do him homage, 
 they cast their crowns in one glittering heap at the 
 feet which were nailed on Calvary. Look there, and 
 learn in whose name to seek salvation, and through 
 whose merits to hope for it. For the faith of earth 
 is just a reflection of the fervors of heaven : this the 
 language of both — “ Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us. 
 but unto thy name give glory. 77 
 
 II. Heaven is a heritage of free grace. We have 
 no such legal claim to heavenly glory as may be estab- 
 lished to some earthly inheritance. In consequence 
 of a distant relationship, in those sudden turns of the 
 wheel of fortune, which — displaying the providence of 
 Him who abases the proud and exalts the humble — 
 throw one family into the dust, and another into the 
 possession of unexpected riches, the heir of noble titles 
 and broad lands lias started up from the deepest obscu- 
 rity. And so I have seen a man come into a court of 
 law, and, producing some old moth-eaten Bible, with 
 its time-wOrn record of births, and marriages, and 
 deaths, all long ago forgotten, or some damp, musty 
 parchment, or some inscription copied from a burial- 
 stone, which the dispute has redeemed from decay and 
 rank church-yard weeds, lay a firm hand on estates 
 and honors won long centuries ago. Such strange 
 events have happened. Heirs have entered on the 
 
8 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 property of those between whom and them there ex- 
 isted no acquaintanceship, nor friendship, nor fellow- 
 ship ; for whom, in fact, they entertained no regard 
 while they lived, and whose memory they neither 
 cherish in warm hearts, nor preserve in cold brass or 
 marble. But it is by no such obscure connection or 
 remote relationship, that “ the inheritance of the saints 
 in light ” becomes ours. We are constituted its heirs 
 by virtue of sonship ; we, who were once afar off — the 
 seed of the serpent, the children of the devil, the chil- 
 dren of wrath even as others — becoming sons by that 
 act of grace, which has led mr jiy to exclaim with John, 
 “ Behold, what manner of 1o t e the Father has bestowed 
 upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.” 
 Thus heaven, presentirg itself to us in one of its 
 most engaging aspects, is not only an inheritance, but 
 a home. Oh ! how sweet that word ! What beautiful 
 and tender associations cluster thick around it ! Com- 
 pared with it, house, mansion, palace, are cold heart- 
 less terms. But home ! that word quickens the pulse, 
 warms the heart, stirs the soul to its depths, makes age 
 feel young again, rouses apathy into energy, sustains 
 the sailor on his midnight watch, inspires the soldier 
 with courage on the field of battle, and imparts patient 
 endurance to the worn-down sons of toil ! The thought 
 of it has proved a sevenfold shield to virtue ; the very 
 name of it has been a spell to call back the wanderer 
 from the paths of vice ; and, far away, where myrtles 
 bloom and palm trees wave, and the ocean sleeps upon 
 coral strands, to the exile’s fond fancy it clothes the 
 naked rock or stormy shore, or barren moor, or wild 
 Highland mountain, with charms he weeps to think of, 
 and longs once more to see. Grace sanctifies these 
 lovely affections, and imparts a sacredness to the homes 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 9 
 
 of earth by making them types of heaven. As a home 
 the believer delights to think of it. Thus when, lately 
 bending over a dying saint, and expressing our sorrow 
 to see him laid so low, with the radiant countenance 
 rather of one who had just left heaven, than of one 
 about to enter it, he raised and clasped his hands, and 
 exclaimed in ecstasy, “ I am going home” Happy the 
 family of which God is the father, Jesus the elder bro- 
 ther, and all the “ saints in light ” are brethren — 
 brethren born of one Spirit ; nursed at the full breast 
 of the same promises ; trained in the same high school 
 of heavenly discipline ; seated at the same table ; and 
 gathered all where the innocent loves of earth are not 
 quenched, but purified ; not destroyed, but refined ! 
 To that family circle every accession forms a subject 
 of gratitude and praise : and every new-comer receives 
 such welcome as a mother, while she falls on his manly 
 breast, gives her son, or as sisters, locked in his arms, 
 with theirs entwined around him, give the brother 
 whom they have got safe back from wreck and storm, 
 or the bloody fields of war. So when, on returning 
 home after weary journeys and a tedious absence, we 
 have found that the whole household was moved, and 
 that all, down even to the tottering babe, with out- 
 stretched hands, and beaming faces, and joyful wel- 
 comes, were at the door to meet us, we have thought, 
 it shall be thus at the gates of glory. What a meeting 
 there of parents and children, brothers and sisters, and 
 death-divided friends ! What mutual gratulations ! 
 What overflowing joy ! And, when they have led our 
 spirit up through the long line of loving angels to the 
 throne, what happiness to see Jesus, and get our warm, 
 est welcome from the lips of him who redeemed us by 
 his blood, and, in the agonies of his cross, suffered for 
 1 * 
 
10 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 us more than a mother’s pangs — ■“ the travail of his 
 soul.” 
 
 Heir of grace ! thy estate lies there. Child of God ! 
 thy Father, and Saviour, and brethren, and sisters, are 
 there. Pilgrim to Sion, be ever pressing on and ever 
 looking up ! thy true home is there ; a home above 
 these blue skies, above sun and stars ; a sweet, saintly, 
 glorious home — whose rest shall be all the sweeter for 
 the pelting of the storm, thy rugged path, the sorrows 
 and the tears of earth — and whose light shall be all the 
 brighter for that “ valley of the shadow of death,” from 
 which thou slialt pass into the blaze of everlasting day. 
 Believer ! 1 congratulate thee on thy prospects. Lift 
 up thy cast-down head ; let thy port, man, be worthy 
 of thy coming fortunes. Bear thyself as one who shall 
 wear a holy crown ; as one who, however humble thy 
 present lot, is training for the highest society. Culti- 
 vate the temper, and acquire the manners, and learn 
 the language of heaven ; nor let the wealth or poverty, 
 the joys or sorrows, the shame or honors of thy earthly 
 state, ever make thee forget “ the inheritance which is 
 incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, 
 reserved in heaven for you.” 
 
 III. The heirs of heaven require to be made meet 
 for the inheritance. 
 
 I knew a man who had amassed great wealth, but 
 had no children to inherit it. He lost the opportunity, 
 which one would think good men would more frequently 
 embrace, of leaving Christ his heir, and bequeathing to 
 the cause of religion what he could not carry away. 
 Smitten, however, with the vain and strange propensity 
 to found a house, or make a family, as it is called, he 
 left his riches to a distant relative. His successor 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 11 
 
 found himself suddenly raised from poverty to affluence, 
 and thrown into a position which he had not been 
 trained to fill. He was cast into the society of those to 
 whose tastes, and habits, and accomplishments he was 
 an utter and an awkward stranger. Did many envy 
 this child of fortune ? They might have spared their 
 envy. Left in his original obscurity he had been a 
 happy peasant, whistling his way home from the plough 
 to a thatch-roofed cottage, or on winter nights, and 
 around the blazing faggots, laughing loud and merry 
 among unpolished boors. Child of misfortune! he 
 buried his happiness in the grave of his benefactor. 
 Neither qualified by nature, nor fitted by education, for 
 his position, he was separated from his old, only to be 
 despised by his new associates. And how bitterly was 
 he disappointed to find, that, in exchanging poverty for 
 opulence, daily toil for luxurious indolence, humble 
 friends for more distinguished companions, a hard bed 
 for one of down, this turn in his fortunes had flung him 
 on a couch, not of roses, but of thorns ! In his case, 
 the hopes of the living and the intentions of the dead 
 were alike frustrated. The prize had proved a blank ; 
 a necessary result of this fatal oversight, that the heir 
 had not been made meet for the inheritance. 
 
 Is such training needful for an earthly estate ? How 
 much more for the “ inheritance of the saints in light ! ” 
 “ Except a man be born again, he cannot see the king- 
 dom of God.” No change to a condition however 
 lifty — no elevation from the lowest obscurity to the 
 highest honor, from abject poverty to the greatest 
 affluence, adequately represents the difference between 
 the state of sin in which grace finds us, and the state 
 of glory to which it raises us. The most ignorant and 
 debased of city outcasts, the most wretched and 
 
12 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 loathsome wanderer of these streets, is not so unfit to 
 be received into the holy bosom of a Christian family, 
 as you are, by nature, to be received into the kingdom 
 of heaven. A sinner there were more out of place 
 than a ragged beggar in a royal palace, where, all 
 gazing at his appearance with astonishment, and shrink- 
 ing back from his defiling touch, he rudely thrusts 
 himself within the brilliant circle. Compared with 
 the difference between a man, as grace finds him, and 
 heaven gets him, how feeble are all earthly distinctions ! 
 They sink into nothing. So unheavenly, in truth, is 
 our nature, that unless we were made meet for the 
 inheritance, we were no honor to it, nor were it any 
 happiness to us. 
 
 What, for instance, were the most tempting banquet, 
 to one without appetite, sick, loathing the very sight 
 and smell of food? To a man stone-deaf, what the 
 boldest blast of trumpet, the roll of drums, stirring the 
 soldier’s soul to deeds of daring valor, or the finest 
 music that ever fell on charmed ear, and seemed to 
 bear the spirit on its waves of sound up to the gates 
 of heaven? Or what, to one stone-blind, a scene to 
 which beauty has lent its charms, and sublimity its 
 grandeur — the valley clad in a many-colored robe of 
 flowers, the gleaming lake, the flashing cascade, the 
 foaming torrent, the dark-climbing forest, the brave 
 trees that cling to the frowning crags, the rocky pin- 
 nacles, and, high over all, hoary winter looking down 
 on summer from her throne on the Alps’ untrodden 
 snows ? Just what heaven would be to man with his 
 ruined nature, his low passions, and his dark guilty 
 conscience. Incapable of appreciating its holy beauties, 
 of enjoying its holy happiness, he would find nothing 
 there to delight his senses. How he would wonder in 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 13 
 
 what its pleasures lay ; and, supposing him once there, 
 were there a place of safety out of it, how he would 
 long to be away, and keep his eye on the gate to watch 
 its opening, and escape as from a doleful prison ! Such 
 an inheritance were to such a man like the gift of a 
 noble library to a plumed, painted savage. As, igno- 
 rant of letters, he stalked from hall to hall amid the 
 wisdom of bygone ages, and rolled his restless eyes 
 over the unappreciated treasures, how he would sigh 
 to be back to his native forests, where he might sit 
 among his tribe at the council-fire, or raise his war- 
 whoop, or hunt down the deer ! People talk strangely 
 of going to heaven when they die ; but what gratifica- 
 tion could it possibly afford a man whose enjoyments 
 are of a sensuous or sensual nature — whose only plea- 
 sure lies in the acquisition of worldly objects, or the 
 gratification of brutal appetites? You hope to go to 
 heaven ! I hope you will. But, unless your heart is 
 sanctified and renewed, what were heaven to you ? an 
 abhorrent vacuum. The day that took you there would 
 end all enjoyment, and throw you, a castaway, upon a 
 solitude more lonely than a desert island. Neither 
 angels nor saints would seek your company, nor would 
 you seek theirs. Unable to join in their hallowed 
 employments, to sympathise with, or even to understand 
 their holy joys, you would feel more desolate in heaven 
 than we have done in the heart of a great city, without 
 one friend, jostled by crowds, but crowds who spoke a 
 language we did not understand, and were aliens alike 
 in dress and manners, in language, blood, and faith. 
 
 It is the curse of vice, that, where its desires outlive 
 the power of gratification, or are denied the opportunity 
 of indulgence, they become a punishment and a torment. 
 Denied all opportunity of indulgence, what would a 
 
14 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 drunkard do in heaven ? Or a glutton ? Or a volup- 
 tuary ? Or an ambitious man ? Or a worldling ? one 
 whose soul lies buried in a heap of gold? Or she, 
 who, neglecting quite as much the noble purposes of 
 her being, flits, life through, a painted butterfly, from 
 flower to flower of pleasure, and wastes the day of grace 
 in the idolatry and adornment of a form which death 
 shall change into utter loathsomeness, and the grave 
 into a heap of dust? These would hear no sounds of 
 ecstasy, would see no brightness, would smell no per- 
 fumes, in paradise. But, weeping and wringing their 
 hands, they would wander up and down the golden 
 streets to bewail their death, crying — “ The days have 
 come in which we have no pleasure in them.” On that 
 eternal Sabbath — from which nor fields, nor news, nor 
 business would afford escape — what would they do, 
 who hear no music in church bells, and say of holy 
 services, “When will they be over?” Oh, the slow, 
 weary march of the hours of never-ending Sabbath 
 devotions ! Oh, the painful glare of a never-setting 
 Sabbath sun ! Than go down to hell, than perish in 
 the coming storm, they would turn their prow to 
 heaven ; but only as the last refuge of a sinking bark— 
 a safe, it may be, but yet a friendless shore. Unlike 
 the happy swallows which David envied, thy altar, 
 0 God, is the very last spot where many would choose 
 to build their nests ! 
 
 Such is by nature the disposition of all of us. “ The 
 heart is desperately wicked.” “ The carnal mind” has 
 an aversion to spiritual duties, and an utter distaste for 
 spiritual enjoyments. Nor is that all the truth. How- 
 ever it may lie concealed, like a worm in the bud, “ the 
 carnal mind is enmity against God.” Illustrating the 
 familiar adage, “ out of sight, out of mind,” this feeling 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 15 
 
 may lie dormant so long as our enemy is unseen. But, 
 let him appear, and his presence opens every old wound 
 afresh, and fans the smoldering enmity into flame. 
 Therefore, the heaven that purifies the saint would but 
 exasperate the hatred of the sinner ; and the more 
 God’s holiness and glory were revealed, the more would 
 this enmity be developed — -just as the thicker the dews 
 fall on decaying timber, the faster the timber rots ; and 
 the more full the sunshine on a noxious plant, the more 
 pestilent its juices grow. It is not in polar regions, 
 where the day is night, and the showers are snow, and 
 the rivers are moving ice, and slanting sunbeams fall 
 faint and feeble, but in the climes where flowers are 
 fairest, and fruits are sweetest, and fullest sunshine 
 warms the air and lights a cloudless sky, that nature 
 prepares her deadliest poisons. There the snake sounds 
 its ominous rattle, and the venemous cobra lifts her 
 hood. Even so sin, could it strike root in heaven, 
 would grow more rankly, more hating and more hateful 
 than on earth, and man would cast on God an eye of 
 deeper and intenser enmity. 
 
 Hence the need of being made, by a change of heart, 
 new creatures in Jesus Christ. Hence, also, the need, 
 which by reason of indwelling and remaining corrup- 
 tion, even God’s people daily feel, of getting, with a 
 title to the heavenly inheritance, a greater meetness 
 for it. In other words, you must be sanctified as well 
 as saved. This work, so necessary, as we have seen, in 
 the very nature of things, has been assigned to the 
 Holy Spirit. It was the office of the Son to purchase 
 heaven for the heirs. And it is the office of the Spirit 
 to prepare the heirs for heaven. Thus renewed, puri- 
 fied, and at length wholly sanctified, we shall carry a 
 holy nature to a holy place, and be presented “ faultless,, 
 
16 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 before the presence of his glory, with exceeding joy.” 
 But observe, more particularly, 
 
 IV. As heaven is the gift of God, our meetness for 
 it is the work of God. 
 
 In my text, the apostle calls for thanks unto the 
 Father. For by whatever instruments God executes 
 his work, whether the means he uses to sanctify his 
 people be dead books, or living ministers, be sweet or 
 severe, common or striking providences, the work is 
 not theirs, but his. Owing him, then, no less praise 
 for the Spirit who makes us meet for the inheritance, 
 than for the Son who purchased it, we give thanks to 
 God. The church weaves the three names into one 
 doxology, singing, “ Glory be to the Father, and to 
 the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.” 
 
 Let me illustrate this point by a reference to the 
 case of Lazarus. On the day when he was raised from 
 the dead, Lazarus had two things to thank Christ for. 
 His gratitude was due for what Jesus did without 
 human instrumentality, and also for what he did by it ; 
 both for the “Lazarus come forth!” that rent the 
 grave, and for the “ Loose him and let him go ! ” that 
 rent the grave-clothes ; not only for life, but for the 
 liberty without which life had been a doubtful blessing. 
 Doubtful blessing ! What enjoyment had there been 
 in life so long as the face-cloth was left on his eyes, 
 and his limbs were bound fast in the cerements of the 
 tomb ? He emerges from the grave’s black mouth a 
 living, yet a startling, hideous object, from whose ap- 
 palling form the crowd reels back, and terror-stricken 
 sisters might be excused for shrinking. Shrouded like 
 a corpse, smelling of the noisome grave, with the yellow 
 linen muffling eyes and mouth, every door had been 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 17 
 
 shut against him, and the streets of Bethany cleared of 
 flying crowds by such a frightful apparition. Who 
 would have sat beside him at the feast ? Who would 
 have worshiped with him in the synagogue ? A public 
 terror, shunned by his dearest friends, to him life 
 had been no boon ; but a burden — a heavy load from 
 which he had sought relief, where many a weary one 
 has found it, in the deep oblivion of the tomb. Had 
 Christ done no more than bid Lazarus live, I can fancy 
 his unhappy friend imploring him to resume the gift, 
 saying, Take it back ; let me return to the quiet grave ; 
 the dead will not shun me ; and I shall say to corrup- 
 tion, “ Thou art my father ; and to the worm, Thou 
 art my mother and my sister .’ 7 
 
 In these circumstances, the conduct of our Lord 
 illustrates that grace which, in whomsoever it begins 
 a good work, will carry it on to the day of the Lord 
 Jesus. Pointing to Lazarus — who was, perhaps, en- 
 deavoring at that moment, like a newly-awakened 
 sinner, to fling off his shroud, and be free — he addresses 
 the spectators, saying, “ Loose him, and let him go ! 77 
 And thus God deals with renewed souls. Liberty 
 follows life. To His Holy Spirit, and, in a subordinate 
 sense, to providence in its dealings, to ministers in the 
 pulpit, to parents, teachers, and all other human instru- 
 ments, he says, Undo the bonds of sin — loose them, and 
 let them go ! 
 
 Now, to bring the subject home, have we not merely 
 fancied, but have we felt, have we solid scriptural 
 ground for believing, that the same spirit-freeing words 
 have been spoken of us ? Have we been freed from 
 habits that were to us as grave-clothes ? And, emanci- 
 pated from passions which once enslaved us, are we 
 now, at least in some measure, doing what David under- 
 
18 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 took, when he said, “ I will run the way of Thy com- 
 mandments, when Thou shalt enlarge my heart ? ” In 
 growing holiness — in heavenly desires that, flame-like, 
 shoot upward to the skies — in godly resolutions that 
 aim at, if they do not always attain, a lofty mark — “ in 
 the lust of the flesh,” and the “ pride of life,” nailed to 
 a cross where, if not yet dead, they are dying daily — 
 in holy sorrows that, like a summer cloud, while they 
 discharge their burden in tears, are spanned by a bow 
 of hope — in longings that aspire after a purer state and 
 a better land — in these things have you at once the 
 pledge of heaven and the meetness for it ? If so, “ this 
 is the Lord’s doing ; it is marvelous in our eyes.” 
 As delightful as marvelous ! What joy, what peace 
 should it impart to the hearts of those who, feeling 
 themselves less than the least of God’s mercies, un- 
 worthy of a crust of bread or of a cup of water, hail in 
 these the bright tokens of a blood-bought crown — that 
 coming event which casts its shadow before ! 
 
 But if, without this meetness, you are indulging the 
 hope that, when you die, you will succeed to the inheri- 
 tance — ah ! how shall the event, the dreadful reality, 
 undeceive you ! Ponder these words, I pray you, 
 “ Without holiness, no man shall see the Lord,” “ With- 
 out are dogs,” “ There shall in no wise enter into it 
 anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh 
 abomination, or rnaketh a lie ; but they which are 
 written in the Lamb’s book of life.” Let no man delude 
 himself ; or believe that cunning devil, who — unlike 
 the ugly toad that, seated squat by the ear of Eve, 
 filled her troubled mind with horrid dreams — hovers 
 over him in the form of a benignant angel, charming 
 away his fears with “ peace, pea :*e, when there is no 
 peace.” Believe me, that the only proof that God has 
 
THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 19 
 
 chosen us is, that we have chosen him. The distin- 
 guishing mark of heirs is some degree of meetness for 
 the heirship. In saints, the spirit is willing even when 
 the flesh is weak ; the body lags behind the soul ; the 
 affections outrun the feet ; and the desires of those who 
 are bound for heaven, are often far on the road before 
 themselves. By these signs thou mayest know thyself. 
 Can you stand that touchstone ? 
 
 Ere autumn has tinted the woodlands, or the corn- 
 fields are falling to the reaper’s song, or hoary hill-tops, 
 like gray hairs on an aged head, give warning of 
 winter’s approach, I have seen the swallow’s brood 
 pruning their feathers, and putting their long wings to 
 the proof ; and, though they might return to their nests 
 in the window-eaves, or alight again on the house-tops, 
 they darted away in the direction of sunny lands. 
 Thus they showed that they were birds bound for a 
 foreign clime, and that the period of their migration 
 from the scene of their birth was nigh at hand. Grace 
 also has its prognostics. They are infallible as those 
 of nature. So, when the soul, filled with longings to 
 be gone, is often darting away to glory, and, soaring 
 upward, rises on the wings of faith, till this great world, 
 from her sublime elevation, looks a little thing, God’s 
 people know that they have the earnest of the Spirit. 
 These are the pledges of heaven — a sure sign that their 
 “ redemption draweth nigh.” Such devout feelings 
 afford the most blessed evidence tnat, with Christ by 
 the helm, and “ the wind,” that “ bloweth where it 
 listeth,” in our swelling sails, we are drawing nigh to 
 the land that is afar off ; even as the reeds, and leaves, 
 and fruits that float upon the briny waves, as the birds 
 of strange and gorgeous plumage that fly round his 
 ship and alight upon its yards, as the sweet-scented 
 
20 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 odors which the wind wafts out to sea, assure the weary 
 mariner that, ere long, he shall drop his anchor, and 
 end his voyage in the desired haven. 
 
8 ft* fsaw of 
 
 Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness.-— C olossians i. 13. 
 
 The stories of subterranean caves, where brilliant 
 diamonds, thickly studding vaulted roof and fretted 
 walls, supply the place of lamps, are fancies — child- 
 hood’s fairy-tales. Incredible as it may appear to 
 ignorance, on whose admiring eyes it flashes rays of 
 light, science proves that the diamond is formed of the 
 very same matter as common, dull, black coal. It 
 boasts no native light ; and dark in the darkness as 
 the mud or rock where it lies imbedded, it shines if 
 with a beautiful, yet with a borrowed splendor. How 
 meet an emblem of the jewels that adorn the Saviour’s 
 crown ! 
 
 Besides, like many a gem of man and woman kind, 
 the diamond is of humble origin. Its native state is 
 mean. It lies buried in the deep bowels of the earth ; 
 and in that condition is almost as unfit to form a grace- 
 ful ornament, as the stones that pave our highways, as 
 the rudest pebble which ocean, in her play, rolls upon 
 the beach. Unlike many other crystals, it is foul., 
 encrusted with dirt, and inelegant in form — flashing 
 with none of that matchless lustre which makes it after- 
 wards appear more like a fragment struck from star or 
 sun, than a product of this dull, cold world. That it 
 may glow, and sparkle, and burn with many-colored 
 fires, and change into a thing of beauty, it has to 
 undergo a rough, and, had it our sensibilities of nerve 
 
 ( 21 ) 
 
22 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 and life, a painful process. The lapidary receives it 
 from the miner ; nor, till he has ground the stone on 
 his flying wheel, and polished it with its own dust, does 
 it pass into the hands of the jeweller to be set in a 
 golden crown, or become the brightest ornament of 
 female loveliness. Through a corresponding prepara- 
 tion Christ’s saints have to go. Are you saved ? you 
 have to be sanctified. Are you redeemed ? you have 
 to be renewed. You are polluted, and require to be 
 purified ; and, as all know who have experienced it, at 
 a great cost of pain and self-denial, sin has to be erad- 
 icated — utterly destroyed ; in respect of its dominant 
 power, cast out. This fulfils the prayer, “ The very 
 God of peace sanctify you wholly ; ” and for this, as 
 forming that meetness for the inheritance, which was 
 the subject of my last address, the saints are now either 
 offering up prayer on earth, or, better far, praise and 
 thanks in heaven. 
 
 But as the gem, ere it is polished, must be brought 
 from the mine and its naturally base condition, so, ere 
 those whom Christ has redeemed with his blood can be 
 sanctified by his Spirit, they must be called and con- 
 verted ; they must be brought into a new condition ; 
 or, in the words of my text, “ delivered from the power 
 of darkness,” and “ translated into the kingdom cf 
 God’s dear Son.” This, which is the subject before us 
 now, calls our attention to the greatest of all changes. 
 I say the greatest ; one even greater than the marvel- 
 ous transition which takes place at the instant of 
 death — from dying struggles to the glories of the skies. 
 Because, while heaven is the day of which grace is the 
 dawn ; the rich, ripe, fruit of which grace is the lovely 
 flower ; the inner shrine of that most glorious temple 
 to which grace forms the approach and outer court, — 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 23 
 
 in passing from nature to grace you did not pass from 
 a lower to a higher stage of the same condition — from 
 daybreak to sunshine, but from darkest night to dawn 
 of day. Unlike the worm which changes into a winged 
 insect, or the infant who grows up into a stately man, 
 you became, not a more perfect, but “ a new creature” 
 in Jesus Christ. And with deepest gratitude to Him 
 who, filled with pity, and for “ his great love where- 
 with he loved us , 77 left heaven to save us, let us 
 now consider our original state — “ look unto the rock 
 whence we are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence 
 we are digged . 77 
 
 I. Look at our state of nature and sin as one of 
 darkness. 
 
 In its essential nature, sin is as opposed to holiness 
 as darkness is to light ; and as different, therefore, from 
 holiness, as a starless midnight from the blaze of noon- 
 day. Our natural state is therefore, because of its sin- 
 fulness, represented by the emblem of darkness. How 
 appropriate and how expressive the figure ! Hence, in 
 describing the condition of the heathen, those who 
 neither know God, nor Him whom to know is life eter- 
 nal, the Bible says, The darkness shall cover the earth, 
 and gross darkness the people. Hence, those ancient 
 prophets who lived in the morning of the church — and 
 in the rosy east, and clouds already touched with gold, 
 saw a sun beneath the horizon hastening to his rise — 
 hailed Jesus as a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the 
 glory of His people Israel. Hence also, inasmuch 
 as he reveals saving truth, redeems from sin, and shines 
 upon the path he himself has opened to heaven, Jesus 
 stood before the multitude, and said, as he raised his 
 hand to the blazing sun, “ I am the light of the world.” 
 
24 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 Jesus! Thy people’s shield, thou art also thy people’s 
 sun ; a shield that never broke in battle, and a sun 
 that never sets in night ; the source of all the knowl- 
 edge that illumes, and of all the love that warms us ; 
 with healing, as well as heating virtue in thy beams, 
 thou art “ The sun of righteousness with healing in his 
 wings.” 
 
 To that emblem of our Saviour, so splendid and yet 
 so simple, science imparts additional appropriateness, 
 if the theory be true that accounts for those vast stores 
 of light and heat which we extract from dead dark 
 coal. The coal, which we raise from the bowels of the 
 earth, once grew upon its surface. Some ten or twenty 
 thousand years ago, it formed the giant forests where 
 mighty monsters ranged at will over an unpeopled 
 world. After this rank vegetation had incorporated 
 into its substance these elements of light and heat 
 which the sun poured down from heaven, God, provi- 
 dent of the wants of a race not yet created buried it in 
 the earth ; and thus furnished the earth with ample 
 stores of fuel for the future use of man. So, when the 
 sun has set, and the birds have gone to roost, and the 
 stars have come out in the sky, and the door is shut, and 
 the curtains are drawn, and peace and happiness smile 
 on the bright family circle, it is sun-light that shines 
 from the lustres, and sun-heat that glows on the hearth. 
 But whether that speculation of science be true or false, 
 to Jesus we can trace all the light direct or derive' 7 ., 
 which illuminates the world. Heavenly fountain of the 
 love that warms and the truth that enlightens man- 
 kind, he rose like a sun on this cold benighted earth ; 
 and will be the centre around which heaven itself shall 
 roll when tides have ceased to flow below, and suns to 
 shine above. “ The city had no need of the sun, neithei 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 25 
 
 of the moon, to shine in it, for the glory of God did 
 lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.” 
 
 But, turning from the Saviour to contemplate the 
 sinner, I pray you to observe, that our state by nature 
 is one not merely of darkness, but of double darkness. 
 It is always dark, pitch dark, even at noonday, to the 
 blind ; not blazing sun, or shining stars to them. With 
 God “the night shineth as the day,” but to the urn 
 happy blind, “ He maketh the day dark with night.” 
 Yet strong as this figure is, it does not adequately re- 
 present the full misery of our condition. We had 
 neither light nor sight. That we may be saved, do 
 you not perceive that two things, therefore, must be 
 done for us? AVe require a medium to see by, as well 
 as eyes to see with ; to the revelation of the Gospel 
 must be added the regeneration of the Holy Spirit, in 
 other words, we must have in Christ an object for faith 
 to see, and in faith we must have eyes to see Christ. 
 Inhabitants of a Christian land, we possess one of these, 
 — like the Hebrews in Goshen we have a light in our 
 dwellings ; and so far we differ from the heathen, for 
 they have neither light nor sight. They live in dark- 
 ness so gross, that they do not distinguish purity from 
 pollution. They have no more idea of the way of sal- 
 vation than the blind have of colors. They do not 
 know God. Some worship a cow ; some a serpent ; 
 some a stone ; some the very Devil. In them, reason 
 crouches to adore a beast ; and man, made in the image 
 of God, bows his erect form and noble head before a 
 lifeless block. When, from the study of that instinctive 
 and unerring wisdom with which the lower animals — 
 the stork in the period of her migrations, the bee in the 
 construction of its cell — act in their allotted spheres, 
 we turn to this amazing, and all but incredible sense- 
 2 
 
26 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 lessness and stupidity of man, what an illustration have 
 we of the saying, “ If therefore the light that is in thee 
 be darkness, how great is that darkness ! 77 
 
 But we, yrho dwell in this land, as I have already 
 said, live in light. Like the angel whom John saw, 
 we stand in the sun. Comparing it with most other 
 lands, we may, at least, call our island-home a Goshen. 
 Let these boast their balmy air, and richer fruits, and 
 sunnier skies ! In our religious as well as civil advan- 
 tages, we enjoy blessings that more than compensate 
 for the gloomy fogs that veil those skies, and the 
 storms that rage on our iron-bound shores. Our lines 
 have fallen in pleasant places, and happy the land, nor 
 to be rashly left, where the light of divine truth streams 
 from a thousand printing-presses, and the candle of the 
 Lord shines bright in its humblest cottages. May I 
 not say that, with their multitude of churches, our 
 cities are illuminated every Sabbath, to celebrate the 
 triumphs of the cross, the great battle that was won on 
 the heights of Calvary, and the peace his heralds pro* 
 claim between God and man? Men do perish, yet 
 none need perish. There is no lack of knowledge. 
 The road to heaven is plain. “ The wayfaring man, 
 though a fool, shall not err therein . 77 It is better 
 lighted than any street of this city, or the rugged 
 coasts along which our seamen steer, or the harbors 
 which, over surf-beaten bars, they boldly take in win- 
 ter’s blackest night. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fulness of our light, what mul- 
 titudes are wrecked and perish ! They never reach 
 the harbor, nor arriving in heaven, get home ! And I 
 am bound to tell you that, unless He, who gave sight 
 to the blind, apply his finger, and touch your eyes with 
 “ eye-salve , 77 their fate shall be yours. What though 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 27 
 
 light streams on cur eye-balls? We are in darkness 
 till we are converted ; because we are blind — -and that 
 not by accident, but by nature — born blind. Thei e are 
 animals, both wild and domestic, which, by a strange 
 and mysterious law of Providence, are born in that 
 state. “ Having eyes, they see not.” Apparently un- 
 ripe for the birth, they leave their mother’s w r omb to 
 pass the first period of their being utterly sightless. 
 But, when some ten days have come and gone, time 
 unseals their eye-lids, and they are delivered from the 
 power of darkness. But not ten days, nor years, nor 
 any length of time, will do us such friendly office. Not 
 that we shall be always blind. Oh, how men shall see, 
 and regret in another world, the folly they were guilty 
 of in this ! Eternity opens the darkest eyes, but opens 
 them, alas, too late ; “ He lifted up his eyes, being in 
 torment.” He is a madman who braves that fate ; yet 
 it awaits you, unless you bestir yourselves, and, shaking 
 sloth away, seize the golden opportunity to pursue the 
 Saviour with the blind man’s cry, Thou Son of David, 
 have mercy on me ! ” 
 
 I can fancy few sadder sights than an entire family, 
 parents and children, all blind — a home where the 
 flowers have no beauty, the night has no stars, the 
 morning no blushing dawn, and the azure sky no 
 glorious sun — a home, where they have never looked 
 on each other’s faces ; but a blind father sits by the 
 dull fire with a blind boy on his knee, and the sightless 
 mother nurses at her bosom a sightless babe, that 
 never gladdened her with its happy smile. How would 
 such a spectacle touch the most callous feelings, and 
 move to pity even a heart of stone ! But a greater 
 calamity is ours. The eyes of our understanding are 
 darkened. Sin quenched man’s sight in Eden ; and 
 
28 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 strange result ! the event that revealed their nakednes 3 
 to our first parents, shut, closed, sealed their eyes, and 
 those also of their children, to the greater shame of 
 spiritual nakedness. Thus blind to their blindness, 
 and insensible of their need of Jesus, alas ! how many 
 allow him to pass by ! The precious opportunity of 
 salvation is lost — lost perhaps for ever. Oh, for one 
 hour of the sense and energy of the beggars that sat 
 by the gate of Jericho ! Stumbling, often falling, but 
 always to rise, they hung on the skirts of the crowd, 
 plunged headlong into the thick of it, and elbowing 
 men aside, pursued Jesus with the most plaintive, piti- 
 ful, and earnest prayer, “ Have mercy on us, 0 Lord, 
 thou Son of David ! Have mercy on us, 0 Lord, thou 
 Son of David! 77 Be yours that cry. Follow your 
 Saviour on their feet ; hang on him with the vehemence 
 of one who said, “ My soul followeth hard after thee. 77 
 Be turned by nothing from your purpose — keep follow- 
 ing, and, as you follow, crying ; and I promise you that 
 that cry will stop him as sure as Joshua 7 s pierced the 
 heavens, and stopped the glowing axles of the sun. 
 
 That we may have a deep, and, by God’s blessing, a 
 saving impression of our need of salvation, let us look 
 at some aspects of our state by nature, in the light, if I 
 may say so, of its darkness. 
 
 1. Darkness is a state of indolence. 
 
 Night is the proper period for rest. When — em- 
 blem of a Christian at his evening prayers — the lark 
 sings in the close of day, and leaves the skies to^rop 
 jnto her dewy nest ; when from distant uplands, the 
 rooks — a noisy crowd — come sailing, wheeling home; 
 when the flowers shut their beautiful eyes ; when the 
 sun, retiring within the cloudy curtains of the evening 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 29 
 
 sinks into his ocean bed, nature, however some may 
 neglect her lessons, teaches man to seek repose. So, 
 with some exceptions, all honest men and women go 
 to sleep in the dark. “ They that sleep, sleep in the 
 night and this busy world lies hushed in the arms 
 of slumber, till morning, looking in at the window, 
 calls up toil to resume her labors : and thus, when we 
 have been summoned at midnight to a bed of death, 
 how loud the foot-fall sounded in the empty thorough- 
 fare! With thousands around who gave no sign of 
 life ; with none abroad but prowling dog, or houseless 
 outcast, or some guilty wretch, with the tall, grim 
 tenements wrapped in gloom, save where student’s 
 lamp, or the faint light of a sick chamber glimmered 
 dim and drear, we have felt such awe as he might do 
 who walks through a city of the dead. Yet, in its 
 hours of deepest darkness and quietest repose, this city 
 presents no true picture of our state by nature. We 
 see it yonder where a city sleeps, while eager angels 
 point Lot’s eyes to the break of day, and urge his tardy 
 steps through the doomed streets of Sodom. A fiery 
 firmament hangs over all the unconverted ; and there 
 is need that God send his grace to do them an angel’s 
 office, saving them from impending judgments. Are 
 you still exposed to the wrath of God ? Rouse thee f 
 then, from sleep, shake off thy indolence, and leap from 
 thy bed, it is all one whether thou burn on a couch of 
 down or straw. “ Escape to the mountains, lest thou 
 be consumed,” betake you to the Saviour, lest — since 
 the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and he died 
 for the chief of sinners, and salvation is without money 
 and without price, and God is not willing that any 
 should perish — thou perish, more, in a sense, the victim 
 of thy sloth than of thy guiltiest sins. 
 
so 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 Ancient Egypt, however, supplies perhaps the best 
 illustration of the connection which subsists between a 
 state of darkness and a state of indolence. God said 
 to Moses, “ Stretch out thine hand toward heaven, that 
 there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even 
 darkness which may be felt. And Moses stretched 
 forth his hand toward heaven, and there was a thick 
 darkness in all the land of Egypt three days.” And 
 how passed these days of darkness ? They neither 
 bought nor sold ; they neither married nor buried ; 
 they neither rocked a cradle nor embalmed a corpse. 
 No hammer rang, no merry wheel went round, no 
 fire burned at the brick kiln, no women sang “ behind 
 the mill,” no busy tread sounded on the pavement, 
 nor cheerful dash of oar upon the water. An awful 
 silence reigned throughout the land ; as if every house 
 had been in a moment changed into a tomb, and each 
 living man into a mummied corpse, they sat motionless 
 — the king on his weary throne, the peasant in the 
 field, the weaver at his loom, the prisoner in his dun- 
 geon. As in the story of some old romance, where a 
 bold knight, going in quest of adventures, sounds his 
 horn at the castle gate, and, getting no response, enters 
 to find king, courtiers, servants, horses, all turned into 
 stone ; they sat, spell-bound, where the darkness seized 
 them. “ They saw not one another, neither rose any 
 from his place for three days.” 
 
 Still greater wonder ! many a man in this world 
 has not risen from his place, I say not for three days, 
 nor for three years, but ten times three years and more. 
 He is no nearer heaven than he was a long time ago. 
 Borne on, indeed, by the ever-flowing stream of time, 
 and ever-downward course of sin, alas ! he is nearer the 
 brink of hell. Perilous indolence ! God says, “ labor 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 31 
 
 not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat 
 which endureth unto everlasting life,” “ give diligence 
 to make your calling and election sure/ 7 “ seek ye the 
 Lord while he may be found/ 7 and, therefore, I say, be 
 up and doing ; time is short, the stake is great, death 
 is at the door, and if he find you out of Christ, damna- 
 tion ig at his heels. “ And I looked, and behold a pale 
 horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and 
 Hell followed with him. 77 Of your many calls and 
 opportunities, is this all the result ? Half awakened, 
 yet unwilling to tear yourself from the arms of pleas- 
 ure, do you avert your eyes from the light? angry per- 
 haps at being disturbed, perhaps half sorrowful do you 
 bid us come back at “ a more convenient season ? 77 
 Drowsily turning on your deceitful couch, do you say, 
 “Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of 
 the hands to sleep ? 77 Then, in God 7 s name, I ask 
 what shall be the end of these things ? The end of 
 these things is death. 
 
 2. Darkness is a state of ignorance. 
 
 Conducted under the veil of night to the nuptial 
 couch, Jacob finds in the possession of Rachel, as he 
 supposes, an ample reward for the seven long years of 
 weary work and waiting. She whom his heart wooed 
 and his hands won, is now his wedded wife. He wakes 
 a happy man, neither suspecting how God had punish- 
 ed him for the deceit he practised on his old, blind 
 father, nor how Laban, a greater master of craft than 
 himself, had substituted the elder for the younger 
 daughter. Dancy his confusion, when he turns, by the 
 rosy light of morn, to gaze on his beautiful bride, to 
 find the blear-eyed Leah at his side. Yet a day ap- 
 proaches when, from dreams of wealth and pleasure 
 
32 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 many shall awake in rage and unavailing sorrow, to 
 the discovery of a greater mistake. What Jacob’s 
 mistake to his who, embracing pleasure, wakens to 
 find himself in the arms of a hideous demon, dragging 
 him down — struggling, shrieking, into the lowest hell ? 
 
 But if we would see spiritual darkness represented 
 on a scale in any degree commensurate with the multi- 
 tude of its victims, and with its destructive power, let 
 us turn to the host of Midian. The memorable night 
 has come when, animated by a divine courage, Gideon 
 leads his three hundred to the bold assault. Silently 
 he plants them around the enemy’s lines, waiting till 
 song and revel have died away, and that mighty 
 host lies buried in stillest slumbers. Then, one trum- 
 pet blows loud and clear, startling the wary sentinel 
 on his round. Tie stops, he listens, and ere its last 
 echoes have ceased, the whole air is torn with battle- 
 notes. Out of the darkness trumpet replies to trumpet, 
 and the blast of three hundred, blown loud and long, 
 wakens the deepest sleeper, filling the ear of night with 
 a dreadful din, and the hearts of the bravest with 
 strange and sudden fear. Ere they can ask what mean, 
 whence come these sounds, a sight as strange blazes up 
 through the murky night. Three hundred torch-fires 
 pierce the gloom, and advance in flaming circle on the 
 panic-stricken camp. Suddenly extinguished, once 
 more all is dark ; then, as if the dust of the whirlwind, 
 or the sands of the desert, or the leaves of the forest, 
 had turned into armed men, ready to burst on that un- 
 circumcised host ; in front, on their rear, on either 
 flank, rings the Hebrews’ battle cry : “ The sword of 
 the Lord and of Gideon !” For dear life the Midian* 
 ites draw ; mistaking friend for foe, they bury their 
 swords in each other’s bosoms. Wild with terror, 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 33 
 
 stricken mad with pain, each man seizes his fellow by 
 the beard, giving and receiving mortal wounds. And 
 so, not by the arms of Gideon, so much as by the hand 
 of the darkness, was skill outwitted, and bravery de- 
 feated, and that mighty army routed and slain. Such 
 is the pow^ of darkness ! Yet what is that dying host 
 to one lost soul ! 
 
 Ugliness and beauty, friend and foe, are all one in 
 the dark. And so are all roads when the belated tra- 
 veller cannot see his finger before him, and the watery 
 pool throws off no gleam, and earth and sky appear a 
 solid mass of darkness. Unconscious of danger, and 
 dreaming of a home he shall never more see, he draws 
 near the precipice ; his foot is on its grassy edge, 
 another step, one loud shriek, and there he lies, a 
 bleeding mass, beneath the crag. Nor when night 
 comes down upon the deep in fog, or rain, or blinding 
 drift, can the ill-starred mariner distinguish the rock 
 from the sea, or a wrecker’s fire from the harbor lights ; 
 thus showing us how many sinners perish — the dark- 
 ness is the cause of their death. They are lost, victims 
 to the “ power of darkness.” 
 
 The greatest of all mistakes is to miss the path to 
 heaven. Yet see how many, turning from Christ, who 
 says, “ I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” in 
 the darkness of their understandings, and the de- 
 pravity of their hearts, have missed, and are missing 
 it? Some think that their charities, and public use- 
 fulness, and household duties, will save them. Some 
 think, by going the round and lifeless routine of 
 prayers, and preachings, and sacraments, and outward 
 services, that they will certainly secure the favor of 
 God. Some think they may go on in sin, and for a 
 while longer dare the danger, and then put up the 
 2 * 
 
84 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 helm — veering round when they like on the other 
 tack ; while many fancy that they are on the road to 
 heaven, when every step they take, and every day they 
 live, is carrying them farther and farther away. 
 Others regard religion as a thing of gloom ; they 
 reckon the friends of their souls to be the enemies of 
 their happiness. Infatuated men ! they fly from the 
 voice of the Shepherd to throw themselves into the 
 jaws of the wolf. Nay, there are some plunged in yet 
 deeper moral darkness, who remind me of a convict 
 whom I saw in the Hulks — that frightful concentra- 
 tion of villany and crime. He had seated himself os- 
 tentatiously on a bench. With no blush burning on 
 his beardless cheek, but with an expression rather of 
 satisfaction in his face, the boy was polishing the fetter 
 on his ankle. Poor wretch, he was vain of its silvery 
 sheen, and raised sad thoughts in us of pity and worn 
 der at the darkness of his neglected soul. And yet 
 more dark and dreadful is the state of many who 
 would once have said of the life they now lead, “ Is 
 thy servant a dog that he should do this great thing?” 
 Gone in iniquity, they boast, with unblushing face, of 
 the victims whom they have seduced ; of the abomin- 
 able debaucheries which they practise ; of virtue en- 
 snared by their villanous arts ; of simple, unsuspecting 
 honesty they have overreached ; of their scorn for re- 
 ligion, of their contempt of its professors, and their 
 loose, licentious freedom from its holiest bonds. They 
 blazon their sins upon their foreheads, and, parading 
 them before the world, glory in their shame. 
 
 No man wishes, no man intends, to go to Hell. 
 And who, that was not plunged in the ignorance of 
 deepest darkness, would choose death rather than life, 
 would embrace sin rather than the Saviour, would 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 35 
 
 wave away tlie cup of salvation to seize a poisoned 
 chalice, and drink down damning draughts of forbid 
 den pleasure? May God enlighten your eyes lest you 
 sleep the sleep of death ! Be not deceived. The tale 
 of the goblet, which the genius of a heathen fashioned, 
 was true ; and taught a moral of which many a death- 
 bed furnishes the melancholy illustration. Having 
 made the model of a serpent, he fixed it in the bottom 
 of the cup. Coiled for the spring, a pair of gleaming 
 eyes in its head, and in its open mouth fangs raised to 
 strike, it lay beneath the ruby wine. Nor did he who 
 raised that golden cup to quench his thirst, and quaff 
 the delicious draught, suspect what lay below, till as 
 he reached the dregs, that dreadful head rose up and 
 glistened before his eyes. So, when life’s cup is nearly 
 emptied, and sin’s last pleasure quaffed, and unwilling 
 lips are draining the bitter dregs, shall rise the ghastly 
 terrors of remorse, and death, and judgment, upon the 
 despairing soul. Be assured, a serpent lurks at the 
 bottom of guilt’s sweetest pleasure. To this awful 
 truth may God, by his own word and Holy Spirit, open 
 your eyes ! Seeing the serpent, seized with holy hor- 
 ror at the sight, may you fling the temptation from 
 you ; and turn to Him, who, with love in his heart, 
 and kindness in his looks, and forgiveness on his lips, 
 and the cup of salvation held out in his hand, cries, 
 “ If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.” 
 Here, believe me, is peace that passeth understanding ; 
 here are joys that will bear the morning’s reflection, 
 pleasures that are for evermore. 
 
Sb* § 0 tm* at f}8rftti*jg*. 
 
 (continued.) 
 
 Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness. — Colossians i. 13. 
 
 Sailing once along a coast where a friend had suf* 
 fered shipwreck, the scene which recalled his danger 
 filled us with no fear. Because, while his ship, on the 
 night she ran ashore, was cutting her way through the 
 densest fog, we were ploughing the waters of a silver 
 sea, where noble headlands, and pillared cliffs, and 
 scattered islands, and surf-beaten reefs, stood bathed 
 in the brightest moonshine. There was no danger, 
 just because there was no darkness. 
 
 The thick and heavy haze is, of all hazards, that 
 which the wary seaman holds in greatest dread. It 
 exposes him to accidents which neither care nor skill 
 can avert. In a moment his bark may go crashing on 
 the treacherous rock, or, run down by another ship, fill 
 and founder in the deep. Rather than a glassy sea, 
 wrapped in gloom, give him the roaring storm and its 
 mountain billows, with an open sky above his head, 
 and wide sea-room around. And, in a sense, is it not 
 so with a Christian man? Give him the light of 
 heaven — let him enjoy both a clear sense of his inter- 
 est in Christ, and a clear sight of his duty to Christ, 
 and, in the midst of trials and temptations, how nobly 
 he rides over them ! He rises on the waves which 
 
 [36] 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 37 
 
 seemed about to overwhelm him, and holds on his 
 course to heaven — safer in the storm than others are 
 in the calm. Enjoying the sunshine of God’s counte- 
 nance within his soul, and the light of God’s word on 
 his path of duty, the man is cheerful where others are 
 cast down ; he sings w T hen others weep ; when others 
 tremble, he is calm, perhaps even jubilant ; and, the 
 Lord his Saviour, because his sun, he adopts the brave 
 words of David, saying, “ The Lord is my light and 
 my salvation ; whom shall I fear ? The Lord is the 
 strength of my life ; of whom shall I be afraid ? ” 
 
 In resuming the subject of the previous discourse, 
 this leads me to remark — 
 
 3, That darkness is a state of danger. As locks and 
 bars prove, neither life nor property is safe by night as 
 they are by day. Honesty, having nothing to blush 
 for or to conceal, pursues her business in open day ; 
 but crime seeks the cover of the night. And wdiat is 
 that thief, prowling abroad like a fox, and with stealthy 
 foot creeping along under shadow of the wall ; what 
 that assassin, searching the gloom, and listening for the 
 step of his victim’s approach ; what she, who, issuing 
 from a den of sin, and throwing the veil of night over 
 painted cheek and faded finery, lurks in the streets for 
 her prey — what are these, but types of him who is the 
 enemy of man, and takes advantage of spiritual dark- 
 ness to ensnare or assault God’s children, and to ruin 
 poor thoughtless sinners. 
 
 Such danger is there in darkness, that people have 
 perished within reach of home, almost at their own 
 door. So it befell one who was found in a winter 
 morning stretched cold and dead on a bed of snow — 
 her glazed eyes and rigid form contrasting strangely 
 
83 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 with her gay attire. She began the night with dances, 
 and ended it with death. She leaves the merry revels 
 of a marriage-scene for her home across the mountain. 
 The stars go out, and the storm comes on. Bewildered 
 by the howling tempest, and the blinding drift, and the 
 black night, she loses her way. Long the struggle lasts. 
 At length, worn out and benumbed, she stretches her 
 fragile form on that fatal bed, and, amid dreams, per- 
 haps, of dances, and song, and merriment, she sinks into 
 the sleep that knows no waking. Nor was it when 
 snows were melted, and months or years had gone, that 
 her withering form was found by a wandering shepherd 
 on some drear upland, in a lone mountain corrie, half 
 buried in a dark and deep morass. No. She met her 
 fate near by a friendly door, and perished in the dark- 
 ness within a step of safety. Yet not nearer, nor so 
 near it, as many are to salvation, who yet are lost. 
 They die by the very door of heaven. The Apostle 
 tells us how, “ The god of this world hath blinded the 
 minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the 
 glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, 
 should shine unto them . 77 The darkness is their death. 
 
 And while no night ever came down so black and 
 starless as that which has settled on the human soul, 
 in respect of its power over men, what can be compared 
 to mental, moral, spiritual darkness ? Its chains are 
 more difficult to rend than chains of brass or iron. 
 Look at Popery ! She immures her votaries in a 
 gloomier dungeon than ever held her victims. And 
 throwing her fetters, not over the limbs, but over the 
 free mind of man, what an illustration does she give 
 of “ the power of darkness ? 77 How formidable is that 
 power which compels a man to sacrifice his reason at 
 the feet of priestcraft ; and woman, shrinking, modest, 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 39 
 
 delicate woman, to allow some foul hand to search her 
 bosom, and to drag its secrets from their close conceal- 
 ment. Best gift of heaven ! God sends them his blessed 
 word, and they dare not open it. Those senses of 
 smell, and touch, and taste, which are the voice of God. 
 declare that the cup is filled with wine, and the wafer 
 made of wheat ; but, as if their senses as well as their 
 souls were darkened, they believe that to be a living 
 man’s blood, and this to be a living man’s flesh ! 
 “ Having eyes, they see not.” And, greatest triumph 
 of darkness ! they hug their chains ; refuse instruction ; 
 stop their ears, like the deaf adder which will not hear 
 the voice of the charmer, charm he ever so wisely ; 
 and turn away their eyes from the truth, as the owls 
 that haunt some old monastic ruin from the glare of a 
 torch, or the blaze of day. How appropriate to the 
 devotees of a faith so detestable, the words of Scrip- 
 ture — “ If the light that is in you be darkness, how 
 great is that darkness ! ” 
 
 Censure, as well as charity, however, should begin 
 at home ; and therefore, to be faithful to ourselves as 
 well as just to others, we ought not to forget that 
 melancholy illustrations of the power of darkness are 
 found nearer at hand than Rome. In the face of all 
 past and much bitter experience, how many among 
 ourselves live under the delusion that, though the hap- 
 piness they seek and expect to find in the world has, 
 in all bygone time, eluded their grasp, in the object 
 they now pursue, they shall certainly embrace the 
 mocking phantom ! How many among ourselves, also, 
 are putting away the claims of Christ and of their 
 souls to what they flatter themselves shall be a more, 
 but what must be a less, convenient season ! Contrary 
 to the testimony of all who have ever tried it, do not 
 
40 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 many of us persist in believing God’s service to be a 
 weariness, and piety a life of cheerless gloom ? Many 
 regard the slavery of sin as liberty, and shun the 
 liberty of Christ as intolerable bondage. Many fancy 
 themselves to be safe, who, hanging over perdition by 
 life’s most slender thread, are “ready to perish.” 
 Talk of the delusions of Popery and the credulity of 
 Papists ! Many among us believe the barest and most 
 naked lies of the devil, rather than the plain word of 
 God. Alas! the feet of thousands here are on the 
 dark mountains ; and, unless God shall enlighten them 
 by his Spirit, the darkness, which is now their danger, 
 shall prove their death. 
 
 Were you, under the tyranny of mortal man, immured 
 in his strongest dungeon, I would not despair of your 
 escape. Within an old castle that sits picturesquely 
 perched upon a noble sea rock, and to whose crumbling 
 walls the memory of other days clings, fresh and green 
 as the ivy that mantles them, there is a sight to strike 
 men with horror. Passing under a low-browed portal, 
 where you bid farewell to the light and air of heaven, 
 a flight of broken steps conducts you down into a chill, 
 gloomy vault. In the centre of its rocky floor yawn 
 the jaws of a horrid pit. The candle, lighted and 
 swung into that dread abyss, goes down, and yet 
 deeper down, till, in an excavated dungeon in the rock, 
 it dimly reveals the horrors of a living grave. There 
 the cry for help could reach no ear but God’s ; and no 
 sound responded to the captive’s moan but the dull 
 steady stroke of the billows, as they burst on the face 
 of the crag. Into that sepulchre — where they buried 
 God’s persecuted saints — you look to shudder, and to 
 say, “ for them hope was none.” Yet immure a man in 
 that — in the darkest, strongest dungeon despot has ever 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 41 
 
 built, and give him hope for a companion, liberty for 
 his bosom-wish, a brave heart, a stout hand, and, some 
 morning, his goaler enters to find the cage empty, and 
 the bird flown. But, for you that are under the power 
 of darkness — for you, who are at once the servants and 
 slaves and captives of the Prince of Darkness — for 
 you, whom he first blinds, and then binds, there is no 
 help in man. 
 
 There is help in God. Sin never wove, in hottest 
 hell-fires the devil never forged, a chain, which the 
 Spirit of God, wielding the hammer of the word, 
 cannot strike from fettered limbs. Put that to the test. 
 Try the power of prayer. Let continued, constant, 
 earnest, wrestling prayer be made for those that are 
 chained to their sins, and, so to speak, thrust “ into 
 the inner prison , 77 and see whether, as on that night 
 when Peter was led forth by the angel 7 s hand, your 
 prayers are not turned into most grateful praises. 
 From the belly of the whale, from the depths of ocean, 
 from the darkness of a perpetual night, God brought up 
 Jonah to sunny shores and lightsome liberty. And let 
 that same God hear from vilest lips the cry of danger 
 — Lord save me, I perish — the cry of earnest desire, of 
 lowly penitence, of an awakened conscience, of humble 
 faith, and he shall save them by a great deliverance. 
 He will bow his heavens and come down. True to 
 his word, he, who never said to any of the sons of men, 
 “ Seek ye me in vain , 77 will deliver from the power of 
 darkness, and translate into the “ kingdom of his dear 
 Son . 77 
 
 Having from these words considered our state of 
 nature under the emblem of darkness, I would now 
 remark — 
 
42 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 II. That even God’s people remain in more or less 
 darkness, so long as they are here. 
 
 1. They may be in darkness through ignorance. 
 Their eyes have been divinely opened, and they can say 
 with the man of old, “ This I know, that I once was 
 blind, but now I see.” Having received “ the truth as 
 it is in Jesus,” and abandoned the works of darkness, 
 they are therefore called k ‘ the children of light, and 
 the children of the day.” Yet all of them do not enjoy 
 the same measure of light, nor are they all possessed of 
 equal powers of sight. Skies differ, and eyes differ ; 
 and hence those conflicting views which have separated 
 brother from brother, and rent Christ’s church into so 
 tnany most unfortunate and lamentable divisions. 
 
 It is easy to understand how this happens. Let 
 objects be looked at through an imperfect light, and 
 how different the appearance from the reality ! What 
 mistakes we fall into ! In the gray morning, I have 
 seen the fog-bank that filled the valley wear the aspect 
 of a lake, where every wood-crowned knoll lay as a 
 beautiful island, asleep on its placid bosom. How often 
 has superstition fled, pale, shrieking from the church- 
 yard to report to gaping rustics that the dead were 
 walking ; when it was but the pale moonlight struggling 
 through the waving branches of the old elms, that had 
 transformed some grave-stone into a sheeted spectre ! 
 And, seen through a mist, the very sun itself is shorn 
 of its glorious splendor, turned into a dull, red, copper 
 ball ; while mean objects, regarded through the same 
 false medium, acquire a false dignity — bushes are mag- 
 nified into trees, and the humble cottage rises into a 
 stately mansion. And do not God’s people fall into as 
 great mistakes, when they look at divine truth through 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 43 
 
 their defective vision, and through the mist of those 
 passions and prejudices that are common to our poor 
 humanity? There should be much more latitude al- 
 lowed for those differences of opinion which are insep- 
 arable from our present state ; but, forgetting to temper 
 the ardent zeal with the loving and liberal spirit of the 
 great Apostle, Christian men have allowed differences 
 to grow up into quarrels, and quarrels to ripen into 
 divisions, till they, who once took sweet counsel together, 
 and walked to the house of God in company, part, say- 
 ing, “ Can two walk together, except they be agreed ? 
 A time approaches, blessed be God, when this unseemly 
 state of matters shall cease. According to old legends, 
 the ghosts all vanished at cock-crowing. And, as the 
 day dispersed the spectres, and the rolling away of the 
 mist from the landscape rolls away also the mistakes 
 it led to, even so, when the day of the Lord comes, it 
 will settle all controversies — great and small. In 
 “the seven-fold 77 light of Zion, God 7 s children shall 
 see “eye to eye . 77 They shall not only behold “Him 
 as he is , 77 and “the truth 77 as it is, but, with loving 
 surprise, their brethren as they are. There shall be 
 no differences, because there shall be no darkness. 
 “ Now we see through a glass darkly ; but then face to 
 face ; now I know in part ; but then shall I know, even 
 also as I am known . 77 
 
 Meanwhile, He, who is sovereign in his dealings, 
 and gives no account of His ways, has not equally dis- 
 tributed the light of saving truth ; nor is there anything 
 in the kingdom of grace corresponding to a remarkable 
 fact in nature. Under the equator each day consists 
 of twelve hours of light, and as many of darkness, the 
 whole year round. But pass by one long stride to 
 the polar regions, and, according as the season is sum- 
 
44 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 mer or winter, you stand beneath a sky which either 
 enjoys perpetual day, or is wrapped in perpetual night. 
 There, Dr. Kane and his ship’s crew, for instance, never 
 saw the sun for one hundred and forty long and weary 
 days ; but were left, as in those Pagan lands on which 
 the gospel has never shone, tou nbroken night. During 
 all that long period the sun never rose above the horizon 
 to cheer their icy prison with one beam of light. Yet, 
 taking the whole year round, the inhabitants of these 
 dreary climes have the same period of light as we and 
 others ; for theirs are nightless summers, on which 
 the stars never rise, and the sun never sets, but wheels 
 his burning chariot round and round the pole. Now, 
 in regard to saving light and knowledge, we find 
 nothing corresponding to this phenomenon. Strange 
 mysterious providence ! there is no such equal diffusion 
 of gospel truth. We dare not doubt that God’s ways 
 are equal, and that eternity will shed a wondrous 
 and glorious light on this gloomy mystery ; but over a 
 vast surface of our unhappy world we see only dark- 
 ness — “ gross darkness” — unbroken night — nations that 
 never hailed the rising of a better sun. 
 
 But, leaving the Heathen in the hands of God, we 
 find some Christian nations in such darkness, as to 
 make it almost a marvel to us how they find their way 
 to heaven. I cannot, and would not doubt, that the 
 Church of Rome, for instance, has true saints within 
 her — chosen ones, who shall be plucked as brands from 
 the fire, cast out, like praying Jonah, safe upon the 
 land. Still, within that church the people enjoy at 
 best “ a dim religious light.” The gospel, permitted 
 to reach them only through blind or selfish priests^ 
 suffers like change with the sunbeam that streams 
 through the colored windows of their gorgeous but 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 45 
 
 gloomy cathedrals ; and, with a cloud of saints inter- 
 posed between him and the eye of the sinner, the 
 Saviour, like the sun behind misty vapors, stands shorn 
 of his resplendent glory. 
 
 Again, in those few countries where in full free- 
 dom to use the Bible, and in the general use of it, the 
 gospel may be said to shine with unclouded splendor, 
 God’s people do not all walk in the same degree of 
 light. Be it owing to peculiar circumstances, or to 
 some defect of vision, they are not all equally enlight- 
 ened. Some are offensively narrow-minded. Some are 
 so short-sighted that they can hardly recognize Christ’s 
 own, and therefore their own brother, unless he belong 
 to the same church, and remember the Saviour at the 
 same table with themselves. They are great upon little 
 things. More given to hate the error than love the 
 truth which they see in others, their temper is sour and 
 ungenial. I do not assert that they have not the eagle- 
 wings which rise to near communion with God, but 
 they want that long-sighted eagle-eye which discerns 
 distant objects, and embraces in its range of vision a 
 broad and wide expanse. Be ours the charity which 
 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all 
 things, endureth all things ! 
 
 Again, while some saints enjoy a clear assurance 
 of their salvation, and stretching toward heaven, be- 
 hold the land that is very far off, as seamen from 
 their outlook descry the mountain-tops, when their 
 bark is ploughing a waste of waters, and yet a long 
 way from land, there are other Christians who pass 
 their days in a state of despondency. The sun seldom 
 breaks out to cheer them. Their faith has a hard 
 fight with their fears. It is little they know of rejoic- 
 ing in the Lord, and joying in the God of their salva- 
 
46 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 tion. By help of God’s word, their compass, they 
 succeed, no doubt, in steering their way to heaven, but 
 it is over a troubled sea and under a cloudy sky ; nor 
 are they ever happy enough to be altogether delivered 
 from doubt and fear, till fears as well as faith are lost 
 in light, and they find themselves safe in glory. 
 
 Again, while some, who draw all the doctrines they 
 believe directly and freshly from the fountain of God’s 
 word, are enlightened, catholic in spirit, and sound in 
 the faith, it is otherwise with others. Calling this or 
 that man Rabbi, they yield too much submission to 
 human authority. They draw the water of life, so to 
 speak, not at the spring but at the well ; and tasting 
 of the pipe it flows through, their creed, and faith, and 
 doctrines are adulterated by a mixture of earthly, 
 though not fatal, errors. 
 
 If we allow to these views their due influence, how 
 ought they to expand our hearts, and teach us a tender 
 regard toward those from whom we differ ! Blindness 
 of mind, surely, if not willful, claims our gentle pity, 
 more even than blindness of body. We all “see 
 through a glass darkly.” Perhaps we are mistaken. 
 Perhaps our brethren are right. The possibility of this 
 should teach us to differ meekly, and to avoid, even 
 when denying the infallibility of the pope, the arro- 
 gance of one who thinks himself infallible. Of this, 
 at any rate, I am sure, that, as objects are not only 
 obscured but also magnified by mist, many points of 
 difference between Christian men appear much larger 
 now than they shall do when regarded by the serene 
 light of a deathbed, and yet more certainly in the 
 transparent atmosphere of heaven. And were it not 
 well if good men would never forget that piety, though 
 not consistent with indifference, is consistent with a 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 47 
 
 measure of error. Admit that, by heaping “ gold, 
 silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble 77 on the true 
 foundation, others have done wrong ; yet they shall be 
 saved, though as by fire. The errors of many are de- 
 lusions ; and it is both literally and figuratively true 
 that delusions of the brain are less dangerous than 
 disease of the heart. A man, through the darkness, 
 may wander to a greater or less extent from the plain, 
 patent, direct road, and yet get home. And happiest 
 though they be who pursue their journey in unclouded 
 sunshine, yet to the upright “ there ariseth light in the 
 darkness 77 — shed by the Spirit within their souls, 
 streaming down direct from heaven. And I have often 
 thought it shall be with those whose hearts beat true 
 to God and Jesus Christ, as with one who loves his 
 father and his mother, and longs once more to see their 
 faces, and to hear their voices, and after weary years 
 of exile, to dwell again among brothers and sisters 
 beneath the old roof-tree. Little light serves to show 
 him the road. Bent on getting home, he will cross 
 the mountains, and ford the river, and travel waste 
 and pathless moors through the mists of the thickest 
 day. What although errors, like exhalations from the 
 swampy ground, have risen up in many churches to 
 obscure the heavenly light? Where there is genuine 
 love to Jesus Christ, and God, and man, may we not 
 cherish the hope that there is truth enough to conduct 
 to heaven the steps of every pilgrim who is honestly 
 and earnestly inquiring the way to Zion ? “ There 
 
 shall be a highway out of Egypt . 77 “ They shall come 
 from the east and from the west, and from the north, 
 and from the south, 77 — from various climes, and from 
 diverse churches, — u and shall sit down in the kingdom 
 of God . 77 Nor do I despair of any getting to that 
 
48 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 heavenly kingdom, who, though belonging to churches 
 that are dimly lighted, can discern upon the altar the 
 one sacrifice for sin. 
 
 2. God’s people may be in darkness through sin. 
 So long as you walk in the path of his holy command- 
 ments you walk in light, walk at liberty ; you have 
 Jesus’ arm to lean on ; heaven lies straight on the 
 road before you ; and, on your path, however rough or 
 steep, there streams perpetual sunshine. In the light 
 of God’s word, and in the beams of his countenance, 
 the believer has that which imparts a genial warmth 
 to his heart ; every object, as in a sunny day, looks 
 bright and beautiful ; and the clouds which occasion- 
 ally sweep over him and discharge their burden on hi 3 
 head, are spanned, as they pass away, by a bow of 
 hope. “ Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness 
 for the upright in heart.” 
 
 “ Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation ! ” the 
 cry of one who has wandered from the paths of purity 
 and peace, leads us to speak, in such cases, of God 
 withdrawing the light of his countenance. But is it 
 not more strictly true, that, in turning aside from the 
 paths of holiness, we have withdrawn from that ? It 
 is he that descends into a pit who leaves the light, not 
 the light that leaves him. So it is with the saint — the 
 deeper he sinks into sin, the darker it grows. God 
 will not smile on his child sinning ; and that which 
 would happen to our world, were its sun withdrawn, 
 befalls his unhappy soul ; a chilling cold follows on 
 the darkness, and, but for restoring grace, death itself 
 would follow in their train. The heart, that once sang 
 like a bird, is now mute ; the beauties of religion are 
 lost to sight ; sacraments, prayers, pious services, cease 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 49 
 
 to afford their wonted pleasure ; the joys of salvation 
 — that once flowed through his heart, like silver 
 streams among flowery pastures — are congealed into 
 stillness, silence, and death ; the soul itself grows be- 
 numbed, and is seized with a lethargy that would end 
 in death, did not God send some Nathan to break the 
 spell, and to rouse the sleeper. Then, conscience 
 awakened and alarmed, in what darkness does he find 
 himself? The sun is down ; nor does a single star 
 cheer that deepest night. His mind is tortured with 
 dreadful doubts. He recalls the days of old, but only 
 to fear that he was a hypocrite or a self-deceiver. 
 Where the scriptures speak of castaways, of the un- 
 pardonable sin, of the impossibility of a renewal again 
 unto repentance, he seems to read his doom, written 
 by God’s own finger in letters of fire. Nor is the poor 
 penitent backslider saved from utter despair, but by 
 clinging to the hope of mercy through the all-cleansing 
 blood of Jesus. Led by this blessed angel to “ the 
 throne of grace,” encouraged by this blessed promise, 
 “ I will heal their backslidings and love them freely,” 
 he throws himself in the dust to cry, “ Hath God for- 
 gotten to be gracious ? ” “ Is his mercy clean gone for 
 ever ? ” “ Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation ; 
 
 and uphold me with thy free spirit.” “ Re merciful 
 unto me, 0 God ; be merciful unto me.” 
 
 These are the words of David, when under remorse 
 for most terrible crimes. But never fancy that you 
 are in no danger of losing the light of God’s favor, 
 unless you fall into a pit as deep, into sins as gross 
 and grievous, as that good man committed. Beware 
 of so great an error. No object, in its own place the 
 most innocent, nor man, nor woman, nor husband, nor 
 wife, nor child, nor bosom friend — nothing beneath the 
 B 
 
50 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 sun, not tlie heaven above it, with its holy pleasures, 
 and high society, and welcome rest, may be allowed to 
 come in between our affections and Jesus Christ. Let 
 any object whatever interpose between me and the sun, 
 and a shadow, more or less cold and dark, is the im- 
 mediate consequence ; as happens when the moon, for- 
 getting that her business is to reflect the sunbeams, not 
 to arrest them, rolls in between our world and him, to 
 turn day into night, and to shroud us in the gloom of 
 an eclipse. Even so the deep shadow of a spiritual 
 darkness may be flung over a congregation, who, allow- 
 ing the pulpit to come in between them and the cross, 
 think too much of the servant and too little of the 
 Master. May not that account for the scanty fruit of 
 a ministry from which much might have been expected? 
 God will not give his glory to another ; and they who 
 in their regards set the servant before the Master, 
 place the preacher in a position to intercept that bles- 
 sing, without which Paul may plant and Apollos water 
 but there is no increase. When Alexander offered to 
 do Diogenes any favor he might ask, the philosopher, 
 contemplating in the sun a far nobler object than the 
 conqueror of the world, and setting a higher value on 
 his beams than on the brightest rays of royalty, only 
 begged the monarch to step aside, nor stand between 
 him and the sun. However rude such answer on the 
 part of the cynic, it were a right noble speech from 
 you to any and every object that would steal your 
 heart from Christ. Let him, who is all your salvation, 
 be all your desire. Is he not “ the brightness of the 
 Fathers glory, and the express image of His person ?” 
 Fairer than the children of men, more lovely than the 
 loveliest, he is “ the chiefest among ten thousand ”■ — he 
 is “ altogether lovely.” 
 
THE POWER OF BARENESS. 
 
 51 
 
 3. God's people may be in more or less darkness as 
 to their spiritual state . It is easy to account for such 
 a case as David’s. There, spiritual darkness was both 
 the consequence and the chastisement of a sad spiritual 
 declension. It is not always so. There are cases of 
 religious desertion and despondency that do not admit 
 of being thus explained. Without any sensible falling 
 away, the shadow of Calvary has spread itself over the 
 believer’s soul ; and, filling him with awful horror, has 
 wrung from his lips that most bitter cry, “ My God, 
 my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” The mercy- 
 seat and the cross are lost in darkness. The Sun of 
 Righteousness undergoes an eclipse. Nothing is seen 
 but the lightnings, and nothing heard but the thunders 
 of Sinai — flash follows flash, and peal thunders upon 
 peal, while his sins rise up in terrible memory before 
 him. Were such your case, God has provided for it. 
 “ Who,” says he, “ is among you that feareth the Lord, 
 that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in 
 darkness, and hath no light ; let him trust in the name 
 of the Lord, and stay upon his God.” In these cases 
 God has not left his people comfortless. If, perhaps, 
 like Peter, sinking in the waves of Galilee, the light- 
 ning flashing on their foaming crests, and the thunder 
 crashing above his head, you have lost all sensible hold 
 of Christ, it does not follow that Christ has lost saving 
 hold of you. You may retain your hold when you lose 
 your sight of him. God’s people are to hang on him 
 in their seasons of deepest distress. His promises are 
 a Father’s arm ; and clinging to these, trusting to him 
 when you cannot see him, you may hope against hope, 
 and even rise to tne faith of one who said, “ Though 
 he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” 
 
 But the spiritual state of some unquestionably pious 
 
52 
 
 THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 people is not occasionally, but always more or less 
 dark. I have known such. They could not find, at 
 least they could not feel, any very satisfactory evidence 
 of their conversion. We saw it ; they did not. It 
 happened to them as to Moses. He left the mount of 
 God with the glory of his face visible to every one but 
 himself. This is not a desirable state, certainly, if for 
 no other reason than this, that he fights best, either 
 with men or devils, who fights the battle with hope at 
 his back. What so likely to make you diligent in pre- 
 paration for glory, as a clear prospect of heaven, and 
 sense of your holy calling? Who that, footsore, worn, 
 and weary, has toiled up some mountain-height, from 
 whose breezy summit he saw his distant home, has not 
 found the sight make another man of him, and — all 
 lassitude gone — send him off on his journey, with 
 bounding heart and elastic limbs? Therefore we say 
 with Paul, “ Give diligence, to make your calling and 
 election sure.” 
 
 Notwithstanding all your pains and all your prayers, 
 have you never yet attained to the joy of faith, to a 
 full assurance of salvation ? Be not “ swallowed up 
 with overmuch sorrow.” Blessed are they whose sky is 
 clouded with no doubts or fears ! With music in their 
 hearts, and their happiness blowing like those flowers 
 that fully expand their leaves, and breathe out their 
 fragrance only on sunny days, they will go up to Zion 
 with songs ; yet, although not so pleasantly, they may 
 reach home as safely who enjoy the light of the sun, 
 but never see his face. Your last hours may be like 
 hers whom John Bunyan calls Miss Fearing. She was 
 all her lifetime “ subject to bondage,” and dreaded the 
 hour of death. The summons comes. And when she 
 goes down into the waters, how does this shrinking, 
 
THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 
 
 53 
 
 trembling, timid one bear herself? Hand to hand, 
 Christian met his enemy in the valley, and so smote 
 Apollyon with the sword of the Spirit, that he spread 
 forth his dragon wings, and sped him away ; yet where 
 that bold believer was in deep waters, and all but 
 perished, this daughter of many fears found the river 
 shallow. She beheld the opposite shore all lined with 
 shining angels, and passed with a song from earth to 
 heaven. 
 
 The sun, who has struggled through clouds all day 
 long, often breaks forth into golden splendor at his 
 setting ; and not seldom, also, have the hopes that 
 never brightened life broken forth to gild the depart 
 ing hour. The fears that hung over the journey have 
 vanished at its close. The voice, that never spoke 
 with confidence before, has raised the shout of victory 
 in “ the valley of the shadow of death.” To the wondei 
 of men and the glory of God, the tongue of the dumb 
 has been unloosed — what gracious things they have 
 said ! and the blind have got their sight — what views 
 of heaven they have had ! and he, who seemed all his 
 life but a babe in Christ, has started up, like a giant and 
 a strong man armed, to grapple with the last enemy. 
 Standing in the light of life’s declining day — with 
 Satan, and the world, and the flesh, and Death himself 
 beneath his feet, he spends his last breath in the trium- 
 phant shout, “ 0 death, where is thy sting ? 0 grave, 
 where is thy victory ?” “ Thanks be to God, which 
 
 giveth me the victory through my Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 And thus God fulfils the promise, “ It shall come to 
 pass, that at evening time it shall be light.” 
 
Translated into the kingdom of his dear Son.— Colossiaxs L 18. 
 
 Inside those iron gratings that protect the ancient 
 regalia of our kingdom, vulgar curiosity sees nothing 
 but a display of jewels. Its stupid eyes are dazzled 
 by the gems that stud the crown, and sword, and 
 sceptre. The unreflecting multitude fix their thoughts 
 and waste their admiration on these. They go away 
 to talk of their beauty, perhaps to covet their posses- 
 sion ; nor do they estimate the value of the crown 
 but by the price which its pearls, and rubies, and dia- 
 monds, might fetch in the market. 
 
 The eye of a patriot, gazing thoughtfully in on these 
 relics of former days, is all but blind to what attracts 
 the gaping crowd. His admiration is reserved for 
 other and nobler objects. He looks with deep and 
 meditative interest on that rim of gold, not for its 
 intrinsic value, but because it once encircled the brow 
 of Scotland’s greatest king, — the hero of her inde- 
 pendence, Robert the Bruce. His fancy may for a 
 moment turn to the festive scenes in yonder deserted 
 palace, wdien that crown flashed amid a gay throng of 
 princes, and nobles, and knights, and statesmen, and 
 lords, and ladies, all now mouldered into dust ; but she 
 soon wings her flight to the worthier and more stirring 
 spectacles which history has associated with these sym- 
 (54) 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 55 
 
 bols of power. She sees a nation up in arras for its 
 independence, and watches with kindling eye the vary- 
 ing fortunes of the tight. It rages around these in- 
 signia. Now, she hears the shout of Bannockburn ; 
 and now, the long wail of Flodden. The events of 
 centuries, passed in weary war, roll by before her. 
 The red flames burst from lonely fortalice and busy 
 town ; the smiling vale, with its happy homesteads, 
 lies desolate ; scaffolds reek with the blood of patriots ; 
 courage grapples with despair ; beaten men on free- 
 dom’s bloody field renew the fight ; and, as the long, 
 hard struggle closes, the kingdom stands up like one 
 of its own rugged mountains, — the storms that ex- 
 pended their violence on its head, have left it ravaged, 
 and seamed, and shattered, but not moved from its 
 place. It is the interests that were at stake, the fight 
 for liberty, the good blood shed, the hard struggles 
 endured for its possession ; it is these, not the jewels, 
 which in a patriot’s eye make that a costly crown — a 
 relic of the olden time, worthy of a nation’s pride and 
 jealous preservation. 
 
 Regarded in some such light, estimated by the suffer- 
 ings endured for it, how great the value of that crown 
 which Jesus wears ! What a kingdom that which cost 
 God his Son, and cost that Son his life ! It is to that 
 kingdom that we have now to direct your attention ; 
 and for this purpose, let us consider — 
 
 I. The importance which Christ himself attaches to 
 his kingly claims. 
 
 There are crowns worn by living monarchy, of which 
 it would be difficult to estimate the value. The price 
 paid for their jewels is the least part of it. They cost 
 thousands of lives, and rivers of human blood ; yet in 
 
56 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHKIST. 
 
 Kis esteem, and surely in ours also, Christ’s crown out- 
 weighs them all. He gave his life for it : and alone, 
 of all monarehs, he was crowned at his coronation by 
 the hands of Death. Others cease to be kings when 
 they die. By dying he became a king. He laid his 
 head in the dust that he might become “ head over all 
 he entered his kingdom through the gates of the grave, 
 and ascended the throne of the universe by the steps 
 of a cross. 
 
 The connection between our Lord’s sufferings and 
 kingly claims marks some of the most touching scenes 
 of his history. In what character did his people 
 reject him ? It was as a king ; they cried “We will 
 not have this man to reign over us.” In what guise 
 did the soldiers ridicule and revile him ? It was as a 
 king ; “ they clothed him with purple, and platted a 
 crown of thorns, and put it about his head.” For 
 what crime was he crucified ? It was because he 
 claimed to be a king. The noble character of the 
 sufferer shone through the meanest circumstances of 
 his death, and was read in the inscription that stood 
 above his dying head, “Jesus of Nazareth the King 
 of the Jews.” His royal claims have been lightly 
 thought of, and often trampled beneath the heavy foot 
 of power. Men have dared to treat them with scorn. 
 Yet he, who is surely the best judge of their impor- 
 tance and value, has himself taught us a very different 
 lesson ; and in proof of that, let us now turn to two 
 separate occasions on which our Lord refused to abate 
 one iota of these claims — maintaining them under cir- 
 cumstances of the strongest temptation to do other- 
 wise. 
 
 Turn your eye on that desert, where, Heaven and 
 Hell watching the issue at a distance, alone and with- 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 57 
 
 out attendants, the two mightiest potentates that ever 
 met on earth, meet — not for conference, but for conflict. 
 Knowing that he has another now to deal with than a 
 guileless woman — the beautiful but fragile vessel his 
 cursed hand shattered in Eden — Satan enters the lists, 
 armed with his deepest craft. He knows that Jesus 
 stands before him, a poor man ; who, though aspiring 
 to universal empire, has neither friend nor follower, 
 neither fame nor rank. Never was deeper poverty ! 
 He presents himself before us in its most touching 
 aspect — he has neither a morsel of bread to eat, nor a 
 bed to lie on. Ever suiting the temptation to the 
 tempted, and, like a skillful general, assaulting the cita- 
 del on what he judges to be its weakest side, Satan 
 comes to Jesus with no bribe for passions so low as 
 avarice, or lust, or ease, or self-indulgence. He 
 addresses that love of power, which was his own per- 
 dition, and is the infirmity of loftiest minds. Tacitly 
 acknowledging, by the magnificence of the temptation, 
 how great is the virtue of him whom he tempts, he 
 offers him the prize of universal empire. By some 
 phantasm of diabolical power, he presents a panoramic 
 view of “ all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory 
 of them and when he thinks the spell has wrought, 
 and that he has roused the dormant passion to its 
 highest pitch, he turns round to Jesus, saying, “ All 
 these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and 
 worship .me.” He shall, and shall for ever, be king, if 
 he will for once yield up his claims, and receive the 
 kingdom at Satan’s hand. No ; neither from such 
 hands, nor on such conditions, will our Lord receive 
 the sceptre. He stands firm upon his own right to it ; 
 and, rather than yield that up, is ready to endure the 
 cross and despise the shame. He turns wi.tli holy scorn 
 3 * 
 
58 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 from the temptation, and foils the Enemy with the 
 words, “ Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and 
 him only shalt thou serve.” 
 
 Turn now to another scene. Jesus stands before 
 Pilate. Alone? Not now alone; worse than alone. 
 Deserted by the few humble friends he had, without 
 one to know him, he is confronting malignant and 
 powerful accusers. A savage crowd surrounds him. 
 Blind to his divine excellence, deaf to the calm voice 
 of reason, dead to gentle pity, they glare on him with 
 their eyes ; they gnash their teeth at him ; nor are 
 restrained but by the steady port and resolute de- 
 meanor of these Roman guards from rushing in like a 
 pack of blood-hounds, and tearing him to pieces. 
 Blessed Lord ! now, now mayest thou say, “ My soul is 
 among lions ; and I lie even among them that are set 
 on fire, even the sons of men, whose teeth are spears 
 and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword.” There, 
 in that hour, see how his life hangs on a thread, on 
 a single word. Every charge they have brought 
 against him has broken down — bursting into spray and 
 foam, as I have seen the sea-wave that has launched it- 
 self upon a rock. Leaving their witnesses to convict 
 themselves of perjury, he preserves, on his part, un- 
 broken silence. Serene and unmoved he stands the 
 cruel pelting of the storm. Shame to his chosen dis- 
 ciples, shame to his followers, shame even to the thou- 
 sands he had blessed and cured, not one is there to es- 
 pouse his cause ; and, boldly stepping out, to say, in the 
 face of that infuriate crowd, “ I know the man ; I know 
 him to be the purest, kindest, greatest, best of men. 
 Assembly of murderers ! crucify him not ; or, if you 
 will perpetrate so foul a crime, crucify me with him.” 
 Such are the circumstances in which Pilate puts his 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 59 
 
 question, “ Art thou the King of the Jews ?” On this 
 question, and our Lord’s answer, everything is now to 
 turn. The crisis has come. His fate is in the balance. 
 Let him say, no, and resign his claim — he lives ; and,, 
 the baffled crowd dividing before him like the sea of 
 old before the host of Israel, he leaves the bar for life 
 and liberty. Let hirn maintain his silence — continue 
 dumb, he is safe. Unless he compromise himself, this 
 coward judge condemns not “ innocent blood.” Have 
 you ever been present in a court of justice when the 
 bell rang, and the jury returned, and the foreman rose 
 to pronounce a verdict of death or life on the pale, 
 anxious, trembling wretch who stood before you ? 
 Then you can fancy the deep, hushed, breathless 
 silence, with which judge, and accusers, and the whole 
 multitude, bend forward to catch our Lord’s reply. 
 If he claims to be a king, he seals his fate. If he re- 
 nounces and disavows his right, the Roman sets him 
 at liberty. Our Lord foresees this. He has a full 
 foreknowledge of all the consequences of the word he 
 is now to speak. Yet he claims the crown. Refusing 
 to abandon, or even to conceal his kingly character, 
 he returns to Pilate this bold reply, “ Thou sayest 
 in other words, “ I am a king ” — King of the Jews. 
 
 How do these facts illustrate the preeminent impor- 
 tance which Jesus attached to his office and character 
 as a king ! They do more than illustrate, they demon- 
 strate it. To explain this, let me recall a recent cir- 
 cumstance to your recollection. When our Indian 
 empire was shaken to its foundations, and, as many 
 feared, tottering to its fall, the enemy in one instance 
 offered terms of compromise. They were rejected. 
 Unmoved by the most adverse fortunes, undismayed 
 by the pestilence, starvation, and murder, which stared 
 
60 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 them in the face, with the hope of relief burning lower 
 and lower as the weary days wore on, our gallant 
 countrymen, in the darkest hour and crisis of their 
 fortunes, would listen to no compromise. They could 
 die but not yield ; and so sent back this stern answer, 
 “ We refuse to treat with mutineers.” And if we 
 would yield up no right in the hour of our greatest- 
 weakness and terrible extremity, far less shall we do 
 so with the tide of battle turned in our favor, and that 
 enemy crushed, or crouching in abject terror at our 
 feet. Now, our Lord had the strongest temptations 
 to abandon his kingly claims ; and if he refused to 
 give them up in the desert, where he had not a morsel 
 to eat, and at the bar, when to have parted with them 
 would have saved his life, he is not likely now certainly 
 to yield one jot or tittle of what belongs to him as a 
 King. He has no inducement to do so. A friendless 
 prisoner no more, he stands at the right hand of God ; 
 the head which was bound round with a thorn wreath, 
 now wears the crown of earth and heaven ; and the 
 hand they mocked with a reed sways, over angels, 
 men, and devils, the sceptre of universal empire. 
 Think you that Christ will allow Satan, or the world, 
 or the flesh, to pluck from his power what they could 
 not wring from his weakness ? Never. He will never 
 consent to share his throne with rivals from whom ho 
 won it. He claims to reign supreme in your hearts, 
 in every heart which his grace has renewed, over all 
 whom he has conquered by love and redeemed with 
 blood. 
 
 Would God that we could live up to that truth! 
 How often, and to what a sad extent, is it forgotten ! 
 each of us doing what is right in his own eyes, as if 
 there was no king in Israel. Oh, that we were aa 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 61 
 
 anxious to be delivered from the power, as all of us 
 are to escape the punishment, of sin ! I do not say 
 that we should look less to Christ as a Saviour, but 
 we should certainly look more to him as a sovereign ; 
 nor fix our attention on his cross, so much to the ex- 
 clusion of his crown. We are not to yield him less 
 faith, but more obedience. We should not less often 
 kiss his wounds, but more frequently his feet. , W e 
 can never too highly esteem his love, but we may, and 
 often do, think too lightly of his law. His Spirit 
 helping us, let his claims on our obedience be as cheer- 
 fully conceded as his claim to our faith ; so that to 
 our love of his glorious person, and his saving work, 
 we may be able to add with David, “ 0 how love I 
 thy law ! ,? 
 
 II. Consider from whom Christ received the king- 
 dom. 
 
 1. He did not receive it from the Jews. “ He came 
 unto his own, and his own received him not.” 
 
 Once, indeed — like stony-ground hearers, like some 
 who make a flaming profession of religion to abandon 
 it almost as soon as they embrace it — the Jews seemed 
 eager to receive Jesus. They even attempted to thrust 
 royal honours on him ; “ Jesus perceived that they 
 would come and take him by force to make him a king.” 
 Afterwards, and by one of those popular movements, 
 which, in the form of a panic or an enthusiasm, rises 
 rapidly, like a flooded river, to sweep in its headlong 
 course stones as well as straws before it, they bore him 
 in royal state on to the capital. Not with sacred oil, 
 or golden crown, or imperial purple, but such royal 
 insignia as the circumstances admitted of, they invested 
 their new-made king. They denuded themselves of 
 
62 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 their garments to carpet the dusty road. Mothers 
 held up their babes to see him ; women and children 
 filled the joyous air with loud hosannas ; gray old 
 men, as the procession swept by, shed tears of joy that 
 the long-looked-for hour had come ; and, marching 
 with the tramp of freemen — as if every foot beneath 
 its tread crushed a Roman eagle — strong men, with 
 ten thousand stout arms ready to fight for his crown, 
 waved green palms in anticipation of triumph and 
 victory. Thus the living wave, swelling higher as it 
 advanced, rolled on to Jerusalem, bearing Jesus for- 
 ward to the throne of David. For his mother, for the 
 Marys, for his disciples, for all ardent patriots, it was 
 a glorious hour. Alas ! how soon all was changed ! 
 It passed like a beautiful pageant — passed like the 
 watery gleam of a stormy day — passed like a brilliant 
 meteor that shoots athwart the dusky sky. A few 
 days afterwards, and Jerusalem, with a crowd as great, 
 presents another spectacle. The stage, the actors, the 
 voices, are the same ; but the drama, if I may so speak, 
 how different ! This brief act of honour and duty, 
 homage and triumph, is closely followed by an awful 
 tragedy. We have seen tales of horror and shocking 
 butchery shake the heart of a whole nation ; but this 
 event struck the insensate earth with trembling, spread 
 a pall of mourning over the whole firmament, filling 
 creation with such signs of bereavement as fill a house 
 when its head is smote down by the hand of death. 
 The tide, which bore Jesus to the crown, turns ; and 
 when next we see him, he hangs basely murdered upon 
 a cross. An inconstant people have taken the object 
 of their brief idolatry and, like an angry child with 
 its toy, dashed it on the ground. The only crown 
 our Lord gets from man is woven of thorns. Bis 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 63 
 
 Father had said, He shall be exalted and extolled, 
 and be very high and man found no way of lulfill- 
 ing that old prophecy, but to raise him, amid shouts 
 and laughter, naked and bleeding, on the accursed 
 tree. “ He came unto his own, and his own received 
 him not.” 
 
 I know that a nation is not always to be held account- 
 able for the acts of its rulers. A righteous public 
 may have the conscience to disapprove what they have 
 not the power to prevent. But our Lord’s death was 
 no act of the government, or simply the act of Pilate, 
 or of the priests and statesmen of the time. It was a 
 great national deed. In that vast assembly which 
 pronounced the verdict, there was certainly not a city, 
 nor village, nor hamlet, nor perhaps even a shepherd’s 
 solitary hut among the uplands of Judea, but had its 
 representative. So, when Pilate put the question, it 
 was the voice of the entire country that made itself 
 heard in the unanimous and fatal verdict, “ We will 
 not have this man to reign over us ” — yesterday we 
 would ; to-day we won’t ; let him die ; away with him 
 to the cross. Horrible crime ! yet one, alas ! in a 
 sense still repeated, often repeated ; and for no other 
 reasons than at the first. If Christ would have con- 
 sented to rule on their terms, the Jews would have 
 made him king. Had he agreed to establish an earthly 
 monarchy, to gratify the nation’s thirst for vengeance 
 on their Roman masters, to make Jerusalem the proud 
 capital, and the Jews sole sovereign rulers of a con- 
 quered world, they would have revolted to a man. 
 Religion lent its intensity to the burning hatred which 
 they bore against the empire of the Cmsars ; and, on 
 such conditions, those who crucified him would have 
 fought for him with the resolution which held Jerusa- 
 
64 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 lem, till delicate women devoured their children, and 
 men, famished into ghastly skeletons, met the Romans 
 in battle under a canopy of flames, and in the throat of 
 the deadly breach. 
 
 Now, to this day, how many would accept of Jesus 
 as king, would he but consent to their terms — allow 
 them to indulge their lusts, and retain their sins ! If, 
 like some eastern princes, who leave the reins of gov- 
 ernment in other hands, he would rest contented with 
 the shadow of royalty, with the mere name and empty 
 title of a king, many would consent to be his subjects. 
 But be assured that he accepts not the crown, if sin is 
 to retain the sceptre. He requires of all who name 
 his name, that they “ depart from iniquity ;” and, with 
 “ holiness unto the Lord” written on their foreheads, 
 that they take up their cross, and deny themselves daily, 
 and follow him. On this account he is still practically 
 rejected by thousands — whose profession of religion is 
 a name and shadow. How is that old cruel tragedy 
 repeated day by day within the theatre of many a 
 heart ! God says, “ This is my beloved son, in whom I 
 am well pleased ;” the preacher brings Jesus forth for 
 acceptance, clothed in purple, and crowned with thorns, 
 and all the tokens of his love upon him, saying, “ Be- 
 hold the man ;” conscience is aroused to a sense of his 
 claims ; but these all are clamored down. Stirred up 
 by the devil — the love of the world, the lust of the 
 flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life, and all the 
 corrupt passions of our evil nature, rise like that Jew- 
 ish mob to cry, “ We will not have this man to reign 
 over us.” Let the fate of these Jews warn you against 
 their sin ; for if God did such things in the green tree, 
 what shall he do in the dry ? Be assured that, unless 
 you are obeying Christ as a sovereign, you have never 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 65 
 
 yet known him as a Saviour. Your faith is vain. His 
 cross and his crown are inseparable. 
 
 2. He does not receive the kingdom from his own 
 people. 
 
 Some have fought their way onward to a palace, 
 leaving the print of a bloody foot on every step that 
 led them to the throne. And what violence or vil- 
 lainy, or both, have won, despotism holds. I could 
 point to lands where the ambitious adventurer who has 
 seized the throne is a tyrant, and his subjects are 
 crouching slaves — as, indeed, men ever will be, who 
 want the backbone of religion to keep them erect. It 
 is God-fearing piety which makes a man the best sub- 
 ject of a good government, and the most formidable 
 enemy to a bad one. Animated by its lofty hopes, 
 sustained by its enduring spirit, a true Christian is not 
 the man to sell his liberties for a dishonorable peace, 
 nor his birth-right for “ a mess of pottage.” 
 
 Our happy land, in contrast with most other coun- 
 tries, presents an illustrious example of a family 
 crowned, I may say, by the hands of the people — - 
 called to the throne by the free voice of a nation. 
 The sceptre, which a female hand sways so well and 
 gracefully over the greatest, freest, empire in the 
 world, was, nigh two hundred years ago, wrenched 
 from the grasp of a poor popish bigot ; and his suc- 
 cessor was borne to the vacant throne on the arms of 
 a people, who, to their everlasting honor, considered 
 crowned heads less sacred than their liberties and 
 religion. 
 
 Is it by any such act of his people that Christ has 
 been crowned? Is he in this sense a popular mon- 
 arch, one raised to the throne by the suffrages of the 
 
66 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 people? No. Here the king elects his subjects — not 
 the subjects their king ; and in that, as in many other 
 senses, lie who is both our Saviour and our sovereign 
 says, “ My kingdom is not of this world.” There have 
 been many disputes about the doctrine of election, and 
 these have given birth to many most learned and pro- 
 found treatises ; the combatants on one side maintain- 
 ing that in election God had respect to the good works 
 which he foresaw men were to do, while their oppo- 
 nents have, as we think more wisely held, that in all 
 cases his choice is as free and sovereign as when, de- 
 scending on the plains of Damascus, he called in Saul 
 of Tarsus, the greatest persecutor of his church, to be 
 its greatest preacher. It was on this subject that an 
 aged Christian uttered a remarkable saying, which I 
 may apply to the matter in hand. She had listened 
 with patience to a fine-spun and very subtle argument 
 against the doctrine of a free election. She did not 
 attempt to unravel it. She had no skill for that ; but 
 broke her way out as through the meshes of a cobweb 
 with this brief reply, “ I believe in the doctrine of a 
 free election ; because I know, that if God had not first 
 chosen me, I had never chosen him. 
 
 That reply, which was quite satisfactory to her sim- 
 ple piety, and will weigh more with many than a hun- 
 dred ponderous volumes of theological learning, rests 
 on the depravity of our nature, and applies to our pres- 
 ent subject. Aliens by nature to the commonwealth 
 of Israel, and the enemies of God by wicked works, it 
 is absolutely necessary that Christ should first choose 
 you as his subjects, before you can choose him as your 
 king. Hence our catechism says, “ Christ executeth 
 the office of a king in subduing us to himself, ruling 
 and defending us, and restraining and conquering all 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 67 
 
 his and our enemies.’ 7 Thus, Prince of Peace though 
 he be, in the Psalms and elsewhere he is pictured forth 
 as a warrior armed for the battle ; a sword girded on 
 his thigh, a bow in his hand, zeal glowing in his eyes, 
 he drives the chariot of the gospel into the thick of his 
 enemies. And as our own nation lately, with prayers 
 for their success, sent off her armies to reduce to obe- 
 dience a revolted province, God, when sending his Son 
 to our world, addressed him as one about to engage 
 in a similar enterprize : “ Gird thy sword upon thy 
 thigh, 0 most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty. 
 And in thy majesty ride prosperously, because of truth, 
 and meekness, and righteousness ; and thy right hand 
 shall teach thee terrible things. Thine arrows are 
 sharp in the heart of the king’s enemies ; whereby the 
 people fall under thee.” 
 
 Christ does indeed reign by conquest ; but his reign 
 is not therefore one of terror. The very opposite. 
 He reigns, as he conquered, by love. For, although 
 in the first instance his people neither choose him, nor 
 call him to the throne afterwards, what king so well 
 beloved? Enthroned in the heart, he rules them 
 through their affections ; nor employs any but that 
 which is at once the softest and strongest, the gentlest 
 and mightiest of all forces, the power of love. He 
 subdues, but it is to save you. He wounds, but it is 
 to heal you. He kills, but it is to make you alive. 
 It was to crown you with glory that he bowed his 
 head to that crown of thorns. Other sovereigns may 
 have rendered good service to the state, and deserved 
 its gratitude ; but Christ’s is the only throne, filled by 
 a living king, who has this at once most singular and 
 sublime claim on the devoted attachment of his sub- 
 jects, that he died to save them. “ I am lie that liv- 
 etli, and was dead.” 
 
68 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 We are not such subjects as we should be. Yet the 
 world is not to be allowed to forget, that, imperfect 
 as our obedience is, his people are not insensible, nor 
 have they shown themselves insensible, to the para- 
 mount claims which Jesus has upon their loyalty. In 
 our eyes, the grace and glory of other sovereigns pales 
 before his — as stars when the sun has risen ; nor is 
 there any one we ever saw, or our affections ever clung 
 to, whom we feel we should love as we ought to love 
 Jesus Christ. True piety is not hypocrisy ; and it is 
 due alike to Christ and the interests of religion, that 
 the world should know that the love his people bear 
 for him is a deeper affection than what the mother 
 cherishes for the babe that hangs helpless on her 
 bosom ; a stronger passion than the miser feels for the 
 yellow gold he clutches. With the hand of the robber 
 compressing his throat, to have his gray hairs spared, 
 he would give it all for dear life ; but loving Jesus 
 whom they never saw, better than father, or mother, 
 or sister, or brother, or lover, or life itself, thousands 
 have given up all for him. Not regretting, but rejoic- 
 ing in their sacrifices, they have gone bravely for his 
 cause to the scaffold and the stake. 
 
 It is easy to die in a battle-field — to confront death 
 there. There, earthly prizes are won — stars, bright 
 honors, are glittering amid that sulphureous smoke ; 
 there, earthly passions are to be gratified — my sister 
 was wronged, my mother butchered, my little brother’s 
 brains dashed out against the wall. I am a man, and 
 could believe the story told of our countrymen ; how 
 each, having got a bloody lock of a murdered woman’s 
 hair, sat down in awful, ominous silence ; and, after 
 counting the number that fell to each man’s lot, rose 
 to swear by the great God of heaven, that for every 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 69 
 
 hair they would have a life. Amid such scenes, with 
 passions boiling, vengeance calls for blood, hurling 
 me, like a madman, on the hedge of steel ; and, where 
 the shout of charging comrades cheers him on, the sol- 
 dier is swept forward on blazing guns and bristling 
 bayonets, in a whirlwind of wild excitement. But, to 
 lie pining in a dungeon, and never hear the sweet 
 voice of human sympathy ; to groan and shriek upon 
 the rack, where cowled and shaven murderers are as 
 devoid of pity as the cold stone walls around ; to suf- 
 fer as our fathers did, w r hen, calm and intrepid, they 
 marched down that street to be hung up like dogs for 
 Christ’s crown and kingdom, implies a higher courage, 
 is a far nobler, manlier, holier thing. Yet thousands 
 have so died for Jesus. Theirs has been the gentle, 
 holy, heroic spirit of that soldier boy, whose story is 
 one of the bright incidents that have relieved the dark- 
 ness of recent horrors, and shed a halo of glory around 
 the dreadful front of war. Dragged from the jungle, 
 pale with loss of blood, wasted to a shadow with fam- 
 ine and hardship, far away from father or mother, or 
 any earthly friend, and surrounded by a cloud of 'black 
 incarnate fiends, he saw a Mahometan convert appalled 
 at the preparations for his torture — about to renounce 
 the faith. Fast dying, almost beyond the vengeance 
 of his enemies, this good brave boy had a moment 
 more to live, a breath more to spend. Love to Jesus, 
 the ruling passion, was strong in death ; and so, as the 
 gates of heaven were rolling open to receive his ran- 
 somed spirit, he raised himself up, and, casting an im- 
 ploring look on the wavering convert, cried — “ Oh, do 
 not deny your Lord ! ” A noble death, and a right 
 noble testimony ! 
 
 Would to God that we always heard that voice and 
 
70 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 cry, when, in the ordinary circumstances of life, we are 
 tempted to commit sin. I say the ordinary circum- 
 stances of life ; for it would almost seem as if when we 
 are least tried, we are most in danger. On grand 
 occasions faith rises to the trial ; and such is the vital- 
 ity of Christian love, that, like the influence of the wind 
 on fire, the storm seems rather to blow up than to 
 blow out the flame. How often have Christ’s people 
 found it easier to withstand on great occasions than 
 on small ones! Those will yield to some soft seduc- 
 tion, and fall into sin, who, put to it, might stand up 
 for the cause of truth and righteousness as bravely as 
 he who, in yonder palace, stands like a rock before the 
 king. Commanded to do what lays Christ’s crown at 
 Caesar’s feet, he refuses. It is a thing which, though 
 ready to dare death, he dare not, and he will not do. 
 He offers his neck, but refuses that — addressing him- 
 self in some such words as these to the imperious mon- 
 arch : <k There are two kingdoms and two kings in 
 in Scotland ; there is King Jesus and King James; 
 and when thou wast a babe in swaddling clothes, Jesus 
 reigned in this land, and his authority is supreme.” 
 Would to God that we had, whenever we are tempt- 
 ed to commit sin, as true a regard for Christ’s para- 
 mount authority! With special reference to our own 
 hearts be the prayer ever offered, thy kingdom come — 
 take to thee thy great power and reign. Ours be thy 
 prayer, 0 David — “ Cleanse me from secret faults, and 
 keep back . thy servant also from presumptuous sins ; 
 let them not have dominion over me.” Alas, how 
 often do we unwittingly, thoughtlessly, rashly, under 
 the lingering influence of old habits, swept away by 
 some sudden temptation, some outburst of corruption, 
 practically deny the Lord that bought us, and yield 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 71 
 
 our members to be the servants of sin ! Let us confess 
 it. Often are we constrained to say, with Ezra, when 
 he rent his mantle, and fell on his knees, and spread 
 out his hands unto the Lord, “ Oh, my God, I am 
 ashamed and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God ; 
 for our iniquities are increased over our heads, and 
 our trespass is grown up unto the heavens.” Yet let 
 not the worldling go away to triumph over such con- 
 fessions, and allege that there is no such thing as gen- 
 uine religion or true love to Christ. This much I will 
 venture to say for his people, and for the grace of God, 
 in which their great strength lies — put us to the test, 
 give us time for prayer and reflection, and there are 
 thousands who, rather than renounce Jesus Christ, 
 would renounce their life, and, with unfaltering foot- 
 step, tread the well-beaten path that the martyrs have 
 made to glory. Faith, eyeing the opening heavens, 
 would stand on the scaffold, and say, as she changed a 
 Jewish into a Christian hymn — if I forget thee, 0 
 Jesus, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do 
 not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of 
 my mouth ; if I prefer not Jesus above my chief joy ! 
 
(continued.) 
 
 Translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son. — Colossians i. 13 . 
 
 There was an ancient and universal custom set 
 aside, on his coronation day, by that great emperor 
 who bestrode the world like a Colossus, till we locked 
 him up in a sea-girt prison — chained him, like an eagle, 
 to its barren rock. Promptly as his great military 
 genius was wont to seize some happy moment to turn 
 the tide of battle, he seized the imperial crown. Re- 
 gardless alike of all precedents, and of the presence 
 of the Roman Pontiff whose sacred office he assumed, 
 he placed the crown on his own head ; and, casting an 
 eagle eye over the applauding throng, stood up, in the 
 pride of his power, every inch of him a king. The 
 act was like the man — bold, decisive ; nor was it in a 
 sense untrue, its language this, The crown I owe to no 
 man ; I myself have won it ; my own right arm hath 
 gotten me the victory. Yet, with some such rare ex- 
 ceptions, the universal custom, on such occasions, is to 
 perform this great act as in the presence of God ; and, 
 adding the solemnities of religion to the scene, by the 
 hand of her highest minister to crown the sovereign. 
 It is a graceful and a pious act, if, when religion is 
 called upon to play so conspicuous a part, on such a 
 stage, and in the presence of such a magnificent assem* 
 ( 72 > 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 73 
 
 bly, all parties intend thereby to acknowledge that 
 crowns are the gift of God, that sovereigns as well as 
 subjects are answerable for their stewardship, and that 
 by Him whose minister performs the crowning act, 
 kings reign, and princes decree justice. 
 
 According to that scripture, God sets up one and 
 puts down another, plucks the sceptre from the hand 
 of this man, and gives it to that, and, as our days have 
 seen, makes fugitives of kings, to raise a beggar from 
 the dust and the needy from the dunghill, and set him 
 with princes. And what he does in an ordinary and 
 providential sense to all kings, he did in a high, and 
 preeminent, and special sense to his own Son. The 
 “ divine right of kings/ 3 * * * 7 with which courtiers have 
 flattered tyrants, and tyrants have sought to hedge 
 round their royalty, is a fiction. In other cases a 
 mere fiction, it is in Christ 7 s case a great fact. The 
 crown that rests on his head was placed there by the 
 hands of Divinity. It was from his eternal Father 
 that he received the reward of his cross, in that king- 
 dom, which, as we have already showed, he received 
 neither from the Jews, nor from his own people. 
 “ Yet/ 7 says God, “ have I set mv king upon my holy 
 hill of Sion. 77 And so I remark — 
 
 3. Jesus received the kingdom from God. 
 
 When we look at the two occasions — both of them 
 great occasions-^-on which our Lord was crowned, 
 what a striking contrast do they present ? 
 
 The scene of the first is laid on earth. Its circum- 
 stances are described by the evangelists — men who 
 were the sad eye-witnesses of the events that they re- 
 
 late. And when we have found ourselves unable, 
 
 without trembling voice, and swimming eyes, and 
 4 
 
74 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 kindling passions, to read some of those touching let- 
 ters which tell how brothers, and tender sisters, and 
 little children, and sweet babes, and beloved friends, 
 were pitilessly massacred — when one remembers how, 
 even at this distance from India’s bloody scenes, we 
 were ready to take fire, and swell the cry that called 
 for vengeance on such revolting cruelties, nothing in 
 the Bible seems more divine than the calm, even, un- 
 impassioned tone with which our Lord’s disciples de- 
 scribe the events, and write the moving story of their 
 Master’s wrongs. Where one would fancy an angel 
 might have been stirred to anger, or would have 
 covered his eyes and wept outright for sorrow, their 
 voice seems never to falter, nor their pen to shake, 
 nor their page to be blotted by a falling tear. Where, 
 we are ready to ask, is John’s fond love, Peter’s ardent 
 temper, the strong impetuous passions of these unso- 
 phisticated men ? Nor is there any way of account- 
 ing for the placid flow of their narratives, other than 
 the fact that holy men of old spake and wrote as they 
 were moved by the Holy Ghost, and were the organs 
 of Him whose complacency no event ruffles, and who, 
 dwelling in the serene altitudes of his divine nature, 
 is raised high above all passion. 
 
 Let us look then at the scene of our Lord’s first 
 coronation as they present it. Jesus is handed over 
 to men of blood. Behold him stripped of his raiments ! 
 His wasted form — for it is he who speaks in the pro- 
 phetic words, “ I may tell all my bones ; they look 
 and stare upon me,” — moves no pity ; no more, his 
 meek and patient looks. They tie him to a post. 
 They plough long furrows on his back. And now 
 cruel work is to be followed by more cruel sport. 
 Laughing at the happy thought, his guards summon all 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHKIST. 
 
 75 
 
 the band, and hurry off their faint and bleeding pri- 
 soner to some spacious hall. The expression may 
 seem coarse, but it is true — they make game of the 
 Lord of Glory. And when the shocking play is at it 
 height, what a sight there to any disciple who should 
 venture to look in ! Mute and meek, Jesus sits in 
 that hall — a spectacle of woe ; an old purple robe on 
 his bleeding back ; in his hand a reed ; and on his 
 head a wreath — not of laurel, but of thorns, while the 
 blood, trickling down from many wounds over his 
 face, falls on a breast that is heaving with a sea of 
 sorrows. Angels look on, fixed with astonishment 
 devils stand back, amazed to see themselves outdone ; 
 while all around his sacred person the brutal crowd 
 swells and surges. They gibe ; they jeer ; they laugh ; 
 some in bitter mockery bend the knee, as to imperial 
 Cmsar ; while others, to give variety to the hellish 
 sport, pluck the reed from his unresisting hand, and 
 beat the thorns deep into his brows ; and ever and 
 anon they join in wild chorus, making the hall ring to 
 the cry, “ Hail, King of the Jews.” 
 
 The people of Bethlehem, one day as they looked 
 out at their doors, saw a poor widow, bent and gray 
 with grief and age, walking up their street, who was 
 accompanied by a Moabitess — poorly clad and widowed 
 like herself. She is at length recognised. It is 
 Naomi ! The news flies through the town. But when 
 her old acquaintances who hastened to greet her 
 beheld in such poor guise one who had left them in 
 circumstances of envied affluence, happy with a loving 
 husband at her side and at her back two gallant sons, 
 they were seized with blank amazement. They held 
 up their hands to cry, “ Is this Naomi ? ” And how 
 might the angels, who had adored the Son as he 
 
76 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 lay in the bosom of the Father, or, singing in the skies 
 of that same Bethlehem, had bent down to gaze with 
 wonder and admiration on the babe of Mary’s breast, 
 regard the spectacle in that hall with greater bewild- 
 erment — exclaiming, “ Is this the Son of God ?” 
 
 These twisted thorns formed the crown wherewith 
 “ his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals.” 
 Nor should we leave that to turn our eyes on another 
 scene, till we have thought with godly sorrow of the 
 sins, and with deep affection of the love, which brought 
 Jesus from heaven to meet such sufferings. In these 
 wounds and blows he took our sins upon him ; in 
 these indignities he was wounded for our transgres- 
 sions ; he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastise- 
 ment of our peace was upon him : and with his stripes 
 we are healed. 
 
 Turn now from this cruel mockery to the other 
 scene where he received a different crown, in a dif- 
 ferent assembly, and from very different hands. The 
 cross is standing vacant and lonely on Calvary — the 
 crowd all dispersed ; the tomb is standing empty and 
 open in the garden — the Roman sentinels all with- 
 drawn ; and from the vine-covered sides of Olivet a 
 band of men are hastily descending — -joy, mingled 
 with amazement, in their looks. With the bearing of 
 those that have a high enterprise before them, they are 
 rushing down the mountain upon the world — a stream 
 of life which is destined to roll on till salvation reaches 
 the ends of the earth. While the disciples come down 
 to the world, Jesus, whom a cloud received from their 
 sight, goes up to heaven ; and, corresponding to the cus- 
 tom of those olden days, when the successful champion 
 was carried home in triumph from the field, borne 
 high through applauding throngs on the shields of his 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 7 / 
 
 companions, our Lord enters into glory, escorted by a 
 host of angels. His battle over, and the great victory 
 won, the conqueror is now to be crowned, throned, 
 installed into the kingdom. Behold the scene as re- 
 vealed by anticipation to the rapt eyes of Daniel : — 
 “ I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the 
 Son of Man came with the clouds of heaven, and 
 came to the Ancient of Days, and they brought him 
 near before him. And there was given him dominion, 
 and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations^ 
 and languages should serve him : his dominion is an 
 everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and 
 his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed.” 
 
 Thus our Lord received the crown from his own 
 Father’s hand ; and then, it might be said, was the 
 Scripture fulfilled, “ He shall see of the travail of his 
 soul, and shall be satisfied.” Yet observe, I pray you, 
 that in a sense, he is not satisfied. Is there no satisfy- 
 ing of the greedy grave ? None. Death has been 
 feeding its voracious maw these many thousand years ; 
 and yet, how does it open that wide black mouth to 
 cry, “ Give, give, give !” Nor, in one sense, is there 
 any satisfying of the love of Christ. It is deeper 
 than the grave ; and its desires grow with their grati- 
 fication. Incessantly pleading for more saved ones, 
 Jesus entreats his Father — his cry also, “ Give, give.” 
 Yes ; he would rather hear one poor sinner pray, than 
 all these angels sing ; see one true penitent lying at 
 his feet, than all these brilliant crowns. In glory, 
 where every eye is turned upon himself, his eyes are 
 bent down on earth. I fancy that amid the pomp of 
 state, and splendid enjoyments of the palace, it is little 
 that the sovereign thinks of the poor felon who pines 
 in lonely prison, crushed and terror-stricken, with hag- 
 
78 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 gard face and heavy heart, waiting the death to which 
 the law has doomed him ; seldom, perhaps, in fancy, 
 does that pallid wretch intrude himself where all wear 
 smiles, or send a hollow groan from his cell to move 
 one thought of pity, or disturb the sparkling flow of 
 royal pleasures. But Jesus does not forget the wretch- 
 edness of the lost amid the happiness of the saved. 
 Their miseries are before him ; and amid the high 
 hallelujahs of the upper sanctuary, he hearkens to 
 the groans of the prisoner and the cry of the perish- 
 ing. And, like a mother, whose loving heart is not 
 bo much with the children housed at home, as with the 
 fallen, beguiled, and lost one, who is the most in her 
 thoughts, and oftenest mentioned in her prayers, 
 Jesus is thinking now of every poor careless sinner 
 with his lost soul, and the sentence of death hanging 
 over his guilty head. He pities you from his heart. 
 He would save you, would you consent to be saved. 
 And you, who were never honored with an invitation 
 to a palace on earth, you who are never likely to be 
 so honored, you, by whom this world's pettiest mon- 
 arch would haughtily sweep, nor deem you worthy of 
 the smallest notice, Jesus, bending from his throne, 
 invites to share his glory, and become with him kings 
 and priests unto God. 
 
 III. Let us inquire in what character Jesus holds 
 this kingdom. 
 
 It is not as God, nor as man, he holds it ; but as 
 both God and man, Mediator of the New Covenant, 
 the monarch of a new kingdom. What he was on 
 earth he is still in heaven — God and man for ever. 
 
 Our Lord appeared in both these characters by the 
 grave of Lazarus. “ Jesus wept.” Brief but blessed 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 79 
 
 record ! These were precious tears. The passing air 
 kissed them from his cheek, or they were drunk up of 
 the earth, or they glistened but for a little, like dew- 
 drops on some lowly flower ; yet assuring us of his 
 sympathy in our hours of sorrow, their memory has 
 been healing balm to many a bleeding heart. W eep- 
 ing, his bosom rent with groans, he stands revealed — 
 bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh — a brother born 
 for adversity, for the bitter hour of household deaths, 
 to impart strength to the arms that lay the dead in 
 the coffin, or slowly lower them into the tomb. Yet 
 mark how, by the same grave, he stands revealed in 
 another character, with his divine majesty plainly un- 
 veiled. To weep for the dead may be weakness, but 
 to raise the dead is power. Like the clear shining 
 after rain, when every tree seems hung with quivering 
 leaves of light, and the heath of the moor sparkles, 
 and gleams, and burns with the changing hues of 
 countless diamonds^ see how, after that shower of 
 tears, the sun of Christ’s Godhead bursts forth on the 
 scene, and he appears the brightness of his Father’s 
 glory. Men have wept with him ; but there, where 
 he stands face to face with grim death, let both men 
 and angels worship him. Death cowers before his eye. 
 He puts off the man, and stands out the God ; and the 
 wonder of the dead brought to life is lost in the higher 
 wonder of one who could weep as a man, and yet work 
 as a God. 
 
 On the Sea of Galilee also, our Lord appears in both 
 characters. The son of. Mary sleeps. His nights have 
 been spent in prayer, and his days in preaching, heal- 
 ing, incessant works of benevolence — he has been teach- 
 ing us how we also should go about doing good — he has 
 been practically rebuking those whose days are wasted 
 
80 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 in ease and idleness, or whose evenings, not calm like 
 nature’s, but passed amid the whirl of excitement, or in 
 guilty pleasures, sweet slumbers refuse to bless. Now 
 wearied out with labor, the son of Mary sleeps. There 
 is no sleeping draught, no potion of the apothecary that 
 can impart such deep refreshing slumbers as a good 
 conscience and a busy day’s good work. Proof of that, 
 stretched on his bare, hard couch, Jesus sleeps — amid 
 the howling of the wind the dash and roar of stormy 
 billows, sleeps as soundly as he ever slept a babe in 
 his mother’s arms. He lay down a weary man ; but 
 see how he rises at the call of his disciples to do the 
 \york of a God! On awaking, he found the elements 
 in the wildest uproar, the waves were chasing each 
 other over the deep, the heavens were sounding their 
 loudest thunders, the lightnings were playing among 
 the clouds, and the winds, let loose, were holding free 
 revelry in the racked tormented air. As I have seen 
 a master, speaking with low and gentle voice, hush the 
 riotous school into instant silence, so Jesus spake. 
 Raising his hand, and addressing the rude storm, he 
 said, “ Peace, be still.” The wind ceased, and there 
 was a great calm. No sooner, amid the loudest din, 
 does nature catch the well-known sound of her mas- 
 ter’s voice, than the tumult subsides ; in an instant all 
 is quiet ; and, with a heave as gentle as an infant’s 
 bosom, and all heaven’s starry glory mirrored in its 
 crystal depths, the sea of Galilee lies around that 
 boat — a beautiful picture of the happy bosom into 
 which heaven and its peace have descended. “ Justi- 
 fied by faith,” purchased by the blood of Christ, and 
 blessed with his presence, “ we have peace with God 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 
 Now those two natures which our Lord thus revealed 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 81 
 
 on earth, he retains in heaven. And as both God and 
 man, he occupies the throne of grace, and the throne 
 of providence — holding under his dominion all worlds, 
 and principalities, and powers ; for, in him dwelleth 
 all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and he has been 
 made Head over all things to the church. This must 
 be so. He got the kingdom ; and, simply as God, 
 there could be no addition made to his possessions. 
 Simply as God, he could get nothing, because all things 
 were already his. You cannot add to the length of 
 eternity ; nor extend the measure of infinity ; nor 
 make absolute perfection more perfect ; nor add one 
 drop to a cup, nor even to an ocean, already full. 
 
 And as, on the one hand, our Lord did not get 
 this kingdom simply as God, neither, on the other 
 hand, did he receive it simply as man. To suppose so, 
 were to entertain an idea more absurd, more improba- 
 ble, more impossible, than the fable of Atlas, who, 
 according to wild heathen legends, bore the world on 
 his giant shoulders. How could an arm that once 
 hung around a mother’s neck sustain even this world ? 
 But he, who lay in the feebleness of infancy on Mary’s 
 bosom, and rested a wayworn and weary man on 
 Jacob’s well, and, faint with loss of blood, sank in the 
 streets of Jerusalem beneath the burden of a cross, 
 now sustains the weight of this and of a thousand 
 worlds besides. It is told as an extraordinary thing 
 of the first and greatest of all the Caesars, that such 
 were his capacious mind, his mighty faculties, and his 
 marvellous command of them, that he could at once 
 keep six pens running to his dictation on as many 
 different subjects. That may, or may not be true ; 
 but were Jesus Christ a mere man, in the name even 
 of reason, how could he guard the interests, and man 
 4 * 
 
82 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 age the affairs of a people, scattered far and wide over 
 the face of the habitable globe ? What heart were 
 large enough to embrace them all ; what eyes could 
 see them all ; what ears could hear them all ? Think 
 of the ten thousand prayers pronounced in a hundred 
 different tongues that go up at once, and altogether, 
 to his ear ! Yet there is no confusion ; none are lost ; 
 none missed in the crowd. Nor are they heard by 
 him as, standing on yonder lofty crag, we hear the din 
 of the city that lies stretched out far beneath us, with 
 all its separate sounds of cries, and rumbling wheels, 
 and human voices, mixed up into one deep, confused, 
 hollow roar — like the boom of the sea 7 s distant break- 
 ers. No ; every believer may feel as if he were alone 
 with God — enjoying a private audience of the king in 
 his presence-chamber. Be of good cheer. Every 
 groan of thy wounded heart, thy every sigh, and cry, 
 and prayer, falls as distinctly on Jesus 7 ear as if you 
 stood beside the throne, or, nearer still, lay with John 
 in his bosom, and felt the beating of his heart against 
 your own. 
 
 Jesus Christ, God and man for ever, what a grand 
 and glorious truth ! How full of encouragement and 
 comfort to those, like us, who have sins to confess, sor- 
 rows to tell him, and many a heavy care to cast upon 
 his sympathy and kindness. Since Mary kissed hi's 
 blessed feet, since Lazarus 7 tomb moved his ready tears, 
 since Peter 7 s cry brought him quick to the rescue, 
 since John 7 s head lay pillowed on his gentle bosom, since 
 a mother 7 s sorrows were felt and cared for amid the 
 bitter agonies of his dying hour, he has changed his 
 place, but not his heart. True man and Almighty 
 God — God and man for ever — believer, let him sustain 
 thy cares. Thy case cannot be too difficult, nor thy 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 83 
 
 ourden too heavy for one who guides the rolling planets 
 on their course, and bears on his unwearied arm the 
 weight of a universe. 
 
 IY. Let me urge you to seek an interest in this 
 kingdom. 
 
 Your eternal welfare turns on that. You must be 
 saved or damned ; crowned in heaven or cursed in 
 hell. Jesus said, “ My kingdom is not of this world 
 and blessed be God that it is not. For those very 
 features by which it is distinguished from the world’s 
 kingdoms are among its most encouraging aspects to 
 us. They are bright with hope to the chief of sin- 
 ners. 
 
 The poor say there is little chance or hope for them 
 in this hard world. W ell, are you poor ? I had almost 
 said, so much the better. “ To the poor the Gospel is 
 preached.” You can get on well enough to heaven 
 without gold. The wealth on which the kingdoms of 
 this world set so high a value, and which, for all their 
 talk of blood and breeding, has bought the coarse ple- 
 beian a marriage into proud patrician families, is here 
 rather a hinderance than a help. Has not the Lord 
 of this kingdom said, It is easier for a camel to go 
 through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to 
 enter into the kingdom of God ? 
 
 In the freest and best governed states, birth, and 
 wealth, and rank, and blood, give to their envied pos- 
 sessors great — often too great advantages. It is the 
 high-born chiefly that approach the person of the sov- 
 ereign, enjoy the honors of the palace, and fill the 
 chief offices of the state. Royal favors seldom de- 
 scend so low as humble life. The grace of our King, 
 however, is like those blessed dews that, while the 
 
84 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 mountain tops remain dry, lie thick in the valleys ; 
 and, leaving the proud and stately trees to stand with- 
 out a gem, hang the lowly bush with diamonds, and 
 sow the sward broadcast with orient pearl. This is 
 the kingdom for the mean, and the meek, and the poor 
 and the humble ! Its King has said, Not many mighty, 
 not many noble, are called, Blessed are the poor in 
 spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 There is no degradation in honest poverty. But 
 are you degraded, debased, an outcast from decent, 
 good society — characterless ? Nor does that exclude 
 you from the mercy and grace of God — “ Go ye,” he 
 said, “ into all the world, and preach the gospel to 
 every creature.” Go to the gallows ; and preach it 
 to the man with a rope on his neck, and his feet on the 
 drop. Go to the jail ; and preach it to the scum of 
 the city. Go to her dens of iniquity ; and preach it 
 as freely and fully as in her highest and holiest con- 
 gregation. Saving, gentle, pitying mercy, turns no 
 more aside from the foulest wretch, than the wind that 
 kisses her faded cheek, or the sunbeam that visits as 
 brightly a murderer’s cell as a minister’s study. Nay 
 — though the holiest of all kingdoms — while we see a 
 Pharisee stand astonished to be shut out, mark how, 
 when she approaches, who, weeping, trembling all 
 over, hardly dares lift her hand to knock, the door 
 flies wide open ; and the poor harlot enters to be 
 washed, and robed, and forgiven, and kindly wel- 
 comed in. 
 
 Have you done nothing to merit this kingdom? 
 Who has ? Did Manasseh ? Did Simon Peter ? Did 
 Saul of Tarsus ? \^as it his hands, reeking with the 
 blood of Stephen, that earned for him the saving grace, 
 and the honors of tho chief apostleship? Was it for 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 85 
 
 one look of pity, one word of kind sympathy from their 
 lips, that, as his murderers nailed him to the tree, our 
 dying Lord raised his eyes to heaven and prayed, 
 Father, forgive them ; for they know not what they do ? 
 No. They say, and why may not we, Not by works of 
 righteousness which we have done, but according to 
 his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, 
 and renewing of the Holy Ghost ? 
 
 Yet, though not saved by obedience, remember that 
 submission to Christ’s commandments is required of 
 all those who belong to his kingdom ; and that the very 
 foundations of spiritual as of common liberty are laid in 
 law — are right government and righteous laws. There 
 is no true liberty without law. Nor can you fancy a 
 more happy condition for a country than that of Israel 
 when, without king or government, “ every man did 
 that which was right in his own eyes.” Ours is a free 
 country, for instance ; yet where is law so paramount? 
 The baton of the humblest constable carries more 
 authority here than sceptres have done elsewhere. 
 Liberty is not only the birthright of its sons, but 
 should a slave once touch these shores, he drops his 
 chain, and is free as the waves that beat them. Still, 
 it is freedom under, not without, law. He is not at 
 liberty to do what he chooses — he cannot seize my 
 property. He is not at liberty to go where he chooses — • 
 he cannot enter the humblest cottage without its own- 
 er’s consent. He is not at liberty to act as he chooses 
 - — commit a private wrong or disturb the public peace. 
 Yet he is free ; only, in escaping from a slave-cursed 
 soil to a land of freedom, he has not placed himself 
 beyond authority ; but has exchanged lawless oppres- 
 sion for lawful government. So is it with you whom 
 the truth has made free. To you the gospel is “ a law 
 
86 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 of liberty / 7 because, bursting the bonds of sin and 
 Satan, it sets you free to obey the law of God. The 
 believer gladly accepts of Christ’s yoke, and delights 
 in the law of God after the inward man, saying, Oh 
 how love I thy law, it is my meditation all the day. 
 
 In a general sense, we are all the subjects of Christ’s 
 kingdom. It embraces the boundless universe. And 
 he who once had not a place wherein to lay his head, 
 now reigns over a kingdom, the extent of which reduces 
 our proud boast to contempt. Tell me that the sun 
 never sets on Britain’s empire, and that before he has 
 sunk on one province, he has arisen on another ; that 
 sun, which wheels his mighty course in heaven, shines 
 but on an outlying corner of the kingdom over which 
 Jesus reigns. To many of its provinces he appears 
 but as a twinkling star ; and in others, lying far beyond 
 the range of his beams, immeasurable distance hides 
 him from view. But no distance hides any part of 
 creation beyond our Saviour’s authority. He stands 
 on the circle of the heavens, and his kingdom ruleth 
 over all. 
 
 In a saving sense, however, Christ’s kingdom is not 
 without, but within us. Its seat is in the heart ; and 
 unless that be right with God, all is wrong.. It does 
 not lie in outward things. It is not meat and drink — 
 not baptism or the communion — not sobriety, purity, 
 honesty, and the other decencies of a life of common 
 respectability. “ Except a man be born again, he can- 
 not see the kingdom of God.” Its grace and power 
 have their emblem in the leaven this woman lays, not 
 on the meal, but in the meal — in the heart of the lump, 
 where, working from within outwards, from the centre 
 to the circumference, it sets the whole mass fermenting 
 — changing it into its own nature. Even so the work 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 
 
 87 
 
 of conversion has its origin in the heart. When grace 
 subdues a rebel man, if I may so speak, the citadel first 
 is taken ; afterwards, the city. It is not as in those 
 great sieges which we have lately watched with such 
 anxious interest. There, approaching with his brig- 
 ades, and cavalry, and artillery, man sits down outside 
 the city. He begins the attack from a distance ; creep- 
 ing like a lion to the spring — with trench, and parallel, 
 and battery — nearer and nearer to the walls. These 
 at length are breached ; the gates are blown open ; 
 through the deadly gap the red living tide rolls in. 
 Fighting from bastion to bastion, from street to street, 
 they press onward to the citadel, and there, giving no 
 quarter and seeking none, beneath a defiant flag, the 
 rebels, perhaps, stand by their guns, prolonging a des- 
 perate resistance. But when the appointed hour of 
 conversion comes, Christ descends by his Spirit into the 
 heart — at once into the heart. The battle of grace 
 begins there. Do you know that by experience ? The 
 heart won, she fights her way outward from a new 
 heart on to new habits ; a change without succeeds the 
 change within, even until the kingdom — which, in the 
 house of God, by the body of the solemn dead, over 
 the pages of the Bible, amid the wreck of health or 
 ruins of fortune, came not with observation — comes to 
 be observed. A visible change appears in the whole 
 man. May it appear in you ! then, though the world 
 may get up the old half-incredulous, half-scornful cry, 
 Is Saul also among the prophets? good men shall 
 rejoice on earth, and angels celebrate the event in 
 heaven. 
 
And hath transit ted us into the kingdom of his dear Son. — Col. i. 18. 
 
 All pain, that is passing, and not perpetual, is, in 
 that circumstance, attended with great consolation. 
 This is true of pain, whether its seat be the body or 
 mind ; whether it be a dead, or worse still, a living 
 grief ; the pangs of disease, the lingering sufferings of 
 a common, or the terrible shock of a violent death. It 
 will soon be over, says a man ; and, with that, he bares 
 his quivering limb for the surgeon’s knife ; or, eyeing 
 the tall black gallows, walks with firm step and erect 
 mein to stand beneath the dangling noose. Saying to 
 himself, It will soon be over, he closes his eyes, casts 
 away the handkerchief, and takes the leap into eternity. 
 
 This feeling enters as an element into Christian as 
 well as common heroism. I knew a precious saint of 
 God who was often cast into the furnace, but always, 
 like real gold, to shine the brighter for the fire ; and 
 who, having now left her sorrows all behind her, has 
 joined the company of whom the angel said, “ These 
 are they which come out of great tribulation, and have 
 washed their robes, and made them white in the blood 
 of the Lamb ; therefore,” in the front rank as the 
 highest peers of heaven, “ are they before the throne oi 
 God.” The courage with which she met adversity — 
 one trial after another, shock succeeding shock, billow 
 (88) 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 89 
 
 bursting on the back of billow — was as remarkable as 
 the strength with which, though a bruised reed, she 
 seemed to bear it. Where did her great strength lie ? 
 The grand secret of that serene demeanor and uncom- 
 plaining patience was, no doubt, a sense of the divine 
 favor. The peace of God kept her heart and mind 
 through Jesus Christ. Yet her sorrows found a solace, 
 life’s bitterest hour a sweetness, also, in the simple 
 couplet that was often on her lips — 
 
 “ Come what, come may : 
 
 Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.” 
 
 This prospect of relief, this not distant end of suf- 
 fering, has often divested even the grave of its horrors. 
 “ There’ll be no sorrow there.” Ah ! that sometimes 
 turns our eyes with a longing look on its deep dream- 
 less sleep. Supporting and restraining them by his 
 grace, God with one hand keeps his people up under 
 their sorrows, and with the other keeps them back from 
 anticipating their appointed time. They do not rush 
 on death, nor go unsummoned to the bar of judgment. 
 Unless reason give way, and responsibility cease, they 
 wait his time, and bide it as their own ; holding their 
 post like a sentinel who, however cold the night, or 
 fierce the storm, or thick the battle, refuses to desert it 
 till he is duly relieved. They say with Job, All the 
 days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change 
 come. Yet, with whatever bravery trials are met, and 
 with whatever patience they are borne, there are times 
 when the prospect of relief, which even the grave 
 affords, is most welcome. An object of aversion to 
 light-hearted childhood, and to him who is bounding 
 away over a sunny path thickly flowered with the 
 hopes of spring, the grave is not so to many who have 
 
90 
 
 THE TRANSLATION". 
 
 lived to see these fair flowers wither away, beneath 
 whose slow and lonely steps the joys of other days lie 
 strewed, like dead leaves in autumn. Blessed are the 
 dead that die in the Lord. There is no sorrow for 
 them in the tomb, or beyond it. Thus, from the grassy 
 sod, which no troubled bosom heaves, sorrow plucks 
 blossoms of refreshing odors ; thus, weary life grows 
 strong by feeding on the thought of death ; thus, to that 
 grave which remorselessly devours the happiness of the 
 ungodly, Christian faith can apply the language of the 
 strong man’s riddle, saying with Sampson, when he 
 found the lion that he had rent with a hive of honey 
 within its skeleton ribs, Out of the eater came forth 
 meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness. 
 
 Hope may flatter in this common solace of worldly 
 men, that the longest road has a turning. But, turn 
 or not turn, God’s people know that it has a termina- 
 tion ; and that the weary journey, with its heaviest 
 trials, shall end in rest. But for this, thousands had 
 sunk beneath their griefs. And when calamity came 
 with the shock of an earthquake, and reason sat stunned 
 and stupified on her tottering throne, how often has 
 that blessed prospect restrained man from turning the 
 wish that he were dead into a daring act ; and casting 
 life away from him as a burden — one greater than he 
 could bear. 
 
 There have been such cases. I remember in one a 
 scene never to be forgotten. It surpassed anything it 
 had been my fortune ever to witness in the most ter- 
 rible shapes of mortal agony, and anything also which 
 I had ever seen of the power of Christian endurance. 
 To be hanged, or burned, or broken on the wheel, as 
 the martyrs were — some brief hours of torture, fol- 
 lowed by an eternity of rest — how the sufferer would 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 91 
 
 nave welcomed that ! His was no such enviable, hap- 
 py fortune. Death struck him — like a tree, which first 
 withers at the top — in the head ; and, in excruciating 
 sufferings protracted over weary years, he suffered the 
 pain of a hundred deaths. Ilis endurance was heroic, 
 and never failed but once. Once, for pity’s sake, for 
 the love she bore him, he implored his wife to tear 
 out his eyes — an expression of impatience, recalled as 
 soon as uttered ; regretted on earth, and forgiven in 
 heaven. Now, never as by that bed, where I have 
 seen him turn, and twist, and writhe, like a trodden 
 worm, have I felt so much the power of the consola- 
 tion of which I speak. Happy was it that religion 
 was not then to seek ; and that, beside a wife struck 
 dumb with grief, and little children who stood still and 
 saddened by the sight of a father’s agony, I could bend 
 over a pillow, wet with the sweat of suffering, and im- 
 plore him to remember that these pains were not eter- 
 nal, and that the Saviour who loved him, and whom 
 he loved, would, ere long, come to take him to himself. 
 In such a scene what comfort in the words — 
 
 “ Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.” 
 
 Nor is this unscriptural comfort. The transient 
 nature of all earthly trials is one important ingredient 
 of that cordial with which Paul comforts sorrowing 
 believers — Our light affliction, which is but for a mo- 
 ment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory. Nay, may not that have been poured 
 by the angel’s hand into the very cup of redeeming 
 sorrows ? When our Lord was alone in the garden, 
 and death’s cold shadow had begun to fall, and the 
 gloom of the approaching storm was settling down 
 
92 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 upon his soul, an angel sped from heaven to strengthen 
 him. He finds him prostrate before God. His face 
 is on the ground. In an agony of supplication he has 
 thrown himself at his Father’s feet ; and, shrinking 
 from the pains of the cross, he cries, Father, if it be 
 possible, let this cup pass from me. At that eventful 
 moment, with the salvation of the world hung on its 
 issues, may not the angel, reverently approaching this 
 awful and affecting scene, have strengthened our 
 Saviour, and revived his fainting spirit with this com- 
 fort, Lord of Glory, drink ; the cup is bitter, but not 
 bottomless ? It is no presumption to fancy that, point- 
 ing to the moon as she rode in heaven, he had re- 
 minded our Redeemer that ere she had set and risen 
 again, his pangs should all be over ; and that when 
 next she rose, it should be to shine upon an empty cup, 
 and an empty cross, and Roman sentinels keeping 
 watch beside his sleeping form and peaceful tomb. 
 Something of this, indeed, our Lord seems to intimate 
 in the words he addressed to the traitor’s band — “ This 
 is your hour, and the power of darkness.” They may 
 bind these hands ; but they shall soon be free to rend 
 the strongest barriers of the tomb, leaving him to 
 proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of 
 the prison to them that are bound. With the foul 
 shame of thorns, with spitting, and with scornful re- 
 jection, they may hide his glory ; but it shall burst 
 forth, like the sun above his dying head, from the 
 shadow of a strange eclipse. Let them put forth their 
 utmost power ; its triumph shall be brief — shut up 
 within the limits of a passing hour. 
 
 Does not the same idea also appear in the words 
 which our Lord addressed to the traitor at the supper 
 table ? As one who, though shrinking from the suffer 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 93 
 
 ings of a severe operation, feels confident of relief, and 
 braces up his spirit to endurance by setting permanent 
 ease over against a passing pain, Jesus bent his eye on 
 Judas, and said, “ That thou doest, do quickly/’ — do 
 it, and have done with it ; I know it shall not last ; I 
 am not to be buried but baptized in sufferings ; from 
 the cross where it shall bow in death — exposed on a 
 bloody tree ; from the grave wdiere it shall lie in dust 
 — pillowed on a lonesome bed, shall mine head be 
 lifted above mine enemies round about me ; so that 
 thou doest, do quickly ; I foresee an end of sorrows, 
 and long to enter upon my rest. Now, the relief 
 which death brought to Christ, blessed be God, it 
 brings to all that are Christ’s. The passing bell rings 
 out sin with all its sorrows, and rings in eternity with 
 all its joys. And the very same event which plunges 
 the unbeliever into everlasting perdition, ushers the 
 believer into the inheritance of the saints in light. 
 With gladness and rejoicing they shall be. brought; 
 they shall enter into the palace of the king. Before 
 taking up the subject of the translation, this leads me 
 to remark — 
 
 I. That in delivering his people from the power of 
 darkness, Christ saves them from eternal perdition. 
 
 The punishment which sin deserves, and which the 
 impenitent and unbelieving suffer, is a very awful sub- 
 ject — one on which I could have no pleasure in dwell- 
 ing. It is a deeply solemn theme ; a terrible mystery ; 
 one in presence of which we stand in trembling awe, 
 and can only say with David — Clouds and darkness 
 are round about him. 
 
 It is a painful thing to see the dying of a poor dog, 
 or any dumb creature suffer : but the fate of the im- 
 
94 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 penitent, the sorrows that admit of no consolation, the 
 misery that has no end— = these form a subject brimful 
 of horrors ; the deepest, darkest, unfathomed mystery 
 in the whole plan of the divine government. Yet 
 what affords no pleasure may, notwithstanding, yield 
 profit ; and that even by reason of the pain it inflicts. 
 And so, in the hope of such a blessed result, let me 
 warn, and beseech, and implore careless sinners to be 
 wise, and consider this solemn matter in the day of 
 their merciful visitation. Better fear that punishment 
 than feel it ; better look into the pit than fall into it ; 
 better than fill your ears with syren songs of pleasure, 
 listen to this warning voice, “ Behold, now is the ac- 
 cepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation.” 
 “ To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your 
 hearts.” The chains which bind you are yet but 
 locked, and the gospel has a key to open them. Beject 
 that gospel, and what is now but locked by the hand 
 of sin, shall be rivetted by the hand of death — like 
 the fetters on the limbs of him who leaves the bar to 
 suffer that most awful sentence, the doom of perpetual 
 imprisonment. u As the tree falls, so it lies.” “ He 
 that is filthy, let him be filthy still.” 
 
 People talk about the mercy of God in a way for 
 which they have no warrant in his word ; and, ignor- 
 ing his holiness, and justice, and truth, they lay this 
 and the other vain hope as a flattering unction to their 
 souls. Thinking light of sin, seeing no great harm in 
 it, they judge God by themselves. “ Thou thoughtest 
 that I was altogether such an one as thyself,” accounts 
 for the manner in which many explain away the awful 
 revelations of Scripture about future punishment, and 
 in the face of such terrible words as these, “ Depart 
 from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 95 
 
 the devil and his angels,” give such a ready ear to the 
 devil’s old falsehood, Thou shalt not surely die. The 
 fire, they allege, and are sure, is a mere symbol. Well, 
 just look by the light of that symbol at the condition 
 of the lost. Fire ! What does that mean ? Take it 
 as a symbol, grant that it is but a figure of speech, 
 still it has a terrible meaning, as will be manifest, if 
 we consider the nature and characteristic features of 
 that element. Let us see. 
 
 According to the imperfect science of the world’s 
 early ages, there were four elements, of which ancient 
 philosophers held that all things else were compounded. 
 These were fire, air, earth, and water ; and from the 
 other three, the first is strikingly distinguished by this 
 peculiar and well-marked feature, that it is destructive 
 of all life. Let us examine this matter somewhat in 
 detail. 
 
 1. The element of earth is associated with life. 
 Prolific mother, from whose womb we come, and to 
 whose bosom we return, she is pregnant with life, an 
 exhaustless storehouse of its germs. Raise the soil, 
 for example, from the bottom of deepest well or dark- 
 est mine. And as divine truths, lodged in the heart 
 by a mother in early childhood, thougli they have lain 
 long dormant, spring up into conversion so soon as 
 God’s time comes and the Spirit descends, so seeds, 
 that have lain in the soil for a thousand years, when- 
 ever they are exposed to the quickening influences- of 
 heat, and light, and air, and moisture, awake from their 
 long sleep, and rise up into forms of grace and beauty. 
 Nowhere but within the narrow wall of the church- 
 yard — with its earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to 
 dust — are death and the dust associated. Even there 
 
96 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 how does life, contending for the mastery of this world, 
 intrude upon death’s silent domains, and both in the 
 grass that waves above, and the foul worms that feed 
 below, claim the earth as her own ! This earth is far 
 less the tomb than a great prolific womb of life. Of 
 its matter life builds her shrines ; beneath its surface 
 myriads of creeping things have their highways and 
 homes ; while its soil yields bountiful support to the 
 forests, and flowers, and grasses, that clothe its naked 
 form in gayest robes of life and beauty. 
 
 2. Air, too, is an element associated with life. In- 
 visible substance, it is as much our food as corn or 
 flesh. Symbol of the Holy Spirit, it feeds the vital 
 flame, and is essential to the existence of all plants and 
 animals, whether their home be the land or water, the 
 ocean or its shores. They live by breathing it, whether 
 it be extracted from the waters by their inhabitants, 
 or directly from the atmosphere by the plants and ani- 
 mals that dwell on the dry land. Ceasing to breathe 
 it, they die. With that groan, or gasp, or long-drawn 
 sigh, man expires. His breath goeth forth, he return- 
 ed! to his earth ; in that very day his thoughts perish. 
 And as life exists on air, it exists in it ; nor ever pre- 
 sents itself in a fuller, happier aspect, than at the serene 
 close, for instance, of a summer day. The air is filled 
 with the music of a thousand choristers ; creation’s 
 evening hymn, sung by many voices, and in many notes, 
 goes up to the ear of God ; and, while the lark sup- 
 plies music from the ringing heavens, nature holds in- 
 nocent revels below ; and happy insects, by sparkling 
 stream, or the sedgy borders of the placid lake, keep 
 up their mazy merry dances, till God puts out the lights, 
 and, satiated with enjoyment, they retire to rest, wrapped 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 97 
 
 round in the curtains of the night. Figure of the 
 truth that in God we live, and move, and have our 
 being, our world itself, with all that lives on it, is a 
 sphere that floats, buoyant and balanced, in an ocean 
 of air. 
 
 3. Water, too, is an element associated with life. 
 Fit emblem of saving mercies, so indispensable is water 
 to the continued existence of life, that unless it be fur- 
 nished by some source or other, all plants and animals 
 must speedily die. Then how does this element, which 
 covers more than two thirds of the surface of our globe, 
 teem with life ! He has not seen one of the wonders 
 of creation, who has not seen a drop of water changed, 
 by the microscope, into a little world full of living, 
 active, perfect, creatures, over whom a passing bird 
 throws the shadow of an eclipse, and whose brief life 
 of an hour or day seems to them as long as to us a 
 century of years. Imagination attempts in vain to 
 form some conception of the mvriads that, all crea- 
 tures of God’s care, inhabit the living waters — the 
 rushing stream, the mountain lake, the shallow shore, 
 the profound depths of ocean — from the minutest in- 
 sect which finds a home in some tiny pool, or its world 
 on the leaf of the swaying sea-weed, to leviathan, 
 around whose mighty bulk, whether in play or rage, 
 the deep grows hoary, and foams like a boiling pot. 
 How soon we abandon the attempt, and, dropping the 
 wings of fancy, fall on our knees before the throne to 
 say, 0 Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom 
 hast thou made them all. 
 
 Mark, now, the broad and outstanding difference 
 between these elements and fire. Earth and life, air 
 and life, water and life, are not, as we have seen, neces- 
 ' 5 
 
98 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 sarily antagonistic ; but fire and life are. Unless under 
 such miraculous circumstances as those in which the 
 three Hebrew children walked unhurt in the furnace, 
 or the mountain bush, as if bathed in dew, flowered 
 amid the flames, life cannot exist in fire under any shape 
 or form. No creature feeds, or breeds, or breathes in 
 flames. What the winds fan, and the soil nourishes, 
 and the dews refresh, fire kills. It scorches whatever 
 it touches, and whatever breathes it, dies. Turning the 
 stateliest tree, and sweetest flowers, and loveliest form 
 of the daughters of Eve, into a heap of ashes, or a 
 coal-black cinder, fire is the tomb of beauty, and the 
 sepulchre of all life ; the only region and realm within 
 which death reigns, with none to dispute his sway. 
 And thus the characteristic feature of this element — 
 besides the pain it inflicts — is the destruction and death 
 it works. 
 
 Suppose, then, that the fire that is never quenched is 
 but a painted flame — grant that it is nothing but a 
 symbol or figure of the punishment which awaits the 
 impenitent and unbelieving, in what respects have they, 
 who have persuaded themselves of that, improved their 
 prospects ? It is, “ as if a man did flee from a lion, and 
 a bear met him ; or went into the house, and leaned his 
 hand on the wall, and a serpent bit him . 77 Although 
 the language of Scripture were figurative, yet express- 
 ing, as it does, the utter consumption and death of all 
 hope and happiness, it is not less madness for any one 
 to reject the Saviour, and for the enjoyment of a pass- 
 ing pleasure to brave so terrible a doom. Endless 
 misery — the worm that never dieth, and the fire that is 
 never quenched — in whatever shape it comes, is an 
 awful thought. We cannot think of it without shudder- 
 ing. Oh, why should any hear of it without fleeing in- 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 99 
 
 stantly to Jesus ; for who among us shall dwell with the 
 devouring fire ? who among us shall dwell with everlast- 
 ing burning? I do not undertake to defend God’s 
 procedure in this matter. He will defend it himself, 
 and one day justify his ways, in the judgment even of 
 those whom he condemns. They shall not have the 
 miserable consolation of complaining that they have 
 been hardly and unjustly dealt with. The sentence 
 that condemns them shall find an awful echo in their 
 own consciences. How they shall blame themselves, 
 and regret their life, and curse their folly — turning 
 their stings against their own bosoms, as the scorpion, 
 maddened with pain, is said to do, when surrounded 
 by a circle of fire ! 
 
 Before we leave this subject, let us all join in thanks- 
 giving, both saints and sinners. Let the people praise 
 thee, 0 God ; let all the people praise thee. Fasci- 
 nated, bewitched by pleasure, do you still linger beside 
 the pit, notwithstanding, perhaps, that its flames are 
 rising fearfully lurid against the darkening skies of a 
 fast descending night? Be thankful that you are not 
 in the pit : and falling on your knees by its horrible 
 brink, let its miserable captives, who envy you your 
 time of prayer, hear your cry for mercy, and that that 
 gracious long-suflering God, who has preserved you to 
 this day as a monument of his sparing, would now 
 make you a monument of his saving mercy. And how 
 should saints praise him ! How should they praise 
 him, who have exchanged the horrible fear of hell for 
 a holy happy fear of God, and — in a good hope through 
 grace, that they have been delivered from the power 
 of darkness, and translated into the kingdom of his 
 dear Son — enjoy a peace that passeth understanding. 
 “ Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose 
 
100 
 
 THE TRANSLATION'. 
 
 sin is covered.” Blessed, more blessed than if he had 
 the wealth of Croesus, the poorest, humblest, weakest 
 child of God, who can say with David — He brought 
 me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, 
 and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. 
 It is beautiful to see a bird spring from its grassy bed, 
 mounting up on strong wing into a morning sky ot 
 amber, and ruby, and gold, and sapphir, and to hear 
 her, as she climbs the heavens, sing out the joy which 
 God has poured into her little heart in a thrilling gush 
 of music ; but, oh, if God’s people through more purity 
 enjoyed more peace of heart, were they as holy, and 
 therefore as happy as they might be, how would angels 
 stay their flight, and pause upon the wing to watch the 
 rise, and listen to the song of him who, as he rises, 
 sings — my soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare 
 of the fowler : the snare is broken, and we are escaped. 
 “ Happy is that people, that is in such a case : yea, 
 happy is that people, whose God is the Lord.” 
 
 II. Consider how we are brought into this kingdom. 
 
 Translation is the expression used to describe the 
 method. There is a difference between being trans- 
 formed and being translated ; in so far as the first des- 
 cribes a change of character, while the second describes 
 a change of state. These changes are coincident — 
 they take place at the same time ; but the transforma- 
 tion is not completed, nor are saints made perfect in 
 holiness, until the period arrives for a second transla- 
 tion. Then those who were translated at conversion 
 into a state of grace, are translated at death into a 
 state of glory. The transformation of the soul into the 
 image of God, and of God’s dear Son, begins at the 
 first translation, and is finished at the second. And it 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 101 
 
 is with man as with a rude block of marble. Raised 
 from its dark low quarry -bed, it is, in the first instance, 
 removed to the sculptor’s studio. There the shapeless 
 mass gradually assumes, under his chisel, the features 
 and form of humanity — blow after blow, touch after 
 touch is given, till the marble grows into a triumph of 
 his genius, and seems instinct with life. And, now a 
 perfect image, it is once more removed, and leaves his 
 hand to become on its pedestal the attractive ornament 
 of some hall or palace. 
 
 Now, it is the change of state corresponding to the 
 removal of the block from the quarry, that we have 
 here to do with. And let us take care that the word 
 employed to describe the change from nature to grace 
 leads to no mistake. It were a great mistake to sup- 
 pose that God only is active while man remains passive 
 in this work. You may, indeed, translate a man from 
 one earthly kingdom to another, you may carry him, 
 for instance, across the channel which parts Great 
 Britain from France, while his senses and faculties are 
 steeped in slumber. The traveler falls asleep in one 
 country to awake in another ; and, conveyed smoothly 
 along the level road or over an arm of the sea — 
 rocked, it may be, into deeper slumber by the gentle 
 motion — he opens his eyes, amid a Babel of tongues, 
 on the strange costumes, and faces, and scenery of a 
 foreign land. 
 
 Not only so ; but, greater and most solemn change, 
 a man may be translated from this world into the next 
 in a state of entire unconsciousness. As I have seen a 
 mother approach the cradle and gently lift up the 
 sleeping babe to take it to her own bed and bosom, so, 
 muffled in the cloud of night, death has stolen on the 
 sleeper, and, moving with noiseless step across the 
 
102 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 floor, has borne him off so gently, that, on awaking, he 
 was in heaven, and opened his eyes on the glories of 
 the upper sanctuary ; and when his children, wonder- 
 ing what detains their father from the morning meal, 
 enter his chamber, they find the spirit fled, and, as one 
 who had done his work, his lifeless form resting on 
 the couch in a posture of calm repose. Such sudden 
 transition from time into eternity brings an awful ar- 
 restment to a life of sin ! The sinner is like some 
 wretched criminal, who has been tracked to his hiding- 
 place. Lying asleep in the arms of guilt, he is roused 
 by rough hands, loud voices, and the flash of lanterns ; 
 starting up, he stares wildly round ; and how pale he 
 turns to see his bed beset, and door and window 
 guarded by the stern officers of justice — they are come 
 to drag him to prison. But to die and not know it, 
 not even to taste death, to be spared the bitter cup, to 
 be exempt from the mortal struggle, to be borne across 
 the deep cold waters asleep in Jesus 1 * * * * * 7 arms, to be 
 awakened from nature’s unconscious slumbers by strains 
 of heavenly music, and the bright blaze of glory, what 
 a happy close of a holy life ! 
 
 It is not in this quiet, gentle, placid way, that sin- 
 ners are translated out of darkness into the kingdom 
 of God’s dear Son ; far otherwise. And in illustration 
 of that, I now remark : 
 
 1. That this translation is attended by suffering and 
 
 self-denial. 
 
 Killed by a bullet, prostrated by a blow, deprived 
 
 at once of consciousness and of existence by means of 
 
 an opiate or some other narcotic poison, man may die 
 
 to natural life quite unconsciously. But thus he never 
 
 dies to sin. Best of all deaths ! yet it is attended by 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 103 
 
 a painful, and often a protracted struggle ; during 
 which he is as sensible of pain as the victim of a cross, 
 who, when the nails have crashed through nerve, and 
 flesh, and bone, hangs convulsed and quivering on its 
 extended arms. Hence these striking metaphors : 
 “ They that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with 
 the affections and lusts ; ” “ But God forbid that I 
 
 should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I 
 unto the world.” I would not deter you from the cross, 
 or from resolving now, by the grace of God, and aids 
 of the Holy Spirit, to take it up, and deny yourselves 
 daily, and follow Jesus. On the contrary, I say, the 
 crown is worthy of the cross. I have no doubt that 
 there is far more pain suiTered in going to hell than to 
 heaven. And, although there were not, how will one 
 hour of glory recompense you for all the sufferings and 
 sacrifices of earth ? I only wish to dissipate the delu- 
 sion under which some apparently live, and, living, 
 certainly perish, that indolence, and ease, and self-in- 
 dulgence may inherit the kingdom of God. They 
 think, therefore, that they have no occasion to be anx- 
 ious about their souls ; and rest satisfied that it may 
 be, and is all right with them, though they are not con- 
 scious of having ever felt any serious alarm, having 
 made any great exertion, or suffered, indeed, any self- 
 denying pains whatever. 
 
 Be assured that, as it is among pangs and birth- 
 struggles that a man is born the first time, it is in sor- 
 row and pain that he is born again. “ Yerily, verily, 
 I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, but the 
 world shall rejoice : and ye shall be sorrowful, but 
 your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A Tvoman when 
 she is in travail, hath sorrow, because her hour is come ; 
 
104 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she rernem- 
 bereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born 
 into the world/ 7 May it not be in part with reference 
 to this, that John, speaking of Jesus, said, He that 
 cometh after me is mightier than I — he shall baptize 
 you with the Holy Ghost and with fire ! To be bap- 
 tized with fire is another tiling from being baptized 
 with water. How often has the water fallen from our 
 hand on the calm brow of a sleeping infant, which, 
 held up in a father’s arms, was returned to a mother 7 s 
 bosom perfectly unconscious of its baptism — translated 
 into the visible church of Christ in a state of profound 
 repose. But a fiery baptism ! that which symbolises 
 the descent of the Spirit in conversion, implies pain — 
 such convictions of sin and dread of hell, such self- 
 reproach, and deep remorse, as have often risen to 
 agony, and sometimes driven man to the verge of mad- 
 ness. Fire burns the flesh, penetrates to the bone, and 
 dries up the very marrow. Can a man take fire into 
 his bosom, and his clothes not be burned ? If not, how 
 could a soul receive the fiery baptism of the Holy 
 Spirit, and be unconscious of it ? Ah, fancy not that 
 it is to sinners only that our God is a consuming fire. 
 He is a consuming fire, not indeed to his people’s souls, 
 but to his people’s sins. The unholy pleasures and 
 habits that bind those whom he has chosen for himself 
 out of a world that lieth in wickedness, he will burn. 
 Nor are these bonds burned off them in a way as 
 painless as happened to the three Hebrews. They ? 
 whom Nebuchadnezzar cast bound into the fiery furn- 
 ace, were suffering for God, and not for sin. And 
 preserved by Christ’s presence, like his people in cor- 
 responding trials, they walked right pleasantly on 
 burning coals, and found the flames as fresh as the 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 105 
 
 breath of a balmy morning. If you have never felt 
 pain, be assured that you have never parted with sin. 
 Nothing short of burning out will remove it. Yet, 
 painful as it may be, throw open your bosom for this 
 baptism of fire ! Whatever wounds it inflicts, they 
 shall be healed. There is balm in Gilead, and a phy- 
 sician there. 
 
 2. In this translation both God and man are active. 
 
 When the hour of our Lord’s ascension had come, 
 he rose from Olivet neither on angel’s wings, nor in 
 the prophet’s fiery chariot. He put forth no effort. 
 His body, as if belonging to another sphere, floated 
 buoyant, upward through the air, until, as he bent over 
 his disciples in the attitude of blessing, a cloud re- 
 ceived him out of their sight. But no man rises in 
 this glorious manner from a state of nature into one 
 of grace ; or leaves the horrible pit, for the light, and 
 love, and liberty of a son of God. There is help 
 afforded on God’s part ; but there is also an effort re- 
 quired on ours. We must climb the ladder which 
 divine love lets down. 
 
 The soul is not, as some seem to think, a piece of 
 softened wax, receiving the image of God as that does 
 the impress of a seal. We receive salvation ; still, we 
 must put forth our hand for it, as the starving for a 
 loaf of bread ; as he who dies of thirst for a cup of 
 water ; as a drowning man, who eagerly eyes and 
 rapidly seizes the falling rope — clinging to it with a 
 grasp that neither his weight nor the waves can loose. 
 
 “ Between us and you,” said Abraham to the rich 
 man, “ there is a great gulf fixed ; so that they which 
 would pass from hence to you cannot ; neither can they 
 pass to us that would come from thence.” I know that 
 5 * 
 
106 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 a gulf as impassable and profound divides the state of 
 sin from the state of grace ; and that no quantity nor 
 quality of good works that we may attempt to throw 
 in, can form a passage for our guilty feet. Rubbish at 
 the best ! how are they lost in its unfathomed depths ! 
 lost like the stones which travelers in Iceland fling 
 into those black, yawning, volcanic chasms, which de- 
 scend so deep into the fiery bowels of that burning 
 land, that no line can measure, and time never fills 
 them. Yet, blessed be Christ’s name! the great gulf 
 has been bridged. Redemption, through his blood and 
 merits, spans the yawning chasm. An open way in* 
 vites your feet. And would to God we saw men seiz- 
 ing that opening and opportunity of escape, as a 
 retreating army makes for the bridge when bay- 
 onets are bristling on the heights, and the shot is 
 plunging amid its disordered ranks, and clouds of 
 cavalry are cutting down the stragglers ! Oh, what 
 diligence, what activity, what energy, what shouts and 
 cries for help in such a crisis, such a terrific scene ! 
 They cast away their baggage ; everything is sacrificed 
 for life. Husbands dragging on their wives, fathers 
 carrying helpless children, brother raising up wounded 
 brother, the cry of all is for the bridge, the bridge ! 
 And as the iron hail rattles among their flying squad- 
 rons, save where the rear-guard faces round to the 
 enemy and gallantly covers the retreat, every man 
 forces on his way ; until, the living wave surging on 
 it, the bridge is choked with eager fugitives. Who 
 thinks of sitting down there, and waiting a more con- 
 venient season, waiting till the press and crowd is 
 over ? They may envy the bird that, frightened from 
 her brood, darts through the sulphureous cloud, and 
 wings her rapid way high over the swollen flood, but 
 
THE TRANSLATION*. 
 
 107 
 
 who sits down there in the idle hope that God will 
 send some eagle from her rocky nest, some angel from 
 the skies, to bear the loiterer across, and save him all 
 effort of his own ? No man. Every man is on his 
 feet. He throws himself into the crowd ; seizes every 
 opening in the dense, desperate, maddened throng, to 
 get forward ; nor relaxes the strain of his utmost 
 efforts, till he stand in safety on the other side — bless- 
 ing the man that bridged the stream. 
 
 Is not God, it may be said, sovereign and omnipo- 
 tent ? As such, does he not sometimes save those who 
 are not seeking to be saved ? and even send them back 
 from church to pray who came to scoff? True. He 
 may set aside the ordinary laws of grace, as he set 
 aside the ordinary laws of nature, when at his bidding 
 iron swam, and flames were cool, and the flinty rock 
 yielded drink, and the blue skies gave not dews but 
 corn, and unstable water stood up in solid walls like 
 adamant. But be it ever remembered, that in the 
 ordinary course of his providence, God works in grace 
 as in nature. To use a common but expressive adage, 
 God helps the man who helps himself. Even the 
 young bird chips its own shell, and I have heard its 
 voice in a feeble cry for liberty before it had burst its 
 prison walls ; and what violent exertions have I seen 
 an insect — about to enter on a new existence — make 
 to shuffle off its worm case, and come forth in resplen- 
 dent beauty to spend happy days in sunbeams, and 
 sleep away the short summer nights in the soft bosom 
 of a flower. Instinct teaches the lowest of God’s 
 creatures to exert themselves ; and providence teaches 
 man, in the common affairs of life, to exert himself. 
 The blessing is on the busy. He rea] s a harvest who 
 tills his field ; and sickles flash, and sheaves stand 
 
108 
 
 THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 thick where the ploughs have gone. The history even 
 of Christ’s miracles is pregnant with the same lesson. 
 Who were the lame he healed, but those who painfully 
 crawled to him on their knees, or crept to him on 
 crutches, or got kind friends to bear them on beds and 
 break through house-roofs, that they might get near the 
 Saviour ? Who were the blind whose eyes he opened, 
 but those whose hearts leaped within them, and who 
 leaped to their feet when, by the hum and rush of the 
 crowd, they knew that the Saviour was passing ? Be 
 these your pattern. Allow no difficulties about this ot 
 that doctrine to hinder you from giving immediate at- 
 tention and earnest obedience to these plain command- 
 ments, Pray without ceasing, Labour for the bread 
 that never perisheth, Give all diligence to make your 
 calling and election sure, Take diligent heed to do the 
 commandment and the law, to love the Lord your God, 
 and to walk in all his ways, and to keep his com- 
 mandments, and to cleave unto him, and to serve him 
 with all your heart and with all your soul. 
 
 Why is it that many, that perhaps you, are not 
 saved? Will the Lord cast off for ever ; and will he 
 be favorable no more ? Is his mercy clean gone for 
 ever ? doth his promise fail for evermore ? Hath God 
 forgotten to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his 
 tender mercies ? Is heaven full ? Is there no room for 
 more ? Or, has the blood of Christ lost its efficacy, 
 or God his pity? No. It is miserable to see how 
 carefully gold and jewels are preserved, while souls are 
 thrown away, as of no value. Men are not saved ; 
 but why ? They will give themselves no trouble — take 
 no pains to be saved. This change is indeed a birth ; 
 but remember that it is not like the birth of the body 
 —the pangs there are all the mother’s. This change 
 
THE TRANSLATION. 
 
 109 
 
 is a translation, but forget not that it is not such as 
 Elijah’s, when that deathless man had only to step into 
 the chariot, and angels shook the reins, and horses of 
 tire whirled him at his ease through the skies to heaven. 
 I am persuaded that there would be many more saved, 
 if fewer of us abused the doctrines of man’s depravity, 
 and God’s free, sovereign, saving grace. It is the gos- 
 pel, that Without shedding of blood there is no remis- 
 sion ; it is the gospel, that Except a man be born again, 
 he cannot see the kingdom of God ; it is the gospel, 
 that Not by works of righteousness which we have done, 
 but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing 
 of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost ; 
 but remember, I pray you, that, according to the same 
 gospel, those who receive are they who ask, and those 
 who find are they who seek. It is to the knocking 
 hand that the door is opened. 
 
Ill whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness 
 of sins.— Colossiaks L 14. 
 
 One who had been a great traveler, who had visited 
 all the capitals of Europe, who had studied the most 
 famous wonders of ancient art, and, no stranger to 
 nature’s grandest scenery in the Old World, had filled 
 his ear with the roar, and his eye with the foaming 
 cataract of Niagara, once declared, in my hearing, that 
 near by the latter and most glorious spectacle he had 
 seen the finest sight he ever saw. He was crossing from 
 the American to the Canadian shore ; and the same 
 boat was carrying over a fugitive slave. The slave 
 had burst his chain, and fled. Guided northwards by 
 the pole-star, he had threaded his way through tangled 
 forests and the poisonous swamp — outstripping the 
 blood-hounds that bayed behind him, and followed long 
 upon his track. Now about to realize his long-cherished 
 and fondest hopes, to gratify his burning thirst for 
 liberty, the swarthy negro stood in the bow of the boat, 
 his large black eyes intently fixed upon the shore. She 
 nears it. But ere her keel has grated on the strand, 
 impatient to be free, he gathers up all his strength 
 bends for the spring, and, vaulting into the air, by c no 
 mighty bound, one glorious leap for liberty, he reaches 
 the shore, and stands erect upon its bank — o, free man. 
 
 The liberty for which the slave longed, and labored, 
 ( 110 ) 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 Ill 
 
 and braved so much, is perhaps the sweetest earthly 
 cup man drinks. It has, indeed, been often said, that 
 health is the greatest earthly blessing. It is a precious 
 boon. How did the woman of the Gospels spend all 
 she had in search of it ; and how would thousands, now 
 languishing on beds of sickness, and sinking into the 
 grave under an incurable malady, buy this possession 
 at as great a price ? Without health, what is money ? 
 what, luxury ? what, rank and sounding titles ? what a 
 crown, if it sits heavy on throbbing brows and an ach- 
 ing head ? Yonder poor and humble cottager, browned 
 by the sun, with ruddy health glowing on his unshaven 
 cheeks, who, seated at his simple board, uncovers his 
 head to wipe the sweat of labor from his brow, or to 
 bless the God who feeds him and his little ones, might 
 be an object of envy to many. In vain they court coy 
 sleep on beds of down, and try to whet a failing appe- 
 tite by costly luxuries — sighing, they say, what is 
 money without health ? That speech may come very 
 well from those who never knew what it is to be a 
 slave ; but what is health without liberty — health in 
 chains ? 
 
 We sympathize even with the strong instinctive love 
 of freedom which appears in the lower animals — the 
 bounding noisy joy of the household dog when he gets 
 off his chain ; the sudden change on the weary horse, 
 when shaking off his fatigue with his harness, he tosses 
 his head, and, with buoyant spirits and flowing mane, 
 careers amid his fellows over the pasture field. It has 
 moved our pity to see a noble eagle chained to the 
 perch, and, as she expanded her broad sails, turn up a 
 longing eye to the golden clouds her wing shall never 
 more cleave, to the bright blue sky where she shall 
 never more soar. I have felt a deeper sympathy with 
 
112 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 the free-born denizen of the air, that, pining for hiB 
 native haunts, declines his food, refuses to be tamed, 
 and, dashing against the bars, dies — strangled in strug- 
 gles to escape, then with the tamed and gentle captive 
 which takes its food from some fair jailer’s hand, and 
 sings the song of golden moors and green woodlands 
 within an iron cage. 
 
 Much more, of course, do we sympathise with our 
 fellow-creatures — with the Hebrew exiles, for instance, 
 who hung their harps on the willows by Babylon’s 
 sluggish streams, nor could sing the songs of Sion in a 
 strange land ; with all those, whether slaves or citizens, 
 who have made the altars of Liberty red with their 
 blood, preferring death to bondage. If I can judge 
 from the interest with which I watched the progress, 
 and, I confess it, all but wished for the escape of a man 
 who, with the officers of justice at his heels, was running 
 a race for freedom, I believe that unless the offence is 
 one which nature taught us to avenge, it would cost a 
 struggle between one’s sense of duty as a subject, and 
 one’s sympathy with man’s love of liberty, to arrest a 
 runaway prisoner. But who would arrest a runaway 
 slave ? Who, that ever tasted the sweets of liberty, 
 would not help him ? What is the color of his skin 
 to me ? He is a brother wronged, a man oppressed ; 
 nor were he a man who would not in such circumstances 
 espouse the side of innocent weakness against tyrannous 
 strength, and hide him, and feed him, and lodge him, 
 and help him, from chains, and stripes, and slavery, on 
 to freedom. 
 
 If so, who would be himself a slave ? What value 
 should we set on health if we had to rise to our work 
 in the rice swamp, in the cane or cotton field, at the 
 sound of the horn, and were driven to it, like oxen* 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 113 
 
 with the crack of the whip ? Health ! what value 
 would a man set on a life itself, were his children to 
 be torn from his arms, set up to auction, and knocked 
 down to the highest bidder ; sold before his eyes to 
 slavery ; if he must stand by and hear their mother’s 
 piercing shrieks, as with bended knees and outstretched 
 hands she implores, in vain implores, for pity ; stand 
 by and hear his own mother cry for mercy, as the 
 breast that nursed him bleeds under the cutting lash ; 
 who would value life a straw, if he must stand by, nor 
 speak a word, nor shed a tear, nor from his bursting 
 bosom heave a groan, nor lift a hand in their defense ? 
 How sad it is to think that there are lands, governed 
 by Christian men, and in the prostituted name of liberty, 
 where such scenes are witnessed, and crimes so foul are 
 done ! It almost tempts one to pray that an avenging 
 Heaven would blight, and wither, and blast the fields 
 that are watered with human tears : “Ye mountains 
 of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain 
 upon you, nor fields of offerings.” May God give a 
 noble country grace and power to wife from its shield 
 so black a stain ! 
 
 In these sentiments I have no doubt you all sympa- 
 thise ; but I have to tell you of a worse and more de- 
 grading, a more cruel and dreadful slavery. There are 
 among us many greater and more to be pitied slaves. 
 I refer to those who, as the servants of Satan, are sold 
 unto sin. Would to God that we set the same high 
 price on spiritual as we do on earthly liberty ! Ah, then 
 what efforts would be put forth, what struggles would be 
 made, what long, earnest, unwearying prayers be offered 
 for salvation ! And, when saved ourselves, how anxious 
 should we be for the salvation of others? In the 
 touching narrative of a fugitive slave I have read how, 
 
114 
 
 REDEMPTION'. 
 
 when he himself had escaped, the thought of his mother,, 
 a mother dear, and sisters, still in bondage, haunted 
 him night and day, embittering the sweetness of his 
 own cup. He found no rest. Liberty to him was 
 little more than a name, until they also were free. 
 And surely one may wonder how Christians can give 
 God any rest, or take it themselves, while those near 
 and dear to them are in the gall of bitterness, and 
 in the bond of iniquity? And why is it, moreover, 
 that when his servants appear, proclaiming, through 
 Christ, liberty to the captives, and the opening of the 
 prison to them that are bound, so few hearts leap for 
 joy, and so many hear it — as if they needed it not, 
 heard it not, heeded it not — with calm, cold, frigid in- 
 difference ? Go, proclaim emancipation in a land of 
 slaves, and the news shall fly like wildfire, sweep on 
 like flames over the summer prairie. At such glad 
 tidings how the bed-rid would leap from his couch, the 
 lame throw away his crutches, the old grow young, the 
 people go mad with joy ! Mothers, with new feelings 
 would kiss their babes, and press them to their bosoms ; 
 brothers, sisters, friends, would rush into each other’s 
 arms, to congratulate each the other that they were 
 free, and, weeping the first tears of joy their eyes had 
 ever shed, would they not make hut and hall, forest and 
 mountain, ring with the glorious name of him who had 
 fought their long hard battle, nor ceased, nor relaxed 
 his efforts till he had achieved their freedom ? Jesus ! 
 with what jubilant songs, then, should we celebrate thy 
 name, and enshrine thy memory in our best affections l 
 What great, glad tidings these, redemption through 
 thy blood ! Oh that God would inspire us with such a 
 love of it, and give us so great enjoyment in it, that 
 with some foretaste of the joys, we might sing this 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 115 
 
 song of heaven, Unto him that loved us, and washed us 
 from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings 
 and priests unto God and his Father, to him be glory 
 and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. 
 
 In directing your attention to this subject, I re- 
 mark : 
 
 I. That we all need redemption. 
 
 To a man nigh unto death, who is laboring under 
 some deadly malady, and knows it, offer a medicine 
 which has virtue to cure him, and he will buy it at any 
 price. In his eyes that precious drug is worth all the 
 gold on earth. But offer that, which he grasps at, to 
 one who believes himself to be in robust and perfect 
 health, and he holds it cheap. Just so, and for a 
 similar reason, the Saviour and his redemption are 
 slighted, despised and rejected of men. Some of you 
 have no adequate conception of your lost state as sin- 
 ners, nor do you feel, therefore, your great need of 
 salvation. The first work, accordingly of God’s Holy 
 Spirit in conversion, is to rouse a man from the torpor 
 which the poison of sin — like the venom of a snake 
 infused into the veins — produces, to make him feel 
 his illness, to convince him of his guilt, to make him 
 sensible of his misery. And blessed the book, blessed 
 the preacher, blessed the providence that sends that 
 conviction into our hearts, and lodges it, like a barbed 
 arrow, there. For, to an alarmed conscience, to a soul 
 convinced of sin and misery, who so welcome as the 
 Saviour? Let a man, who fancied that he was in no 
 danger, see himself to be in great danger, know that he 
 is a poor, polluted, perishing sinner, lost by nature, 
 lying under sentence of death, deserving the wrath of 
 God, and, like one standing over a volcano, separated 
 
116 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 from hell only by a thin crust of earth, which, becom- 
 ing thinner and thinner, as the fire eats it away, is 
 already bending, cracking beneath his feet, ah ! he 
 understands the import of the words, Unto you, there- 
 fore, which believe, he is precious. Now, that Christ 
 may be so to you, and that the grace of God, which 
 bringetli salvation, may not come to you in vain, let 
 me show how all of us require to be redeemed from the 
 slavery of sin and Satan. And I remark : 
 
 1. That this slavery is the natural state of man. 
 
 We pity, how greatly do we pity, the mother, as 
 one robbed of a mother’s best joys, who knows that 
 the little creature which hangs on her bosom is a slave ; 
 and only smiles because unconscious of its sad estate. 
 But this calamity is ours. The progeny of slaves are 
 slaves themselves. And we, having sprung from 
 parents who, in the expressive language of Scripture, 
 had sold themselves for nought, leave our mother’s 
 womb in bondage to sin. Accordingly, David says, 
 “ Behold, I was shapen in iniquity ; and in sin did my 
 mother conceive me.” Let me recall to your recollec- 
 tion the testimony on this subject of one who, so far 
 as civil liberty and Roman citizenship were concerned, 
 w r as free born. You know how Paul stood on his 
 rights as a Roman. He dared them to scourge him as 
 they would a slave. Yet, speaking of himself, as be- 
 fore God, and in the eye of a holy law, he says, I am 
 carnal, sold under sin. And — not to multiply exam- 
 ples — in what terms does he address his converts? 
 “Ye were,” he says, “ the servants of sin,” or as we 
 would express it, ye were the slaves of sin. The 
 slaves ! for observe, I pray you, that the word which 
 is there translated servant, means not a servant simply) 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 117 
 
 but a servant who is a slave : not one hired for a 
 period, whom the next term sets free to leave or stay, 
 but one bound, branded with the mark of a perpetual 
 bondage ; and so the apostle says, “ God be thanked 
 that ye were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed 
 from the heart that form of doctrine which was de- 
 livered you,” “ Being then made free from sin, ye be- 
 came the servants of righteousness.” David uses 
 stronger terms. In one of his psalms, he uses this 
 very strong expression, “ 1 was as a beast before thee.” 
 And, though few of us have the deep sense of sin 
 which that holy man had, there is no child of God 
 who recalls the past to memory — what he was, and 
 how he felt antecedent to his conversion, who looks 
 back beyond that blessed day when the truth made him 
 free, but will be ready to acknowledge that he was a 
 man in bonds. Not master of himself, and free to fol- 
 low the dictates of conscience and God’s word, he 
 slaved in the service of the devil, the world, and the 
 flesh — three hard taskmasters. On that ever memor- 
 able day fetters stronger than iron were struck from 
 his limbs. 
 
 I do not affirm that the most advanced saint is alto- 
 gether free from the bondage of sin. No. The holiest 
 believer carries that about with him which painfully 
 reminds him of his old condition. I have seen a noble 
 dog which had broken loose and restored itself to his 
 liberty, dragging the chain, or some links of it, along 
 with him. I have read of brave, stout captives who had 
 escaped from prison, but who brought away with them, 
 in swollen joints or festering wounds, the marks and 
 injuries of the cruel fetters. And do not old sins thus 
 continue to hang about a man even after grace has 
 delivered him from their dominant power.? Have you 
 
118 
 
 REDEMPTION'. 
 
 not felt that these called for constant watchfulness and 
 earnest prayer ? Who does not need every day and 
 hour to resort to the fountain of cleansing, and wash 
 his heart in the blood of Christ oftener than he washes 
 his hands in water? We need to be renewed day by 
 day ; converted, as it were, not once, or twice, but — 
 every day. Surely the happiness of a child of God 
 lies mainly in this, that sin, though it remains within 
 his heart, has ceased to reign there, and that, made 
 perfect at length in holiness, lie shall enter by the dis- 
 mal gate of death into the full and glorious liberty of 
 the children of God. 
 
 2. This slavery is the universal state of man. 
 
 Both sacred and profane history show that slavery, 
 as it is one of the worst, is one of the oldest human, 
 not humane, institutions. At an early period of man’s 
 history, in Cain, he who should have been his brother’s 
 keeper became his murderer. And when afterwards 
 man did become his brother’s keeper, alas ! it was too 
 often as an owner — selling, buying, oppressing him. 
 It is long, very long since men and women, with 
 broken hearts, turned a wishful eye on the grave as a 
 welcome refuge — where the wicked cease from troubl- 
 ing, and the weary be at rest. But while there might 
 be lands that slavery never cursed, and while there 
 were in every slave land a number who in a sense were 
 free, the slavery of sin spared no land. There are no 
 “ free-soilers,” so far as sin is concerned. It has ex- 
 empted no class. The king on his throne, as much as 
 the beggar on his dunghill, is a slave. The loveliest 
 woman as much as the vilest outcast the proudest peer 
 and poorest peasant, the man of letters and the man 
 so ignorant as not to know the letters, Jew and Greek, 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 119 
 
 bond and free, are all branded and bound ; and, like 
 the gang of miserable captives which the slave-dealer 
 is driving to the sea-board, they are moving on to 
 eternity — bound in one long chain with every minor 
 distinction sunk in the one misery, that all are sold 
 under sin. In this, every difference of race, and rank, 
 and color, is merged. Every man's heart is black — 
 whatever his face may be. 
 
 It matters little, indeed, nothing before God, whether 
 a man has a dark face or a pale one ; but it is all import- 
 ant whether he has a black heart or no— whether our 
 sin-stained souls have or have not been washed white 
 in the blood of Jesus Christ. What avails it that you 
 are not bound in fetters of man’s forging, if you are 
 bound in the devil’s chain ? The difference, yonder, 
 between the white master with his lash, and the poor, 
 trembling, crouching black, over whom he cracks it, 
 is lost in this, that both are under bondage to sin. 
 And I dare to say that of the two, the bigger, blacker, 
 baser slave is he, who, boastful of his vaunted freedom, 
 and proud of his blood and color, holds a brother in 
 chains. The driver is more a slave than the driven ; 
 the oppressor than the oppressed. What chain, I ask, 
 has been forged for human limbs so strong, degrading, 
 intensely hateful in the sight of God, as the base 
 cupidity which breeds human beings, like cattle, for 
 the market ; and grasps at wealth, although its price 
 be groans and tears and blood and broken hearts ? 
 
 3. This slavery is the actual state of all unconverted 
 men. 
 
 Some are slaves of one sin ; some of another : and the 
 forms of slavery are as many and varied as the sins which 
 people are addicted to. Let me give a few examples. 
 
120 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 (1.) Some are slaves of gold. How they drudge for 
 it ! Their tyrant, the love of money, rules them with 
 a rod of iron. Naturally kind, they feel disposed to 
 assist the poor ; but, No, says their master ; and with 
 an iron heel he crushes the tenderest feelings of their 
 heart. Visited occasionally with solemn thoughts, 
 and not altogether dead to the claims of Christ, they 
 would part with something worthy of their wealth 
 and of his cause ; but what is Christ to Mammon ? 
 Again, their master says, No ; you must make more 
 money ; toil on, ye slaves ; you may not trust man, 
 and you cannot trust God ; toil on ; you must be as 
 rich as that man, and leave a fortune for your heirs to 
 quarrel about over your grave, or squander in folly 
 and dissipation. And thus, blushing at his mean ex- 
 cuse, the poor wretch — for I call him poor who has 
 money which he cannot use — sends Christ’s cause away 
 to beg with more success at a much poorer door. 
 Talk of slaves and slave-masters ! What bondage like 
 that which condemns a man to do what he condemns 
 himself for doing, to harden his heart against the 
 claims of pity, to deny his own flesh and blood, to lie, 
 cheat, and defraud, or, if not that, every day of his 
 life to run counter to the divine saying, What shall it 
 profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and 
 lose his own soul ? From such bondage, good Lord, 
 deliver us ! “ Thou, 0 man of God, flee these things, 
 
 and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, 
 patience, meekness “ fight the good fight of faith 
 and, like gold which a drowning man will drop to 
 clutch the rope flung to him from ship or shore, let go 
 the world. With thy hands set free, lay hold on eter- 
 nal life. 
 
 (2.) Some are the slaves of lust. To what base 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 121 
 
 society does it condemn them ? To what act of mean- 
 est treachery and blackest villany do their tyrant pas- 
 sions drive them ? Think of a man drowning his con- 
 science, and by that deed effacing from his soul the 
 most distinct remaining traces of the image of God ! 
 Of all sinners, these are most like their master, the 
 Devil, when he changed himself into a serpent, with 
 its lying tongue and smooth glittering skin, to win a 
 woman’s trust. They creep into the bosom which they 
 intend to sting, and put forth their powers to fascinate 
 some happy singing bird, who goes fluttering, but, 
 spell-bound, cannot help going, into their open devour- 
 ing jaws. Better be a slave and die heart-broken, 
 than be a heart-breaker. The thief — the mean, sneak- 
 ing, pilfering thief — that steals my money, is a man of 
 honor compared with him who steals a woman’s virtue, 
 and robs a household of its peace. 
 
 (3.) Some are slaves of drunkenness. Of all sla- 
 very this is the most helpless, and the most hopeless. 
 Other sins drown conscience, but this reason and con- 
 science too. More, perhaps, than any other vice, this 
 blots out the vestiges of that divine image in which we 
 were originally formed, and reduces man to the lowest 
 degradation — lower than a beast. Smiting him with 
 the greatest impotency, in such slavery as that of iron 
 to a magnet is the poor besotted drunkard to his cups. 
 He who is a slave to man, may retain his self-respect, 
 cherish his wife, and love his children ; and, raising 
 his fettered hands in prayer to heaven, may preserve 
 and present in his very chains the image of God ; but 
 yonder wretch, with beggary hung on his back, and 
 dissipation stamped on his bloated face — dead to shame, 
 or, hanging his head, and passing old acquaintances 
 with averted eye — degraded before the world, and ex- 
 6 
 
122 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 pelled from the communion of the church — lying in 
 the gutter — or beating his wife, or cursing his flying 
 children, and in his sober moments cursing himself — « 
 ah, he is a slave indeed. What hope for a man who 
 reels up to the bar of judgment, and staggers drunk 
 into his Maker’s presence ? Let his fate excite your 
 fears as well as pity. I say with the apostle, “ Let 
 him that thinketh he standetli, take heed lest he fall.” 
 Have I not seen many, whose spring budded with the 
 fairest promises, live to be a shame, and sorrow, an(i 
 deep disgrace ? And, though it were revealed from 
 heaven that you yourself should never fall, is there 
 nothing due to others? Does not that bloody cross, 
 with its blessed victim, call upon every Christian to 
 live not to himself, but to think of other’s things, as 
 well as of his own ? Every man must judge for him- 
 self ; to his own master he standeth or he falleth. 
 But when I think of all the beggary, and misery, and 
 shame, and crime, and sorrow, of which drunkenness 
 is the prolific mother, of the many hearts it breaks, of 
 the happy homes it curses, of the precious souls it 
 ruins, I do not hesitate to say that the question of 
 abstinence deserves the prayerful consideration of 
 every man ; and that, moreover, he appears to me to 
 consult most the glory of God, the honor of Jesus, and 
 the best interests of his fellow-men, who applies to all 
 intoxicating stimulants the Apostolic rule, Touch not, 
 taste not, handle not. In regard to no sin can it be 
 so truly said that our adversary the devil, as a roaring 
 lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour. 
 
 (4.) Some are slaves to the opinions of the world. 
 It was the boast of the Macedonian that he had con- 
 quered the world ; the world can boast that it has 
 conquered them. Subservient to its opinions, theirs is 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 123 
 
 the miserable condition of an unhappy servant, who 
 has to bear in some ill-governed household the caprices, 
 not of one mistress, but of many. The fear of the 
 Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but the fear of man 
 bringeth a snare. How many of the young are ruined, 
 just because they have not the courage to say, Nay, to 
 do what they know to be right — allowing themselves 
 to be laughed out of their virtuous habits, and early 
 holy training. Then, into what misery do we see 
 parents plunge themselves and their families by a 
 course of extravagance, into which they are drawn by 
 the whirpool of fashion. To sacrifice the well-being 
 of your children to a wretched vanity, to do mean or 
 dishonest things that you may appear genteel, to pre- 
 fer the approbation of the world to that of your own 
 conscience, to incur the wrath of God that you may 
 win a man’s or woman’s smiles, to stand more in fear 
 of the hiss of dying men than of the deadly serpent — 
 this slavery, common in the world, is one to which 
 Christ’s freemen should not yield — no, not for an hour. 
 Hear how God asks, as in surprise, “ Who art thou, 
 that thou shouldest be afraid cf a man that shall die, 
 and of the son of man which shall be made as grass ; 
 and forgettest the Lord, thy maker, that hath stretched 
 forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the 
 earth ?” 
 
 Yet see, how men of the noblest genius and proudest 
 intellect have crouched, slave like, before the world, 
 laying their heads in the very dust at her feet. When 
 Byron, for instance, stood aloft on the pinnacle of his 
 fame, he confessed that the disapprobation of the mean- 
 est critic gave him more pain than the applause of all 
 the others gave him pleasure. Miserable confession, 
 and miserable man ! not less a slave that laurels 
 
124 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 wreathed his brow, and that a star glittered on his 
 breast. What a contrast do we see in Paul ? He 
 was a freeman ! Like some tall rock, he stands erect ; 
 unmoved from his place, or purpose, or judgment, or 
 resolution, by the storm of a world’s disapprobation 
 raging fiercely around him. “ With me,” he says, “ it 
 is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, 
 or of man’s judgment ; ... he that judgeth me is the 
 Lord.” What more grandeur is here ! What a testi- 
 mony to the elevating power of piety ! What a glo- 
 rious illustration of the poet’s words, 
 
 “ He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
 
 And all are slaves besides.” 
 
 In old times, men and women were said to have sold 
 their souls to Satan, consenting that he should have 
 them at death, on condition of receiving a power to 
 command, in their lifetime, any wealth, any honors, any 
 pleasure their hearts might desire. As the story goes, 
 the devil held them to the bargain ; and when they 
 died, the old castle shook, and the screech-owls hooted, 
 and the dogs howled, and the lights burned blue, and 
 the tempest roared, and people crossed themselves as 
 they heard the shrieking spirit borne away through the 
 black night to hell. An old superstition ! True ; yet 
 fables are often less wonderful than facts ; and there 
 are things more incredible in real life than you or I 
 have read in the wildest romance. Did Satan, accord- 
 ing to these old legends, drive a hard bargain? With 
 sinners, now, he drives a harder. Deluded, defrauded, 
 cheated, the poor sinner has no lifetime, no season of 
 profit and pleasure. He sells himself for nought. I 
 could fill this house with living proofs of it. They 
 swarm in our streets in their rags and wretchedness. 
 
REDEMPTION. 
 
 125 
 
 And what though many, who are living a life of sin, 
 are apparently happy and prosperous ? If their hearts 
 had a window whereby we could look within, and see 
 the fears that agitate them, the gnawing of remorse, 
 the stings of conscience, the apprehensions of discovery 
 and impending evil that haunt the steps and cloud the 
 path of guilt, we should conclude that, though there 
 were neither hell nor hereafter, the way of transgres- 
 sors is hard. From their way I pray all here to turn. 
 Why will ye die ? Why ? when Christ is willing, wish- 
 ful, waiting to save. Sin’s is a miserable thraldom. 
 If its wretched slaves, you are the objects of deepest 
 compassion. Nor ever more so than when, intoxicated 
 with the pleasant but poisoned cup, you sing and laugh 
 and dance in chains. To men in your circumstances, 
 and with your appalling prospects, how may we apply 
 the words, I said of laughter, It is mad ; and of mirth, 
 What doeth it ? God help you ! God bring you to a 
 better mind ; that, raising your fettered arms and weep- 
 ing eyes to heaven for help to burst these fatal, accursed 
 bonds, you may be free — blessed with holy liberty, and 
 true peace, and pure pleasure, and lasting joys — re- 
 deemel and ransomed by the blood of Christ. 
 

 In whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiven ess 
 of sins. — C olossians i. 14. 
 
 No place touches us with a more melancholy sense 
 of the fleeting nature of earthly glory, than an old de- 
 serted castle. All is gone but the main keep. Stoutly 
 battling with time, as one not easily subdued, it stands 
 erect in its ruin amid the grass-green mounds, that, like 
 graves of the past, show where other buildings once 
 have stood. Gray with moss, or mantled with ivy, 
 the strong thick walls are slowly mouldering ; and 
 there is deep desolation in these silent courts. No step 
 but our own treads the floor that in other days shook 
 to the dancers’ feet ; nor sound is heard in halls which 
 once rung with music, and sweet voices, and merry 
 laughter, but the moaning wind, which seems to wail 
 for the wreck around it ; or the sudden rush and flap- 
 ping of some startled bird that flies at our intrusion 
 from her lonely nest. If happily an empty chain hangs 
 rusting in the dungeon where captives once had pined 
 how cold the hearth around whose roaring fires in long 
 winter nights many a tale was told, and many a bright 
 group had gathered, and the mother nursed her babe, 
 and the father told his rapt and listening boys of stir- 
 ring scenes in flood and field ! In the grass-grown 
 court below, where once they had mustered gay for 
 the bridal, or grim for battle, the sheep are quietly 
 a 26) 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 127 
 
 feeding. And here on the battlement some pine, or 
 birch, or mountain ash, rooted in a crevice and fed by 
 decay, lifts its stunted form, where the banner of an 
 ancient house floated proudly in days of old, or spread 
 itself out, defiant, as the fight raged around the belea- 
 gured walls, and the war-cry of assailants without was 
 answered by the cheers of gallant men within. Now 
 all is changed — the stage a ruin, spectators and actors 
 gone. They sleep in the grave ; their loves, and wars, 
 their fears, and joys, and sorrows — where ours, too, 
 soon shall be — buried in its cold oblivion. 
 
 “ Their memory and their name is gone, 
 
 Alike unknowing and unknown.” 
 
 And, greatest change of all, the heirs of those who 
 reared that massy pile, and rode helmed to battle with 
 a thousand vassals at their back, have sunk amid the 
 wrecks of fortune. Fallen into meanness and obscu- 
 rity, as humble rustics, they now, perhaps, plough the 
 lands which once their fathers held. 
 
 Such changes have happened in our country. But 
 changes corresponding to these never happened in 
 ancient Israel. It was there, as in the heavens above 
 us, whose luminaries, after a certain period of time has 
 elapsed, always return to the same place in the firma- 
 ment, and the same relative position to each other. 
 The sun, for instance— although changing his place 
 daily — shall rise and set, twelve months from this date, 
 at the same hour, and appear at his meridian in the 
 same spot as to-day. Corresponding to that, or like 
 the revolution of a wheel, which restores every spoke 
 to its former place, society — whatever change mean- 
 while took place in personal liberty or hereditary 
 property — returned among the old Hebrews to the 
 
128 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 very same state in which it was at the commencement 
 of those fifty years, whose close brought in the jubilee. 
 “ Then/* said Moses, “ shalt thou cause the trumpet of 
 the jubilee to sound on the tenth day of the seventh 
 month, in the day of atonement shall ye make the trum- 
 pet sound throughout all your land. And ye shall hal- 
 low the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout 
 all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof ; it shall 
 be a jubilee unto you ; and ye shall return every man 
 unto his possession, and he shall return every man unto 
 his family. 7 '* 
 
 In consequence either of his crimes or his misfortunes, 
 the Hebrew was occasionally obliged to part with his 
 paternal estate. His was sometimes a still greater 
 calamity, for not only was his property sold, but his 
 liberty. He became the bond servant of some more 
 fortunate brother. So matters stood till the fiftieth 
 year arrived and the jubilee was blown. At that trum- 
 pet sound, how fondly anticipated ! how gladly heard ! 
 the fetters fall from his limbs, and the slave of yester- 
 day is to-day a freeman. At that trumpet sound the 
 beggar doffs his rags, the weary laborer throws down 
 his tools. Marriage bells never rang so merry as that 
 blessed peal ; it has changed the serf into a freeholder, 
 a man of substance and position. And, as blown with 
 the breath of liberty, trumpet replied to trumpet, and 
 the sound of the jubilee, rising from valley to mountain, 
 echoed among the rocky hills, and spread itself over 
 the land from beyond Jordan’s bank to the shores of the 
 sea, from the roots of snowy Lebanon to the burning 
 desert, every man bade adieu to beggary, and wander- 
 ing and exile. Like parted streams, divided families 
 were reunited ; long alienated possessions were restored 
 to their original owners, and amid universal rejoicings, 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 129 
 
 feastingg mirth, music and dances, every man returned 
 to spend the rest of his days in his father’s house, and 
 when he died to mingle his own with ancestral dust. 
 What a singular institution ! As a civil arrangement, 
 acting as a check both on excessive wealth and on ex- 
 cessive poverty, it was without a parallel in any ancient 
 or modern nation. But it was more — it was a symboli- 
 cal institution. More than in many respects a great 
 social blessing, it had a deep, holy, spiritual meaning. 
 Celebrated on the great day of atonement — that day 
 when the goat, typical of Jesus, bore away the sins of 
 the people — it was the symbol of a better restitution, 
 and a better redemption ; and was, in fact, a striking, 
 very beautiful, most benignant figure of the redemption 
 which we have through the blood of Christ, even the 
 forgiveness of sins. 
 
 Before turning your attention to the redemption, of 
 which that jubilee was such a remarkable figure, let me, 
 by way of warning, remark : 
 
 I. Ou~ redemption is not, like that of the Hebrews, 
 a simple matter of time. 
 
 Every fifty years, and in certain cases every seven 
 years, redeemed the Hebrew, and restored him to the 
 enjoyment of his property. “ If thy brother,” said 
 God, “ an Hebrew man, or an Hebrew woman, be sold 
 unto thee, and serve thee six years, then in the seventh 
 year thou shalt let him go free from thee. And when 
 thou sendest him out free from thee, thou shalt not let 
 him go away empty.” Thus, time set free the Hebrew 
 slave, and as its finger moved over the face of the sun- 
 dial, pointed him onwards to freedom. Everywhere, 
 and in its most ordinary course, time works many 
 changes, the young grow old. and raven locks grow 
 6 * 
 
130 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 gray ; the poor rise into wealth, while the rich sink 
 into poverty ; old families disappear, and new ones 
 start up like mushrooms. And, constantly changing the 
 condition of society, as he turns the wheel of fortune, 
 Time is altering the form even of this great globe itself. 
 The proudest mountains are bending before his sceptre, 
 and yielding to his silent but resistless sway. Nor is 
 there a tiny stream that trickles over the rock, and 
 often hid under the broad fern, and nodding grasses, 
 and wild flowers that grow on its narrow banks, be- 
 trays itself only by the gentle murmur with which it 
 descends to join the river that receives its tribute, and 
 rolls it onward to the ocean, but — teaching us in the 
 highest matters not to despise the day of small things 
 — is wearing down the mountain and filling up the sea. 
 Through the agencies of heat and cold, dews and rains, 
 summer showers and winter snows, Time is remodelling 
 the features of our world, and — perhaps in that symbol- 
 izing the onward progress and future condition of 
 society — reducing its various inequalities to one great 
 common level. 
 
 But amid these changes shall years change, as a 
 matter of course, the condition of a sinner ? Shall they 
 redeem him, for instance, from his slavery, or even 
 relax the chains of sin ? In the course of time you 
 will grow older, but not of necessity better. On the 
 contrary, while the Hebrew slave was, by every year 
 and day he lived, brought nearer to redemption, and 
 could say, on such a day and at such an hour I shall 
 be free, it is a solemn and awful fact, that the longer 
 you live in sin, the more distant, more difficult, more 
 hopeless does your salvation become. “ The last state 
 of that man is worse than the first.” Let us not flatter 
 ourselves with the very common hope, I shall grow 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 131 
 
 better as I grow older. That is very unlikely to hap- 
 pen. The unconverted are less likely to be saved at 
 the jubilee age of fifty than at five-and-twenty, in their 
 seventieth than in their seventh year. “ Oh that they 
 were wise, that they understood this, that they would 
 consider their latter end !” Do you say, in reply, But 
 what then am I to do ? Can I redeem myself? As- 
 suredly not. But are we, because we can be redeemed 
 only through the blood of Christ, to sit still ; as if that 
 redemption would come like a jubilee in the common 
 course of providence, or time, or nature? No. We 
 are to be up and doing, since, in a sense, it is true of a 
 souks as of a nation’s liberty, 
 
 “Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow.” 
 
 I do not say that we are to rise like an oppressed 
 nation which wrings its liberties from a tyrant’s hand, 
 nor that we can purchase redemption, as we bought 
 with our millions the freedom of West Indian slaves ; 
 nor that through works of righteousness that we do 
 or have done, we can establish any claim whatever to 
 its blessings. By care and industry you may acquire 
 goods, not goodness ; money, but never merit — merit 
 in the sight of God. And yet I say, in God’s name, 
 “ labor not for the meat which perisheth, but for that 
 meat which endureth unto everlasting life “ work 
 out your own salvation with fear and trembling 
 “ give diligence to make your calling and election 
 sure “ take diligent heed to do the commandment 
 and the law, to love the Lord your God, and to walk 
 in all his ways, and to keep his commandments, and to 
 cleave unto him, and to serve him with all your heart, 
 and with all your soul.” There are various ways of 
 being diligent. One man, seated at the loom, is busy 
 
132 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 with the shuttle ; another, at the desk, with his pen ; 
 another, in the field, at his plough ; another bends to 
 the oar, and, ploughing the deep, reaps his harvest on 
 the stormy waters ; another, seen through the smoke 
 of battle, is straining all his energies on the bloody 
 field, winning honors with the bayonet’s rush and at 
 the cannon’s mouth. And, though men may call him 
 idle, yonder poor beggar, who, in orphan child or in- 
 firm old man, claims our pity and reproves our indo- 
 lence, is busy also, diligent as the others. His hand is 
 not idle, it is busy knocking ; nor are his feet, they 
 bear him weary from house to house, from door to door ; 
 nor is his tongue, it pleads his poverty, and tells his 
 tale of sorrow ; while, pressed by necessity and earnest 
 of purpose, out of his hollow eyes he throws such looks 
 of misery, as move compassion and melt the heart. 
 
 And such as that suppliant’s, along with the use of 
 other means, are the labors, the diligence, to which 
 God’s gracious mercy and your own necessities call 
 you. Unable to save yourselves, it is yours to besiege 
 with prayers the throne of grace. Learn from Simon 
 Peter what to do, and where to turn : not Peter sleep- 
 ing in the garden, but Peter sinking in the sea. One 
 who in his boyhood had learned to breast the billow, 
 and feel at home upon the deep, he makes no attempt to 
 swim ; the shore lies beyond his reach, nor can the 
 boldest swimmer live amidst these swelling waters. 
 His companions cannot save him ; their boat, un- 
 manageable, drifts before the gale, and they cannot 
 save themselves. He turns his back on them. He 
 directs nor look nor cry to them, but fixing his eyes on 
 that divine form which, calm, unmoved, master of the 
 tempest, steps majestically on from billow to billow, 
 the drowning man throws out his arms to Jesus, and 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 133 
 
 cries, “Lord, save me P Did he cry in vain? No 
 more shall you. Jesus came to seek and to save that 
 which was lost ; nor did he ever say unto one of the 
 sons of men, Seek ye me in vain. He offered his soul 
 for sin, and came to redeem us from all iniquity. Let 
 us now 
 
 II. Consider Christ as the Redeemer ; not as a 
 Redeemer, but the Redeemer. 
 
 There is no other. “ There is none other name 
 under heaven given among men, whereby we must be 
 saved. 77 All the types and symbols of the Saviour 
 teach you this. There was one ark in the flood — but 
 one ; and all perished save those who sailed in it. 
 There was one altar in the temple — but one : and no 
 sacrifices were accepted but those offered there — “ the 
 altar , 77 as the Bible says, that “ sanctified the gift . 77 
 There was one way through the depths of the Red Sea 
 — but one ; and only where the water, held back by the 
 hand of God, stood up in crystal walls, was a passage 
 opened for those that were ready to perish. And even 
 so, there is but “ one mediator between God and men, 
 the man Christ Jesus ; 77 as our catechism says, “ The 
 only Redeemer of God 7 s elect is the Lord Jesus 
 Christ . 77 
 
 This truth is, in a certain sense, and to some extent, 
 acknowledged by all churches which call themselves 
 Christian. They all profess to give Jesus the honors 
 of salvation ; not excepting, on the one hand, those 
 which, denying the divinity of our Lord and the doc- 
 trine of the atonement, extract its vitality from the 
 Gospel ; nor, on the other hand, those Greek and Ro- 
 man churches, which, by their additions and traditions, 
 have buried the Rock of Ages beneath a great heap of 
 
134 : 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 rubbish. While, however, they appear to regard our 
 Lord Jesus Christ as the Redeemer, and so seem to 
 travel on in company, no sooner is the question started, 
 in what sense he is a Redeemer, than we arrive at a 
 point where they take different paths, and are led, as 
 they advance, wider and wider asunder. That question 
 introduces us, in fact, into a great controversy. I do 
 not intend to enter into it ; but I will affirm, that 
 whether the weapons were sword, pen, or tongue, no 
 conflict that affected the sacred cause of liberty, the 
 rights of man, the honor or interests of nations, ever 
 involved such important, vital, transcendent interests, 
 as are staked in the battle that has been waged around 
 Christ’s cross, and about the question, how he saves, in 
 what sense he is a Redeemer. 
 
 The first and most notable champion who appeared 
 on the field was the apostle Paul ; and as, panoplied 
 from head to heel in the armor of God, he stalks into 
 the arena, and, looking undaunted around him, is ready 
 to fight and to die for the truth, observe the motto on his 
 battle-shield, “ I determined not to know anything 
 among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” It 
 is not simply Jesus Christ ; though given by an angel 
 and full of meaning, that was a great name. Nor is it 
 Christ come, nor Christ coming, nor even Christ 
 crowned ; but Christ dying on a cross, li Christ, and 
 him crucified.” Life to sinners through a Saviour’s 
 death, salvation by substitution, redemption through 
 blood — that blood the ransom and Jesus the Redeemer 
 . — was the substance of all Paul’s sermons, the theme 
 of his praise, the deepest-rooted and most cherished 
 hope of his heart. He lived and died in that faith ; and, 
 though that tongue of power and eloquence be now 
 silent in the grave, he proclaims to listening angels in 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 135 
 
 heaven what he preached to men on earth. He pro- 
 claims it, not in sermons, but in songs ; for in that 
 serene and better world, where no storms disturb the 
 church, nor controversies rage, nor clouds obscure the 
 light, they sing, salvation by the blood of Christ. May 
 we cast away all other hope! — and, with our whole 
 hearts embracing that, we shall one day join the vast 
 congregation whose voices fell on John’s ear as the 
 sound of many waters, while in harmonious numbers and 
 to golden harps they sung before the throne, “ Thou 
 wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood.” 
 
 And for more fully understanding and appreciating 
 this doctrine, I remark — 
 
 1. Christ does not redeem us, as some say, by simply 
 revealing the truth — save us by merely as a prophet 
 shewing the way of salvation. 
 
 The pathways on the deep along our rugged coasts, 
 as well as our streets, are lighted ; and yonder, where 
 the waters fret and foam and break above the sunken 
 rock, the tall light-house rises. Kindled at sundown, 
 it shines steady and clear through the gloom of night, 
 warning the seaman at the wheel of the danger he has 
 to avoid, and shewing him the course he has to steer. 
 Now he who reared that house and kindled its blessed 
 light, and thus saves many a bark from shipwreck, 
 many a sailor from a watery grave, may be called a 
 saviour. In one sense he is the saviour of all who, 
 bravely ploughing their way through the black mid- 
 night over the stormy deep, hail that light as it rises 
 on them like a star of hope — and, seeing it, know how 
 to steer, to take the roads, to clear the bar, to beware 
 the reef, and bring their bark in safety to the desired 
 haven. But if Christ is a Saviour only in that sense, 
 
136 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 simply because he brought life and immortality to light, 
 then he is not the only Saviour. From the “ Sun of 
 Righteousness” he changes into a star, and in that 
 heaven, where he shone without a rival, he takes his 
 place but among the luminaries of the church ; one of 
 many, he is only a pure and bright and beautiful star 
 in that brilliant constellation, which is formed of Moses, 
 the prophets, those seers and sages and inspired apos- 
 tles, by whose voices and pens, in the days of old, God 
 communicated his will to man. 
 
 Many of those, indeed, who were inspired to reveal 
 the will of God for the salvation of men, had more to 
 r}o instrumentally in revealing that will than Jesus 
 Christ. No book bears his name ; he wrote no epistle, 
 and the truths that actually dropt from his lips, so far 
 as they are recorded, form but an insignificant portion 
 of those Holy Scriptures which are our chart and 
 charter. Yet who but he is set forth as the Redeemer 
 and Saviour of sinners ? Where is Moses represented 
 as such ? or David ? or Isaiah ? or Paul ? Where is 
 it said, Believe on Paul, and thou shalt be saved ? 
 whosoever believeth on Paul or Peter hath everlasting 
 life and shall never perish? Nevertheless, compared 
 with our Lord Jesus Christ, see how much Paul did 
 in actually revealing the will of God to men. Jesus 
 preached three years, but Paul thirty. Jesus preached 
 only to Jews, but Paul to Jew, and Greek, and Roman, 
 Parthian, Scythian, barbarian, bond and free. Jesus 
 numbered his converts by hundreds, Paul his by thous- 
 ands. Jesus confined his labors to the narrow limits 
 of Palestine ; Paul overleaped all such bounds, he took 
 the wide earth for his field, and flying as on angel's 
 wings, he preached the Gospel alike to the bearded 
 Jew, the barbarians of Melita, the philosophers of 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 137 
 
 Athens,, and in the streets and palaces of Rome, to the 
 conquerors of the world. Yet look at this great 
 apostle ; he lies as low at Jesus 2 * * * * 7 feet as the woman who 
 washed them with her tears, and wiped them with the 
 hairs of her head. He wore chains for Christ, and 
 gloried in them ; nor was ever queen so proud of her 
 diamond coronet, nor man in office of his chain of gold 
 as he of the iron manacles he wore for Christ, and 
 boldly shook in the face of kings. To serve the cause 
 of Jesus he could submit to be beaten, and scourged, 
 and starved, and stoned, and cast at Ephesus to 
 hungry lions ; but one thing he could not bear — grief 
 and horror seize him when he finds himself set on a 
 level with his master. To a divided church, rent by 
 factions and full of partisanship, where one is crying, 
 I am of Paul, and another, I am of Apollos, and a third, 
 I am of Cephas, and a fourth, I am of Christ, he turns 
 round with indignation to ask, u Is Christ divided ? 
 'was Paul crucified for you ? or were ye baptized in the 
 name of Paul ?” In whatever others may glory, he 
 ascribes all the glory of redemption to the cross of 
 Christ, and, rebuking that party spirit and respect for 
 human authority which is still too prevalent among us, 
 he exclaims, “ God forbid that I should glory, save in 
 the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 
 2. Our Lord does not redeem us, as some say, simply 
 
 by his example. 
 
 That man is, in a sense, my saviour, who leads me 
 
 safely along any dangerous path. The brave guide, 
 
 for instance who, high up on the beetling precipice, 
 appears to shuddering spectators below like an insect 
 
 creeping along its face, who now plants the point of 
 his foot in the crevice, now poises himself on that 
 
138 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 rocking stone, now, laying strong hand on a friendly 
 root, with a thousand feet beneath, swings himself 
 round this dangerous corner, now, with arms stretched 
 out, and with more than a lover’s eagerness, embraces 
 the rock, and now steps lightly along the fallen tree 
 that bridges the fearful chasm, and so, going before, 
 shows me where to turn, and what to hold by, I re- 
 gard — and on looking back at that tremendous path, 
 and horrible abyss — regard with gratitude as my 
 saviour. But for him, I had never achieved the pas- 
 sage ; my body had been mangled, and my unburied 
 bones left to bleach in the depths of that dark ravine. 
 
 And in a corresponding way, according to some, our 
 Lord redeemed us. He set us such an example of 
 every virtue, of patient enduf ance, of living, suffering, 
 dying, that we also, by closely following his footsteps, 
 may reach the kingdom of heaven. Alas for our 
 safety ! farewell to the hope of heaven, a last farewell, 
 if it turn on that. What a delusion ! God knows, if 
 it had not been for the everlasting arms that caught 
 us when falling, and often raised us when fallen, and 
 for the overflowing love that has pardoned a thousand 
 and a thousand sins, I, and you, and all, had perished 
 long ere now. We had never stopped falling, till, like 
 a stone that, rolling down the hill-side and bounding 
 from crag to crag, at length, with a sullen sound, 
 plunges into the lake, we had been lost in hell. Fol- 
 low his example ! Tread his footsteps ! Live as he 
 lived! Walk as he walked! Who is sufficient for 
 these things? No woman ever bore such a son as 
 Mary’s ; for in him a clean thing came out of an un- 
 clean. Death has darkened many a house and church 
 and land, but never extinguished such a light as was 
 quenched in blood on Calvary ; it was as if he had 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 139 
 
 raised his arm and plucked, not a star, but the sun 
 from heaven. This earth was never trodden by such 
 feet as walked the Sea of Galilee, and were nailed 
 upon the cross. For more y aan thirty years they trod 
 earth's foulest paths, and, when heaven received hi n* 
 back, had neither spot nor stain. And as he lay dead 
 three days in a grave, which, respecting its prisoner, 
 did not dare to mar his face, or touch him with its cor- 
 rupting finger, so in a world that has been the grave 
 of virtue and holiness and piety, he passed three-and- 
 thirty years amid corruption uncorrupted, a friend to 
 harlots, a guest of publicans, associated with sinners, 
 yet sinless, holy, harmless, undefiled — like oil among 
 water, separate from sinners. 
 
 Again, I ask, who is sufficient for these things? 
 What man liveth and sinneth not ? Who has not often 
 to cry — “ Hold up my goings in thy paths, that my 
 footsteps slip not; and, when once down, what stops 
 him from going straight down to hell, but the promise, 
 which faith catches and holds and hangs by, “ I will 
 heal their backslidings, and love them freely ? ” We 
 should certainly attempt always to follow Jesus, to 
 walk as he walked, to speak as he spake, to think as 
 he thought, and to mould our whole conduct and conver- 
 sation on the pattern that he hath left us ; yet our best 
 attempts will leave us more and more convinced that 
 our only hope for redemption, salvation, forgiveness, lies 
 in the mercy of the Father and the merits of the Son. 
 Pray for and make sure of an interest in these, for 
 even after we have been made new creatures in Jesus 
 Christ, the most that we can do — nor that without the 
 aids of the Holy Spirit — is to creep along the path 
 which the Saviour walked, and leave the mark of our 
 knees where he left the prints of his feet. 
 
140 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 3. Christ has redeemed us by suffering in our room 
 and stead. Our ransom was his life, the price of our 
 redemption his blood. 
 
 “ Without shedding of . flood is no remission ;” “ the 
 blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.” This 
 is the grand truth, the central doctrine, the culminat- 
 ing point of the Gospel. It rises lofty above all 
 others. And, as some Alpine summit, crowned with 
 snows and piercing the blue skies, rises up bright and 
 clear, to catch the rays of the morning sun, and be de- 
 scried from a far long distance, so the doctrine which 
 cheers us, caught the eyes' and revived the hearts of 
 Adam and Eve amid the withered bowers of Eden. 
 The promised seed was to bruise the serpent’s head, 
 and that serpent was to bite His heel. There was to 
 be salvation, but salvation through suffering ; and, as 
 could only be, salvation through the suffering of a sub- 
 stitute. It was as a substitute for sinners that Jesus 
 was daily set forth in the sacrifices of the Jewish 
 altar ; and to one of these, as very graphically exhib- 
 iting the connection between bloodshed and sin for* 
 given, let me request your attention. 
 
 The offering I refer to was made on the greatest of 
 all ceremonial occasions — the day of atonement. Two 
 young goats, kids of the goats, are selected from the 
 flock, and presented before the Lord at the door of the 
 tabernacle. These young, innocent, spotless creatures, 
 standing there in the sight of the silent solemn multi- 
 tude, are a double type of Jesus, when, in the councils 
 of eternity, he presented himself before Jehovah, say- 
 ing, “ Lo, I come (in the volume of the book it is writ- 
 ten of me) to do thy will, 0 God.” The lot is cast — 
 6ne for the Lord, the other for the scapegoat — to de- 
 termine which shall represent our Saviour in the act 
 
CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 141 
 
 of his death, and which in the fruit of his death, 
 namely, the bearing away of the sins of the people. 
 The first falls as a sin offering. The High Priest, 
 having caught his flowing blood in a golden bowl, 
 enters within the veil, and, alone, sprinkles it upon 
 and before the mercy-seat. Coming forth, he goes up 
 to the living goat ; standing over it, he lays his hands 
 upon its head ; and, amid solemn silence, confesses 
 over the dumb creature all the iniquities, and trans- 
 gressions, and sins of the children of Israel. The 
 prayer finished, that goat bears on its devoted head 
 the guilt of the people as it has been ceremonially 
 transferred from them to it by these blood-stained 
 hands, and that holy prayer. And now, observe the 
 act which foreshadowed how Jesus, by taking our sins 
 upon him, bore them all away. The congregation 
 opens, the vast crowd divides, forming a lane that 
 stretches away right from the tabernacle into the 
 boundless desert. While every lip is sealed, and every 
 eye intent upon the ceremony, a man steps forth — a 
 “fit” man ; and, taking hold of the victim, he leads it 
 on and away through the parted crowd. All eyes fol- 
 low them. Amid the haze of the burning sands and 
 distant horizon, their forms grow less and less, and at 
 length vanish from the sight. He and that goat are 
 now alone. They travel on and further on, till, re- 
 moved beyond the reach of any human eye, far off in 
 the distant wilderness, nor man nor house in sight, he 
 casts loose the sin-laden creature. And when, after the 
 lapse of hours, the people descry a speck in the ex- 
 treme distance, which draws nearer and nearer, until, 
 in a solitary man who approaches the camp, they re- 
 cognise the fit man who had led away the sin-laden 
 victim, the people see, and we in figure also see, how 
 
142 
 
 CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 
 
 our Lord, when he was made an offering for sin, took 
 the load of our guilt upon him — bearing it away, as it 
 were, to a land that was not known. “ As far as the 
 east is from the west, so far hath he removed our 
 transgressions from us.” 
 
 Let faith seize the reality of which that ceremony 
 was the shadow. Behold Christ suffering for his peo- 
 ple, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to 
 God ! He bore our sins away on his head in that 
 thorny crown, and on his shoulder in that heavy cross ; 
 and, most of all, amid that awful darkness, when he 
 was indeed alone, and, cast off by God as well as man, 
 his heart broke in that awful cry, “ My God, my God, 
 why hast thou forsaken me ! ” Relieved thus from his 
 load of guilt, knowing that all his sins were then 
 atoned for, and, in the witness of God’s Spirit with his 
 own, possessing evidence that they are now forgiven, 
 how happy should the believer be ! Envying no man’s 
 state, and coveting no man’s goods, with God’s peace 
 in our heart and heaven in our eye, oh, may it be ours 
 to say from sweet experience, “ Blessed is he whose 
 transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.” 
 
Who is the image of the invisible God. — Colossians i. 15. 
 
 “ I am an old man, and have never seen God,” said a 
 gray-haired Indian to Sir John Franklin, when that 
 distinguished traveler was pursuing one of his earlier 
 expeditions into those arctic regions where he first won 
 his fame, and afterwards found his grave. From that 
 fact the old man argued that there is no God ; since, 
 if there were any such being, he must have seen him 
 sometime, and met him somewhere, in the course of his 
 long life and wide wanderings. Stupid savage ! He 
 would not believe in God because he had never seen 
 him. Yet he believed in the wind, which he had never 
 seen, as it howled along the dreary waste, or whirled the 
 snow-flakes, or roared through the pine-forest, or swept 
 his light canoe over foaming billows, or roused the sea 
 to burst its wintry chains, and float away from silent 
 shores their fields and glittering bergs of ice. 
 
 We believe in many things we never saw, on the 
 evidence of other senses than that of sight. We be- 
 lieve in music ; in invisible voices, that roll their waves 
 of sound upon the ear, and by means of which our 
 spirits, shut up within gross, material forms, telegraph 
 their thoughts and hold intercourse, one with another. 
 We believe in invisible odors — the fragrance of rose 
 or lily, and the sweet-scented breath of a thousand 
 
 (143) . 
 
144 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 other flowers. Nay, we believe in the existence of 
 what we neither hear, nor see, nor taste, nor smell, nor 
 touch. Though ignorant of what they are, and where 
 they are, we believe in the life that animates our mortal 
 bodies, and in the immortal spirits that inhabit them. 
 Thus, with such knowledge and education as we have, 
 there is no danger of our falling into the mistake of 
 Franklin’s savage, or doing anything so foolish and 
 absurd as to doubt the being of God because his person 
 is invisible. Still, though that circumstance may not 
 lead us to deny his existence, alas ! how often does it 
 tempt us, the best of us, to forget it ! And as to the 
 ungodly, God is not in all their thoughts. “ They 
 break in pieces thy people, 0 Lord, and afflict thine 
 heritage. They slay the widow and the stranger, and 
 murder the fatherless. Yet they say, the Lord shall 
 not see, neither shall the God of Jacob regard it. 
 Understand, ye brutish among the people ; and ye 
 fools, when will ye be wise ? He that planted the ear 
 shall he not hear ? He that formed the eye shall he 
 not see ? Let me, therefore, embrace the opportunity 
 which the text presents, of dwelling for a little on that 
 feature of the Divine Being, of which the apostle 
 speaks, in setting Christ before us as the visible image 
 of an invisible God. 
 
 I. I would warn you against allowing God to be out 
 of mind because he is out of sight. 
 
 This is a fault to which we are all prone, a danger 
 to which our very constitution exposes us. Hence the 
 necessity of striving, making an earnest effort to 
 “ walk by faith, not by sight.” How difficult an ac- 
 quirement ! for we are to a great degree the creatures 
 of sense. The sight of some companion of our boyhood, 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 145 
 
 from whom many years and wide seas have parted us, 
 how that recalls old days, and rekindles affections that 
 had been slumbering in their ashes ! W e light on a 
 letter written by a kind hand long mouldering in the 
 dust, how that opens up wounds which time seemed to 
 have healed, and renews forgotten griefs ! I have 
 known a man far advanced in life, and standing, ripe 
 for heaven, on the edge of another world, so moved by 
 the picture of an early love, that, as he gazed on it, 
 fountains long sealed burst open ; and over the youthful 
 and beautiful image of her whom the grave had long 
 held for years in its cold embraces, he bowed his gray 
 head, and wept and sobbed like a woman. And what 
 effect mere sight has on other passions may be seen in 
 the rout of yon battle-field, where the column that has 
 stood the volleying shot, and faced the flashes of death 
 so long as he came invisible in a shower of bullets, 
 wavers, staggers, reels, breaks, scatters like a flock of 
 sheep. The charge is made. They cannot stand seen 
 death — this line that, with knit brows, and rapid rush, 
 and terrible cheers, hurls itself on their ranks, their 
 gleaming bayonets a horrid hedge of steel. 
 
 And is it not just because we are chiefly affected 
 by the visible, that the grave comes to be the land 
 of forgetfulness ? The dead, being out of sight, are 
 jostled out of mind ; thrust off like withered leaves 
 from beech or oaken hedge by the green growth of 
 spring ; buried in our hearts as in their tombs. It 
 may be that they are now and then recalled, yet widows 
 forget their husbands, and wear their weeds sometimes 
 longer than their griefs ; parents forget their children, 
 the living pushing out the dead ; and churches forget 
 their ministers ; and nations forget the patriots whom 
 they have entombed in marble and honored with sta- 
 
146 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 tues. Memory grows treacherous. “ Our fathers, 
 where are they ? the prophets, do they live for ever ?” 
 When some great man dies in church or state, he falls 
 like a mass loosened from the mountain crag, which, 
 bounding into the quiet lake, produces a great commo- 
 tion, echoing among the silent hills, and surging its 
 waves up along the troubled shore ; but how soon all 
 is quiet again ! He goes down, like a stately ship, 
 with colors flying and sails all set ; and for a -time 
 society is widely affected. The event produces a great 
 impression ; the public mind is agitated to its lowest 
 depths ; and, as he sinks into the grave, he draws men’s 
 thoughts after him as that ship sucks in all that floats 
 nigh the whirlpool which she forms in her descent. 
 But it is with him as with her. Once buried beneath 
 its waters, how soon the sea is still again, and returns 
 to its former calmness ! The grave closes over the 
 mighty dead ; and new events and new persons, though 
 they may be much inferior, engross the public atten- 
 tion, just as the intend of men comes to be fixed more 
 on the little boat that floats its living crew on the 
 placid waters, than on the gallant ship that, with all 
 her guns and brave men, lies buried in the depths 
 below. 
 
 And so it is in religious things, in those matters 
 which affect our eternal well-being. What is out of 
 sight is very apt to be out of mind. Let this teach 
 you to take all the more heed to live by faith in the 
 invisible. Consider how, with all their glare and show, 
 things seen are paltry, passing, the least of things ; and 
 that grandeur and endurance belong to the unseen. 
 The soul is unseen ; precious jewel of immortality, it 
 lies concealed within its fragile fleshly casket. Hell 
 and heaven are unseen ; the first sinks beneath our 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 147 
 
 Bight, the second rises high above it. The eternal 
 world is unseen ; a veil impenetrable hangs before its 
 mysteries, hiding them from the keenest eye. Death 
 is unseen ; he strikes his blow in the dark. The devil 
 is unseen — stealing on us often unsuspected, and always 
 invisible. And as is our deadliest foe, so is our best 
 and trustiest, our heavenly Friend. Jesus is an invisi- 
 ble Saviour ; Jehovah is an invisible God. 
 
 “ No man hath seen God at any time yet why 
 should that be turned into a temptation to sin ? I 
 think it should rather minister to constant watchful- 
 ness and holy care. How solemn the thought, that an 
 invisible being is ever at our side, and, watching us, 
 recording with rapid pen each deed and word, every 
 desire that rises, though it be to burst like an air-bell, 
 every thought that passes, though on an eagle’s wing. 
 We cannot shake off the presence of God ; and when 
 doors are shut, and curtains drawn, and all is still, and 
 darkest night fills our chamber, and we are left alone 
 to the companionship of our thoughts, it might keep 
 them pure and holy to say, as if we saw two shining 
 eyes looking on us out of the darkness, “ Thou, God, 
 seest me.” The world called him mad who imagined 
 that he saw God’s eye looking on him out of every 
 star of the sky, and every flower of the earth, and every 
 leaf of the forest, from the ground he trod upon, from 
 the walls of his lonely chamber, and out of the gloomy 
 depths of night. Mad ! It was a blessed and holy 
 fancy. May God help you to feel yourselves at all 
 times more in his presence than you are at any time in 
 that of your fellow-men ! How promptly then would 
 every bad thought be banished ; what unholy deeds 
 be crushed in the desire, nipped in the bud, strangled 
 in the birth ; what crimes remain uncommitted ; how 
 
148 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 feeble would the strongest temptations prove ; what a 
 purity, nobility, loftiness, holiness, hcavenliness, would 
 be imparted to your whole bearing and conversation ! 
 There would be a dignity in the humblest Christian’s 
 mien and looks, such as rank never wore, and courtly 
 training never bred ; and we should guard our hearts 
 with such a door as stands at the threshold of heaven, 
 this written above it in the blood of Calvary, Here 
 “ there shall in no wise enter anything that defileth.” 
 
 II. The visible revelations of the Invisible, which 
 are recorded in Old Testament history, were most 
 probably manifestations of the Son of God. 
 
 Out of a number of cases where God is said to have 
 been seen, let me select a few. 
 
 To-morrow Esau and Jacob are to meet. There 
 was a quarrel of long standing between them, which 
 had all the bitterness of a domestic feud. Jacob had 
 foully deceived and deeply injured his brother. He 
 had not seen Esau for many years, and, dreading his 
 vengeance, he now heard of his approach at the head 
 of four hundred men, with fear and trembling. Greatly 
 alarmed, he cried, God of my father Abraham, God of 
 my father Isaac, deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand 
 of my brother ; for I fear him, lest he will come and 
 smite me, the mother with the children. Pattern to 
 us when temptation threatens, or dark misfortunes 
 lower, Jacob, having done all that man’s wisdom could 
 devise, or his power could do in the circumstances, flies 
 for help to God. He will prepare for to-morrow’s 
 trial by a night of prayer. Sending off his wives and 
 children across Jabbok’s stream, to place them as far 
 as possible out of danger and leave these innocent 
 ones to forget it in sleep’s sweet oblivion, he seeks 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 149 
 
 himself a solitary spot. With deepest silence all 
 around him, and the bright stars above Iris head, he is 
 on his knees alone with God. Suddenly, as if he had 
 approached with the stealth of a creeping savage, or 
 had sprung from out the ground, some one grasps him. 
 Folded in his arms, Jacob cannot cast him off. Now 
 it becomes a struggle for the mastery. Locked to- 
 gether, they wrestle in the dark ; they bend ; they try 
 each to throw the other ; and, in some mysterious com- 
 mingling of bodily and spiritual wrestling, the night 
 passes, and the conflict lasts till break of day. Let 
 me go, said the other, whose eye had caught the gleam 
 of morning, for the day breaketh. Jacob but held 
 him faster. He had found out the other wrestler ; 
 danger gave him boldness ; faith gave him confidence ; 
 and, clinging to God with the grasp of a drowning man, 
 he replied, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. 
 And when he had prevailed, and got the blessing, 
 “ Jacob called the name of the place Peniel ; for 1 
 have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved.” 
 Again, Joshua and the host are lying before Jericho, 
 about to commence the siege. To enjoy an hour of 
 quiet devotion, undisturbed by the din and distraction 
 of the camp, or, perhaps, like a wary general, under 
 cover of the night, to reconnoitre the position of the 
 enemy, and find where he might attack their defences 
 with most success, Joshua goes forth alone. And as, 
 advancing with bold yet cautious steps, he turns some 
 corner of the road, some angle of the wall, he starts, 
 finding himself face to face with an armed man. His 
 bravery is not ruffled. He thinks not of retreat ; but 
 drawing, advancing, and, perhaps, pointing his sword 
 to the breast of the unknown, he challenges with the 
 question, Art thou for us or for our adversaries ? Ho 
 
150 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 was promptly answered. Nor could the sword of the 
 other, gleaming in the moonbeam and descending to 
 cleave his helmet and fell him to the ground, have 
 brought Joshua more suddenly to his knees than that 
 answer. Nay ; was the reply, ^but as captain of the 
 host of the Lord am I now come. Captain of the host 
 of the Lord ! No man ; no, nor angel, this ! God 
 himself commands in the battle. The order, first is- 
 sued from amidst the flames of the burning bush, and 
 now repeated, Put thy shoes from off thy feet, for the 
 place whereon thou standest is holy ground, reveals 
 God’s own presence. Joshua worships ; and rises — 
 with w r hat heart, and hopes, and Loly confidence ! 
 And yet not higher than believers may venture to 
 cherish in their daily fight with the devil, the world, 
 and the flesh. The Captain of your salvation mingles 
 in that conflict ; he is on your side : and, as Joshua 
 might have said on his return to the host, you can say, 
 Our God shall fight for us. 
 
 Again, as God assumed a visible form to foretell the 
 fall of Jericho, he did the same to foretell the rise of 
 Samson — suiting his appearance, as he still does his 
 grace, to the varied circumstances of his people. He, 
 who met Joshua as a mailed warrior, presents himself 
 to Manoah’s wife under a peaceful aspect ; yet min- 
 gling strangely — as they were united in our Lord — 
 the characters of the human and divine, his form be- 
 longed to earth, but his face shone with a heavenly 
 glory. A man of God came unto me, she said to her 
 husband, and his countenance was like the countenance 
 of an angel of God, very terrible. His tidings were 
 strange enough to rouse a woman’s curiosity, yet awe 
 struck her dumb, nor left her a word to say or a ques- 
 tion to ask ; “ I asked him not whence he was, neither 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 151 
 
 told lie me liis name.” Some days thereafter she sits 
 alone in the field ; and, as she is ruminating, perhaps, 
 on an event that had deeply impressed her mind, sud- 
 denly the same form appears. She hastens homeward ; 
 tells her husband ; returns with him ; and Manoah, 
 less timid than the woman, solves the mystery by 
 bluntly asking, What is thy name? Why askest thou 
 thus after my name, was the significant reply, seeing it 
 is secret? That answer revealed at once, to his great 
 surprise and awe, that he stood in the august presence 
 of God ; nor could any doubt of that remain, when 
 this Being of incommunicable name, calling fire from 
 the rock to consume their sacrifice, leaped upon the 
 altar, and ascended to heaven in its flames. The first 
 to recover speech, so soon as his tongue was unbound, 
 Manoah turns to his wife, and, pale with terror, ex- 
 claims — “We shall surely die, because we have seen 
 God.” 
 
 From many cases of the same character, let me select 
 another, where, as I have seen, a dull leaden cloud 
 suddenly changed by a flood of sunbeams into living 
 gold, the divine glory shines with such bright efful- 
 gence, that the scene wears an aspect of heaven more 
 than of earth. Within the holy temple Isaiah beholds 
 one sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up. His 
 train fills the house. Not white-robed priests, but 
 shining seraphim are his attendants. Incense that 
 never dropped from earthly trees, but such as you 
 might fancy that angel hands gathered from the trees 
 that dip- their branches in the river of life, diffuses 
 celestial odors ; voices, such as they hear in heaven, 
 and shepherds heard in the skies of Bethlehem, fill tho 
 courts with praise, singing, in anticipation of gospel 
 davs. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts : the 
 
152 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 whole earth is full of his glory. Nature herself ao 
 knowledges the presence of God— the earth trembles, 
 the door-posts shake, the fire of the altar burns dim 
 through a cloud of smoke, and Isaiah, overpowered by 
 the awful glory of the scene, falls prostrate to the 
 ground, crying — Woe is me ! for I am undone : be- 
 cause I am a man of unclean lips : and I dwell in the 
 midst of a people of unclean lips : for mine eyes have 
 seen the king , the Lord of hosts. By such visible mani- 
 festations of himself, a gracious God, from time to 
 time, thus comforted and encouraged his people in the 
 days of old. 
 
 But on turning to another page of the Bible, what 
 do we find? We find it averred that “no man hath 
 seen God at any time . 77 How are we to reconcile that 
 positive statement with these plain facts ? There is 
 but one way of doing so- — namely, by regarding those 
 appearances as manifestations of him “ who is the im- 
 age of the invisible God . 77 That it was Christ who 
 appeared to Abraham, Christ who wrestled with Jacob, 
 Christ who led Israel out of Egypt, and, by the hands 
 of Moses and Aaron, conducted the people to the prom- 
 ised land ; that it was he, who, before he came in the 
 flesh, appeared in these early ages of the church as her 
 guardian and her God, is a conclusion which Scripture 
 warrants. Paul distinctly charges the host in the des- 
 ert with having tempted Christ. Neither, says he, let; 
 us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and 
 were destroyed of serpents. 
 
 This idea is in perfect harmony with other passages 
 in the history of redemption. We know for certain 
 that the fruit of our Lord’s incarnation was anticipated. 
 The benefits of his death were enjoyed before he died ; 
 the legacies of the will were paid before the demise of 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 15S 
 
 the lesiator ; for the saints, who lived in the days that 
 preceded his advent, were received to glory, if I may so 
 speak, upon his bond, his promise to pay. And if the 
 fruit of his incarnation was thus anticipated, why not 
 the fact of it? Viewed in this light, how do these Old 
 Testament stories acquire a deeper and more enduring 
 interest to us ? In the guide of Abraham’s pilgrimage 
 1 see the guide of my own. Jacob’s success in wrestl- 
 ing imparts vigor to my prayers. To think that the 
 same arm which rolled back the gates of the sea, and 
 stopped the wheels of the sun, for us hung in feeble 
 infancy around a mother’s neck ; that the same voice 
 which spake in Sinai’s rolling thunders, for us wailed 
 feebly on Mary’s bosom, and cried on the cross, I 
 thirst ; that the same august being who delivered the 
 law amid the majesty of heaven, for us died to fulfil it 
 amid the deepest ignominies of earth ; that he before 
 whom Moses did exceedingly fear and quake, and 
 Joshua fell, and ‘the holy prophet fainted, was that very 
 same Jesus whose gentle manners won the confidence 
 of childhood, and whose kind eye beamed forgiveness 
 on a poor, frail, fallen woman, as she stooped to wash 
 his feet with tears, and wipe them with the hairs of her 
 head, these things should exalt Jesus higher in our 
 esteem, and endear him more and more to our hearts. 
 What a combination of grandest majesty, and most 
 gentle mercy shines in this visible “ Image of the in- 
 visible God !” Surely he is worthy of your acceptance, 
 and reverence, and love ! 
 
 In turning your attention now to the person and 
 work of him who is “ the image of the invisible God,” 
 let me introduce the subject by remarking, 
 
 7 * 
 
154 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 III. That the greatness of the worker corresponds to 
 the greatness of the work. 
 
 It is not always so in the providence of Him who 
 saves by many or by few. Sometimes God accomplishes 
 the mightiest ends by the feeblest instruments. He 
 hath made the foolish things of the world to confound 
 the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound 
 the things which are mighty, and out of the mouth of 
 babes and sucklings ordained strength. 
 
 For example, many of the lovely islands of the 
 Pacific are formed entirely of coral, while others are 
 protected from the violence of the waves by a circular 
 rampart of the same material. Founded in the depths 
 of ocean, this coral wall rises to the surface, where it 
 indicates its presence by a long white line of break- 
 ers. The giant rollers that come in from the sea, and 
 threaten with their foaming crests to sweep that island 
 from its base, spend their strength and dash their waters 
 into snowy foam against this protection wall. And 
 thus, as within a charmed circle, while all without is a 
 tumbling ocean, the narrow strip of water that lies 
 between this bulwark and the shore is calm as peace, 
 reflecting, as a liquid mirror, the boats that sleep upon 
 its surface, and the stately palms that fringe the beach. 
 These stupendous breakwaters, that so greatly surpass 
 in stability and strength any which our art and science 
 have erected, are the work of what ? That God who 
 employed the hornet to drive the Amorite out of 
 Canaan, has constructed them by means as insignifi- 
 cant. They are the masonry of an insect — an insect 
 so small that the human eye can hardly detect it, and 
 bo feeble that an infant’s finger could crush it. They 
 are built by the coral worm, and I have been told by 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 155 
 
 those who have seen these emerald isles, set within 
 their silver border, like gems on the ocean’s bosom, 
 that the contrast is most surprising between the great- 
 ness of the work and the littleness of the worker. 
 
 Turning from the Book of Nature, let me now take 
 an illustration from the Book of Revelation. Look 
 upon this picture of desolation wrought on the land 
 of Israel : “ A day of darkness and of gloominess, a 
 day of clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning 
 spread upon the mountains ; a great people and a 
 strong ; there hath not been ever the like, neither shall 
 be any more after it, even to the years of many genera- 
 tions. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them 
 a flame burneth. The land is as the garden of Eden 
 before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness ; 
 yea, and nothing shall escape them. The appearance 
 of them is as the appearance of horses, and as horse- 
 men, so shall they run. Like the noise of chariots on 
 the tops of mountains shall they leap, like the noise of 
 a flame of fire that devoureth the stubble, as a strong 
 people set in battle array. Before their face the. people 
 shall be much pained ; all faces shall gather blackness. 
 The earth shall quake before them, the heavens shall 
 tremble, the sun and the moon shall be dark, and the 
 stars shall withdraw their shining : and the Lord shall 
 utter his voice before his army : for his camp is very 
 great.” 
 
 In answer to the cry of innocent blood, and to crush 
 a horrible rebellion, we covered the sea with sails, and, 
 summoning our soldiers from distant colonies, with 
 great preparations and after gigantic efforts, we pour- 
 ed them from crowded ships on the shores of a revolt- 
 ed land. But whence did God bring that mighty army 
 described by the prophet in such vivid colors ? Came 
 
156 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 they from heaven ? Were its portals flung open, that 
 troops of embattled angels might rush forth to avenge 
 his cause? Or did he summon the Assyrian, the 
 Egyptian, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman, to pour 
 their armed hosts on a doomed, devoted, guilty land ? 
 No. The earth quaked, but not beneath the tread of 
 armies. The sun, moon, and stars were darkened, 
 but not by a cloud of angel wings. God summoned 
 only the locust from its native marshes, and bade the 
 brood of worms carry desolation into the land. It was 
 summer yesterday. The fields waved with corn, the 
 orchards were white with almond blossoms, the cluster- 
 ing vines, embraced the hills, and the forests were clad 
 in a broad mantle of living green. The locust comes, 
 and it is winter. The flowers are gone, and fields arc 
 bare, and leafless trees, as if imploring pity, lift their 
 naked arms to heaven ; and, bearing on it the wail of 
 famine, the wind, that yesterday breathed perfumes, 
 and danced in joy over the corn, and played and sung 
 among the leaves, now sweeps in howling blast over 
 utter devastation. The locust has executed its com- 
 mission. It has done God’s work, and in that work 
 of divine judgment, we see again a remarkable contrast 
 between the greatness of the action and the littleness 
 of the agent. 
 
 In his providence and the government of his people, 
 how often lias God produced great effects by most in- 
 adequate means ? He seems to do it for the very pur- 
 pose of showing that, whatever be the instrument, the 
 work, of goodness or of judgment, is his own. He is 
 a jealous God, and will not give his glory unto another. 
 In Moses, for example, we see one sprung of the en- 
 slaved race. Nor does he crouch before their tyrant 
 with awe in his look, and in his hand a humble peti- 
 
TIIE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 157 
 
 tion ; but stands erect in Pharaoh’s hall, and, stamping 
 his foot, demands that his brethren be free. In David 
 we see a beardless lad, attired in a shepherd’s peaceful 
 garb, who carries some rustic provision to his brothers 
 in the camp, and gazes around him with the keen curi- 
 osity of a peasant on all the circumstance, and pomp, 
 and pride of war. Next day, where is he? What a 
 change ! Amid beating hearts, a breathless suspense, 
 eyes dim with anxiety, that gentle boy, his mother’s 
 love, his old father’s care, is doing brave battle with a 
 giant in the presence of two great armies, and plucking 
 the laurels from Goliah’s brow. 
 
 Not, perhaps, in outward aspect, but in fact and 
 truth, how marked the contrast between these scenes 
 and that which salvation presents ! Redemption is a 
 great work, a most glorious work ; one, amid God’s 
 other works and through all past ages, without a paral- 
 lel. Do not despise it, or reject it, no, nor neglect it ; 
 for how shall you escape if you neglect this great sal- 
 vation ? It is of all God’s works the greatest ; it is his 
 “ strange” work. That cross on Calvary, which mercy 
 raised for you, cost more love, and labor, and wisdom, 
 and skill, than all yon starry universe. With the earth 
 its emerald floor, its roof the sapphire firmament, the 
 sun and stars its pendent lamps, its incense a thousand 
 fragrant odors, its music of many sounds and instru- 
 ments the song of groves, the murmur of the streams, 
 the voices of winged winds, the pealing thunder, and 
 the everlasting roar of ocean, Nature’s is a glorious 
 temple ! Yet that is a nobler temple, which, with 
 blood-redeemed saints for its living stones, and God 
 and the Lamb for its uncreated lights, stands aloft on 
 the Rock of Ages — the admiration of angels and the 
 glory of the universe. Earth wears on her bosom no 
 
158 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 blossoms so white, and pure, and sweet of fragrance, as 
 the flowers of a garland on a Saviour’s brow ! Is 
 Magdalene, is Manasseh, is Saul, are a thousand and a 
 thousand others in glory yonder, a wonder to angels, 
 and an astonishment to themselves ? But great as is 
 the work begun on earth and consummated in heaven, 
 how much greater is the worker ? Who is this that 
 cometh from Edom, wdth dyed garments from Bozrah? 
 this that is glorious in his apparel, traveling in the 
 greatness of his strength ? He comes ; hell flies his 
 presence. He appears ; all the angels of God worship 
 him. He speaks ; the tempestuous sea is calm. He 
 commands ; the grave gives up its dead. He stands 
 on this sin-smitten world, “ in praises, doing wonders f 
 the visible image of an invisible God. Angels cele- 
 brate his advent and attend his departure — hovering 
 alike over the manger of Bethlehem and the crest of 
 Olivet ; and when he has left the grave to ascend the 
 throne, hark to the cry at the gate of heaven, Lift up 
 your heads, 0 ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlast* 
 ing doors ; and the King of Glory shall come in. 
 Within, they ask, Who is this King of Glory ? The 
 gate rolls open, and, greeted with shout and song, the 
 procession enters, as his escort answer, The Lord of 
 Hosts, he is the King of Glory. With such honors 
 and gladness may he be received into our hearts ! 
 Holy Spirit, throw open their gates ! Jesus ascend 
 their throne ! that, holding Thee whom heaven holds, 
 we may have a heaven within us ; and, washed in thy 
 blood and renewed by thy Spirit, may present in our- 
 selves — what sin has forfeited but grace restores — a 
 visible image of the invisible God. 
 
0 b* it&sg* €04. 
 
 (CONTINUED.) 
 
 Who is the image of the invisible God. — C olossians L 15, 
 
 Describing a tribe of pagan Africans, Dr. Living* 
 stone says, Like most others, they listen with respect 
 and attention, but when w^e kneel down and worship 
 an unseen Being, the act and position appear to them 
 so ridiculous, that they cannot refrain from bursting 
 into uncontrollable laughter. Accustomed from our 
 earliest childhood to worship the unseen, we wonder at 
 these merry savages ; and yet, by nature like them, we 
 are all creatures of sight and sense. Hence our desire 
 to see any remarkable person ; hence the pleasure we 
 take in the portrait that embellishes the biography of 
 a great or good man, or in the statue which preserves 
 his features and adorns his tomb. Some may call the 
 publican’s a childish curiosity. But we sympathise 
 with Zaccheus, when, having heard that Jesus was 
 passing, he left the receipt of custom to join the throng ; 
 but, lost there, shot a-head of the multitude, and climbed 
 a friendly sycamore, to catch a passing glance at the 
 wonder-working man. We esteem it not the least of 
 the blessings which shall be enjoyed in heaven, that we 
 shall see Jesus there ; see him as he is ; gaze with fond, 
 adoring love on the very face and form which our faith 
 has so often tried to fancy, and painters of the greatest 
 genius have utterly failed to express. 
 
 ( 159 ) 
 
160 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 A sense of guilt makes man afraid of God. Con- 
 science makes cowards of us all ; so that, as Adam 
 fled from his presence to the bushes of the garden, 
 many fly even from the thought of him, in whom, but 
 for sin, they would have lovingly confided. But for 
 the fears of guilt, the contemplation of God’s works 
 would kindle a devout curiosity to see the hand they 
 sprung from. And when, so rapt in admiration as for 
 the time to forget that we are sinners, we gaze on the 
 spangled firmament, or look out on the blue rolling 
 ocean, or, from the peak of some lofty mountain, look 
 over a tumbling sea of hills, or down on the glorious 
 landscape, as in the mingled beauty of dark green- 
 wood, and golden fields, and silver streams, and cas- 
 tle-crowned summits, and scattered villages, and busy 
 towns, it stretches away to the distant shore, the soul 
 has some longing for a view of God more palpable 
 than it gets. We almost wish that he were not invis- 
 ible, and enter, in some measure, into the feelings of 
 Moses on Mount Sinai. The everlasting thunderings 
 were grand, vividly the lightning flashed and flickered, 
 awfully sublime were the dark cloud and voices of the 
 mount, but they were not God. The heart craved for 
 some view of himself. And so, highest example of 
 perfect love casting out fear, with the lightnings play- 
 ing around him, and the earth shaking beneath his 
 feet, bold man ! he bowed his head and bent his knee, 
 and said, Show me thy glory. 
 
 Being, as we have already shown, so much creatures 
 of sight and sense, this incident leads me to remark — 
 
 I. That God, as revealed visibly in Jesus Christ, 
 meets and satisfies one of our strongest wants. 
 
 Our Lord’s dh ’nity, which is to some like his death, 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 161 
 
 to the Jew “ a stumbling-block/ 1 * * * * * 7 like his resurrection 
 to the Greek, foolishness, does not stagger my faith in 
 the Bible. On the contrary, Christ’s divine nature 
 strengthens my belief in its divine authority ; and, in 
 the light of that doctrine, the sacred volume appears 
 all the more plainly to be both the power of God and 
 the wisdom of God. That doctrine, as I hope to show 
 you, goes to establish, not shake its claims to be de- 
 voutly received as a revelation from heaven. 
 
 “ Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, 
 or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or 
 that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water 
 under the earth ; thou shalt not bow thyself down to 
 them, nor serve them.” So runs the second command- 
 ment ; and, if I am to judge from the universal practice 
 of mankind, there is not one of the ten commandments 
 which runs more counter to our nature. That remark 
 may surprise you. But in proof of it — 
 
 1. Look at the heathen world. 
 
 For long dark ages the whole earth was given up 
 to idolatry, with the exception of a single nation. The 
 Hebrews stood alone. They worshipped in a temple 
 without an idol, and rejected the use of images in the 
 services of religion. Go back to remotest time. Start 
 from the age either of those old Assyrians, whose gods 
 we have been digging from the ruins of Nineveh, or of 
 
 those older Egyptians whose mummy forms, with their 
 
 dog and hawk-headed divinities, lie entombed on the 
 banks of the Nile ; and, coming down the course of 
 
 time to the last-discovered tribe of savages, we find 
 
 that all nations, with scarcely an exception, have been 
 idolaters. All have clung to the visible, and employed 
 
 sensible representations of the divinity ; theirs a sen- 
 
162 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 suous worship, whether they adored one or ten thou- 
 sand gods. Nor is this wonderful. To fix the mind 
 and affections on an invisible Being seemed like at- 
 tempting to anchor a vessel on a flowing tide or rolling 
 billows. These offer nothing to hold by. And, as a 
 climbing plant, for lack of a better stay, will throw its 
 arms around a ruined wall or rotten tree, rather than 
 want something palpable to which their thoughts might 
 cling, men have worshipped the Divine Being through 
 images of the basest character and most hideous forms. 
 We gaze with blank astonishment on the gods of many 
 heathen races. We ask, is it possible that rational 
 beings have bent the knee to this painted stick, that, 
 with a bunch of feathers stuck on its head, and two 
 bits of inlaid pearl-shell for eyes, presents but the 
 rudest resemblance to the form of humanity ? Not 
 only possible but certain. Talk of “ the dignity of our 
 nature !” How that ugly idol, with man supplicating 
 its help and trembling before its wrath, refutes the 
 notion, and proclaims the fall ! Contrast Adam, erect 
 in his innocence, and lifting up an open countenance 
 to the heavens, with that dark, crouching, miserable 
 savage, who kneels to this stick. What a fall is there ! 
 How is the gold become dim ? how is the most fine 
 gold changed ? Then, 
 
 2. Look at the evidence of this proneness to sensu* 
 ous worship as it appears in the history of the Jews. 
 Even among God’s chosen people, how did this pro’ 
 pensity to idolatry constantly manifest itself, just as I 
 have seen broom, and furze, and heath, and such other 
 wild plants as were natural to the soil, spring up in 
 cultivated pastures — ready to resume possession, should 
 the husbandman relax his efforts to keep them down 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 163 
 
 and root them out ? There could be no greater folly 
 on the part of the Israelites than to venerate the gods 
 of Egypt. If the gods whose aid the Egyptians in- 
 voked had been else than “ vanity the Hebrews had 
 still been slaves ; and yet so prone were they to idol- 
 atry, that they set up a golden calf at the very foot of 
 Sinai. Again, the grass was hardly green on David’s 
 grave, when his son, forfeiting his title of the wisest of 
 men, allowed himself to be seduced by heathen women 
 to lend his countenance to heathen idolatry ; the abom- 
 ination of Moab stood in front of the temple, and Ash- 
 taroth, enthroned on Olivet, looked down with haughty 
 contempt on the courts of Zion. Again, when the 
 kingdom was broken up through the insane folly of 
 Rehoboam, see how the ten tribes, like a bark parted 
 from her anchors, and borne by a strong tide on a 
 fatal reef, drifted on idolatry. A few years suffice to 
 engulf the whole nation into the deepest, grossest, pa- 
 ganism. Ere one half century has passed, Elijah 
 stands alone ; faithful among the faithless ; he only 
 by any public act protesting against the universal idol- 
 atry ; he cries, I, even I only, am left. Thus rapidly, 
 when abandoned by God to the power of their pas- 
 sions, do both men and nations sink. As the history 
 of many still proves, nothing is so easy as the descent 
 into hell. Then, 
 
 3. We find evidence of this propensity to idolatry 
 even in the Christian church. We have not to rake up 
 the ashes of Jewish history, nor disturb the graves of 
 ancient Nimrods and Pharaohs, nor import their rude 
 idols from Polynesian shores, to prove the deep longing 
 that there is in our nature for a God whom our senses 
 may embrace. How deeply has Christianity herself 
 
164 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 suffered from this cause? Look to the church of 
 Rome ! Her temples are crowded with images. Fancy 
 some old Roman, rising from his grave on the banka 
 of the Tiber. Looking on the sensuous worship of 
 modern Rome, the honors paid to a doll decked out to 
 represent Christ 7 s mother — multitudes prostrate at the 
 feet of stone apostles — the incense and prayers offered 
 to the lifeless effigy of a man, here hanging in weakness 
 on a cross, or there sitting in triumph on the globe 
 where he sways a sceptre, and treads a serpent beneath 
 his feet, what could he suppose but that the “ eternal 
 city 77 had changed her idols — nor ceased from her 
 idolatry ; and, by some strange turn of fortune, had 
 given to one Jesus the old throne of Jupiter, and as- 
 signed the crown which Juno wore in his days to 
 another queen of heaven? In that bestial form at the 
 foot of Sinai, with the shameless, naked, frantic crowd 
 singing and dancing and shouting around it, the scene 
 which filled Moses with great indignation, strikes us 
 with great astonishment. How, we ask, with God 
 thundering above their heads, could they fall into such 
 gross idolatry ? And yet have we not stood astonished 
 to see a rational creature bending head and knee to a 
 tinselled image, amid circumstances, too, which made 
 the act appear peculiarly surprising and degrading? 
 There, the worship of a creature insulted the glory of 
 God 7 s grandest works ; nor did Popery ever seem to 
 us more hateful, more dishonoring, and more debasing, 
 than amid scenes whose magnificence raised the soul 
 to God, as on eagles 7 wings. There, a blind leader of 
 the blind, she was turning away the faith, and love, 
 and worship of his creatures from him whose voice was 
 heard in the roar of the Alpine cataract, whose mighty 
 hand was seen in mountains that stood piled to heaven. 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 165 
 
 crowned with their eternal snows, and of whose great 
 white throne of judgment one fancied they saw a solemn 
 image in that pure, lofty, majestic, snowy dome, which 
 glistened in sunbeams, high over mountains and valleys 
 already wrapped in evening gloom. 
 
 Now, in what way are we to account for this univer- 
 sal tendency to idolatry. It is not enough to call it 
 folly. I ask, what led to such folly, and led all men 
 to it? — philosophers with fools, the wisest with the 
 weakest, of the heathen? It admits of but one expla- 
 nation— the feeling from which idolatry springs are 
 deeply rooted in our nature. 
 
 ^ You tell me that God is invisible, infinite, incompre- 
 hensible. You teacli me that neither in wood, nor 
 stone, nor colors, nor even in my mind’s fancy, may I 
 impart to him form or figure ; neither features to ex- 
 press his emotions, nor hands to do his work ; neither 
 eyes, although they beam, nor a heart, although it beat 
 with love ; and you warn me, moreover, that, even in 
 imagination, to clothe the Divine Being in a form the 
 most venerable and august, is to be guilty of a species 
 of idolatry. But it seems as difficult for me to make 
 such a being the object of my affections, as to grasp a 
 sound, or to detain a shadow. This heart craves some- 
 thing more congenial to my nature, and seeks in God a 
 palpable object for its affections to cling to. That is 
 our want. And now see how that want is met by the 
 gospel, and is provided for by him who “ knoweth our 
 frame, and remembereth that we are dust.” 
 
 Nothing appears to me more remarkable in provi- 
 dence, or more clearly to attest the being and attributes 
 of an all-presiding God, than the perfect adaptation ox 
 creatures to the circumstances in which they are placed. 
 See how the summer, that brings back the swallows 
 
166 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 to our door, in myriads of insects produces their food j 
 how those creatures that burrow in the soil have bodies 
 shaped like a wedge, and fore-feet so formed as to do 
 the work of a spade ; how the animals that inhabit 
 arctic climes are wrapped in furs, which man, for the 
 sake of their warmth, is glad to borrow, and to which 
 God, for the protection of their lives, has given the 
 color of snow ; how, furnished with hollow bones and 
 downy feathers, birds are adapted to float in an atmos- 
 phere of thin transparent air ; and how other creatures, 
 slow of motion, and unarmed for battle, and thus help- 
 lessly exposed to their enemies, carry a strong castle 
 on their backs — retiring within their shell, as men into 
 a fortalice, safe from all attack. The student of nature 
 thus recognizes, with adoring wonder, the harmony 
 which God has established between his creatures and 
 their circumstances. Now the divinity of our faitli is 
 not less conspicuous to the believer’s eye, in respect of 
 its perfect adaptation to the peculiarities, or, if you 
 will call them so, to the infirmities of our nature. In 
 his incarnate Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, God presents 
 himself to me in a form which meets my wants. The 
 Infinite is brought within the limits of my narrow 
 understanding ; the Invisible is revealed to my sight : 
 I can touch him, hear him, see him, speak to him. In 
 the hand which he holds out to save me, I have what 
 my own can grasp. In that eye bent on me, whether 
 bedewed with tears, or beaming with affection, I see 
 divine love in a form I feel, and can understand. God 
 addresses me in human tones ; God stands before me 
 in the fashion of a man ; and, paradox as it appears, 
 when I fall at his feet to say with Thomas, My Lord 
 and my God, I am an image-worshipper, yet no idolater ; 
 for the Being before whom I bend is not a mere man, 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 167 
 
 nor a graven image, nor a dead thing, but the living; 
 loving, eternal, “express image ” of the “invisible 
 God.” 
 
 II. Consider in what sense Jesus Christ is “ the 
 image of the invisible God.” 
 
 This term, image, is to be taken here in its widest, 
 most comprehensive sense. It means much more than 
 a mere resemblance ; it conveys the idea of shadow 
 less than that of substance ; and is to be understood 
 in the sense in which Paul employs it, when he says of 
 the Mosaic institutions — “ The law having a shadow 
 of good things to come, and not the very image” or 
 substance , “of the things.” An image may be moulded 
 in clay, or cut in marble, or struck in metal, or so 
 formed on the watery mirror, that, when blustering 
 winds were hushed, and no ripple disturbed the lake, 
 we have lain over our boat to see the starry firmament 
 imaged in its crystal depths, and wish it were thus in 
 our bosom — a heaven above repeated in a heaven be- 
 low. Then there are living as well as dead images. 
 And as a Christian's life, without any occasion for his 
 lips telling it, should proclaim him to the world a child 
 of God, so I have known an infant bear such striking 
 resemblance to his father, that what his tongue could 
 not tell, his face did ; and people, struck by the like- 
 ness, remarked of the nursling, He is the very image 
 of his father. Such was Adam in his state of inno- 
 cence. Endowing him with knowledge, righteousness, 
 and true holiness, God made good his words, Let us 
 make man in our own image. 
 
 Now it may be said that, as our Lord, like the first 
 Adam, was a pure and holy creature, “harmless,” and 
 “ undefiled,” he is therefore called the image of God. 
 
168 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 Yet that does not exhaust the meaning of this term ; 
 nor is it at all on that account that Paul speaks of him 
 as “ the second Adam / 7 but because, as their represen- 
 tative and federal head, Jesus stood to his people in 
 the same covenant relationship as our first parent did 
 to all his posterity. 
 
 Nor have they sounded the depths, seen to the bot- 
 tom of this expression, who say that, since our Lord 
 was endowed with power to do the works of God, to 
 work many mighty miracles, he might therefore be 
 called the image of God. For many others, both be- 
 fore and after him, were in that sense equally images 
 of God. How godlike was Moses, when he raised his 
 arm to heaven, and thunders rent the answering skies ; 
 when, giving origin perhaps to the heathen legend of 
 Neptune and his trident, he waved his rod upon the 
 deep, and, billow rolling back from billow, the sea was 
 parted by his power ! What a godlike action Joshua 7 s 
 on that battlefield, when he met, and where he con- 
 quered five kings in fight! God fought for him with 
 hailstones, and he fought for God with swords ; and 
 no more than devils of hell could stand before us, 
 did prayer always summon heaven to our aid, could 
 mortal men stand before such onslaught — “ Kings of 
 armies did flee apace ; 77 that day five crowns were lost. 
 But, apparently a most inopportune event, ere Joshua 
 has reaped the fruits of his victory, the sun, emerging 
 from the dark hail-cloud, has sunk low in the sky. 
 His burning wheels touch the crest of Gibeon, while 
 the pale moon, marshaling on the night to protect the 
 flying enemy, is showing her face over the valley of 
 Ajalon. Joshua sees, that, as has happened to other 
 conquerors, darkness will rob him of the prize ; nor 
 leave anything more substantial in his hand than a 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 169 
 
 wreath of laurel, the honors of the day. Inspired for 
 the occasion, he lifts his bloody sword to the heavens, 
 he commands their luminaries to stop ; and when, like 
 high-mettled coursers which, knowing their masters’ 
 hand, instantly obey the rein, the sun and moon stand 
 still, hang motionless in the portentous sky, how 
 grandly does he stand there, a visible image of God? 
 Yet, where is Joshua, or Moses, or Elijah, or Paul, or 
 Peter, or any of all the servants by whom Jehovah 
 wrought such wonders in the days of old, called an 
 “ image of the invisible God ? ” Where are these men 
 set forth as mysteries ? Where are they represented 
 as “ God manifest in the flesh ? ” Of which of them 
 did God himself say, Let all the angels of God wor- 
 ship him ? A blind superstition may worship them ; 
 but yonder, where Moses bends the knee by the side 
 of Mary Magdalene, and Joshua bows low as Rahab, 
 and Paul sings of the mercy that saved in himself the 
 chief of sinners, they worship Jesus, as in his double 
 nature both God and man ; a visible manifestation of 
 the invisible ; “ the only begotten of the Father ; dis- 
 tinguished from all other images, whether impressed 
 on holy angels or on sainted men, as ” the express 
 image of his person.” Herein lies the amazing breadth, 
 and length, and depth, and height, of the love of God ; 
 for you he gave that image to be broken — shattered 
 by the hand of death. Blessed be his name, He died, 
 the just for the unjust, that we might be saved. 
 
 III.' Let me direct your attention to some illustra- 
 tions of this truth. 
 
 “ Shew us the Father,” said Philip to our Lord. 
 Had he said, Cleave me that mountain, divide this sea 
 stop the sun, lay thy finger on the hands of time, he 
 8 
 
170 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 had asked nothing impossible ; nothing more difficult 
 for Jesus than saying to a cripple, Walk, or to the 
 dead, Come forth. Yet impossible as was that for 
 which Philip asked, since “ no man hath seen God at 
 any time, nor can see him,” and strangely bold as was 
 his request, it was followed by a happy issue. What 
 clear testimony does our Lord’s reply bear both to his 
 own divinity and to his father’s loving, pitiful, tender 
 nature ! “ He that hath seen me, Philip,” seen me 
 
 weeping with the living and weeping for the dead, 
 seen me receiving little children into my arms to bless 
 them, seen me inviting the weary to rest, pitying all 
 human suffering, patient under the greatest wrongs, 
 encouraging the penitent, and ready to forgive the 
 vilest sinners. “ he that hath seen me, hath seen the 
 Father.” In me, my character and works, you have a 
 living, visible, perfect “ image of the invisible God.” 
 
 In selecting some of the divine attributes to illus- 
 trate this, I remark — 
 
 1. In our Lord Jesus Christ we see the power of 
 God. 
 
 An Arab, a wild son of the desert, one more ac- 
 customed to fight than to reason, to plunder a caravan 
 than to argue a cause, was asked by a traveler how he 
 knew that there was a God. He fixed his dark eyes 
 with a stare of savage wonder on the man who seemed 
 to doubt the being of God ; and then, as he was wont, 
 when he encountered a foe, to answer spear with spear, 
 he met that question with another, How do I know 
 whether it was a man or a camel that passed my tent 
 last night? Well spoken, child of the desert! for not 
 more plainly do the footprints on the sand reveal to 
 thy eye whether it was a man or camel that passed thy 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 171 
 
 tent in the darkness of the night, than G Kl’s works 
 reveal his being and power. They testify of him. 
 His power has left its footprint impressed upon them 
 
 all. 
 
 Now, whose footprint is that on the ground there 
 before the tomb of Lazarus? Was it God or man that 
 passed that way, leaving strange evidence of his pre- 
 sence in an empty grave? There, the revolution of 
 time has brought round again the days of Eden ; for, 
 unless it be easier to give life to the dust of the grave 
 than to the dust of the ground, the spectators of that 
 stupendous miracle, who stand transfixed with aston- 
 ishment, gazing on the dead alive, have seen the arm 
 of God made bare ; and, from the very lips that cried, 
 Lazarus, come forth, have they heard the voice which 
 said of old, Let us make man in our image. Nay, a 
 day of older date than Eden’s has returned. To make 
 something out of nothing is a work more visibly 
 stamped with divinity than to make one thing out of 
 another — a living man out of lifeless dust ; and ere 
 our Lord left the world, he was to leave behind him, 
 in an act, not of forming but of creating power, the 
 most visible footprint and impress of the great Creator. 
 The scene of it may be less picturesque, less striking 
 to common eyes, than when Jesus rose in the boat to 
 rebuke the storm ; than when leaving Galilee’s shore 
 to cross the lake, the waters sustained him, and he 
 walked like a shadowy spirit, upon the heaving bil- 
 lows ; than when he stayed a funeral procession at tho 
 gate of Nain, and, going up to the bier, laid his hand 
 on the corpse of the widow’s son, and, changing death 
 to life, left him folding her in his fond embraces ; yet 
 our Lord never appeared more the express image of 
 his Father, than on yonder green grassy mountain 
 
172 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 side. The calmness of all the scene, the meanness of 
 the company, if you will have it so, the poverty of the 
 fare, amid these accessories, that are but dull foils to 
 the sparkling gem, Jesus stands forth in the glory of a 
 Creator. At his will, the bread multiplies ; it grows 
 in the hands of disciples ; five thousand men are filled 
 to repletion with what had not otherwise satisfied five ; 
 and, thing unheard of before, the fragments of narrow 
 circumstances and a scanty table far exceeded the 
 original provision. The materials of the feast filled 
 one basket, but the fragments fill twelve. Who does 
 not see the day of creation restored in that banquet? 
 In the author of this, the greatest of all his miracles, 
 who does not see “ the express image” of him who 
 made things that are out of things that were not, said 
 of matter’s first-born and purest element, Let there be 
 light : and there was light ? 
 
 2. In Christ we see the image of a holy God. Many 
 years ago a horrible crime was committed in a neigh- 
 boring country. It was determined that the guilty 
 man, whoever he might be, so soon as he was discov- 
 ered and convicted, should die. lie had fled : but the 
 eye of justice tracked him to his hiding-place. Drag- 
 ged from it, he is arraigned at the bar ; and fancy, if 
 you can, the feelings of his judge, when, in the pale, 
 trembling, miserable, guilty wretch, he recognized his 
 own son — his only son ! What an agonizing struggle 
 now began in that father’s bosom ! He is torn between 
 the conflicting claims of nature and duty. The public 
 indignation against the criminal is lost in pity for the 
 father, as he sits there transfixed with horror, over- 
 whelmed with grief, while his child, with clasped hands 
 and eyes that swim in tears, implores a father’s pity. 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 173 
 
 Duty bears nature down. He pronounces sentence of 
 death ; but in passing it on his son, he passes it on 
 himself. Nature would have her own. He rises ; he 
 leaves the bench ; he hastens home ; he lies down on 
 his bed ; nor ever rising from it, dies of a broken 
 heart. 
 
 God cannot die ; yet, when, rather than his holy 
 law should be broken with impunity, he gave up his 
 love to bleed, his beloved son to die, a substitute for 
 us, oh, how did the blood which dyed that cross dye 
 his law in colors of the brightest holiness ! What ser- 
 mon like that on the text, “ It is an evil thing and bit- 
 ter, that thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God.” Nor, 
 as in that dying Saviour hung high under a frowning 
 heaven, as beneath that bloody tree, where Mary re- 
 ceives into her arms the dead body of her son, and 
 weeping women in bitter anguish kiss his wounded 
 feet, is there in hell or heaven a scene so impressively, 
 awfully illustrative of the angel’s anthem, Holy, holy, 
 holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is 
 to come. 
 
 3. In Christ we see the image of a God willing and 
 and able to save. 
 
 Let me take an illustration of this from an act of 
 salvation which he performed under circumstances of 
 the greatest difficulty and disadvantage. The scene is 
 laid at the cross. Jesus is dying ; agonising pains, 
 the shouts of the pitiless multitude, their insulting 
 mockery, and the deep darkness of the hour, combine 
 to disturb his mind. If he can save then and there, 
 save when his hand is nailed to the tree, what may he 
 not do, now that he is exalted to the right hand of 
 God, with all power given him in earth and heaven ? 
 
174 
 
 THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 I would awaken hope in the bosom of despair, I would 
 like to cheer God’s people, and I would try to encour- 
 age the greatest sinners to turn with faith to this re- 
 fuge of the lost ; let us therefore draw near, and see 
 how his divine ability to save, streaming like a sun- 
 beam through a riven cloud, revealed him, even when 
 hanging on the cross, as the adorable image of an in- 
 visible God. And may the Holy Spirit bless the sight 
 to you ! 
 
 It is easy to save one who has fallen into the flood 
 some distance above the cataract, where the river, not 
 yet hurrying to the fall, flows placidly on its way. 
 But further down the difficulty becomes great, every 
 foot further down the greater ; for the current moves 
 with faster speed and growing force, till at length it 
 shoots forward with arrowy flight, and, reaching the 
 brink, leaps headlong into a boiling gulf. Now, away 
 among the mountains, I know such a place, where once 
 three shepherds, brothers, were to leap, as they had 
 often done, from rock to rock, across the narrow chasm 
 through which the swollen waters rushed onward to 
 their fall. Bold mountaineers, and looking with care- 
 less eye on a sight which had turned others dizzy, one 
 bounded over like a red deer ; another followed — - 
 but, alas, his foot slipping on the smoothly treacherous 
 ledge, he staggered, reeled, and falling back, rolled 
 over with a sullen plunge into the jaws of the abyss. 
 Quick as lightning, his brother sprang forward — down 
 to a point where the waters issue into a more open 
 space, just above the crag over which they throw 
 themselves into the black, rock-girdled, boiling cavern. 
 There, standing on the verge of death, he eyes the 
 body coming ; he bends — his arm is out — thank God, 
 he has him in his powerful grasp. Bravely, brotherly 
 
THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 175 
 
 done! Alas! it is done in vain. The third brother, 
 sad spectator of the scene, saw him swept from his 
 slippery footing : and, in their death not divided, as 
 of old they had lain in their childhood, locked in each 
 other’s arms they went over, horribly whelmed in the 
 depths of the swirling pool. Not so perished our 
 elder Brother, and the thief he stretched out his hand 
 to save. He plucked him from the brink of hell ; he 
 saved him on the dizzy edge of the dreadful pit. Poor 
 wretch, ah ! he hangs above the gulf ; he is half over ; 
 just then he turns a dying eye on a dying Saviour, and 
 utters but one cry for help. The arm of mercy seizes 
 him ; he is saved ; now heaven holds him crowned in 
 glory ! What a revelation of Jesus as the express 
 image of him who has power to save at the very utter- 
 most! What an encouragement to you, though the 
 chief of sinners, to cast yourselves at Jesus’ feet! Do 
 it. Do it now. May heaven help you to do it now ! 
 Another moment, and you may be beyond the reach 
 of mercy. Another moment may be a whole eternity 
 too late. 
 
©!h 
 
 The first-born of every creature. — Colossi ans i. 15. 
 
 Thousands each night — the watchman on his beat, 
 the sentinel on the ramparts, the seaman on the heav- 
 ing deep, the jaded votaries of pleasure on their return 
 from ball and revel — walk beneath the spangled hea- 
 vens, nor once raise their eyes, or, if they do, raise 
 not their thoughts to the magnificence of the scene. 
 And each day, thousands engrossed with the pursuit 
 of pleasure or business, tread the spangled sward with 
 an eye of no more intelligence than an ox — careless of 
 the beautiful flowers, which with a happier, purer taste, 
 the little child loves to gather, and, singing to her 
 work, weaves into garlands for her sunny brow. Not 
 that these persons are constitutionally dead to beauty ? 
 or devoid of intelligence. Not that they look on the 
 face of nature with an idiot’s vacant stare, but familiar- 
 ity, which breeds contempt in some instances, in this 
 has bred indifference. Behold, perhaps one reason why, 
 though our Lord presented such a glorious combina- 
 tion of divine and human excellencies, many were in- 
 sensible to it ; and why, sad to think of it, he found 
 so much occasion to apply to himself the old proverb, 
 A prophet is not without honor but in his own country^ 
 and among his own kin, and in his own house ! 
 
 A less pardonable reason, however, may be found for 
 H76) 
 
THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 177 
 
 this in his case, as in others, and found in that envy to 
 which our fallen nature is prone. A bad, a base, in 
 every way an unprofitable passion, one that, more than 
 any other, carries its own punishment with it, and 
 makes those who cherish it wretched, envy is its own 
 avenger ; and yet, so prone are many to regard others 
 with envy, that a man may feel assured that he has begun 
 to rise in the world so soon as he hears the buzz of de* 
 tractors, and feels their poisoned stings. This, indeed, 
 is not a bad test of merit, just as we know that to be 
 the finest and the ripest fruit which bears the marks of 
 having been attacked by wasp, or hornet, or other such 
 winged or wingless insects. The goose, and the sea- 
 gull, and other common creatures, are left to pursue 
 their way through the fields of air without interruption 
 or attack, but I have seen, when some noble bird ap- 
 peared, who had a wing to soar aloft, to cleave the 
 clouds, how he was harassed and hunted by a noisy 
 crowd, that assailed him with their voices, but, ming- 
 ling cunning with insolence, kept beyond the swoop of 
 his pinions, or the stroke of his talons. Now, see how 
 Moses, the meekest, noblest, most generous of men 
 was envied by ambitious spirits among the children of 
 Israel ! Ye take too much upon you, they said to him 
 and his brother, seeing all the congregation are holy, 
 every one of them, and the Lord is among them ; 
 wherefore, then, lift ye up yourselves above the con- 
 gregation of the Lord ? Ay, and even his own broth- 
 er and sister grew jealous of him. On pretence of 
 his having done wrong in marrying an Ethiopian 
 woman, they who should have supported the brother 
 to whom they owed their position, most basely and 
 ungratefully attempted to undermine his influence. It 
 was very wrong in Moses to make this marriage — to 
 8 * 
 
178 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 enter into such an unsuitable alliance ; so they said to 
 the multitude. Yet mere dust and smoke that , which 
 they raised to coyer their real motives and base ends. 
 The envy, from whose evil eye no excellence is a pro- 
 tecting charm, and which, rending asunder the most 
 sacred ties, refuses to spare a brother, was at the bot- 
 tom of the discontent. Tbr while Aaron and Miriam 
 held such language to the people, masking their selfish 
 passions under a fair pretence of patriotism and piety, 
 listen to them in their tent, how different their lan- 
 guage to each other, Hath the Lord indeed spoken 
 only by Moses ? hath he not spoken also by us ? 
 
 Looking at such cases, what else was to be expected 
 from the men of Nazareth, a place of proverbially bad 
 repute, than that they should grudge Jesus his honors, 
 and hate him for his success ? He had emerged from 
 deep obscurity into a fame that filled every mouth with 
 his works, and embraced within its widening circle all 
 the land. He had become famous ; and they had not. 
 It did not matter that that was not his fault. They 
 felt themselves grow less as he grew greater, and they 
 could not brook that ; such as w r ere stars among them, 
 or wished to be thought so, were bitterly mortified to 
 find themselves extinguished in the light of this rising 
 sun. Therefore they hated Christ, giving him ground 
 to complain, A prophet is not without honor but in his 
 own country, and among his own kin, and in his own 
 house. 
 
 Let me turn your attention to one occasion when 
 this feeling, which had been grumbling like a pent-up 
 volcano, burst forth most insolently, most offensively. 
 Our Lord was teaching in the synagogue of Nazareth 
 — teaching with that strange, wonderful, divine wisdom, 
 which in its very dawn, when the child was but twelve 
 
THE FIRST - BORN. 
 
 179 
 
 years old, astonished the gray divines and subtlest 
 lawyers of the temple ; and which not only made un- 
 prejudiced hearers hang on his gracious lips, but com- 
 pelled his enemies to confess, Never man spake like 
 this man. On the occasion to which I refer, envy 
 gnawed like a canker-worm, at the heart of his towns- 
 men. What business had he to reach an eminence 
 they might aspire to, but could never attain ? Hope- 
 less of that, although they could not rise to his height, 
 they might perchance pull him down to their own level. 
 They will try. And so, at the close of his discourse, 
 when we might have expected them to praise God for 
 the wisdom that had dropped from his lips, and to 
 congratulate Mary on her son, and their native town 
 on an inhabitant whose name would render Nazareth 
 famous to the latest ages, they cast about for something 
 which, by detracting from his glory, might gratify 
 their spleen. They had nothing to say against either 
 the matter or the manner of the discourse ; both were 
 perfect. Nor had they a whisper to breathe against 
 the life and character of the speaker. A circumstance 
 worthy of note ! For it is one of the finest testimo- 
 nies borne to our Lord’s lofty and holy life, that the 
 thirty years which he spent in a small town — where 
 leisure always abounds, and scandal is often rife, and 
 every man’s character and habits are discussed in pri- 
 vate circles, and dissected by many cutting tongues — 
 did not furnish them with the shred of an excuse for 
 whispering an ill word against him. His life resem- 
 bled a polished mirror, which the foulest breath can- 
 not stain, nor dim beyond a passing moment. What a 
 noble testimony to Jesus Christ ! Holy, harmless, unde- 
 filed, separate from sinners, envy found no way to vent 
 its malice and spit its venom at him, but by & taunt she 
 
180 
 
 THE FIRST - BORN. 
 
 drew from liis humble origin and poor relatives. As 
 if it were not an honor to rise above the circumstances 
 of our birth, as if a man’s ascent by one step above hi3 
 original condition, fairly, honestly, and honorably won, 
 were not more a matter of just pride, than a descent 
 traced from the proudest ancestry, they said, Is not this 
 the carpenter , the son of Mary, the brother of James, 
 and Joses, and of Juda, and Simon ? and are not his 
 sisters here with us ? — whence, then, hath this man all 
 these things ? 
 
 Extending from his early youth into the years of 
 mature manhood, there is a great blank in our Lord's 
 history. Eighteen years of his life stand unaccounted 
 for ; and that blank, looking as dark as the starless 
 regions of the sky, tradition, usually so fertile in in- 
 vention, has not attempted to fill up. How often have 
 I wondered and tried to fancy what Jesus did, and 
 how he passed the time between his boyhood, when he 
 vanishes from our sight, and his thirtieth year, when 
 he again appears upon the stage to enter on his public 
 ministry ? Thanks to his townsmen’s envious sneer, 
 or, rather, thanks to Him who permitted the insult, 
 and thus has made the wrath of man to praise him, 
 their insolent taunt throws a ray of light into the deep 
 obscurity. Their question, Is not this the carpenter ? 
 not, as at another time, the carpenter’s son, but the 
 carpenter himself, suggests to us the picture of a hum- 
 ble home in Nazareth, known to the neighborhood as 
 the carpenter’s, and under whose roof of thatch Jesus 
 resided with his mother — in all probability then a 
 widow, and, like many a widow since then, cheered by 
 the love and supported by the labors of a dutiful son. 
 I have no doubt that holy angels, turning their wings 
 away from lordly mansions and the proud palaces of 
 
THE FIRST - BORN". 
 
 181 
 
 kings, often hovered over that peaceful home, as still 
 they, who are ministering spirits sent forth to minister 
 for them who shall be heirs of salvation, do over the 
 humblest abodes of piety. But, so far as this world 
 and its inhabitants were concerned, Jesus passed his 
 days in contented obscurity, unnoticed and unknown f 
 save to the neighbors, whose esteem he c'ould not fail 
 to win by his pure life, and gentle temper, and holy 
 manners. He was to grow in favor with God and 
 man. All Nazareth regarded him as a paragon of 
 human virtues, and many a mother pointed to Mary’s 
 son as the pattern her own lads should copy. 
 
 How wonderful it is to transport ourselves back, in 
 •fancy, some eighteen hundred years, to that small town ; 
 and on asking, with the Greeks, to “ see Jesus,” to be 
 conducted to a humble dwelling, where chips of wood, 
 and squared logs, and unbarked trunks of trees lying 
 about, in the oak, and olive, and cedar, and sycamore 
 that had fallen to his axe, point out “ the carpenter’s.’ 7 
 By the door, and under a bowering vine, which, trained 
 beneath the eaves over some rude trellis-work, forms a 
 grateful shade from the noon-day sun, a widow sits — 
 her fingers employed in weaving, but an expression in 
 her face and eye which indicates a mind engaged in far 
 loftier objects, thoughts deeper, holier, stranger, than a 
 buried husband, and a widow’s grief. She rises, lifts 
 the latch, and, stooping, we enter that lowly door ; and 
 there, bending to his work, we see the carpenter — in 
 him the Son of the Most High God ! Time was, when 
 he set his compass on the deep ; time was, when ho 
 stood and measured the earth ; and now, with line, and 
 compass, and plane, and hatchet, the sweat dropping 
 from his lofty brow, he who made heaven and earth, 
 and the soa, and all that in them is, in the guise of a 
 
182 
 
 THE FIRST -BORN. 
 
 common tradesman, bends at a carpenter’s bench. How 
 low he stooped to save us ! 
 
 The world was once astonished to see a king stoop 
 to such work. The founder of the Russian empire left 
 his palace and capital, the seductive pleasures and all 
 the pomp of royalty, to acquire the art of ship-building 
 in the dockyard of a Dutch sea-port. He learned it, 
 that he might teach it to his subjects ; he became a 
 servant that he might be the better master, and lay in 
 Russia the foundations of a great naval power. Nor 
 has his country been ungrateful ; her capital, which 
 bears his name, is adorned with a monument to his 
 memory, massive as his mind ; and she has embalmed 
 his deathless name in her heart and in her victories. 
 Yet, little as many think of Jesus, lightly as they 
 esteem him, a far greater sight is here. There, in a 
 king becoming a subject that his subjects might find in 
 him a king, there was much for men ; but here, there 
 is much both for men and angels to wonder at, and 
 praise through all eternity. The Son of God stoops to 
 toil. What an amazing scene ! Henceforth, let honest 
 labor feel itself ennobled ; let no man, whatever rank 
 he has attained, blush for the meanness of his origin, 
 or be ashamed of his father’s trade ; let the sons of toil 
 lift their heads before the overweening pride of birth 
 or wealth, and feel themselves stand taller on the earth ; 
 let the idle learn to do some good in this world, and 
 turn their brains and hands to some useful purpose ; 
 above all, there let sinners behold a marvelous, most 
 affecting exhibition of the condescension and love of 
 God. This carpenter of Nazareth is He whom the 
 apostle calls “ the first-born of every creature and 
 “ by him,” he adds, 11 were all things created that are 
 in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, 
 
THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 183 
 
 whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, 
 or powers : all things were created by him and for 
 him : and he is before ail things, and by him all things 
 consist.” Let us now consider the meaning of this ex- 
 pression, “ the first-born of every creature,” and let me 
 shew — 
 
 I. What the expression does not and can not mean. 
 
 The first-born of every creature ! A strange expres- 
 sion ! and one which, seeming to assign our Lord a 
 place among creatures, sounds so strangely that, in 
 some degree perplexed, we are ready to ask what the 
 apostle can mean by applying such a questionable term 
 to the eternal Son of God ? For, though he honors 
 him with the foremost place, still he seems to place him 
 in the rank of creatures. 
 
 Now, there are those who say that Christ was a mere 
 man ; and this expression, beyond all doubt, cuts the 
 ground out from below their feet. The first-born of 
 every creature — these words, assigning to our Lord, at 
 the very least, the highest place among the highest 
 angels, do not leave the Socinian an inch of ground to 
 stand on. But do they not, it may be asked, seem to 
 countenance the Arian heresy — the doctrine of those 
 who hold that, although the highest and noblest of all 
 created things, our Lord, notwithstanding, is still a 
 creature ? Is it so ? Have w r e mistaken his true char- 
 acter ? Shall we find, in going to glory, that, as ardent 
 love is prone to do, we have exaggerated his excellen- 
 ces ; and that while another occupies the throne of 
 heaven, Jesus is but the first in her noble peerage, the 
 highest and oldest of her ancient nobility ? Even as 
 being the first of creatures in point of rank and age, as 
 one whc Iwelt with God when there was none other 
 
184 
 
 THE FIRST • BORIN'. 
 
 than himself, as one whose life dates back beyond the 
 far remote period when seas first rolled, and stars 
 shone, and angels sang, Jesus were an object, next to 
 God he were the object of our deepest interest. Yet 
 if our blessed Lord is only a creature, however great 
 his power, exalted his rank, pure his nature, lofty his 
 intellect, and incalculable the years of his age, I cannot 
 trust him with my soul ; I cannot depend on him for 
 salvation ; I cannot, dare not worship him, nor over- 
 leap this barrier, Thou slialt worship the Lord thy God, 
 and him only shalt thou serve. 
 
 The Apostle John once saw a strange sight in 
 heaven. Yet, if, as the first-born of every creature, 
 our Lord be but a creature, nor hold divinity within a 
 human shrine, I undertake to show you one yet more 
 strange. There appeared, says the apostle, a great 
 wonder in heaven ; a woman clothed with the sun, and 
 the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown 
 of twelve stars : and she being with child, cried, travail- 
 ing in birth, and pain to be delivered. That in heaven ! 
 Yet, if Jesus, though created prior to all others, and in 
 rank next therefore to God, is, after all, but a creature, 
 this mystic woman, so superbly clad and crowned, so 
 strangely pregnant and pained in heaven, offers no 
 wonder so inexplicable as these angels do, who worship 
 at the Saviour’s feet ; nor in that upper world, where 
 there are neither births nor burials, do her birth-pang 
 cries sound so strange in my ears, as that command 
 from the excellent majesty, Let all the angels of God 
 worship him. If he is not God, how can the law, which 
 forbids me to worship any but God, allow to angels 
 what it denies to man ? Can that be right in them 
 which is wrong in us ? Can that be true worship in 
 heaven which were idolatry on earth ? If it be sin to 
 
THE FIRST-BORN - . 
 
 185 
 
 render divine worship to a creature here, it appears to 
 me that it would be but further wrong, and a deeper 
 wrong, an aggravation of the sin, to worship one in 
 heaven ; and, therefore, startled by an expression which 
 seems to rank our Lord with creatures, we might, at 
 the first blush of the thing, address Paul in the words 
 of the men of Athens. 
 
 Having astonished her philosophers, having preached 
 in Jesus and resurrection from the grave a doctrine 
 which her boldest spirits had never ventured to imag- 
 ine, and having, by news such as these news-seekers 
 had never dreamed of, thrown the city into commotion, 
 they hurried him away to the Areopagus, saying, Thou 
 bringest certain strange things to our ears : we would 
 know therefore what these things mean. We might 
 be disposed to say the same to Paul. He brings 
 strange tidings to our ears — he calls Christ “ the first- 
 born of creatures . 77 What does he mean? Well, what 
 he does not mean is very plain from the way in which 
 he conjoins this verse with the next. In the same 
 breath, and as part of the same sentence, the apostle 
 says that He created all things. Created all things ! 
 But he could not create himself, and he was therefore 
 himself uncreated ; and Paul therefore never could 
 mean to say that our Lord, however high might be the 
 rank assigned him, was to be placed in the rank of 
 creatures. No man inspired of God, no logician like 
 the apostle, no person even of common sense, could 
 write, nor would men of ordinary reason and intelli- 
 gence believe, a thing so absurd and self-contradictory 
 as, that anything could create itself, or a thing created 
 possess creating power. To create, to call something 
 out of nothing, be it a dying spark or a blazing sun, a 
 dew-drop cradled in a lily 7 s bosom, or .the vast ocean 
 
186 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN'. 
 
 in the hollow of God’s hand, mole-hill or mountain, 
 the dancing notes of a sunbeam or the rolling planets 
 of a system, a burning seraph or a feeble glow-worm, 
 one of the ephemera that takes wing in the morning 
 and is dead at night, or one of the angels that sang 
 when our Lord was born ; whatever be the thing crea- 
 ted, the power to create is God’s, the act of creation 
 his ; and. therefore, since Paul says that Jesus Christ 
 created all things, he cannot mean to depose our Lord 
 from the throne of divinity, and lower God’s only be- 
 gotten son to the level of a created being. 
 
 II. Consider what this phrase, “the first-born of 
 every creature,” does mean. 
 
 Eli trembled for the ark of God. And dear as that 
 ark, which rash hands had borne into the battle-field, 
 to the devout, blind old priest, is our Lord’s divinity 
 to us. The loss of that broke his neck, the loss of this 
 would break our hearts. But this expression gives no 
 cause for anxiety about Christ’s honors. It does not 
 detract from, but rather illustrates his divinity ; and 
 is a figure of speech, under which that doctrine lies as 
 firm, solid, immovable, as the living rock beneath the 
 flush of flowers and the green sward that cover it. 
 Paul has clothed the doctrine in a Jewish metaphor, 
 and to understand it aright, we must examine it, not 
 with Christian, but with Jewish eyes. For that pur- 
 pose, let us study this expression by the light of these 
 two cases : — 
 
 Isaac is old and blind. He is sitting in his tent 
 like a man who is making his will — engaged, although 
 death was yet distant, in deathbed arrangements. His 
 youngest son, who has passed himself off for his elder 
 brother, and thereby stolen that brother’s rights, ha3 
 
THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 187 
 
 just gone out, when Esau^ as ignorant as his father of 
 the trick that had been so cleverly but so foully played, 
 enters, saying, Let my father arise, and eat of his son’s 
 venison, that thy soul may bless me. The old man, 
 knowing that he had already given away the blessing, 
 and believing that he had bestowed it upon Esau, sur- 
 prised at the request, says, Who art thou? I am thy 
 son, thy first-born Esau, was the answer. It struck 
 Isaac with sudden and dire alarm. Pearful that he 
 had given away what he could not recall, and, under 
 the impression that he was the first-born, had conferred 
 on another rights belonging to Esau, he trembled very 
 exceedingly, and said, “ Who ? where is he that hath 
 taken venison, and brought it me, and I have eaten of 
 all before thou earnest, and have blessed him ? yea, and 
 he shall be blessed. Now, the truth flashed on Esau, 
 and, startling the tents around, he utters “ a great and 
 exceeding bitter cry.” Unaccustomed to tears, he 
 wept like a woman ; and the calm, subdued, but deep 
 grief of the good old man mingled with the wild, 
 sweeping, terrible, impetuous torrent of Esau’s pas- 
 sions. But vain the flood of grief ! He found no place 
 of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears. 
 Behold, said Isaac, as he spoke of him who had won 
 the game, and won it by passing himself off as the 
 first-born , I have made him thy lord, and all his breth- 
 ren have I given him for servants. And so you see 
 from this case, that to be what Esau really was, and 
 what Jacob said he was, to be the first-born , and ob- 
 tain the rights belonging to that condition, was, as a 
 matter of law and order, to be heir and lord of all. 
 
 From the tent of the patriarch, turn now to the 
 palace in Jerusalem. An old man, worn out with 
 wars and troubles fills the throne— the sceptre shaking 
 
188 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 in his palsied hands. It is necessary that Jehoshaphat 
 — for this old king is he — have a coadjutor and suc- 
 cessor ; and in seven sons who stand before him, we 
 should think that he had room for choice. What is 
 his decision ? To the six younger he gave great gifts 
 of silver, and of gold, and of precious things, with 
 fenced cities in Judah, but the kingdom, it is said, gave 
 he to Jehoram. And why ? What moved him to 
 that? His princely qualities? He had none. He 
 was a bloody monster ; for his father’s ashes were 
 hardly cold, when he murdered, in cold blood, all 
 these, his brethren. The kingdom, it is said, gave he 
 to Jehoram ; because he Tvas the first-born . And 
 there, again, you see, that to be the first-born, or to 
 get the rights belonging to that position, was to be 
 heir and lord of all. 
 
 Thus, springing from the customs of the country, 
 and by long use and wont, the expression “ first-born ,” 
 became among the Jews just another word for head, 
 lord, sovereign proprietor of all. Of this fact, let me 
 add, we have a most remarkable example in the lan- 
 guage of some Jewish rabbins. They have not h esi- 
 tated to apply the very term to God h imself, calling 
 1 JeHovahTThe First-Born of the World ; and that in 
 honor, - in deepest reverence — meaning thereby to exalt 
 him above-aikicreiitures, as prince, and king, and Lord 
 of all. See now, how that which seemed at first sight 
 contrary to our Lord’s divinity, is not only consistent 
 with it, but confirmatory of it. In pronouncing him 
 “ the first-born of every creature,” my text exalts Jesus 
 above all creatures, and crowns him divine Head, and 
 Lord, and Sovereign of ail. It proclaims one of his 
 many royal titles, and invests him with the insignia ox 
 universal empire. Revealing the divine heights from 
 
THE FIRST BORN. 
 
 189 
 
 which he descended to the humiliation of Calvary, ■ 
 how should it endear him to our hearts, and recommend 
 him to our glad and grateful acceptance ! Calvary 
 grows in wonder, our sins sink deeper in guilt, and our 
 souls rise higher in value, as we contemplate the glory 
 from which he stooped, to bow his head in death upon 
 an ignominious cross ; dying, as is never to be forgot- 
 ten, “ the propitiation for our sins : and not for ours 
 only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” 
 
 III. Our Lord, as in this sense, “ the first-born of 
 every creature,” existed before all. 
 
 One day the door of Egypt’s palace is thrown open, 
 and Joseph — a model of beautiful manhood, mind in 
 his eagle eye, strength in his form, majesty in his man- 
 ner, and on his countenance that lofty look which be- 
 speaks high virtue and integrity — enters, accompanied 
 by his father. The old man’s step was slow and feeble ; 
 the old man’s eyes were dim with age ; a few thin 
 silver locks mingled with the snowy beard that flowed 
 down his breast, as he came forward leaning on 
 Joseph’s arm, and bending beneath the weight of years. 
 Struck by the contrast, and moved to respect by the 
 patriarch’s venerable aspect, Pharaoh accosted him 
 with the question, How old art thou? 
 
 Age naturally awakens our respect. “ Thou shalt - 
 rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of 
 the old man.” That beautiful and divine command 
 touches a chord in every heart, and sounds in harmony 
 with the best feelings of our nature ; and so a Greek 
 historian tells how, in the pure and early and most 
 virtuous days of the republic, if an old man entered 
 the crowded assembly, all ranks rise to give room and 
 place to him. Age throws such a character of dignity 
 
190 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 even over inanimate objects, that the spectator regards 
 them with a sort of awe and veneration. We have 
 stood before the hoary and ivy-mantled ruin of a bygone 
 age with deeper feelings of respect than ever touched 
 us in the marble halls and amid the gilded grandeur of 
 modern palaces ; nor did the proudest tree which lifted 
 its umbrageous head and towering form to the skies 
 ever affect us with such strange emotions as an old, 
 withered, wasted trunk that, though hollowed by time 
 into a gnarled shell, still showed some green signs of 
 life. Nor, as we lingered beneath the shades of that 
 ancient yew, could we look on such an old tenant of 
 the earth without feelings of veneration, when w'e 
 thought how it had been bathed by the sun which shone 
 upon the cross of Calvary, and had stood white with 
 hoar-frost that Christmas night on which angels sang 
 the birth of our Saviour King. 
 
 It is a curious thing to stand alone beside a swathed, 
 dark, dusty mummy, which some traveler has brought 
 from its tomb on the banks of the Nile ; and to mark 
 w r ith wonder how the gold-leaf still glitters on the nails 
 of the tapering fingers, and the raven hair still clings 
 to the mouldering skull, and how, with the arms peace- 
 fully folded on the breast, and the limbs stretched out 
 to their full extent, humanity still retains much of its 
 original form. But w T hen we think how many centu- 
 ries have marched over that dead one’s head ; that in 
 this womanly figure, with the metal mirror still beside 
 her, in which she had once admired her departed 
 charms, we see, perhaps, the wife of Joseph, perhaps 
 the royal maid, who, coming to give her beauty to the 
 pure embraces of the Nile, received the infant Moses 
 in her kind protecting arms, our wonder changes into 
 a sort of awe. 
 
THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 191 
 
 Age, indeed, heightens the grandeur of the grandest 
 objects. The bald hoar mountains rise in dignity, the 
 voice of ocean sounds more sublime on her stormy 
 shores, and starry heavens sparkle with brighter splen- 
 dor, when we think how old they are ; how long it is 
 since that ocean began to roll, or these lamps of night 
 to shine. Yet these, the first star that ever shone, nay, 
 the first angel that ever sang, are but things of yester- 
 day beside this manger, where, couched in straw and 
 wrapped in swaddling clothes, a new-born babe is sleep- 
 ing. “ Before Abraham was,!i_jor , these were, “ I am,” 
 says Jesus7~His mother’s maker, and his mother’s 
 child , JmJdra that g ave him birth, 
 
 and, ten thousand ages^ before that , the dead rock that 
 gave filmTburial. A child, yet Al might y God^ a son, 
 yet the everlRstmg f^a his history carries us back 
 into eternity ^ an d the dignities wM ch he lef t, Those 
 glories , which jhe veiled, how should they lead us to 
 adore his transcendeift lo ve,'^nd. tdJmeel the lower at 
 hi£cross to cry, Jesus! thy love to me was wonderful, 
 passing the love of women, My soul doth magnify the 
 Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour* 
 
Sft* ^ ^ ^ 0 r . 
 
 For by him were all things created that are in heaven, and that are 
 in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominion^ 
 or principalities, or powers. — Colossians i. 16. 
 
 As I read my text, it appears to me plainly to assert 
 and clearly to demonstrate, the doctrine of our Lord’s 
 divinity. Now the incarnation of (plod, more than any 
 other truth in the Bible, is one of pure revelation. 
 There are many other doctrines there, of which men, 
 without any aid from inspiration, have arrived at a 
 more or less clear conception ; guided to the discovery 
 of them by no other lights than those of reason and of 
 conscience. Therefore Paul says, “ When the Gentiles, 
 which have not the law, do by nature the things con- 
 tained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law 
 unto themselves ; which show the work of the law 
 written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing 
 witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or 
 else excusing one another.” 
 
 It will make this doctrine stand out all the more 
 prominently as that great and sacred mystery which 
 angels desired to look into, and at the same time serve, 
 what I think an important purpose to direct your 
 attention — 
 
 I. To some of those cases which illustrate the liar- 
 (192) 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 193 
 
 mony between Natural Religion and our Christian 
 faith. Such, for instance, is — 
 
 1. The doctrine of the being of a God. I do not 
 need to open the Bible to learn that. It is enough 
 that I open my eyes, and turn them on that great 
 book of nature, where it is legibly written, clearly 
 revealed in every page. God ! that word may be read 
 in the stars and on the face of the sun ; it is painted 
 on every flower, traced on every leaf, engraven on 
 every rock ; it is whispered by the winds, sounded 
 forth by the billows of ocean, and may be heard by 
 the dullest ear in the long-rolling thunder. I be- 
 lieve in the existence of a God, but not in the exist- 
 ence of an atheist ; or that any man is so, who can be 
 considered in his sound and sober senses. What should 
 we think of one who attempted to account for any 
 other works of beauty and evident design, as he pro- 
 fesses to do for those of God ? Here is a classic tem- 
 ple ; here stands a statue, designed with such taste 
 and executed with such skill, that one almost expects 
 the marble to leap from its pedestal; here hangs a 
 painting of some dead beloved one, so life-like as to 
 move our tears ; here, in Iliad, or ^Eneid, or Paradise 
 Lost, is a noble poem, full of the grandest thoughts, 
 and clothed in sublimest imagery ; here is a piece of 
 most delicate, intricate, and ingenious mechanism. 
 Well, let a man tell me gravely, that these were the 
 work of chance ; tell me, when I ask who made them, 
 that nobody made them ; tell me, that the arrangement 
 of the letters in this poem, and of the colors in that 
 picture, of the features in the statue, was a matter of 
 mere chance; how I should stare at him? and con- 
 clude, without a moment’s hesitation, that- 1 had fallen 
 9 
 
m 
 
 THE CREATOR, 
 
 into tlie company of a raving madman or of some driv- 
 elling idiot. Turning away from such atheistic rav- 
 ings about the infinitely more glorious works of God, 
 with what delight does reason listen, and with what 
 readiness does she assent, and with what distinct and 
 hearty voice does she echo the closing words of the 
 seraphim’s hymn, “ the whole earth is full of his glory !” 
 
 2. Such also is the doctrine that man is a sinner. 
 Who needs to open the Bible to learn that ? It is 
 enough that I open my heart ; or read in the light of 
 conscience the blotted record of my past life. “ I know 
 and approve the better, and yet follow the worse,” was 
 the memorable saying of one of the wisest heathens ; 
 yet it did not need any superlative wisdom to arrive 
 at that conclusion. Dr. Livingstone tells us that he 
 found the rudest tribes of Africa, on whose Cimmerian 
 darkness no straggling ray of revealed truth had ever 
 fallen, ready to admit that they were sinners. Indeed, 
 they hold almost everything to be sin which, as such, 
 is forbidden in the word of God. Nor is it possible to 
 read his clear statements on that subject, without ar- 
 riving at this very interesting and important conclu- 
 sion, that the ten commandments received from God’s 
 own hand by Moses on Mount Sinai, are but the copy 
 of a much older law — that law which the finger of his 
 Maker wrote on Adam’s heart, and which, though 
 sadly defaced by the fall, may still, like the inscription 
 on a time-eaten, moss-grown stone, be traced on ours. 
 See how guilt reddens in the blush, and consciousness 
 of sin betrays itself in the downcast look of childhood ! 
 Even when they drink up iniquity as the ox drinketh 
 tip the water, and wallow in sin as the swine in the 
 mire, there is a conscience within men that convicts of 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 195 
 
 guilt and warns of judgment. Dethroned, but not 
 exiled, she still asserts her claims, and fights for her 
 kingdom in the soul ; and, resuming the seat of lordlj 
 judgment, with no more respect for sovereigns than 
 beggars, she summons them to her bar, and thunders 
 on their heads. Felix trembles. Herod turns pale, 
 dreading in Christ the apparition of the Baptist ; 
 while Cain, fleeing from his brother’s grave, wanders 
 away conscience-stricken into the gloomy depths of 
 the forest and the solitudes of an unpeopled world. 
 Like the ghost of a murdered man, conscience haunts 
 the house that was once her dwelling, making her 
 ominous voice heard at times even by the most har- 
 dened in iniquity. In her the rudest savage carries a 
 God within him, who warns the guilty, and echoes 
 these words of Scripture, Depart from evil, and do 
 good. Stand in awe and sin not. 
 
 3. Such also is the doctrine that sin deserves pun- 
 ishment. Hell is no discovery of the Bible. In vain 
 do men flee from Christianity to escape what their 
 uneasy conscience feels to be a painful doctrine ; one 
 which, in their anxiety to lull conscience asleep, they 
 reject as a doctrine of incredible horrors. If that is 
 an objection to this book, it is an equally valid objec- 
 tion to every religious creed which man ever held and 
 cherished. A great poet has represented with great 
 power the cataracts and rivers, the rocks and glaciers, 
 the hurtling avalanche and rolling thunders of the 
 Alps, and those lovely valleys where summer, attired 
 in a robe of flowers, seems sleeping at the feet of win- 
 ter, as forming one great choir, and with their various 
 voices all proclaiming, “ God but it is not less sol- 
 emn than true, it is no poetic fancy, but a plain strik- 
 
196 
 
 THE CREATOR. 
 
 in g fact, that the voices of all nations, of all tongues^ 
 rude or polished, have proclaimed a hell. No heathen 
 religion but had its hell, and warned its followers of 
 a place beyond the grave where vice shall meet the 
 doom which it escaped on earth. And in their pic- 
 tures of the damned, where we see avarice forced to 
 drink molten gold, and eternal vultures tearing at the 
 heart of lust and cruelty, what, again, is the voice of 
 nature but an echo of words we do well to take heed 
 to, Be sure your sin will find you out ? 
 
 4. Such also is the doctrine that man cannot save 
 himself. In what country, or in what age of heathen- 
 ism does man appear standing up erect before his God, 
 demanding justice ? In none. All her temples had 
 vicarious sacrifices and atoning altars, at which man 
 is on his knees, a suppliant for the mercy of the gods. 
 The very Pagans had more sense than some of us. 
 Glimmering as was the light of nature, they saw things 
 more clearly than to be satisfied with themselves. 
 They never believed that, through their own merits, 
 they could be their own saviours. Hence their costly 
 offerings ; their hecatombs of victims : the painful and 
 horrid sacrifices by which they sought to propitiate an 
 angry God. They gave the fruit of their body for the 
 sin of their soul ; and, to the shame of those of us who 
 will take no trouble for salvation, and grudge the 
 smallest tax for the cause of Christ, they hesitated at 
 nothing by which they could hope to avert heaven’s 
 wrath, and win its favor. The voice of that cromlech 
 stone, which still stands on our moors, the centre of the 
 Druid’s gray, lonely, mystic circle, and on whose 
 sloping surface I have traced the channel which, when 
 human victims lay bound on this altar, drained off the 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 197 
 
 blood of beautiful maiden, or grim captive of the fight — 
 the voice of those tears the Indian mother sheds, as she 
 plucks the sweet babe from her throbbing bosom to 
 fling it into the Jumna or Ganges 7 sacred stream — the 
 voice of those ruined temples which, silent now, once 
 resounded with the groans of expiring victims, what 
 are these, again, but an imperfect echo of the words, 
 Not by works of righteousness which we have done, 
 but according to his mercy he saved us ? 
 
 5. Such also is the doctrine that the soul survives the 
 stroke of death. Our spiritual, ethereal essence had 
 its symbol in the heaven-ascending flame which the 
 heathen carved upon their tombs ; and their hopes of 
 immortality were expressed, as well by the lamp they 
 lighted amid the gloom of the sepulchre, as by the ever- 
 green garlands that crowned the monuments of their 
 dead. This hope has been a star that shone in every 
 sky ; a flower that bloomed in the poorest soil ; a flame 
 that burned in the coldest bosom. Immortality ! that 
 made heroes of cowards. It imparted to weakness a 
 giant’s strength. It made the courage of the bravest 
 warrior burn high in the day of battle. It nerves 
 yonder unbending savage to endure, without a groan 
 to gratify his captors or disgrace his tribe, the tortures 
 of fire and stake. Why do these weeping Greeks ap- 
 proach the dead man, as he lies on his bier for burial, 
 and open his mouth to put in an obolus ? The coin is 
 passage-money for the surly ferryman who rows the 
 ghosts over Styx’s stream. And why, in that forest 
 grave, around which plumed and painted warriors 
 stand unmoved and immovable as statues, do they 
 bury, with the body of the Indian chief, his canoe and 
 bow and arrow ? He goes to follow the chase, and 
 
198 
 
 THE CREATOR. 
 
 hunt the deer in the spectre land where the Great Spi- 
 rit lives, and the spirits of his fathers have gone before 
 him. How easy it is to trace in these customs and 
 beliefs, a sort of rude copy of the words. Life and im- 
 mortality, I shall not die, but live. 
 
 6. Although 1 cannot say that the doctrine of a 
 resurrection is to be placed in the same class with these 
 universal fixed beliefs that so remarkably illustrate the 
 harmony between the sacred Scriptures and the voice 
 of nature, yet may not the hope of a resurrection have 
 sometimes shot, like a bright meteor, across the mid- 
 night darkness of heathen grief ? That doctrine did, 
 indeed, astonish the Athenians ; and its novelty and 
 apparent absurdity led them to pronounce Paul a bab- 
 bler. And to the eye of sense, no doubt the tomb looks 
 dark as blackest midnight ; nor can the fondest wishes 
 detect a sign of life slumbering in the cold ashes of the 
 grave. Yet may not the feelings which prompt to such 
 tender care of the lifeless body, to lay it out so decently, 
 to bury it with funeral honors, to build it a tomb, more 
 keenly to resent dishonor done to the relics of the dead 
 than any done to the persons of the living, have sug- 
 gested the idea of a resurrection ? Might not grief 
 have thus given birth to the blissful thought, that after 
 a long night, the sun that had set would rise again ; 
 and that the long winter would be followed by a spring, 
 when, like the beautiful flowers that have hid their 
 heads in the ground, the dead would leave their graves 
 to live and bloom anew ? 
 
 No such truth might be hidden, as one of the ancient 
 mysteries in the heathen legends of the Phoenix that 
 sprung from its ashes into new life ; yet there are 
 things in nature which suggest a resurrection of the 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 199 
 
 dead. Such is the well-known analogy presented by 
 the changes which many creatures undergo. The in- 
 sect, at first a creeping worm, crawls on the earth, its 
 home the ground, or some humble plant or decaying 
 matter, which feeds its voracious appetite. The time 
 of its first change arrives. It weaves itself a shroud ; 
 it makes itself a coffin ; and under the soil, in some 
 cranny of the wall, in a convenient fissure of rock or 
 tree, as in a catacomb, it finds a quiet grave. There, 
 shrouded, and coffined, and buried, and to all appear- 
 ance dead, it lies till its appointed change. The hour 
 arrives. It bursts these cerements ; and a pure, winged, 
 beautiful creature, it leaves them, to roam henceforth 
 in sunny skies, and find its bed in the soft bosom, and 
 its food in the nectar of odorous flowers. Why should 
 not that change, or the analogy which Paul found also 
 in following nature, have suggested to the heathen what 
 they illustrate to us — a resurrection ? He saw our 
 grave in the furrow of the plough ; our burial in the 
 corn dropped into the soil ; our decay in the change 
 undergone by the seed ; and our resurrection, when, 
 bursting its sheath and pushing aside the clod, it rises 
 green and beautiful, to wave its head in summer days, 
 high above the ground that was once its grave. That 
 which thou sowest, he says, is not quickened, except it 
 die ; and that which thou sowest, thou -sowest not that 
 body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of 
 wheat, or of some other grain. So also is the resur- 
 rection of the dead. It is sown in corruption ; it is 
 raised in incorruption : it is sown in dishonor ; it is 
 raised in glory : it is sown in weakness ; it is raised in 
 power : it is sown a natural body ; it is raised a spi- 
 ritual body. 
 
 Different, differing much from these, the doctrine of 
 
200 
 
 THE CREATOR. 
 
 God incarnate is one which nature nowhere teaches ns ; 
 neither by analogy, nor reason, nor intuition, nor con- 
 science. Our proofs of this doctrine, therefore, must 
 be sought for in Scripture, and all our ideas concern- 
 ing it drawn thence. This mystery, which angels de- 
 sired to look into, is one to be approached with the 
 faith of a little child whom his father has taken out 
 beneath the starry sky, to tell the wondering boy that 
 these little, bright , twinkling lights are suns big and 
 blazing as our own. A mystery this, to be approached 
 with the deepest gratitude by those, whom to save 
 from unutterable woe, the great God veiled his glory, 
 and became a man to die. Without controversy, great 
 is the mystery of godliness : God was manifest in the 
 flesh, justified in the spirit, seen of angels, preached 
 unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received 
 up into glory. 
 
 Now, in illustration of this doctrine I remark — 
 
 II. That the word of God, both here and else- 
 where, attributes the work of creation to Jesus Christ. 
 
 Our Lord has been sometimes connected with crea- 
 tion more in beautiful fancies than by plain strong 
 facts. There is a flower, for example, one of the most 
 complex, yet most beautiful in nature, which the piety 
 of other days associated with the sufferings and deep 
 love of Calvary. In the form and arrangement of its 
 parts it presents such a remarkable resemblance to the 
 cross and the nails of our Lord’s torture, encircled by 
 a halo of floral glory, that, as if it had been originally 
 made to anticipate and afterwards left to commemo- 
 rate our Redeemer’s sufferings, it has received the 
 name of the passion-flower . And I remember how, in 
 sweet wooded dell or on the brown heather hill, we 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 201 
 
 were wont to pull up one of the fern tribe, and, having 
 cut its root across, gaze with boyish wonder on the 
 initials of Jesus Christ printed there, black as with 
 ink on the pale wounded stem. Nor are these the only 
 objects in nature that have been associated in some 
 way with our Lord. When the mariner, leaving our 
 northern latitudes, pushes southward to plough a sun- 
 nier ocean, he sees a starry cross emerging from the 
 deep ; and as his course tends further southward, it 
 rises and continues to rise higher in the heavens, till, 
 when the pole-star has dipped beneath the wave, he 
 gazes with feelings of awe and wonder on the sign of 
 salvation blazing above his head — its body and arms 
 formed of brilliant stars. 
 
 In these things a devout superstition, that loved per- 
 haps more fondly than wisely, sought to gratify its 
 affections. Nor do we despise, but rather respect the 
 feelings which prompted ancient piety even in this way 
 to identify our Lord with the wonderful works of God. 
 It is not, however, in these devout and poetic fancies 
 that we either seek or see our Lord’s connection with 
 that kingdom. But as, with the genius that aspires to 
 immortality, and anticipates the admiration of future 
 ages, the painter leaves his name on a corner of the 
 canvas, so Inspiration, dipping her pen in indelible 
 truth, has inscribed the name of Jesus upon all we see 
 • — on sun and stars, flower and tree, rock and mountain, 
 the unstable waters and the firm land ; and also on 
 what we do not see, nor shall till death has removed 
 the veil, angels and spirits, the city and heavens of the 
 eternal world. This is no matter of fancy. It is a 
 fact. It is a blessed fact. No voice ever sounded more 
 distinctly to my ear than that of revealed truth, pro- 
 claiming Jesus, Lord of all. How plainly is that 
 9 * 
 
202 
 
 THE CREATOR. 
 
 great truth written on the face of my text ! He who 
 runs may read it there. And to the same effect the 
 Scriptures have precept upon precept, line upon line, 
 here a little and there a little. In seeking examples 
 of this, we are embarrassed, not by the scantiness, but 
 by the abundance of them. And as two or three com- 
 petent and in every way credible witnesses are held in 
 a court of law to be worth as many as would crowd 
 the court-house, let me adduce two or three passages 
 which ascribe the work of creation to our Lord in 
 language plain as facts, and clear as noonday. 
 
 1. In 1 Corinthians viii. 6, Paul says, “ there is but 
 one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we 
 in him ; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all 
 things , and ice by him.” 
 
 2. In Ephesians iii. 9, Paul also says, “ to make all 
 men see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which 
 from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God, 
 who created all things by Jesus Christ” 
 
 3. When our Lord was on his trial, and stood be- 
 fore his judges and false accusers, as a sheep before her 
 shearers, he was dumb, opening not his mouth. lie 
 heard them as if he heard them not. Eager, yet afraid 
 to strike, the high-priest at length rose from his throne, 
 and, fixing his eye on the prisoner, said, I adjure thee 
 by the living God, that thou tell us whether thou be 
 the Christ, the son of God. Whereupon — the first 
 time he broke silence — our Saviour replied, Thou hast 
 said : nevertheless I say unto you, hereafter shall ye 
 see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of power, 
 and coming in the clouds of heaven. Then, as we are 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 203 
 
 told, the high-priest rent his clothes, saying, He hath 
 spoken blasphemy ; what farther need have we of wit- 
 nesses? And now, in seeking to crown Christ with 
 the honors which they there foully denied him how 
 may I borrow the last words from that murderer’s 
 mouth, saying, after Paul, in these passages from Cor- 
 inthians and from Ephesians, has so clearly attributed 
 the work of creation to Jesus, What further need have 
 we of witnesses? But call in the apostle John. Ask 
 him what he has to say on this great subject, what 
 evidence he has to give, what testimony he can bear ? 
 How full, distinct, and clear his answer ! Speaking 
 by inspiration, and with his linger pointed at Christ; 
 he says, “ All things were made by him ; and without 
 him was not anything made that teas made .” And thus; 
 he writes concerning the very same person of whom, 
 in the same chapter, he says, “The Word was made 
 flesh, and dwelt among us.” 
 
 Did these holy men anticipate, did they foresee a 
 day when, walking in the light of their own fire, and, 
 in the sparks which they had kindled, presumptuous 
 men would rise up in the church to deny the divinity 
 of our Lord ; and, with that precious doctrine, to deny 
 in course of time, all the doctrines to which it is the 
 key-stone? It would seem so. Their anxious care to 
 make plain statements still more plain, looks like it. 
 To make assurance doubly sure, to place our faith on 
 a foundation secure against all assaults, I pray you to 
 observe how the evangelist is not content with simply 
 saying that all things were made by Christ but adds, 
 as if to double-lock the door against the approaching 
 heresy, “ ivithout him ivas not anything made that teas 
 made” Wonderful news to tell in a sinner’s ear ! the 
 stupendous fabric of creation, yon starry vault, this 
 
201 
 
 THE CREATOR. 
 
 magnificent world, were the work of the hands by 
 which, in love of you, he hung, a mangled form, on the 
 cross of Calvary ! 
 
 No two harps out of heaven or in it ever sounded 
 in more perfect harmony than the words of John and 
 the language of Paul in my text. My text is the state- 
 ment of John expanded — the bud blown out into a 
 flower — the indestructible precious gold beaten out 
 over a broader surface. And see how the same anxiety 
 appears here also that there shall be no mistake! 
 What care is taken of your faith ! Paul would pre- 
 vent the shadow of a doubt crossing your mind about 
 our Lord having a right to the divine honors of Crea- 
 tor ! “ By him,” he says, “ all things were created. 
 
 Did an angel, standing at his side when he penned 
 these words, stoop down, and whisper in his ear that 
 in coming days men would rise to throw doubt over 
 the truth, and, explaining it away, attempt to rob 
 Jesus of his honor? I know not; but to make the 
 truth still more plain, he adds, “ that are in heaven 
 and in earth.” Not content with that, he uses yet 
 more comprehensive terms, and to embrace all the re- 
 gions of God’s universe above the earth, and beyond 
 the starry bounds of heaven, he adds, “ visible and 
 invisible.” Nor leaves his noble task till he has swept 
 the highest and the lowest things, men and worms, 
 angels and insects, all into Christ’s hand — adding, 
 “ whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principali- 
 ties, or powers.” 
 
 Thanks be to God that a doctrine so precious ig 
 written in language so plain. As soon may the puny 
 arm of a mortal man pluck the sun from the heavens, 
 as pluck our Lord’s divinity out of this text. Well 
 might dying Stephen, gazing through the opened hea- 
 
THE CREATOR. 
 
 205 
 
 yens, behold Jesus at the right hand of God. Where 
 else should he see him — the man of sorrows whom 
 Paul here, to our joy, and comfort, and triumph, exalts 
 to the throne of an adoring universe ? In the person 
 of Jesus Christ, the Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice. 
 Take, believers, the full comfort of a doctrine which is 
 so fraught with honor to God and salvation to man. 
 Rejoice, and be exceeding glad. Rejoice in the Lord 
 alway ; and again I say, rejoice. Are you afraid ? Are 
 you in trouble about anything whatever ? Are you 
 racked with cares ? Do earthly or spiritual fears disturb 
 your peace, and cast a cold dark shadow on your soul ? 
 Does your faith faint, stagger ? Rise from your knees ; 
 go forth this night ; leave the cross, that affecting 
 monument of his love, to contemplate the glorious 
 monuments of his power ; stand beneath heaven’s re- 
 splendent arch ; and when, led on by the pale evening 
 star, Orion, and Arcturus, and the sweet Pleiades, and 
 all the heavenly host in harmonious order, as to the 
 music of higher spheres, come marching on across the 
 field of darkness, list to the noble utterance of the old 
 Hebrew prophet. In what lofty strains he speaks of 
 your Lord and Saviour ! What courage his words in- 
 spire, as, raising his arm to the starry skies, he exclaims, 
 “ Behold who hath created these things, that bringeth 
 out their host by number : he calleth them all by names 
 by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in 
 power ; not one faileth. Hast thou not known, hast 
 thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the 
 Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither 
 is weary ? He giveth power to the faint. They that 
 wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they 
 shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run 
 and not be weary ; and they shall walk, and not faint.” 
 
Sb* of 
 
 All things were created for Him. — Colossians i. 16 . 
 
 When Ulysses returned with fond anticipations to 
 his home in Ithaca, his family did not recognize him. 
 Even the wife of his bosom denied her husband — so 
 changed was he by an absence of twenty years, and the 
 hardships of a long-protracted war. It was thus true 
 of the vexed and astonished Greek as of a nobler 
 King, that he came unto his own, and his own received 
 him not. In this painful position of affairs he called 
 for a bow which he had left at home, when, embarking 
 for the seige of Troy, he bade farewell to the orange- 
 groves and vine-clad hills of Ithaca. With character- 
 istic sagacity, he saw how a bow, so stout and tough 
 that none but himself could draw it, might be made to 
 bear witness on his behalf. He seized it. To their 
 surprise and joy, like a green wand lopped from a wil- 
 low tree, it yields to his arms ; it bends till the bow- 
 string touches his ear. His wife, now sure that he is 
 her long lost and long lamented husband, throws her- 
 self into his fond embraces, and his household confess 
 him the true Ulysses. 
 
 If I may compare small things with great, our Lord 
 gave such proofs of his divinity when he too stood a 
 stranger in his own house, despised and rejected of 
 men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. 
 
 ( 206 ) 
 
THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 207 
 
 He bent the stubborn laws of nature to his will. He 
 proved himself Creator by his mastery over creation. 
 The winds that sweep the deep, and the free wild sea 
 they sweep alike controlled, leprosy and shaking palsy 
 healed, the rolling eye of madness calmed, the shrouded 
 corpse and the buried dead restored to life by a word, 
 calmly spoken after the manner and with the power of 
 a master — these things leave one to wonder that the 
 spectators did not fall down to worship ; and, recog- 
 nizing God in the guise of man, say, the voice of the 
 Lord is powerful ; the voice of the Lord is full of 
 majesty. If nothing could be more sublime than that 
 scene on the Lake of Galilee, when, tranquil in aspect, 
 Jesus stood on the bow of the reeling boat, and while 
 the storm played around, and the spray flew in white 
 sheets over his naked head, calmly eyed the war of 
 elements, and raising his hand, said, “ Peace, be still ! ” 
 could anything be more conclusive than the evidence 
 which these waves and winds afforded, that the Master 
 himself was come home? No clearer shone the stars 
 that night, mirrored in the placid waters. There, the 
 winds lulled and the wild waves at rest, deep silence 
 spake. By that sudden hush, nature proclaimed him 
 God, Lord, Creator of all. Declared to be so by in- 
 spired tongues, and by such strange witnesses as winds 
 and waves, devils, disease, death, and the grave — 
 heaven concurs in their testimony ; by the voices of its 
 saints and angels, of its worship, hymns, harps, and 
 hallelujahs, proclaiming him Creator and Lord of all. 
 
 Let us in imagination pass the angel guardians of 
 those gates where no error enters, and, entering that 
 upper sanctuary which no discord divides, no heresy 
 disturbs, let us find out who worship, and who is wor- 
 shipped there. The law, Thou shalt worship the Lord 
 
208 
 
 THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 thy God, and him only shalt thou serve, extends to 
 heaven as well as to earth ; so that if our Lord is only 
 the highest of all creatures, w^e shall find him on his 
 knees — not the worshipped, but a worshipper ; and 
 from his lofty, and lonely, and to other creatures unap- 
 proachable pinnacle, looking up to God, as does the 
 highest of the snow-crowned Alps to the sun, that, 
 shining far above it, bathes its head in light. We have 
 sought him, I shall suppose, in that group where his 
 mother sits with the other Marys, sought him among 
 the twelve apostles, or where the chief of apostles 
 reasons with angels on things profound, or where David, 
 royal leader of the heavenly choir, strikes his harp, or 
 where the beggar, enjoying the repose of Abraham's 
 bosom, forgets his wrongs, or where martyrs and con- 
 fessors, and they which have come out of great tribu- 
 lation, with robes of purest white, and crowns of 
 brightest glory, swell the song of salvation to our God 
 which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb. He 
 is not there. Rising upwards, we seek him where 
 angels hover on wings of light, or, with feet and faces 
 veiled, bend before a throne of dazzling glory. Nor 
 is he there. He does not belong to their company. 
 Verily, he took not on him the nature of angels. 
 
 Eighteen hundred years ago Mary is rushing through 
 the streets of Jerusalem, speed in her steps, wild anxiety 
 in her look, one question to all on her eager lips, 
 “ Have you seen my son ? ” Eighteen hundred years 
 ago, on these same streets, some Greeks accost a Gali- 
 lean fisherman, saying, “Sir, we would see Jesus.” 
 Now, were we, bent like his mother on finding, like 
 these Greeks on seeing him, to stay a passing angel, 
 and accost him in the words, “ Sir, we would see J esus,” 
 what would he do ? How would his arm rise, and hia 
 
THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 209 
 
 finger point us upward to the throne as he fell down 
 to worship, and worshipping, to swell the flood of song 
 which in this one full stream mingles the names of the 
 Father, and of the Son — Blessing, and honor, and 
 glory, and power, be unto him that sittetli upon the 
 throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever. Such 
 a glorious vision, such worship, the voices that sounded 
 on John's ear as the voice of many waters, the distant 
 roar of ocean, are in perfect harmony with the exalted 
 honor and divine offices which Paul assigns to our 
 Lord in the w^ords, All things were created for him. 
 
 In directing your attention now to the purpose for 
 which Christ created all things, I remark — 
 
 I. That my text furnishes another proof of our 
 Lord’s divinity. 
 
 He is in the position of a servant who works for 
 others ; he of a master, who by other hands, or his own, 
 works for himself. Applying that remark to the case 
 before us, look to the condition of man. Whatever 
 office man fills in providence, he is a servant ; and on 
 crowned monarchs, who are, and should consider them- 
 selves, but upper servants, as well as on the lowest 
 menials, Paul lays this duty, Whether, ye eat, or drink, 
 or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. God 
 being our end, as well as our beginning, we are to do 
 nothing for ourselves ; but everything for him. Nor do 
 angels, though holding a much higher rank in creation, 
 differ much from us in this respect. Far from it. Even 
 as we see that law which rolls every drop of water to 
 the ocean, and rounds the tear on our cheek, illustrated 
 on its grandest scale in those skies where suns roll, 
 and stars rise, and wandering comets travel, so, if we 
 would see the law of love producing perfect service, 
 
210 
 
 THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 and perfect servants, we must look to heaven. Nor 
 wing flies, nor harp sounds, nor heart beats yonder, 
 but in divine harmony with the great law of God’s 
 moral kingdom, Do all to the glory of God. They are 
 all and ever engaged in God’s service. Hear what is 
 said of them, “ He shall give his angels charge over 
 thee,” “ I, Jesus, have sent mine angel to testify,” “ See 
 thou do it not,” said the angel, “ for I am thy fellow- 
 servant,” “ Are they not all ministering spirits sent 
 forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salva- 
 tion ?” Thus, whether they descend on our world to 
 open the bars of a prison, or to roll back the gates of 
 the sea, to predict the birth of a Samson, or celebrate 
 the advent of a Saviour, to blow the coal that dresses 
 Elijah’s meal, or kindle the fire that lays Sodom in 
 ashes, to sing “ peace ” over the rude cradle of a new- 
 born babe, or sound the trump that rends the tomb 
 and wakes the dead, they do nothing for themselves. 
 Not ashamed of their service, but glorying in it, they 
 respond to the call, Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that 
 excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearken- 
 ing unto the voice of his word. Bless ye the Lord, all 
 ye his hosts ; ye ministers of his that do his pleasure. 
 
 Now, whose pleasure does my text represent our 
 Lord as doing? For whom, in the work of creation, 
 does it represent him as acting ? All things were cre- 
 ated not only by him, but for him. For him ! What 
 a depth of meaning, what a manifest divinity, in that 
 plain, little word ! “ For him ! ” You might pile one 
 
 lofty expression on another up to heaven, but you could 
 say nothing more of God. Nay, it is said of God, as 
 his own peculiar and divine prerogative, “ The Lord 
 hath made all things for himself 
 
 Some have attempted to evade the argument for 
 
THE END OF CKEATION. 
 
 211 
 
 Christ’s divinity, which is based on the fact of his hav- 
 ing created all things. They cannot deny the fact, 
 but they deny the inference. They object and allege 
 that, although Christ created all things, he did so not 
 by his own inherent power, but by such power as Eli- 
 jah received from God to restore the widow’s son, or 
 Elisha to lay bare the bed of Jordan. But, apart from 
 other answers with which such objectors may be tri- 
 umphantly met, observe how my text cuts the ground 
 out below their feet. Did Elijah bring back the dead, 
 and his successor divide the flood for themselves? 
 Was it for their own glory, or for any other ends of 
 their own? That will not be alleged. If not, then 
 there is no analogy whatever between their miraculous 
 and our Lord’s creating works. 
 
 If our Lord Jesus Christ was other and less than 
 God, then, in kindling yonder sun, in lighting up the 
 starry sky, he no more acts for himself than the domes- 
 tic does, who, appearing at my call, lights my lamp, or 
 stoops on the hearth-stone to kindle my fire. It is the 
 very nature of a creature to be a dependent, and hold 
 a servant’s place. Nor, as I read my Bible, was any 
 man ever more justly condemned to die than Jesus, if 
 he were but a man. In that case he did undoubtedly 
 lay himself open to the charge of blasphemy, since — as 
 the Jews truly averred, and he never denied, nor so 
 much as attempted to explain it away — he made him- 
 self the Son of God, “ equal with God.” No doubt 
 our Lord did that ; in such plain terms claiming divine 
 equality, as to justify the use by Paul of this bold lan- 
 guage, “ He thought it not robbery to be equal with 
 God. And, as the rainbow looks the brighter the 
 blacker the cloud it spans, the majesty of his claim is 
 brought out by the meanness of the circumstances in 
 
212 
 
 THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 which it was made. Deserted by the world, a man of 
 sorrows, and acquainted with grief, dependent on a few 
 humble followers for the most common necessaries of 
 life, within some hours of an ignominious end, his foot 
 already on the verge of the grave, he rises to the lofti- 
 ness of Godhead ; and, turning an eye that was to be 
 soon darkened in death on earth and heaven, he claims 
 a community of property with God. All things, he 
 says, that the father hath are mine. To the “ all mine 
 are thine,” this dying man adds, “ thine are mine.” He 
 speaks to God. Thine, thy eternity, thy throne, thy 
 glory, thy crown, thy sceptre, all are mine. Great 
 words, pregnant with the strongest consolation and 
 most glorious truths ! For, if in the very nature of 
 things all that is God’s is Christ’s, and according 
 to the terms of the New Covenant, all that is Christ’s 
 is ours, these words draw everything that belongs to 
 God into the hands of the humblest believer ! What 
 a faith is that ! What comfort should it give you ! 
 What courage should it impart to you ! W T hat grati- 
 tude should it beget in you ! Rich amid poverty, full 
 in emptiness, and in weakness strong, with what bless- 
 ed peace may the believer lie in Christ’s arms, saying 
 with David, I will fear none evil ; or with Paul, as he 
 addresses himself to work or war, I can do all things 
 through Christ which strengthened me. 
 
 II. My text teacheth us that the glory of God was 
 the original ourpose of creation ; “ All things were 
 created — for him.” 
 
 Sin has to some extent blighted the beauty of crea- 
 tion. Still, to borrow the words of the Psalmist, the 
 heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament 
 showeth his handy-work. Day unto day uttereth 
 
THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 213 
 
 speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. 
 There is no speech nor language where their voice is 
 not heard. Their line is gone out through all the earth, 
 and their words to the end of the world. Nor is it 
 distance that here lends enchantment to the view. On 
 the contrary, the more closely the works of God are 
 examined, the higher our admiration rises, and the less 
 we fear that true science will ever appear as the anta- 
 gonist, and not the ally of the faith. Whether we turn 
 the telescope on heavens, studded so full of stars as to 
 present the appearance of gold-dust scattered with 
 lavish hand on a dark purple ground, or turn the micro- 
 scope on such comparatively humble objects as a plant 
 of moss, a drop of ditch water, the scaly armor of a 
 beetle, a spider’s eye, the down of a feather, or the dust 
 on a butterfly’s wing, such divine beauty, wisdom and 
 glory burst into view, that childhood’s roving mind is 
 instantly arrested : the dullest are moved to wonder, 
 the most grovelling souls take wing and rise up to God. 
 He rushes, indeed, into our souls by the open portal of 
 every sense. We see a divine glory in worms, and 
 unapproachable excellence in the Almighty’s lowest 
 works. And in the grand roar of the storm, the ever- 
 lasting boom of ocean breakers, the sudden crash 
 and far-rolling peals of thunder, the soft murmuring 
 of gentle brooks, the gleesome melody of budding 
 woods, the thrilling music of the lark, as, like a part- 
 ing spirit, she spurns the earth, and wings her flight to 
 heaven, nature echoes the close of the angel’s hymn, 
 The whole earth is full of his glory. 
 
 When the morning stars sang together, and all the 
 sons of God shouted for joy over our new-bcrn world, 
 that, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of Hosts, the whole 
 earth is full of his glory, formed, perhaps, the burden 
 
214 
 
 THE END OF CKEATION. 
 
 of their song. And when Adam sat by his beautiful 
 bride, and the shaggy lion crouched like a dog at their 
 feet, and the beams of the setting sun threw a golden 
 splendor over their bower of eglantine and roses, and 
 the feathered tribes from all the groves of paradise 
 poured forth rich gushes of sweetest melody, perhaps, 
 ere they lay down to rest with their arms and hearts 
 entwined, they took it for their vesper hymn, singing^ 
 while God and delighted angels listened, Holy, holy, 
 holy, is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full of 
 his glory. 
 
 The harp of Eden, alas ! is broken. Unstrung and 
 mute, an exiled race have hung it on the willows, and 
 Ichabod stands written now in the furrows of man’s 
 guilty forehead, and on the wreck of his ruined estate. 
 Some things remain unaffected by the blight of sin, as 
 God made them for himself ; the flowers have lost 
 neither their bloom nor fragrance, the rose smells as 
 sweet as it did when bathed in the dews of paradise ; 
 and seas and seasons, obedient to their original im- 
 pulse, roll on as of old to their Maker’s glory. But 
 from man, alas ! how has the glory departed! Look 
 at his body when the light of the eye is quenched, and 
 the countenance is changed, and the noble form lies 
 festering in corruption — mouldering into the dust of 
 death. Or, change, still more hideous, look at his 
 soul ! The spirit of piety dead, the mind under a dark 
 eclipse, hatred to God rankling in that once loving 
 heart, it retains but some vestiges of its original grand- 
 eur, just enough, like the beautiful tracery and noble 
 arches of a ruined pile, to make us feel that glory once 
 was there, and now is gone. What glory does God 
 get from many of us ? Like a son who is bringing his 
 father’s gray hairs to the grave, a daughter who, sunk 
 
THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 215 
 
 into the lowest degradation,^ the shame of her family, 
 we are a dishonor and a disgrace. In applying such 
 terms to sinners, I am not employing language too 
 strong. God uses still stronger terms. As if his were 
 the feelings of a father who wishes that he had been 
 childless, of a mother who esteems the barren happy, it 
 is written, “ It repented the Lord that he had made 
 man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.” 
 What a horrible thing is sin ! 
 
 Yet God’s object in creating man was not defeated ; 
 and in illustration of that, I remark — 
 
 III. That God will make even the wicked and their 
 gins redound to his glory. 
 
 A strange machine is this of providence ! Hov 
 slowly some wheels move, while others whirl round so 
 rapidly that the eye cannot catch the flying spokes : 
 some are turning in one direction, and others in the 
 very opposite. Here, sight to wonder at, Virtue is 
 struggling with the temptations of poverty, and Piety 
 sits a mendicant, clothed in rags, and covered with a 
 mass of sores. There, again, we see the wicked in 
 great power, and spreading himself like a green bay 
 tree ; and not seldom like the deadly upas, which is 
 said to poison the air around it, and kill all that comes 
 within its noxious shade. In the arrangements of this 
 world it often seems as if confusion reigned, and some- 
 times confusion worse confounded. Sin triumphs, and 
 in the success of the ungodly, who have no changes, 
 and no bands in their death, men and devils seem to 
 defeat the purposes of God. 
 
 Defeat the purposes of God ! Impossible. As you 
 stood some stormy day upon a sea-cliff, and marked 
 the giant billow rise from the deep to rush ou with 
 
216 
 
 THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 foaming crest, and throw itself thundering on the 
 trembling shore, did you ever fancy that you could 
 stay its course, and hurl it back into the depths of 
 ocean ? Did you ever stand beneath, the leaden, lower- 
 ing cloud, and mark the lightning’s leap, as it shot and 
 flashed, dazzling, athwart the gloom, and think that 
 you could grasp the bolt and change its path ? Still 
 more foolish and vain his thought, who fancies that he 
 can arrest or turn aside the purposes of God, saying, 
 What is the Almighty that we should serve him ? Let 
 us break his bands in sunder, and cast away his cords 
 from us. Break his bands asunder ! How he that sit- 
 teth in the heavens shall laugh ! Poor, beguiled, be- 
 nighted sinner, do you suppose, that in the full swing 
 and unbridled license of your passions you are serving 
 yourself, are your own free master? Be assured that 
 it is not otherwise with you than it was with Pilate, 
 and the chief priests, and the Jews, and Judas also. 
 Unconscious of the high hand that controlled their 
 movements, these enemies of God were gathered to- 
 gether to do that which, by the determinate counsel 
 and foreknowledge of God, was appointed to be done. 
 
 Do you, for instance, injure a godly man ? God is 
 using you to train up his child in the grace of patience. 
 Do you defraud him ? God is using you to detach his 
 heart from the world, and to loosen the roots that bind 
 his affections to the earth. Do you deceive him ? God 
 is using you to teach him not to put his trust in princes, 
 nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help. Do 
 you wound his feelings? You are a knife in God’s 
 hand to let the sap flow more freely in a bark-bound 
 tree, or to prune its branches that it may bring forth 
 more fruit. Messenger of Satan! dost thou buffet an 
 apostle? God uses thee to keep him humble, and to 
 
THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 217 
 
 teach him to wear his honors meekly. Oppressor of 
 the church! dost thou cast an apostle into prison? 
 God uses thee, thy dungeon, and thy chains, to show 
 how he will answer prayer, and bring his people even- 
 tually out of their sorest troubles, — saving, as he saved 
 Peter, at the very uttermost. King of Egypt ! with 
 thy guards around thee, flattered by thy supple cour- 
 tiers, backed by thy boastful magicians, with thy 
 haughty looks art thou thwarting God, and, in hard- 
 ening thy heart and refusing to let Israel go, promot- 
 ing and securing thine own ambitious, selfish, grasping 
 ends ? Fool ! what a mistake ! In very deed, said the 
 Lord by Moses, for this cause have I raised thee up, 
 for to shew in thee my power ; and that my name may 
 be declared throughout all the earth. Pharaoh’s ob- 
 stinacy affords the occasion, of which God makes use, 
 to turn a great kingdom into a stage whereon to dis- 
 play the majesty of his power. What must have been 
 the surprise, what the rage, what the mortification of 
 that imperious tyrant, to find himself, after all that he 
 and his bleeding country had suffered, but a mere tool 
 in the hands of the Hebrew’s God ! God took a reve- 
 nue of glory out of him, as he will sooner or later do 
 out of all his enemies. 
 
 No man liveth for himself. There is a sense in 
 which that is universally true. And the most bold 
 and God-hating sinners may rest assured that when 
 the complicated machine of providence has done its 
 work, and the secret purposes of God are fi^ly com- 
 pleted, and things old and worn out are replaced by a 
 new heaven and a new earth, then it shall be seen how 
 the Lord hath made all things for himself : yea, even 
 the wicked for the day of evil. Oh that men would 
 turn now and seek his mercy — his gracious, much- 
 10 
 
218 
 
 THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 needed, freely-offered, all-sufficient, soul-saving mercy. 
 Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the 
 way. Why, when God is willing to forgive and for- 
 get, why, when he has sent his Son to seek you, and 
 sends his Spirit to plead with you, why should you per 
 ish? Reject salvation, and you must perish. For, 
 though unbelievers and the wicked are after a fashion 
 serving God, it is as the rod which a kind father 
 reluctantly uses to chasten his son, and which, when 
 it has answered its purpose, he breaks in two, and casts 
 into the fire. 
 
 IV. Since Christ hath made all things for himself 
 his people are emphatically called to consecrate them- 
 selves, and their all, to his glory. 
 
 To this duty you are called, by the obligations of 
 both a natural and spiritual creation ; by your descent 
 from the first, and also from the second Adam. To 
 live, to watch, to work, to suffer, and to sacrifice both 
 for Him who, loving us, spared not his own son, but 
 delivered him up for us all, and for Him also who, lov- 
 ing us, washed us from our sins in his own blood, is 
 our plain bounden duty ; let me rather say, for duty is 
 a cold word, should be our daily and supreme delight. 
 I do not say that it is plain sailing to heaven. I do 
 not say but that the duty we owe to Christ may and 
 shall expose us to what the world accounts and what 
 flesh and blood feel, to be pain ? Be it so ! What pains 
 Jesus endured, what sacrifices he submitted to for us ! 
 
 Besides, how should it make us take suffering joy- 
 fully to think that it is those who are crucified with 
 him on earth that shall be crowned with him in heaven. 
 None else. They win in this game that lose. They 
 live in this warfare that die. If we be dead with 
 
THE END OF CKEATION. 
 
 219 
 
 him, we shall also live with him ; if we suffer, we shall 
 also reign with him. He that loseth his life shall find it. 
 
 Surely, if there be such things as true, tender, sa' 
 cred, eternal obligations, they bind those who, to speak 
 the plain truth, but for Christ had been suffering hell’s 
 intolerable torment, had never even hoped to set foot 
 in heaven. What owest thou thy Lord ? You cannot 
 tell that. Therefore be your money millions or mites, 
 be your talents ten or two, be your hearts young and 
 green, or seared and withered, lay them at a Saviour’s 
 feet. Let his glory be your glorious aim ! Raised far 
 above the common objects and base pursuits of the 
 world, this is an end worth living for. A life such as 
 that, elevating and ennobling the humblest lot, shall 
 command the regards, and fix on a man the gaze of 
 angels. Lofty ends give dignity to the lowest offices. 
 It is, for instance, an honest, but you would not call it 
 an honorable occupation, to pull an oar ; yet if that 
 oar dips in a yeasty sea to impel the life-boat over 
 mountain waves and through roaring breakers, he who 
 has stripped for the venture, and, breaking away from 
 weeping wife and praying mother and clinging child- 
 ren, has bravely thrown himself into the boat to pull 
 for yonder wreck, and pluck his drowning brothers 
 from the jaws of death, presents, as from time to time 
 we catch a glimpse of him on the crest of the foaming 
 billow, a spectacle of grandeur which would withdraw 
 our eyes from the presence even of a queen, surrounded 
 with all the blaze and glittering pomp of royalty. 
 
 Take another illustration, drawn from yet humbler 
 life. Some years ago, on a winter morning, two child- 
 ren were found frozen to death. They were sisters. 
 The elder child had the younger seated in her lap, 
 closely folded within her lifeless arms. She had 
 
220 
 
 THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 stripped her own thinly-clad form to protect its feebler 
 life, and, to warm the icy fingers, had tenderly placed 
 its little hands in her own bosom ; and pitying men 
 and weeping women did stand and gaze on the two 
 dead creatures, as, with glassy eyes and stiffened forms, 
 they reclined upon the snow wreath — the days of their 
 wandering and mourning ended, and heaven’s own 
 pure snow no purer than that true sister’s love. They 
 were orphans ; houseless, homeless beggars. But not 
 on that account, had I been there to gaze on that 
 touching group, would I have shed one tear the less, 
 or felt the less deeply, that it was a display of true 
 love, and of human nature in its least fallen aspect, 
 which deserved to be embalmed in poetry, and sculp- 
 tured in costliest marble. 
 
 Yes ; and however humble the Christian’s walk, or 
 mean his occupation, it matters not. He who lives for 
 the glory of God, has an end in view which lends dig- 
 nity to the man and to his life. Bring common iron into 
 proper contact with the magnet, it will borrow the 
 strange attractive virtue, and itself become magnetic. 
 The merest crystal fragment, that has been flung out 
 into the field and trampled on the ground, shines like 
 a diamond when sunbeams stoop to kiss it. And who 
 has not seen the dullest rain-cloud, when it turned its 
 weeping face to the sun, change into glory, and, in the 
 bow that spans it, present to the eyes of age and in- 
 fancy, alike of the philosopher who studies, and of the 
 simple joyous child who runs to catch it, the most bril- 
 liant and beautiful phenomenon in nature? Thus, 
 from what they look at and come in contact with, 
 common things acquire uncommon glory. 
 
 Live, then, “looking unto Jesus,” live for nothing 
 less and nothing lower than God’s glory ; and these 
 
THE END OF CREATION. 
 
 221 
 
 ends will lend grandeur to your life, and shed a holy, 
 heavenly lustre on your station, however humble it be. 
 Yes. A man of piety may be lodged in the rudest 
 cottage, and his occupation may be only to sweep a 
 street, yet let him so sweep a street, that, through the 
 honest and diligent doing of his duty, God is glorified, 
 and men are led to speak and think better of religion, 
 and he forms a link between earth and heaven. He 
 associates himself with holy angels. And, though at a 
 humble distance, treads in the footsteps of that blessed 
 Saviour, who, uniting divinity to humanity, as our 
 Maker made all things for himself, and, as our brother 
 man, whether he ate or drank or whatsoever he did, 
 did all to the glory of God ; and doing so, left us an 
 example that we should follow his steps. Go and do 
 likewise. Glorify God, and you shall enjoy him. La- 
 bor on earth, and you shall rest in heaven. Christ 
 judges them to be the men of worth who are the men 
 of work. Be thy life then devoted to his service. 
 Now for the work, hereafter for the wages ; earth for 
 the cross, heaven for the crown. Go thy way, assured 
 that there is not a prayer you offer, nor a word you 
 speak, nor a foot you walk, nor a tear you shed, nor a 
 hand you hold out to the perishing, nor a warning you 
 give to the careless, nor a wretched child you pluck 
 from the streets, nor a visit paid to the widow or fath- 
 erless, nor a loaf of bread you lay on a poor man’s 
 table, that there is nothing you do for the love of God 
 and man, but is faithfully registered in the chronicles 
 of the kingdom, and ^shall be publicly read that day 
 when Jesus, calling you up perhaps from a post as 
 mean as Mordecai’s, shall crown your brows before an 
 assembled world, saying, Thus it shall be done to the 
 man whom the king delighteth to honor. 
 
(Mtviist i» Qxvvi&tutt. 
 
 By him all things consist. — Colossians i. 17. 
 
 God’s work of providence is “ his most holv, wise, 
 and powerful preserving and governing of all his crea- 
 tures and all their actions.” It has no Sabbath. No 
 night suspends it, and from its labors God never rests. 
 If, for the sake of illustration, I may compare small 
 things with great, it is like the motion of the heart. 
 Beating our march to the grave, since the day we 
 began to live, the heart has never ceased to beat. 
 Our limbs grow weary ; not it. We sleep ; it never 
 sleeps. Needing no period of repose to recruit its 
 strength, by night and day it throbs in every pulse ; 
 and, constantly supplying nourishment to the meanest 
 as well as to the noblest organs of our frame, with mea- 
 sured, steady, untired stroke, it drives the blood along 
 the bounding arteries, without any exercise of will on 
 our part, and even when the consciousness of our own 
 existence is lost in dreamless slumbers. 
 
 If philosophy is to be believed, our world is but an 
 outlying corner of creation ; bearing, perhaps, as small 
 a proportion to the great universe, as a single grain 
 bears to all the sands of the sea-shore, or one small 
 quivering leaf to the foliage of a boundless forest. 
 Yet, even within this earth’s narrow limits, how vast 
 the work of Providence ! How soon is the mind lost in 
 contemplating it ! How great that Being whose hand 
 ( 222 ) 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 223 
 
 paints every flower, and shapes every leaf ; who forms 
 every bud on every tree, and every infant in the dark- 
 ness of the womb ; who feeds each crawling worm 
 with a parent’s care, and watches like a mother over 
 the insect that sleeps away the night in the bosom of 
 a flower ; who throws open the golden gates of day, 
 and draws around a sleeping world the dusky curtains 
 of the night ; who measures out the drops of every 
 shower, the whirling snow-flakes, and the sands of 
 man’s eventful life ; wdio determines alike the fall of 
 a sparrow and the fate of a kingdom ; and so over- 
 rules the tide of human fortunes, that whatever befall 
 him, come joy or sorrow, the believer says, It is the 
 Lord : let him do what seemeth him good. 
 
 In ascribing this great work to Jesus Christ, my 
 text calls you to render him divine honors. In the 
 hands that were once nailed to the cross, it places the 
 sceptre of universal empire ; and on those blessed 
 arms that, once thrown around a mother’s neck, now 
 tenderly enfold every child of God, it hangs the weight 
 of worlds. Great is the mystery of godliness! Yet 
 so it is, plainly written in the words, By him all things 
 consist. By him the angels keep their holiness, and 
 the stars their orbits ; the tides roll along the deep, 
 and the seasons through the year ; kings reign, and 
 princes decree justice ; the church of God is held 
 together, riding out at anchor the rudest storms ; and 
 by him, until the last of his elect are plucked from the 
 wreck, and his purposes of mercy are all accomplished, 
 this guilty world is kept from sinking under a growing 
 load of sins. 
 
 “ By him all things consist.” Wonderful words, 
 as spoken of one who, some eighteen centuries ago, 
 was a houseless wanderer, a pensioner on woman’a 
 
221 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 charity, and not seldom without a place where to lay his 
 head ! Yet how clearly do these words attest his dig- 
 nity and divinity ? More could not be said of God ; 
 and Paul will not say less of Christ. Nor, great and 
 glorious as they are, do they stand alone. Certainly 
 not. In language as lofty, and ascribing to Jesus 
 honors no less divine, the apostle thus writes to the 
 Hebrews, “ God, who at sundry times, and in divers 
 manners, spake in time past unto the fathers by the 
 prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by 
 his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, 
 by whom also he made the worlds j who being the 
 brightness of his glory, and the express image of his 
 person, and up holding^ all things by the word of his 
 power , when he had by himself purged our sins, sat 
 down on the right hand of the Majesty on high/ 
 How wonderful ! He left a grave to ascend the 
 throne ; he exchanged the side of a dying thief for 
 the right hand of God ; he dropped a reed to assume 
 the sceptre of earth and heaven ; he put off a wreath 
 of thorns to put on a sovereign’s crown ; and, in that 
 work of providence to which I would now turn your 
 attention, you behold Him, who died to save the chief 
 of sinners, made “ Head over all things to the church.’ I. * * * * * 7 
 
 I. His providence appears in those extraordinary 
 events which lead his people, and often compel his 
 enemies, to acknowledge the hand of God. 
 
 I do not speak of miraculous events as when the 
 
 sea opened her gates to the flying Israelites, and man’s 
 
 extremity proved God’s opportunity ; as when the 
 
 ravens, deserting their nests and young to cater for 
 
 the prophet, hunted the fields to supply his table ; as 
 
 when hungry lions, like gentle lambs, crouched at 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 225 
 
 Daniel’s feet ; as when the sun set at noonday over 
 the red cross of Calvary, or shone at midnight on the 
 hills of Gideon. It is to another kind of events that 
 I refer ; and of these — 
 
 1. Job’s history furnishes a notable example. Satan 
 has gone forth from the presence of the Lord, armed 
 with this commission, Behold, all that he hath is in 
 thy power ; only upon himself put not forth thine 
 hand. The devil can never go a step further against 
 the saints than God chooses to give him chain. That 
 is great comfort. Yet how ruthlessly, how pitilessly, 
 how malignantly the Enemy of man used his power on 
 this occasion, you know. The gallant ship that, with 
 songs below, and gay dances on her deck, was sailing 
 on a summer day over a glassy sea, in her sky no por- 
 tentous clouds, in her snowy sheets but wind enough 
 to waft her home, and of which, by nightfall, the only 
 vestiges are some broken timbers afloat in the foam 
 that the wild waves are grinding on the horrid reef, 
 presents a striking image of the change that one short, 
 eventful day brought on the house and fortunes of this 
 man of God. One following hard upon another, like 
 successive shocks of an earthquake, the messengers of 
 disaster come. Ruin, ruin, is on their lips, as, pale 
 with terror, panting for breath, they arrive with their 
 tidings, and that doleful echo, that ever-recurring close 
 of the woful tale, “ I only am escaped alone to tell 
 thee.” Cattle, flocks, camels gone, all his property 
 sunk, Job is a beggared man. Yet his children are 
 safe ; and with seven gallant sons and three fair 
 daughters, he still is rich. These spared, let all else 
 perish. But ah ! the next wave, towering, cresting 
 high over head, falls on his laboring bark, and, sweep- 
 10 * 
 
226 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 in g the deck clean, leaves none standing there but 
 himself and a frantic mother ; nor is theirs the conso s 
 lation of the mother who, reaching the shore with her 
 living babe, presses it to her bosom, and holds herself 
 compensated for all other losses. They are dead, cries 
 the last messenger ; they are dead, and I only am 
 escaped alone to tell thee. Dead ? We almost expect 
 to see himself fall dead ; stunned, killed by this crown- 
 ing, this overwhelming stroke. But no. Greatest of 
 heroes, spectacle for angels to admire, pattern for be- 
 lievers to imitate in the hour of their most adverse 
 fortunes, he arose and worshipped — arose as the ball 
 which rebounds the higher the harder It is struck : as 
 the eagle which reaches her loftiest flight not in serene, 
 but in tempestuous skies. Owning the Providence in 
 whose hand Sabean and Chaldean, fiery thunderbolt 
 and roaring whirlwind, were only instruments, Job 
 bows before the throne of God, and says, with a pa- 
 tience more uncommon even than his trials, Naked 
 came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I 
 return thither : the Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
 taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord. 
 
 2. The history of God’s church is filled with remark- 
 able illustrations of marvelous, though not miraculous 
 providences. “ The wind bloweth where it listeth,” 
 said our Lord ; and when — now sleeping, now gently 
 breathing, now sighing as in sorrow, now shrieking as 
 in pain, now roaring in mad-like fits of rage, and now 
 howling round the house — it shakes every door and 
 window to get in, the wind seems as uncontrolled and 
 uncontrollable a power as any in nature. But when, 
 some three hundred years ago, it rose in its resistless 
 might, and swept down in hurricane gusts from heaven 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 227 
 
 to scatter the hopes of Rome and the pride of Spain, 
 it was surely, to use the words of scripture, “ stormy 
 wind fulfilling his word / 7 I believe that. In that 
 crisis of the churches fate, Popery and secular despot- 
 ism, ecclesiastical and political tyranny, united their 
 forces, as they now threaten to do again. Their object 
 was to crush the liberties of mankind, and to quench 
 the light of the Reformation in the life-blood of its 
 professors. Never had winds wafted, never, since keel 
 first ploughed them, had the waves borne such a fleet 
 as, armed for that purpose and confident of victory, 
 came ruffling down in the pride of its power on the 
 coasts of England. The hearts of many trembled ; 
 and some were but little comforted by the noble atti- 
 tude in which England rose, headed by her maiden 
 Queen, to meet the danger in the name of God. Who 
 could not fight could pray. Earnest supplications 
 were therefore made continually, nor made in vain. 
 And so, when the cannon 7 s thunder pealed along the 
 deep, and gun to gun, yard-arm to yard-arm, they 
 fought the Spaniard in sight of their homes, One min- 
 gled in that protracted battle, as unlooked for by the 
 foe as was the fourth person who walked the fiery fur- 
 nace with the three Hebrew children in the brave days 
 of old. 
 
 God descended into the fight. He did fly upon the 
 wings of the wind, and with the black tempest swept 
 the enemy to destruction. Storm rose and roared upon 
 the back of storm, scattering that boastful navy. Un- 
 til, where it had ridden in its pride, nothing was seen 
 but the crests of the angry sea ; nothing heard but 
 thundering breakers, and the scream of the wild sea- 
 mew. And while the hurricane was pursuing- them 
 along our island, and strewing these northern shores 
 
228 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 with the corpses and the wreck of that proud Armada, 
 the people of England repaired to the house of God 
 to acknowledge his providence in this memorable de- 
 liverance, and sing of the stormy wind fulfilling his 
 word. 
 
 3. Again, the finger of God has been often marvel- 
 ously revealed in the detection and punishment of 
 crime. Men have stood astonished, and have been 
 constrained to say — There was a providence in that. 
 By some remarkable and unlooked-for circumstance, 
 God himself has cleared away every doubt ; and said, 
 as it were, with his finger pointed at the confounded, 
 trembling, wretch, Thou, thou art the man ! One night, 
 for instance, some years ago, a person in this city 
 awoke to find that his house had been plundered. The 
 alarm was raised, nor was it long ere the officers of 
 justice found a clue. The thief, wounding his hand as 
 he escaped by the window, had left a red witness be- 
 hind him. The watchman flashed his lantern on the 
 spot. Drop by drop, blood stained the pavement. 
 They tracked it on, and on, and ever on, till their 
 silent guide conducted them along an open passage, 
 and up a flight of steps — stopping at the door of a 
 house. They broke in ; and there they found the 
 bleeding hand, the booty, and the pale, ghastly crim- 
 inal. Now, a shower of rain would have washed 
 away the stain ; a fall of snow would have concealed 
 it ; the foot of some wretched street-walker, some 
 midnight reveller, would have effaced it ; but no, the 
 crime was one of peculiar atrocity, and there God 
 kept the damning spot. And, unless they be forgiven, 
 covered by the righteousness, washed away in the blood 
 of Jesus, so shall your sins find you out. Wash them 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 229 
 
 away in Calvary’s fountain, or they wait to meet you 
 at the bar of judgment. The step of divine justice 
 may be slow, but it is sure, and I implore sinners to 
 flee from the exposures and the wrath to come : for, 
 what saith the scriptures, Whatsoever ye have spoken 
 in darkness shall be heard in the light ; and that which 
 ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed 
 upon the house tops, — God shall bring every work into 
 judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good 
 or whether it be evil. 
 
 Who should not own in such remarkable events the 
 hand of providence ? That man incurred double guilt, 
 who, when passing dryshod through the sea between 
 two crystal walls, thought no more of God than you or 
 I, perhaps, have done, when, on a bright summer day, 
 beneath the flickering shade of overhanging trees, and 
 on a carpet of heath and wild flowers, we were threading 
 some mountain gorge. He too, incurred double guilt, 
 who, having risen with the dawn, and left his tent, ere 
 the sun had shot one slanting ray across the desert 
 sands, to gather food fallen fresh from dewy skies, 
 thought no more of God than yonder merry band, that, 
 with talk and songs and laughter, sweep down the 
 golden corn, or, when sheaves are stacked and fields 
 are cleared, with gleesome dances keep harvest-home. 
 “ Go, see now this cursed woman, and bury her, for 
 she is a king’s daughter,” were Jehu’s orders; and 
 doubly guilty were his messengers if, as they drove off 
 the dogs that were crunching Jezebel’s skull, and saw 
 the curse of an avenging prophet, they thought no 
 more of God’s righteous judgments, than does the 
 rude, brutal mob which executions gather from low 
 lanes and alleys around a gallows-tree. 
 
 It is good to see God’s hand in every extraordinary 
 
230 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 event, but it is better to see his providence in every 
 thing, saying with David, I have set the Lord always 
 before me. How happy is such a frame of mind ! I 
 cherish the memory of one over whose chequered life 
 it shed a perpetual sunshine. A widow with a helpless 
 family, she had literally left father and mother, and 
 house and lands, for Jesus 7 sake, and had had her full 
 share of trials. Yet nothing came wrong to her ; nor 
 did leaden cares ever sit long or press heavy on her 
 saintly breast — hers, a bearing that often reminded 
 me of the beautiful words of Luther, when, in an hour 
 of alarm and anxious councils, he pointed his compan- 
 ion to a little bird, that, perched on a bending branch, 
 was pouring forth a gush of melody in the ear of evening, 
 and said, Happy fellow ! he leaves God to think for 
 him. Do that ; leave God to think for you, and to 
 care for you. Let clear-eyed Faith behold Christ on 
 his throne, with the strong hand of a God, and the 
 sympathies of a man guiding in heaven the helm of 
 your fortunes, and you may go to sleep in the rudest 
 storm. What storm should hinder him whose head is 
 pillowed on Jesus 7 bosom, and who feels himself en- 
 folded in the arms of providence, from fulfilling this 
 high, this happy command, Be careful for nothing ; 
 but in everything by prayer and supplication, with 
 thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto 
 God. And the peace of God, which passeth all un- 
 derstanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through 
 Christ Jesus. Child of God! take your rest. He 
 who keeps watch by you, never sleeps. 
 
 II. God in Christ presides over ordinary as well as 
 extraordinary events. 
 
 By him all things consist. Every object in nature 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 231 
 
 is impressed with his footprints, and each new day 
 repeats the wonders of creation. Yes ; there is not 
 a morning we open our eyes, but they meet a scene 
 as wonderful as that which fixed the gaze of Adam 
 when he awoke into existence. Nor is there an object, 
 be it pebble or pearl, weed or rose, the flower-span- 
 gled sward beneath, or the star-spangled sky above, 
 a worm or an angel, a drop of water or a boundless 
 ocean, in which intelligence may not discern, and piety 
 may not adore, the providence of Him who assumed 
 our nature that he might save our souls. If God is 
 not in all the thoughts of the wicked, he is in every- 
 thing else. And since the comfort of his people rests 
 so much on the conviction that the Lord reigneth, that 
 his hand rules every event, that a wise, and most kind, 
 as well as holy Providence presides over our daily 
 fortunes and all things besides, let me proceed, by 
 some familiar examples, to illustrate that noble truth. 
 
 1. Let me show you Providence in a snow-drop — a 
 flower we all know and love, and hail as the fair har- 
 binger of spring. And in this I follow the example 
 of him who extracted from flowers truths more beauti- 
 ful than their colors, more precious than their most 
 fragrant odors. All the plants that clothe and adorn 
 the earth with such varied beauty, and combining, as is 
 God’s way, utility with beauty, supply food to the ani- 
 mal creation, depend for their continued existence on 
 their flowers turning into fruit. Now, the fructifica- 
 tion of the snow-drop depends, if I may say so, on 
 the modesty, in it as elsewhere the usual associate of 
 parity, with which, shrinking from its own boldness, it 
 hangs its beautiful head. Let it lift its head up with 
 the pride of a lily, and this herald of spring perishes 
 
232 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 from the face of the earth, like the race of a childless 
 man. But God has provided against such an event. 
 Wonderful, and instructive as teaching us how the 
 greatest and smallest things in providence have often 
 mutual and important connections, this vast globe, and 
 that little flower, in regard to their weight, have been 
 calculated the one so to suit the other, that its bells 
 are and must be pendent. Drawn downwards by the 
 force of gravity, they assume a position without which 
 they had produced no fruit, yet one which they had 
 not assumed, had our planet been no larger than Mars 
 or Mercury. See, then, how God takes care of a hum- 
 ble flower ! how much more of you and your families, 
 0 ye of little faith ! 
 
 2. Let me take an example from a circumstance 
 which, at first sight, appears to shake rather than to 
 confirm our confidence in a presiding Providence. 
 That plants may produce fruit in our climate, their 
 flowers, warmly wrapped within the folds of the bud, 
 must sleep the winter through — waiting for the genial 
 breath of spring, and the embraces of a summer sun. 
 Well ; we are meditating on the care which God takes 
 of many tender plants, by either wrapping them in a 
 warm mantle of snow, or causing them to seek shelter 
 beneath the surface, when our meditations are suddenly 
 arrested, and our trust in God’s providence is at first 
 sight perhaps shaken, by a plant which spreads out its 
 blossoms, like unrequited love, to the cold beams of 
 the winter day. The frost has bound the soil, the ice 
 has chained the streams, and the hoary rime, like a 
 work of magic, has turned every tree to silver, and 
 there is not heat enough in the keen cutting air for 
 that unhappy flower to produce fruit. It is with it as 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 233 
 
 with our souls when God withdraws the joys of salva- 
 tion and the influences of his Holy Spirit. There is 
 something wrong here? No. The Maker of all has 
 made no mistake. Nor may Deist, Atheist, or sneer- 
 ing scoffer put his foot on that flower, and, to crush 
 with its frail form our faith in providence, ask, Where 
 is now thy God ? Ask that plant its history ! It 
 speaks with a foreign accent ; the truth comes out 
 that God never made it to dwell here ; an exile, it has 
 been torn from its native home, and still clings, like 
 other exiles, to the habits and memories of its father- 
 land. Belonging to a region where the day is longest 
 when ours is shortest, where they pant under summer 
 heat when we are shivering in winter cold, the flowers 
 that it spreads on our snowy ground but show how 
 correctly God had wound it up to blow in its proper 
 habitat at the proper season, and how clearly his prov- 
 idence may be seen even in the fading blossoms of a 
 flower. I say again, if God takes such care of plants, 
 how may you trust yourselves and your families to 
 him ? What may you not trust to him, who spared 
 nor pains, nor pity, nor care, nor kindness, nor even 
 his beloved Son, but gave him up to death, that you 
 might not perish, but live ? 
 
 3. Let me select an illustration from the animal 
 kingdom. Over the honeycomb, in which a vulgar 
 taste, in common with the bear, finds only the means 
 to gratify its appetite, the philosopher may bend with 
 admiration and amaze. lie can have little reflection 
 who has not marked the beauty and delicacy of those 
 cells, which, though built in the darkness of the hive, 
 and the work of a humble insect, man, with his reason 
 and the aids of art, attempts in vain to imitate. Yet 
 
234 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 there is here something more wonderful than beauty 
 Examine them closely. See how each has the same 
 number of sides with its fellow, and is its exact coun- 
 terpart. In that a child could discern plain evidence 
 of design ; but there is a depth of wisdom there which 
 only science can fathom. Repair to the study of a 
 Newton, of one who is tracking that wandering comet 
 on its fiery path into the far realms of space, or weigh- 
 ing, not the Alps or Andes, but worlds in the scales of 
 science, and ask him — for no man else can solve the 
 question, simple as it seems — to find out for you the 
 form of the vessel which combines with the greatest 
 strength the largest capacity ? Having wrought out 
 this problem by a long series of abstruse calculations, 
 he presents the result. How wonderful! You find 
 such a vessel in the cell of a bee-hive ! 
 
 I dare to say that he is a fool who ventures, in the 
 face of such a fact, to deny a providence, or to assert 
 that there is no God. Why, at a period in man’s his- 
 tory when he was little better than a naked savage, 
 when he was robbing the beast of his skin for clothing, 
 and of his rocky den for a home, when he had no tools 
 but such as he could fashion from a stone, nor vessels 
 but of the rudest form and the coarsest clay, this hum- 
 ble insect was building the most beautiful fabrics from 
 the most delicate materials, with the skill of an accom- 
 plished architect, and according to the laws of a high 
 philosophy. What a proof of an over-ruling provi- 
 dence ? and that He, who teaches birds as well as 
 angels to sing, guides the movements of the meanest 
 creatures — presiding in a hive as well as in heaven ! 
 Why, then, should God’s people ever despond ? What 
 can be too hard for them ? tqp heavy for you to bear, 
 too difficult for you to do ! He is with you, with 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 235 
 
 whom all things are possible. And if, by the most 
 feeble creatures, he achieves works of such skill and 
 beauty, how may you take heart to believe, that by the 
 aids of his holy Spirit, and the help of the grace prom- 
 ised to earnest prayer, you shall work out even your 
 salvation with fear and trembling ; God working in 
 you both to will and to do of his good pleasure ? 
 
 4. Let me show a divine providence in the most 
 common circumstances of life. Most people are ready 
 to acknowledge the hand of God in such events as 
 disease and death, births and burials, any remarkable 
 escape from danger, some either very favorable or un- 
 favorable turn in their fortunes. Who lias not noted 
 down certain occurrences in his history as plainly in- 
 dicating a providence? Yet the largest number of 
 men have their type in the son rather than the father, 
 of whom this circumstance is told. They had parted 
 in the morning not to meet again till nightfall. On 
 meeting, the son said that he had been most wonder- 
 fully preserved ; for his horse had thrown him, and 
 but for God’s good guardian hand, he had certainly 
 been killed. Whereupon his father replied that he 
 had met with a yet more remarkable providence, had 
 still more cause to praise God ; for, he added, address- 
 ing the other, whose curiosity was now wound up to 
 the highest pitch in expectation of some strange and 
 stirring story — I have travelled the livelong day, pre. 
 served from all alarm or accident whatever. Happy 
 the man who thus sets the Lord always before him ! 
 
 Now, for an example of providence in the most com- 
 mon things, let me select sleep — our nightly rest. “ He 
 givetli his beloved sleep,” “Thou boldest mine eyes 
 waking,” so says the Bible ; and events occasionally 
 
236 
 
 CHRIST IJST PROVIDENCE. 
 
 place that truth very vividly before us. Do you re- 
 member a terrible shipwreck which occurred not many 
 years ago on our west coast, and how those who were 
 saved out of a large number that perished, owed their 
 life to one wakeful man ? He was no watchman of 
 the coast-guard, no pilot on the look-out for homeward- 
 bound ships, but only an old, infirm seaman, who had 
 gone to bed with the rest of the world. He had 
 courted sleep that night ; but, for no reason that he 
 could fancy, his eyes were kept waking. Weary of 
 turning and tossing on a sleepless bed, he rose and 
 walked the floor. With an old sailor’s love of the 
 sea, he drew aside the curtain of his cottage window 
 to gaze out on the heaving deep. And while the sight 
 of it was waking up the memory of former years, his 
 eye, ere a landsman could have descried it, caught an 
 object coming shoreward through the gloom. Horror 
 seizes him. It is an ill-fated ship rushing, like a reck- 
 less soul bent on destruction, through the fog on that 
 iron coast, right into the jaws of death. Many were 
 hurried that night into a watery grave. Yet, but for 
 the circumstance that sleep had fled the old man’s 
 couch, but for the alarm he gave, but for the boats 
 that were launched to the rescue, many more had been 
 drowned, and some, perhaps, damned, who, converted 
 to God, are noAV living to his glory on earth, or, be- 
 yond the reach of all storms, safely housed in heaven. 
 God held his eyes waking ; he had work for that an- 
 cient mariner to do. 
 
 But, to take an example on a scale involving world- 
 wide interests, I can show that not the life of individ- 
 uals only, but the existence of a nation, and, since the 
 Saviour sprang from that nation, the salvation of the 
 world, once turned on a sleepless night. Strange, yet 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 237 
 
 true! The king of Persia— like many other kings, a 
 mere puppet in the hands of unprincipled ministers — 
 has signed a decree to exterminate the whole Jewish 
 race. Conscience, uneasy for the deed, does not keep 
 him awake when he retires to rest in Shushan’s palace. 
 Her hand has planted no thorns in the royal couch, 
 yet he cannot sleep ; nor is there balmy virtue in si- 
 lence, or wine, or music, to make his weary eyelids 
 drop. It is strange that he cannot sleep ; and yet 
 more strange his choice of something to relieve the 
 tediousness of night. He calls for the chronicles of 
 his kingdom. Dry reading, one would think ; yet you 
 know the issue, and how the page turning up that re- 
 lated the story of Mordecai’s forgotten service, these 
 wakeful hours led on to the honor of the Jew, the 
 hanging of Haman, and the preservation of the race 
 from which our Saviour descended. Was there no 
 providence in that? Was it accident or blind chance 
 which kept slumbers that night from the downy pil- 
 low ? Accident, that instead of music, the revel, the 
 dance, the soft arms of pleasure, led a voluptuary to 
 seek entertainment in the musty records of his king- 
 dom? Accident, that opened the book where it re- 
 corded the story of Hebrew loyalty ? No. I believe 
 that God’s own finger turned these leaves, and held 
 the king’s eyes waking. He had work for that king 
 to do. 
 
 These events draw aside the veil. We see all the 
 reins that guide and govern the world gathered into 
 the hands of God. We see Jesus standing by the 
 helm of affairs ; that there is no such thing as chance ; 
 that his care of his people extends to the most com- 
 mon, minute, and apparently trivial matters ; how 
 even waking hours, or dreamless slumbers are links in 
 
238 
 
 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 the golden chain of providence. A happy belief, too 
 precious to be parted with ! Let the thought that 
 Jesus watches over your fortunes, and guards your 
 welfare, and guides your way, banish every care. I 
 do not say that you will never be disappointed, but 
 certainly you ought never to be discontented. Many 
 things in your circumstances may occasion anxious 
 thought, but nothing should occasion or can excuse 
 repining. Child of God ! he has numbered the hairs 
 of thy head, as well as the stars of heaven. Charge 
 of angels! they shall keep thee in all thy ways. They 
 shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy 
 foot against a stone. 
 
 By him all things consist ; and on raising our eyes 
 to Jesus exalted, crowned, enthroned, with the govern- 
 ment on his shoulder, two thoughts suggest themselves. 
 First, our mind reverts, by way of contrast, to Jerusa- 
 lem, to Calvary, to the doleful day when he sank 
 beneath the weight, and expired amid the agonies of 
 his cross. If he, who now bears the weight of worlds, 
 once staggered under the burden of our sins, oh ! what 
 an incalculable, mysterious load of guilt must there be 
 in sin ! It bent the back that bears with ease the bur- 
 den of ten thousand worlds. That load you cannot 
 bear ; and if you would not have it sink your souls 
 into the deepest hell, flee to Calvary, leave it at the 
 Cross. Cast sins and sorrow, cast both on him who 
 invites the burden, saying, Come unto me, all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 
 Again, beholding Christ thus exalted to the right hand 
 of God, we think of the security of his people. They 
 are to watch and pray, and rejoice with trembling. 
 Yet they cannot sink whom he holds up, nor lose the 
 battle on whose side he fights. Believer, what art 
 
CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 
 
 239 
 
 thou doing, going groaning through the world beneath 
 a load of fears and cares? What should discourage 
 thee ? What should disturb thy peace ? AVhat ruffle 
 the calm spirit of a man who knows that the hands 
 once nailed for him to the tree now hold the helm of 
 his fortunes ; and that the blessed Saviour, who by 
 love’s golden sceptre reigns within his heart, holds 
 sovereign sway over earth and heaven ; and by both 
 bitter and sweet providences, by coffins and cradles, 
 by disappointments and joys, by losses and gains, shall 
 make all things work together for good to them that 
 love God, to them who are the called according to his 
 purpose. 
 
Ht? is the head of the body, the Church. — C olossians i. 18. 
 
 At a celebrated battle there was one position from 
 which the enemy, after suffering defeat in every other 
 part of the field, kept up an unabated fire. There, a 
 huge twenty-four pounder vomited forth galling and 
 continuous discharges ; nor could our artillery, nor 
 musketry, nor riflemen, silence it. “ That gun,” said 
 the commanding officer, addressing the men of two 
 regiments in a few brief, brave words, “ must be taken 
 by the bayonet. I must have it ;” adding, as he placed 
 himself at their head, “No firing, and recollect that I 
 am with you.” There needed no more. They ad- 
 vanced, the grape from the battery crashing througn 
 their ranks. They fired four rolling volleys before 
 they charged ; but when they did charge, the onset 
 was irresistible. 
 
 The importance of a military position may be always 
 estimated by the determination with which it is on the 
 one hand assailed, and on the other hand defended. By 
 this test I have been able to discover the key of an old 
 battle-field. Who fought there, and in what cause they 
 fell, are matters about which history is altogether silent ; 
 and even the lingering traditions of the glen are dim 
 and vague, like objects seen through its gray creeping 
 mists. Yet the hoary cairns that are scattered on 
 (240) 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 241 
 
 rolling moor and rugged hill-sides tell how war once 
 raged over that abode of peace ; and how, where the 
 moorcock crows to the morning, and the shy plover 
 rings out her wail, and lambs chase each other, or 
 playfully engage in mimic fight around these old gray 
 stones, men once had trampled down the heather, stain- 
 ing it of a deeper crimson with their blood. And 
 there, where the rude monuments of the dead stand 
 crowded together for want of room, we know that the 
 opposing tides of battle with direst shock, and human 
 passions spent their wildest fury. These marks of 
 hardest fighting and greatest carnage still point out 
 the key of the position — the most important post that 
 they had to hold or win in that old field of battle. 
 
 According to this rule, we should conclude that the 
 church of Christ has regarded the headship of her 
 Lord as in some respects the very key of her position. 
 She has maintained it as not the least important of the 
 doctrines which she has been charged to hold against 
 all men — holding them to the death. For the sake of 
 this doctrine, for Christ's crown, for his sole right to 
 rule his own house, and to regulate, without Csesar's 
 interference, the affairs of his church, her largest, cost- 
 liest, and most painful sacrifices have been made. And 
 as if there was an instinct of grace corresponding to 
 that remarkable instinct of nature which teaches even 
 an infant, in the act of falling, to throw out its hands 
 and arms, and save the head at the expense of its 
 members, with a fidelity that has done her honor, the 
 church has sacrificed her members, and lavishly shed 
 her blood in support of Christ's headship. For this 
 cause, counting all things but loss, many have suffered 
 the spoiling of their goods ; many have gone into ban- 
 ishment and exile ; many have ascended the scaffold 
 * 11 
 
242 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 to lay down their heads on the block, or, embracing 
 the stake with a lover 7 s ardor, have gone to heaven in 
 a chariot of fire, to wear the crown of martyrdom, 
 and learn how well Christ keeps the promise, Them 
 that honor me I will honor. 
 
 The apostles Peter and John were the first publicly 
 to maintain this doctrine. At their parting, our Lord 
 commanded his disciples to go into all the world, and 
 preach the gospel to every creature ; and when the 
 Jewish rulers, attempting to infringe on Christian 
 liberty, commanded them not to speak at all, nor teach 
 in the name of Jesus, how prompt and how decisive 
 was their reply ! It leaves Christian men in corres- 
 ponding circumstances in no doubt as to the path of 
 duty, whether they have courage to take it or not. 
 Hear their memorable words : “ Whether it be right 
 in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than 
 unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the 
 things which we have seen and heard . 77 Nor less clear 
 and decisive this reply of Peter 7 s, on being charged a 
 few days afterwards with having preached contrary to 
 the injunctions of the civil magistrate, “We ought to 
 obey God rather than men . 77 Thus plainly did these 
 men assert and boldly maintain the doctrine that Christ 
 is head of his body, the church. They would have 
 held it treason to own any other authority. So ought 
 we. 
 
 It becomes not man to be proud of anything. We 
 have defects enough to clothe us with humility. And 
 a sense of many sins and many shortcomings will teach 
 us, for any grace or honor we may possess, to ascribe 
 glory to him who maketh one to differ from another, 
 and out of the mouth of babes ordaineth strength. 
 Yet, as patriots, we may be permitted to dwell with 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 243 
 
 gratification and gratitude on the fact, that since the 
 day when the apostles so boldly asserted Christ’s sole 
 right to reign in his church, and to regulate all mat- 
 ters of doctrine and discipline, government and duty 
 therein, few countries have been more honored to tes- 
 tify and to suffer for that truth than has our own. I 
 do not refer only to recent events, nor to the long and 
 bloody struggles of the seventeenth century, nor to the 
 part she played at the glorious Reformation. Her 
 practical testimony to this doctrine dates from a much 
 earlier period. Rude in arts and rough in manners as 
 our forefathers might be, they were the last of the na- 
 tions to bow the neck to the yoke of Popery. Popish, 
 like Pagan Rome, found our countrymen hard to con- 
 quer. And thus, when the lights of Iona were extin- 
 guished, and nothing was left of a faith comparatively 
 pure but the lonely cells and ruined sanctuaries of Cul- 
 dee worship, the dreary period of Popish darkness was 
 shorter here than elsewhere — just as is the duration of 
 night on those rugged storm-beaten heights, which 
 catch the morning sun before it has risen on the val- 
 leys, and stand up glowing in golden light when the 
 shades of evening have wrapped these in deepening 
 dusky gloom. 
 
 And after the era of the Reformation, who does not 
 know, who has not read, now with weeping eyes, and 
 now with burning indignation, what our good fore- 
 fathers suffered for Christ’s crown ? It was dearer to 
 them than their liberties or lives. Handed down, like 
 an heirloom, from martyred sire to son, this cause is 
 interwoven with our nation’s history, and runs through 
 it like a silver thread. It runs, I may say, in our very 
 blood. We have imbibed it with our mother’s milk. 
 Far awmy from the smoke and din of cities, it is asso- 
 
244 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 ciated with many a wild weeping glen, the dark moss 
 hag, and those misty mountains where our fathers 
 were hunted down like partridges. There the moss-gray 
 stone which still bears the rude outlines of a Bible 
 and a sword, is regarded with veneration by a pious 
 peasantry ; for it shows that here a true man fell, and 
 a martyr for Christ’s kingly crown sleeps in his lonely 
 grave, waiting the resurrection of the just. How 
 much of its undying interest does our city owe to the 
 localities with which this cause is associated ! There, 
 rose the gallows, on which the best and worthiest of 
 the land were hung like caitiffs ; and yonder, half-way 
 between that castle and the palace, stood the gate 
 above which their heads sat in ghastly rows, bleaching 
 in the wind, and rain, and sun. In the neighborhood 
 of this very church we seem to tread on sacred ground. 
 This winding street, these low-browed windows, these 
 old quaint tenements that see us quietly gathering for 
 Sabbath worship, were crowded two hundred years ago 
 with the spectators of a different, I might say a holier, 
 certainly a more stirring scene. “ They come !” runs 
 through the anxious crowd, and fixes every wandering 
 eye on the advancing procession. And there, with 
 slow but firm step, comes hoar old age, and there, 
 noble manhood, and there, most wept for by mothers 
 and maidens, fair gentle youth — a band of candidates 
 for martyrdom, witnesses for Christ’s kingly rights, 
 heroes who esteemed it noble for such a cause to die. 
 In truth, our fathers set a higher value on Christ’s 
 headship than they set upon their own heads ; and for 
 that cause alone not less than eighteen thousand were 
 faithful unto death during the long, and bloody, but 
 glorious years of persecution. They have gone to 
 their reward. Called, in some form or other, to deny 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 245 
 
 ourselves, and take up our cross, may we follow them, 
 even as they followed Christ ! He has said, “ Who- 
 soever loveth father or mother more than me is not 
 worthy of me, and whosoever loveth son or daughter 
 more than me is not worthy of me, and he that taketh 
 not up his cross and followeth me is not worthy of me. 
 He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth 
 his life shall find it. 
 
 A few years ago, as the world knows, we felt our- 
 selves called on to revive our fathers 7 testimony, and 
 shake the dust of two centuries from their time-worn 
 banner. We had a cross to take up. Without know- 
 ing its weight, we took it up. And, while it becomes 
 us to confess with sorrow before God and man, that 
 human passions mingled “ strange fire 77 with our ser- 
 vice, and that fighting sometimes for victory as much 
 as for truth, dross adulterated the gold of our offering, 
 we thought then, and think still, that ours was a call 
 of duty, and a righteous cause. We were martyrs 
 neither by desire nor by mistake. But, as I have no 
 wisfy to lay open old wounds, and would only dwell on 
 those views of this doctrine which may edify the whole 
 church and promote mutual love, I will only say fur- 
 ther, that I hope, and trust, and pray, that the more 
 the churches are called to suffer for Christ 7 s headship, 
 they will hold it the more resolutely. Never fear. 
 There are other things beside the sturdy oak which the 
 roaring tempest nurses into strength. The storms that 
 strip the tree of some leaves, perhaps of some rotten 
 branches, but moor it deeper in the rifts of the ever- 
 lasting rock. Christ 7 s words cannot fail, On this rock 
 have I built my church, and the gates of hell shall not 
 prevail against it. 
 
246 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 In now entering on the subject-matter of my text, 
 I remark — 
 
 I. That Christ’s body is his church. 
 
 One to examine, but not to dissect, while all other 
 bodies shall die, this is deathless. “ Because I live,” 
 says our Lord, “ ye shall live also.” Paradox as it 
 sounds, this body is ever changing, yet unchangeable : 
 different and the same ; an undying whole formed of 
 dying parts. Strange ! yet not more strange than 
 many things in nature. You are not the same person, 
 for example, who, worshipped here twelve months ago. 
 In name, in form, in features the same, in substance you 
 are entirely different. Like Michael and Satan, who 
 contended for the body of Moses, life and death have 
 been contending for yours ; death attacking, life defend- 
 ing ; so that, the former constantly repairing what the 
 latter is constantly destroying, the corporeal forms 
 which we animate and inhabit, are undergoing such 
 rapid as well as perpetual change, that a period much 
 shorter than seven years renews our whole system. Life 
 is just a long siege ; and, though death triumph in the 
 end, looking at the many years over which the struggle 
 is protracted, surely we are fearfully and wonderfully 
 preserved as well as made. But take another, and 
 more familiar illustration. Look at a river. The 
 exile returns to the haunts of his early years, and 
 there, emblem of the peace of God, the river flows as 
 it flowed when his life was young. Tumbling in snowy 
 foam over the same rock, winding its snake-like way 
 through the same verdant meadows, washing the feet 
 of the same everlasting hills, it rushes through the 
 glen with the impetuous passions of a perpetual youth, 
 to pursue its course onward to the ocean that lies gleam- 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 247 
 
 ing like a silver rim around the land. A gray old 
 man, he seats himself on the bank where wild roses 
 still shed their blossoms on a bed of thyme, and the 
 crystal pool at his feet, these waters foaming round the 
 old gray stone, that bright dancing stream, as they re- 
 call many touching memories of happy childhood and 
 companions dead or gone, seem the same. Yet they 
 are not. The liquid atoms, the component parts of the 
 river, have been undergoing perpetual change. Even 
 so it is with the church of Christ. The stream of 
 time bears on to eternity, and the stream of grace 
 bears on to glory, successive generations, while the 
 church herself, like a river fed by perennial foun- 
 tains, remains — unchangeable in Christ’s immutability, 
 in his immortality immortal. 
 
 These figures, however, fail in one important point. 
 That river is one. The body is one. Unfortunately, 
 the churches are many, split into such numerous, and, 
 in not a few instances, such senseless divisions, that I 
 know nothing better fitted to make a man recoil from 
 the spirit of sectarianism than to see, drawn out to its 
 full length, the long, wondrous, weary roll of the 
 various sects that exist in Christendom. Fancy all 
 these urging their claims on a newly-converted heathen ! 
 What a Babel of tongues! With what perplexity 
 might he ask, amid so many contending factions, Which 
 is the true church and body of Christ? Let us see. 
 
 Seven sons of Jesse are summoned into Samuel’s 
 presence. Goodly men, they stand before him, candi- 
 dates for the crown of Israel. But they cannot all be 
 kings ; and which of them is to be the Lord’s anointed ? 
 One after another, all the seven are rejected. Amazed 
 at the result, the prophet turns to their father, saying t 
 “ Are here all thy children ?” and on being told, 
 
248 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 “ There remainetli yet the youngest, and, behold, he 
 keepeth the sheep,” he says, “ Send and fetch him, for 
 we will not sit down till he come hither.” A messen- 
 ger goes. By-and-by, feet are heard at the door ; it 
 opens ; and, little dreaming of the honors that await 
 him, David, who had left his harp, and pipe, and play- 
 ful lambs, on the hills of Bethlehem, enters — modesty, 
 and manliness, and beauty in that countenance which 
 was “ goodly to look to.” While the old man eyes 
 the lad, as he stands reverently before him, a voice not 
 caught by Jesse’s ear, but heard by Samuel’s, says, 
 “ Arise, anoint him, for this is he.” 
 
 Now, suppose that the different churches, like these 
 sons of Jesse, stood before us. Whatever may be made 
 of their claims, each cannot be Christ’s true body. He 
 has but one church ; for the second Adam, like the first, 
 is the husband of one wife. And just as the church 
 cannot have two heads, neither can the head have two 
 bodies ; for, as that body were a monster which had 
 more heads than one, not less monstrous were that form 
 where one head was united to two separate bodies. 
 Of all these churches, then, each claiming to be cast in 
 the true gospel mould — that with consecrated bishops, 
 this with simple presbyters, this other without either ; 
 that administering baptism to infants as well as adults, 
 this only to adults ; that robed in a ritual of many 
 forms, this thinking that religion, like beauty, when 
 unadorned, is adorned the most — which is Christ’s 
 body, the Lamb’s wife ? Which are we to receive as 
 the favorite of heaven ? Of which does God say, as he 
 said of David among rival brethren, Arise, anoint her, 
 for this is she? Of none of them. Christ has a 
 church, but it is none of these. In explanation of a 
 remark which may surprise some, and is fitted to teach 
 all of us humility and charity, I observe — 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 249 
 
 II. That Christ’s body, which is not identical with 
 any one church, is formed of all true believers, to what- 
 ever denomination they may belong. 
 
 It is natural for men to be partial to their own 
 sect. Nor do I quarrel with the feeling, if, looking 
 kindly on others, you are ready to extend the hand of 
 fellowship to all that love the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Mothers are prone to think their own children lovelier 
 than their neighbors’ ; and nothing is more natural 
 than that we should say of our own denomination, 
 Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excel- 
 lest them all. That is no breach of Christian charity. 
 But to foster a spirit of sectarianism, and thus sin 
 against Christ’s spirit, is an offence as great as to sin 
 against his truth. In some respects, indeed, I think 
 bigotry is worse than heresy ; and more hateful in 
 God’s sight than error, is the haughty churchism or 
 exclusive self-righteous pride which say to others, 
 “ Stand by thyself ; come not near me ; for I am holier 
 than thou.” 
 
 “ The king’s daughter is all glorious within but 
 where on earth is the church which will stand that test ? 
 Where is the church that, among other points of resem- 
 blance to the ark, has not the unclean as well as clean 
 within its walls, raven and dove, leopard and kid, the 
 cruel lion with the gentle lamb ? Are not events ever 
 and anon occurring to remind us of the two birds 
 Noah sent forth on a voyage of discovery? Like this 
 snow-white dove on weary wing returning to the ark, 
 there are souls that can find no rest in sin or in the world, 
 or anywhere away from God ; happy souls ! but, alas, 
 there are others, also tenants of the ark, like yonder 
 foul raven, that croaks and flaps liis wings above cor- 
 11 * 
 
250 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 ruption, and riots on the carcasses of the dead. Such 
 characters as the last are found in the purest churches ; 
 spots on the sun, dead flies among the ointment. Surely 
 it behoves us to see that we are not of their number. 
 For, oh ! these are sad and solemn words, Many are 
 called, but few are chosen. And, happier than Christ, 
 happier than Paul, that pastor must have a small and 
 select flock whose members cost him no anxiety, neither 
 fears nor the tears of him who said, Many walk, of 
 whom I have told you often, and now tell you even 
 weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of 
 Christ : whose end is destruction, whose god is their 
 belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind 
 earthly things. 
 
 By these remarks I would not disparage outward 
 ordinances and forms. They are valuable in their 
 own place and for their own purposes-; frames, as they 
 are, to set the picture in ; caskets for truth’s jewels ; 
 dead poles, no doubt, yet useful to support living plants, 
 and very beautiful when the bare stem is festooned 
 with green leaves, and crowned with a head of flow- 
 ers. The church of Christ, however, is not to be 
 identified with this or that other form either of 
 government or worship. She embraces the good of all 
 denominations, and rejects the bad, from whatever hands 
 they have received the rite of baptism, to whatever 
 communion they may belong, however pure their creed, 
 or scriptural their form of worship. “ The just shall 
 live by faith,” by nothing else. He belongs therefore 
 to the true church who believes ; and he who believes 
 not, to whatever church he may belong, has “ neither 
 part nor lot in this matter.” “ He that believeth and 
 is baptized shall be saved ; but he that believeth not 
 shall be damned.” God help us to lay that truth to 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 251 
 
 heart, and to embrace the Saviour as he is offered in 
 the gospel ! 
 
 I have seldom heard this catholic and happy doctrine 
 more pointedly expressed than by a poor woman who 
 dwelt in one of the darkest and most wretched quarters 
 of our city. Away from her native home, and without 
 one earthly friend, she had floated here, a stranger in 
 a strange land, to sink into the most abject poverty ; 
 her condition but one degree better than our Saviour’s. 
 In common with the fox, she had a hole to lay her head 
 in. Yet, although poor and outwardly wretched, she 
 was a child of God, one of the jewels which, if sought 
 for, we should sometimes find in dust-heaps. With 
 a bashfulness not unnatural, she had shrunk from 
 exposing her poverty to the stare of Well-robed con- 
 gregations, resorting on Sabbath days to the well — 
 appropriate place — where a pious man was wont to 
 preach to ragged outcasts, crying in the name of Jesus? 
 If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. 
 Supposing, in my ignorance of this, that she was living, 
 like the mass around her, in careless neglect of her 
 soul, I began to warn her. Nor shall I soon forget 
 how she interrupted me, and, drawing herself up with 
 an air of humble dignity, and half offended, said, Sir, 
 I worship at the well ; and am sure that if we are true 
 believers in Jesus, and love him, and try to follow him, 
 we shall never be asked at the judgment day, Where 
 did you worship ? Well said, and well shot, thou poor 
 one ; that arrow hits the mark ! And as I hold no other 
 creed, nor admit anything to be of vital importance 
 but genuine heaven-born faith, let me ask, Are you 
 true believers ? Blessed are you ! Blessed he whose 
 transgression is forgiven, whoso sin is covered | Are 
 you unbelievers, impegitoQt, ungodly? You may by 
 
252 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 profession belong to a church which holds the head, 
 and holds truth, and has, in God’s providence, been 
 honored to testify and suffer for it ; but what of that? 
 There is no safety in that. On the contrary, you 
 appear only the more offensive to a holy God. A spot 
 looks worse on the face of beauty ; Satan looked most 
 hateful when he stood among the sons of God ; and, 
 as I have observed at funerals in the winter time, skulls 
 never look so grim, nor the churchyard mould so black, 
 as when they have been flung on a bank of snow. 
 Trust not in your church, nor say, “ The temple of the 
 Lord, the temple of the Lord are we.” Judgment 
 shall begin at the house of God. 
 
 III. Christ’s body, in a sense, embraces all those 
 churches which hold the essential truths of the gospel. 
 
 It was the misfortune of Europe that Charles V. did 
 not learn at an early period of his life the lesson which 
 he was afterwards taught in a Spanish cloister. It 
 had saved him much treasure, the world much blood- 
 shed, and his soul much sin. After vainly attempting 
 to quench the light of the Reformation, and make ail 
 men think alike, this great monarch, resigning his 
 crown, retired to a monastery. Wearied, perhaps, 
 with the dull round of mechanical devotions, he be- 
 took himself, in the mechanical arts, to something more 
 congenial to his active mind. After long and repeated 
 efforts, he found that he could not make two time-pieces 
 go alike, two machines, that had neither mind nor will, 
 move in perfect harmony. Whereupon, it is said, he 
 uttered this memorable reflection, What a fool was I 
 to attempt to make all men think alike! Unfortu- 
 nately for the peace of the church and for the interests 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 253 
 
 of Christian charity, Charles the king has had more 
 followers than Charles the philosopher. 
 
 There is a broad line of distinction between the 
 essentials and the circumstantials of the faith. Yet 
 what violent, what unnatural attempts at uniformity 
 have men made, as if uniformity were a law of God ! 
 It is on no such model that he has constructed our 
 world. God, while he preserves unity, delights in va- 
 riety. A dull, dreary, uninteresting uniformity, is quite 
 foreign to nature. Look at the trees of the forest ! all 
 presenting the same grand features, what variety in 
 their forms ! Some, standing erect, wear a proud and 
 lofty air ; some, modest-like, grow lowly and seek the 
 shade ; some, like grief, hang the head and have weep- 
 ing branches ; some, like aspiring and unscrupulous 
 ambition, climb up by means of others, killing what 
 they climb by ; while some, rising straight and tall, 
 with branches all pointing upwards, present in their 
 tapering forms emblems of the piety that spurns the 
 ground and seeks the skies. Or look at the flowers, 
 what variety of gay colors in a meadow ! Or look at 
 mankind, what variety of expression in human faces, 
 of tones in human voices ! There are no two faces 
 alike, no two flowers alike, no two leaves alike, I be- 
 lieve no two grains of sand alike. In that variety 
 God manifests his exhaustless resources, and Nature 
 possesses one of her most attractive charms. And 
 why insist on all men observing a uniform style of 
 worship, or thinking alike on matters that are not essen- 
 tial to salvation? You might as w T ell insist on all 
 men wearing the same expression of face, or speaking 
 in the same tone of voice ; for I believe that there are 
 as great natural and constitutional differences in the 
 minds as in the bodies of men. 
 
254 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 How tolerant was Paul of differences ! Forgetting 
 how he bore even with errors which would now-a-days 
 call down prompt excommunication on their authors, 
 men, insisting on uniformity in the mere circumstan- 
 tials of religion, have rent the church and sown the 
 seeds of discord far and wide. Praying all the while 
 for the peace of J erusalem, they have made the church 
 of Christ present such a melancholy spectacle as Jeru- 
 salem itself exhibited when, the Roman without and 
 famine within, different factions raged in the city, and 
 the Jews, fired by ferocious passions, plunged their 
 swords into each other’s bosoms. 
 
 His church has not followed her Lord’s example. 
 They were thieves and murderers whom Christ cleared 
 out of the temple. But, struck with frenzy, aiming at 
 an impossible uniformity, his followers have driven 
 their brethren out, while Religion has stood by, wring- 
 ing her hands, like Rachel weeping for her children, 
 because they were not. No man, says the Bible, hateth 
 his own flesh. What sane man consents to part with 
 an arm or limb unless it be dead or incurably diseased ? 
 But churches, possessed, if not of a devil, yet of the 
 greatest folly, have cut off their living members for no 
 other offence than some small differences, some petty 
 trifling sore, which the progress of time or the balm 
 of kindness would have healed. I do not deny that 
 there have been justifiable separations. There must 
 needs be offences ; and it does not follow that the woe 
 pronounced on those by whom offences come falls on 
 the party stigmatized as separatists. It is they who, 
 creating wrongs or refusing redress, compel men of 
 tender conscience to leave a church, that are guilty, if 
 there be schism, of its sin. 
 
 Divisions are bad things. Do not fancy that I have 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 255 
 
 any sympathy with those who, confounding charity 
 witli indifference, regard matters of religion as not 
 worth disputing about. Such a state of death is still 
 worse than war. Give me the roaring storm rather 
 than the peace of the grave. Division is better than 
 such union as the frost produces, when with its cold 
 and icy fingers it binds up into one dead, congealed, 
 heterogeneous mass, stones and straws, pearls and peb- 
 bles, gold and silver, iron and clay, substances that 
 have nothing in common. Yet divisions are bad things. 
 They give birth to bad passions. They cause Ephraim 
 to envy Judah, and Judah to vex Ephraim. Therefore, 
 what we ought to aim at, is to heal them, and where we 
 cannot heal them, to soften their asperities. “ Blessed 
 are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” “ Blessed 
 are the peacemakers ; they shall be called the children 
 of God.” If for conscience’s sake Christian men must 
 part, oh, that they would part, saying with Abraham, 
 Let' there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and 
 thee, for we are brethren. Separate thyself, I pray 
 thee, from me : if thou wilt take the left hand, then I 
 will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the right 
 hand, then I will go to the left. 
 
 “ The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree.” 
 But it may not be the will of God that his church, in 
 its collective character, should ever present, in this 
 world, the characteristic feature of that beautiful tree. 
 The palm has a peculiar port. It rises tall and grace- 
 ful in one straight stem without a single branch, up to 
 the leafy plumes that wave above the desert sands and 
 form its graceful crown. The church, throwing out many 
 goodly and fruitful boughs, may ever present apparent 
 variety in actual unity — like that giant oak which, with 
 its roots in the rock and its head in the skies, throws 
 
> 
 
 256 THE HEAD. 
 
 out many a branch to catch the blessed gifts of heaven 
 in dews, and showers, and sunbeams. We hear much 
 about the unity of the church. And how often has it 
 been made to serve the interests of falsehood, how 
 often has it been used as a spell, wherewith cunning 
 priests have bound simple men to systems of gross 
 error ? Rightly understood, the unity of the church 
 is by no means incompatible with the existence of dif- 
 ferent denominations. What are they but the branches 
 of a tree which still is one ; one in root, one in stem, 
 one in sap, one in flower, and one in fruit. We have 
 one faith, one spirit, and one baptism. We are united 
 in Christ ; we meet in that centre ; and, like the radii 
 of a circle, the nearer we approach our common centre, 
 the nearer we draw to Christ, we shall be the nearer 
 to each other. Let us gladly recognise a common 
 brotherhood, and love one another, even as Christ 
 loved us. Members of the same family, travelers to 
 the same home, called with the same holy calling, let 
 us ever remember the words of Joseph to his brethren, 
 See that ye fall not out by the way. 
 
 But of all the forms of imagery under which 
 Christ’s church is set forth, I prefer that in my text. 
 Bringing out as well as any other our relationship 
 to Christ, and better than any other our relationship 
 to each other, it teaches us the most blessed lessons 
 of love, and charity, and tender sympathy. When 
 bill-hook or pruning-knife lops a branch from the tree, 
 the wounded stem bleeds, and seems for a while to 
 drop some tears of sorrow, but they are soon dried up ; 
 the other boughs suffer no pain, show no sympathy, 
 their leaves dance merrily in the wind over the poor 
 dead branch that lies withering in their shade. But 
 sympathy pervades the body and its members. Touch 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 257 
 
 my finger roughly, and the whole body feels it ; wound 
 this foot, and the pang, thrilling through my frame, 
 shoots upward to the head ; let the heart, or the head, 
 or even a tooth ache, and all the system suffers disorder. 
 With what tenderness is a diseased member touched ! 
 What anxious efforts do we make to save a limb! 
 With what slow reluctance have I seen a wasted pa- 
 tient, after months or even long years of suffering, con- 
 sent to the last remedy, the surgeon’s knife ! What 
 holy lessons of love, charity, sympathy, does Christ 
 therefore teach us by the figure of my text ! W e have 
 differences ; but do these form any reason why we 
 should not love each other, give and forgive, bear and 
 forbear, suffer and sympathize, one with another ; and 
 agreeing to differ, walk together as far as we are 
 agreed ? Let us keep “ the unity of the Spirit in the 
 bond of peace.” These differences are like our dark, 
 cold shadows, that, little at noon, grow larger as night 
 approaches, assuming a gigantic size when the sun 
 creeps along the horizon of a winter sky, or hangs low 
 at his rise or setting. Sun of righteousness ! rise 
 higher and higher over us, till in thy light and love 
 the church enjoys the full blaze of thy meridian beams, 
 and these shadows all but vanish ! For this blessed 
 end, God of love, pour out thy Spirit more affluently 
 on the churches ! Then shall the brethren dwell 
 together in unity, and the world say, as it said hi the 
 days of old, See how these Christians love one another! 
 
(continued.) 
 
 He is the head of the body, the Church. — C olossians i. 18. 
 
 God “ is not the author of confusion.” So in the 
 beginning he established a harmony on earth as per- 
 fect as that of heaven. Nothing was out of tune, nor 
 was there a jarring note in all creation. But how 
 many and great discordances have the devil and sin 
 introduced ? Can any man, who looks abroad on the 
 world, shut his eyes to the fact that much is out of 
 order, that many things are out of joint, and that we 
 do not always find, to use a common saying, the right 
 man in the right place ? Sceptres fall from the strong 
 grasp of great men into feeble hands. The sweat of 
 labor stands on begrimed and dusty brows that are 
 fitted to wear a coronet or a crown. He ploughs the 
 rugged soil, who has a hand to guide the helm of 
 churcli or state. Men sit in the pews, that have piety 
 and talents to adorn the pulpit. Money flows in on 
 those who, unlike the lake that gives as it gets, have 
 no generous outgoings that correspond to their income ; 
 like water in foul stagnation, or wasted on a bed of 
 sand, what is lost to others is no true gain to them. 
 Poverty, on the other hand, though not the curse, is 
 the cross of many a liberal soul. Many people in the 
 ( 258 ) 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 259 
 
 world have the power to bless others, but are eaten up 
 by their own wretched selfishness ; while others have 
 the will to do good, but lack the power. So many 
 things are discordant, so different from what they 
 should be, and but for sin had been, that religion only 
 can reconcile a man to the world, and enable him, from 
 circumstances which embitter and exasperate the spirit 
 of the ungodly, to draw lessons of faith and patience. 
 Yielding neither to envy nor to covetousness, a good 
 man bows to the will of Providence. Using no vio- 
 lence to set wrong things right, he waits the advent of 
 a better w'orld, having “ learned, in whatsoever state 
 he is, therewith to be content.” 
 
 Among other anomalies, we see that the moral and 
 physical properties of men are often out of keeping. 
 I have found a kind, gentle, and most loving heart 
 under a rough exterior, reminding me of the milk and 
 meat stored up within the cocoa-nut’s dry, hard, husky 
 shell. On the other hand, look at Absalom ! What 
 winning manners, what grace and beauty, how much 
 of all that in form and features pleases the eye and 
 ministers to the pride of life, are united in that man 
 to the greatest moral baseness ! as if God would show 
 us in how little esteem he holds what he threw away 
 on so bad a man ; as if he intended to rebuke the silly 
 vanity which worships at a mirror, and feeds on charms 
 that shall feed the worms of the grave. Nor is his 
 the only case where a fair form has lodged a foul 
 heart, and crimes of treachery and murder have stained 
 the hands of beauty. 
 
 Again, we often see that the mental does not cor- 
 respond with the corporeal development. The finest 
 genius has not seldom been enshrined in a poor crazy 
 casket ; or in a coarse one, like a pearl within its rough 
 
260 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 sea-shell. Little men have done mighty things. The 
 boldest daring has been united with a puny presence ; 
 and how did that great emperor, who in our days 
 aspired to be another Alexander, illustrate the poet’s 
 words — 
 
 “ The mighty soul how small a body holds.” 
 
 On the other hand it was, at least in some respects, a 
 weak head that stood on the broad shoulders of Sam- 
 son ! Whom the Philistines could not subdue, a woman 
 conquered, binding with her charms one whom they 
 could not bind with their chains. He fell before the 
 influence that in Solomon’s case made the wisest the 
 most foolish of men. God says, In vain the net is 
 spread in the sight of any bird ; yet see how Samson 
 walks straight in, snared by a cunning transparent to 
 all eyes but his own. Enslaved by animal passions, 
 asleep in Delilah’s traitorous lap, a fettered captive in 
 the hands of the Philistines, there he lies, a great lion 
 in the hunter’s net ; reminding us, by way of contrast, 
 of the words, “ Wisdom is better than strength ; wis- 
 dom is better than weapons of war.” 
 
 An example also of discordancy, but with mind tow- 
 ering aloft over matter, what a noble contrast does 
 Paul present to Samson ! There is nothing in the out- 
 ward man to attract the gazer’s eye. According to 
 ancient tradition, he was a poor, mean-looking figure. 
 His presence, said his enemies, is weak, and his speech 
 contemptible. But put his parchments before him, put 
 a pen in his hand, and, higher than the bird ever flew 
 from whose wing it dropped, he soars away into a hea- 
 ven of thought, or, coming down with an eagle’s swoop, 
 descends further than any man before or since into the 
 deepest depths of gospel mysteries. Or, give him 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 261 
 
 liberty of speech ; place him on Mars' Hill to expound 
 his despised faith, or let him stand on his defence at 
 the bar of kings, like a lion at bay. Indifference gives 
 place to interest, contempt changes into admiration, 
 the audience is hushed, and, amid breathless silence, he 
 sways the multitude with a master's hand, his puny 
 form seeming to rise to a giant's stature. He seizes 
 error, and rends it as Samson rent the lion ; he lays 
 these arms of his on the colossal pillars of Time's 
 oldest superstitions, shakes the hoary fabric, and pulls 
 it down into the dust, burying gods and goddesses in 
 one common ruin. 
 
 The casket affords no test by which to estimate the 
 value of the jewel. The boards and binding of a 
 book suggest no idea of the brilliant thoughts that are 
 scattered, like stars, over its pages. So, in this dis- 
 cordant state, you cannot judge the inner by the outer 
 man, the head or the heart by the body which they 
 rule and animate. That observation applies to the 
 most sacred things. The church of Christ herself pre- 
 sents the greatest of anomalies. And it would do our 
 Lord the greatest injustice, if, overlooking that fact, 
 we were to judge the head by its body, and argue from 
 what Christians are, what Christ himself must be. 
 
 Neither, in the first place, in our own, nor in any 
 other existing church, do we see the real body of which 
 Jesus Christ is the head. Its members consist of all 
 true believers, and are dispersed over the wide lands 
 of Christendom. Then, what are the best churches^ 
 at the best, but gold mines ? Some may be, some cer- 
 tainly are, richer than others in the precious metal, 
 yet all have their dross and rubbish. Nor, to continue 
 the figure, shall the true church become visible, appear 
 as a distinct and separate body, till the gold, gathered 
 
262 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 from a hundred mines, and purified by a Spirit whoso 
 emblem is fire, and presenting to the divine Refiner a 
 perfect image of himself, is run into a common mould. 
 Besides, while the materials of this church are widely 
 scattered, and much of the ore yet lies buried in the 
 mine, none of them are pure ; none perfect. Who can 
 say that he has no sin ? There is no man that sinneth 
 not. Nor is there any, though he has come in contact 
 with the finest specimens of piety, and has been happy 
 eiTough to breathe the holiest atmosphere of Christian 
 society, who is not ready with the wise man to say, I 
 have seen an end of all perfection. 
 
 To change the figure, the materials of the heavenly 
 temple are now under the hammer, and by hard strokes 
 of fortune and rough providences, as well as by the 
 ordinary means of grace, God is preparing these living 
 stones to be removed by the hand of death, and set in 
 a temple where no sound of hammer is heard. The 
 church is in process of building. And no more than 
 any other builder is Christ to be judged by his work, 
 till he has brought his labors to a close. Then, when 
 from the most excellent majesty, the voice once heard 
 on the cross cries again, “It is finished / 7 when he shall 
 bring forth the headstone thereof with shoutings of 
 “ Grace, grace unto it,” when the scaffolding of present 
 ordinances is removed, when the heavens which con- 
 cealed it are rolled up like a curtain, how shall that 
 temple, of such proportions and surpassing splendor, 
 stand forth the admiration of the universe, its greatest 
 wonder, and God’s brightest glory ! Then, to take up 
 the metaphor of my text, the body will be worthy of 
 the head, as the head is the glory of the body. 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 263 
 
 I. As Head of his church, our Lord Jesus Christ is 
 the life of its members. 
 
 You do not need to be anatomists to know that, as 
 the head is the highest, it is the noblest, most impor* 
 tant part of our whole frame. Seat of the senses and 
 shrine of the soul, it is more than any other part con- 
 nected with life and its various functions. From this 
 great source and centre of vital power the other organs 
 draw all their energies. Paralyze those nerves which 
 connect them with the brain, as the wires of the tele- 
 graph connect the different stations with the electric 
 battery, and their powers are gone, instantly gone. 
 Their functions cease ; the eye has no sight ; the ear 
 no hearing ; the lips no voice ; the tongue tastes 
 neither sweetness in honey nor bitterness in worm- 
 wood ; the strong arm of labor hangs powerless by 
 the side ; nor is there power left to lift a foot, though 
 the lifting of it were to save your life. The whole 
 machinery of this wonderful frame stops, like that of 
 a mill when you shift the sluices, and turn the water 
 off its dashing wheel. Indeed so intimately connected 
 are the head and the body, that one cannot exist with- • 
 out the other. In her freaks, no doubt, Nature does 
 produce strange monsters, which, though deficient, 
 some of this and some of that part, contrive to live ; 
 and it is marvelous to see what formidable lesions the 
 body can suffer, of what valuable members it may be 
 maimed, and yet survive. But the loss of the head is 
 the loss of life. Death descends on the knife of the 
 guillotine. A bullet whistles through the parting air, 
 the lightning flashes, the sword of the headsman gleams 
 in the sun, and — there is a corpse ! before the eye has 
 winked, the man is dead, stone dead. 
 
264 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 Ill illustrating tlie doctrine and figure of my text, 
 this leads me to remark — 
 
 1. As head of his church, Jesus Christ, by means of 
 the connection which grace establishes between him 
 and the believer, maintains our spiritual life. Without 
 me, he says, ye can do nothing. As all our wishes, 
 words, and works, however they may be expressed in 
 looks, and sounds, and bodily movements, are born in 
 the brain, there is not a good wish we ever formed, 
 a good word we ever spoke, a good work we ever 
 did, but Christ was its fountain-head. Separated from 
 him, a believer were no better than an eye plucked 
 from its socket, a cold, dead hand severed from the 
 bleeding arm. 
 
 Suppose that, by some strange chance, this connec- 
 tion were dissolved, what a deadly paralysis would 
 seize the soul ! There are few sights more pitiful than 
 to see a man of robust strength, of eloquent lips, of 
 eagle eye, of majestic port, of stalwart step, by a stroke 
 of paralysis suddenly turned into a poor t stammering, 
 tottering, impotent object, whom the touch of a child 
 • can prostrate in the dust. Yet he is only a feeble 
 image of what we should become were the gracious 
 communications of the Holy Spirit suspended. De- 
 prived of the strength I draw from Christ, I could not 
 stand a buffet from Satan's hand. How should I be 
 able to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus 
 Christ, or fight the good fight of faith? However 
 strong the hand of faith had been, it would now shake 
 like an aspen leaf ; and, now but the wreck of other 
 days, gone were my power to sing the praises of God, 
 gone my power to walk, or run in the way of his com- 
 mandments. And this impotency, whether it spread 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 265 
 
 over our souls like a creeping palsy, or came with the 
 suddenness of a stroke, were but the dismal prelude to 
 eternal death. 
 
 I have supposed, for illustration’s sake, that the 
 connection were dissolved, but, blessed be God ! that 
 cannot be. “ They shall never perish, neither shall 
 any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father, 
 which gave them me, is greater than all, and no man 
 is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.” With 
 such an assurance from his lips, how may we say to 
 Jesus, Thou hast set my feet upon a rock ? Standing 
 on its sunny summit, far above the surging waves of 
 doubt and fear, what hinders us to exclaim with Paul, 
 I am persuaded that neither life, nor death, nor angels, 
 nor principalities, nor power, nor things present, nor 
 things to come, nor any other creature, shall be able 
 to separate me from the love of God, which is through 
 Jesus? 
 
 2. As head of his church, Jesus Christ is the source 
 of our spiritual life. We must not confound the means 
 of life with its first cause. The chamber in Shunam, 
 where a pious woman had lodged the man of God, 
 presents us with a fair and striking picture of what 
 we may do in communicating the blessing of spiritual 
 life to a soul dead in sins. Let us in fancy open the 
 door, and, with feelings of awe and wonder, enter that 
 room where Elisha, having left the mother below, has 
 shut himself up with the cold, unconscious corpse. The 
 dead boy is lying in the prophet’s chamber, and on the 
 prophet’s bed ; as if, like a drowning one who catches 
 a passing straw, the poor woman had thought, when 
 she laid him there, that there might be something not 
 only sacred, but life-restoring, that clung to the walls 
 12 
 
266 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 which had been hallowed by the good man’s prayers. 
 He gazes fixedly and fondly on the pale placid counte- 
 nance ; and having waked up his tenderest affections 
 for the little dead creature he had often carried in his 
 arms, and kissed, and blessed, Elisha turns from the 
 lifeless clay to the living God. He kneels beside the 
 dead. He prays for the dead. And in prayers a 
 mother may hear, as, with beating heart, she sits silent, 
 and listening, and hoping below, he pours out his very 
 soul to God. The prayer ceases. It has been heard. 
 The prophet knows it ; and now rises to employ other 
 means, nor doubts of their success. As one who, seek- 
 ing another’s conversion, brings the truth in himself 
 into kindest, closest contact with that other’s soul — 
 soul to soul, and heart to heart, Elisha brings his own 
 life as close to the dead as possible. Love revolting 
 at nothing, he takes the corpse into his arms. He 
 stretches himself upon the body ; he puts his mouth 
 upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his 
 hands upon his hands. The living heart of the prophet 
 beats against the dead heart of the child, knocks there 
 to waken it ; he all the time pleading with God, en- 
 treating with tears that hang on the lashes of those 
 closed eyes and bedew the pallid face of death. We 
 know not how long the dead lay in the embraces of 
 the living ; but pains and prayer had their sure re- 
 ward. A step is on the floor. The mother catches it. 
 She starts. The door opens. “ Gehazi,” cries the 
 prophet, a summons rapidly followed by the glad com. 
 mand, “ Call the Shunammite.” Hope sounds in that 
 voice ; joy leaps in her heart. She hastens up, she 
 rushes in. He points her to the smiling boy, saying 
 Take up thy son, as with delirious joy and open arms 
 she bounds across the floor to lock him in her embraces. 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 267 
 
 Thus, simply as a medium or link which connects 
 the living with the dead, a believer may be the means 
 of communicating life. But the life which Christ gave 
 you was his own. “Ye know the grace of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes 
 he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be 
 rich.” What Elisha did not, and could not do in that 
 chamber for the child, our Saviour did on the cross for us. 
 He died that we might live. He poured out his soul unto 
 death. To fill our veins with blood, he emptied his own. 
 He stretched himself out upon the cold corpse of a world 
 to communicate life, and, while communicating it, ex- 
 pired. He breathed life into the dead, but it was his 
 own. If any vital heavenly fire burns in you, it was 
 Christ who kindled it ; for the spirit life came not, like 
 the natural, through father and mother, flashing, as an 
 electric spark, from the first man along the linked 
 chain of successive generations. Not of blood, nor of 
 the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of 
 God, that life came when Christ impressed his kiss of 
 love on death’s icy lips, just as that of Adam came 
 from his Maker, when, stooping over the clay model of 
 a man, God breathed into its nostrils the breath of 
 life. And as, by his death, which was a satisfaction 
 for sin, Jesus Christ purchased our life, by his life he 
 now maintains it ; so that, as the life of a pregnant 
 mother is the life of the babe within her, his life is 
 ours. Is the connection between these two so intimate, 
 that she might address her unborn, saying, Because I 
 live, thou livest also? Well, Jesus says more; he 
 says, Because I live, ye shall live also. That mother 
 may die. Hope has strewed her withered blossoms on 
 a grave where the rose and the rose-bud lie buried 
 together ; and death, coffining the babe, in a dead 
 
268 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 mother’s womb, by one fell stroke has inflicted a double 
 blow on some childless, widowed man. But, in their 
 life one with Christ, believers can never die. Never : 
 for he dieth no more. That head bows on a cross no 
 more ; that eye darkens in death no more ; that brow, 
 crowned with glory, bleeds under thorns no more. 
 “ I am he that liveth and was dead.” 
 
 Thus, restored to life by Christ, and through your 
 union with him safe from the second death, believers 
 can dare, in a sense, to use his own great words, saying, 
 “ 1 am he that liveth, and was dead, and, behold, I am 
 alive for evermore.” So long as Christ lives, you live ; 
 so long as Christ shall live, you shall live. Since 
 your life is hid with Christ in God, why then should 
 you dread the grisly king ? Fear not the shaking of 
 his dart. You are deathless men. Hear the voice of 
 your Saviour. “ I give unto them eternal life ; and 
 they shall never perish.” “ He that believeth in me, 
 though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever 
 liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” Disease 
 may rot off a limb ; an empty sleeve, pinned to a breast 
 hung thick with stars, and crosses, and medals, may 
 tell of losses suffered as well as battles fought in a 
 country’s cause ; and accident may any day tear a 
 member from our body, and separate it from its living 
 head. But no accident, no chance, no, nor all the devils 
 of hell, shall separate us from the love of Christ. I cling 
 to that belief. Without it, where were the peace of 
 the saints ? Where the promise and care of him who 
 says, I will never leave you, let not your heart be 
 troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me. 
 
 II. As Head of his church, Jesus Christ rules its 
 members. 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 26& 
 
 It is r.ot pain that makes the insect go spinning 
 round and round, to the entertainment of the thought- 
 less, not cruel, boy who has beheaded it. It has lost 
 in the head that which preserves harmony among the 
 members, and controls their movements, and prevents 
 such anarchy in the body corporeal as there was in the 
 body politic, when there was no king in Israel, and 
 every man did that which was right in his own eyes. 
 Seated, as becomes a king, in the highest place, the 
 head gives law to all beneath it. The tongue speaks 
 or is silent, the arms rise or fall, the feet walk or rest, 
 the eye opens or shuts, as this sovereign wills ; and, 
 transmitting its orders along the nerves which, rami- 
 fied through the body, reach the most distant members, 
 it receives from all them instant, implicit obedience. 
 It rules with more despotic authority than any other 
 sovereign. Its subjects never mutiny ; they hatch no 
 plots ; they form no conspiracies. 
 
 Patterns of the obedience which we should yield to 
 Jesus Christ, the members hesitate not to obey the 
 head, even to their own loss and painful suffering. 
 Take the hand, for instance. Archbishop Cranmer 
 stands chained to the stake. The fagots are lighted. 
 With forked tongues the flames rise through the smoke 
 that opens, as the wind blows it aside, to show that 
 great old man standing up firm in the fiery trial. Like 
 a true penitent, he resolves that the hand which had 
 signed his base recantation shall burn first ; and how 
 bravely it abides the flame ! In obedience to the head, 
 the hand lays itself down to suffer amputation ; in 
 obedience to the head, it flings away the napkin, sign 
 for the drop to fall ; in obedience to the head, as was 
 foreseen by some of our fathers when they attached 
 their names to the League and Covenant, it firmly 
 
270 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 signed the bond that sealed their fate and doomed 
 them to a martyr’s grave. Let the head forgive, and 
 the hand at once opens to grasp an enemy’s, in pledge 
 of quarrel buried and estrangement gone. Would 
 to God that Jesus Christ had such authority over us ! 
 Make us, 0 Lord, thy willing subjects in the day of 
 thy power ! Ascend the throne of our hearts ! Prince 
 of Peace ! take unto thee thy great power, and reign ! 
 
 How happy, how holy should we be, were our hearts, 
 our minds, our bodies, as obedient to the laws of his 
 word and to the influences of his Spirit, as that hand 
 and this tongue are to the head that rules them. 
 Brethren, what else but this is needed, not only to pre- 
 serve the purity and peace of our souls, but to restore 
 purity and peace to distracted churches ? My body 
 knows and owns no authority whatever but its own 
 head. Why should Christ’s church do otherwise? 
 How many divisions would be healed, would she re- 
 pudiate all government but his in things belonging to 
 his kingdom, would she take his word as her only rule, 
 and read it with the docile faith of a child, would she 
 call none master but Jesus, nor admit anything to bind 
 her conscience but the law and the testimony, would 
 she throw down all sectarian walls and barriers, and 
 make nothing necessary to church communion but what 
 is necessary to being a Christian. 
 
 There is no essential difference between the Evan- 
 gelical denominations. And what should hinder them 
 from being as ready to love and help one the other 
 as my foot is to run in the service of my hand, and 
 as my hand is to work in the service of my foot, and 
 as my eyes and ears, standing on their tower of obser- 
 vation, are to watch for the good of the body and all 
 its members? Were there sympathy like that among 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 271 
 
 the brethren, how soon would there be harmony in 
 Jerusalem! What triumphs would crown her arms! 
 what prosperity would bless her palaces ! The sin, the 
 shame, the scandal, the monstrous, unnatural, afflicting 
 spectacle of Christian churches, up in arms against each 
 other, and stunning the ears of a wondering, scoffing 
 world with the din of battle, would cease, for ever 
 cease. Let the fields of war present the horrid spec- 
 tacle of men shearing off each other’s limbs, and plung- 
 ing their swords into each other’s breasts, but who 
 ever heard of a case so monstrous, as a man’s hands 
 and feet and other members declaring war, one with 
 another? Alas! such a sight the church of Christ 
 has often presented. The most wretched reasons have 
 been considered good enough for separating or remain- 
 ing separate. Paltry differences have given rise to 
 quarrels, and quarrels have given rise to blows, and 
 blows have ended in running sores and bitter hatreds, 
 and a bleeding, weeping church has been left, when 
 asked about her wounds, to reply, “ These are the 
 wounds with which 1 was wounded in the house of my 
 friends.” 
 
 Oh, that all our unhappy, unholy contentions would 
 cease ! How long, 0 Lord, how long ! Come, Holy 
 Dove, and sweep the storms away with thy snow-white 
 wing, bringing from heaven the branch of an olive 
 plucked from the trees that grow by the river of life. 
 Yet vain meanwhile the wish ! Never shall the ark 
 rest, nor sweet peace brood, like a halcyon bird, on the 
 troubled waters, till Christ receives the honor which 
 is his due ; till the Head that is in heaven rules the 
 body that is on earth ; till the names of fathers, both 
 ancient and modern, are discarded, and no authority 
 but Christ’s is acknowledged by a church which he has 
 
272 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 bought with his precious blood, and whose members, 
 loved so dearly by him, ought so kindly and so dearly 
 to love one another. “Even so come, Lord Jesus.” 
 
 III. As Head of his church, Jesus Christ sympath- 
 ises with its members. 
 
 According to Solomon, “ all the rivers run into the 
 sea,” and were you to dissect the body you would find 
 that all the nerves run into the brain. The head, is 
 the centre of the nervous system. Beneath that palatial 
 dome the soul dwells ; and by the nerves which run out 
 from that centre she corresponds with matter, looking 
 through the eyes, feeling by the hand, hearing by the 
 ears, speaking by the tongue, and, unless when she 
 seizes the hours of sleep to rest herself or to roam away 
 in dreams, thus holding communion with the outer world. 
 The nerves form a perfect system of living telegraphs. 
 By means of them the soul knows in an instant what 
 passes in all parts of her realm, and takes immediate 
 measures for the well-being of every member of the body. 
 Let the foot but touch a thorn, it is instantly with- 
 drawn. And how ? Pain, thrilling along the nerves, 
 flashes the danger upward to the head, which, by another 
 set of nerves, flashes back an immediate order, so that 
 before the thorn is buried in the flesh, the foot is with- 
 drawn. If but the wing of a gnat brush, if but a mote 
 of dust touch the guardian fringes, the eyelid drops, 
 like the portcullis at yonder castle gate, to keep out 
 the enemy. Thus the head sympathizes with all the 
 body, and, sympathizing, succours it. 
 
 Such is the sympathy between Christ and his people. 
 Let that comfort, strengthen, cheer you. He is in 
 constant, ay, in closest communication with every one 
 of his members ; and by means of lines that stretched 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 273 
 
 along the starry sky pass from earth to heaven, the 
 meanest cottage where a believer dwells is joined to 
 the throne of God. No accident stops that telegraph. 
 The lines of providence radiate out, and the lines of 
 prayer radiate in. Touched with a fellow-feeling for 
 your infirmities, Christ suffers all your wrongs, is sen- 
 sible of your every want, and hears every prayer you 
 utter. You can never apply to him too often ; you 
 cannot ask of him too much. To his ear the needy’s 
 prayers are sweeter music than the voice of angels, or 
 the best strung harp in heaven. 
 
 In a distant land, how bitterly the poor invalid 
 thinks of home ! Oh ! how he wishes he could anni- 
 hilate the seas that roll between him and his mother, 
 and remove his sick-bed, far from her kind attentions. 
 A stranger in a strange land, the bitter tears rise the 
 faster in his eye as busy fancy flies away, and the home 
 of his boyhood stands before him, and the cool breeze 
 wafting odours from the flowers kisses his cheek, and 
 he passes under the shadow of the trees where he 
 played a happy child, and, entering the well-known 
 door, he hears his sister’s song, and a father’s merry 
 laugh, and a mother’s sweet, soft, loving voice, and sees 
 those that would hasten to his help, and hang over his 
 bed, and smooth his restless pillow, and wipe the death- 
 sweat from his brow, gathered, a bright and happy 
 circle, by a fireside he shall never more see. 
 
 It is sweet to feel that any one cares for us ; sweet 
 est in suffering’s hour to have those near who love us, 
 to see the glistening tear, and hear the kind tones of 
 unwearying affection. But human sympathy, take it 
 at the best, is liable to a thousand interruptions ; and 
 then we have sometimes sorrows that we hide from 
 others, with which a bosom friend is not allowed to 
 12 * 
 
271 
 
 THE HEAD. 
 
 intermeddle. But, blessed Jesus! there is no sorrow 
 thy people hide from thee, nor any pang thy members 
 feel but it is felt by thee. Thanks be to God that, se- 
 lecting from our frame its most sensitive and tender 
 part, he has set this forth in an image which all can 
 appreciate and understand. “ He that toucheth you 
 toucheth the apple of his eye.” 
 
 If, to words that so beautifully and fully set forth 
 the tender sympathy which Christ, as their Head, cher- 
 ishes for his beloved people, I could venture to add 
 any that ever fell from mortal lips, I would select those 
 of Margaret Wilson, Scotland’s maiden martyr. Some 
 two hundred years ago, there was a dark period of 
 suffering in this land, when deeds of bloody cruelty 
 were committed on God’s people, not outdone by Indian 
 butcheries. One day the tide is flowing in the Solway 
 Firth, rushing, like a race-horse, with snowy mane to 
 the shore. It is occupied by groups of weeping spec- 
 tators. They keep their eyes fixed on two objects out 
 upon the wet sands. There, two women, each tied fast 
 by their arms and limbs to a stake, stand within the 
 sea-mark ; and many an earnest prayer is going up to 
 heaven that Christ, who bends from his throne to the 
 sight, would help them now in their dreadful hour of 
 need. The elder of the two is staked farthest out. 
 Margaret, the young martyr, stands bound, a fair sac- 
 rifice, near by the shore. Well, on the big billows 
 come, hissing to their naked feet ; on and further on 
 they come, death riding on the top of the waves, and 
 eyed by these tender women with unflinching courage. 
 The waters rise and rise, till, amid a scream and cry 
 of horror from the shore, the lessening form of her 
 that had death first to face, is lost in the foam of the 
 surging wave. It recedes, but only to return ; and 
 
THE HEAD. 
 
 275 
 
 now, the sufferer gasping for breath, her death strug- 
 gle is begun ; and now, for Margaret’s trial and her 
 noble answer. “ What see you yonder ?” said their 
 murderers, as, while the water rose cold on her own 
 limbs, they pointed her attention to her fellow-confes- 
 sor in the suffocating agonies of a protracted death. 
 Response full of the boldest faith, and brightest hope, 
 and all the divine, unfathomed consolation of my text 
 to you, she firmly answered, “ I see Christ suffering in 
 one of his own members.” Brave and glorious words ! 
 borrowed in that hour from the precious language of 
 my text, and leading us to the apostle’s most comfort- 
 ing and sublime conclusion, “We have not an high 
 priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our 
 infirmities ; but was in all points tempted like as we 
 are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to 
 the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and 
 find grace to help in time of need.” 
 
8! ft* §£0iBB!O$. 
 
 Who is the beginning. — Colossi a ns i. 18. 
 
 There are certain points where the different king- 
 doms of Nature meet, and are, indeed, interwoven 
 into each other. Each in turn passes the boundary 
 line into the other’s domain, as the land and the sea 
 do, here, in the headland that stands so boldly out 
 among the boiling waves, there, in the beautiful bay 
 that lies asleep, locked in the arms of the land. 
 
 In our conservatories, for instance, you may see 
 flowers which present a strong, very curious, and sur- 
 prising resemblance to some of the insect tribes. 
 Leaves stand up above the body of the flower, in form, 
 position, and brilliant colors, so like painted wings, 
 that the flowers themselves appear to be gorgeous but 
 terflies, suspended in the air, and hovering over the 
 plant, just as you have often seen the insect on fluttering 
 wing ere it alighted to drink the nectar from gold, or 
 silver, or ruby cup. The animal world, too, is fur- 
 nished with things as strange ; presenting, if I may say 
 so, a corresponding play and display of divine power. 
 If there are flowers like insects, there are insects so 
 like leaves, fresh and green, or sere and yellow, that 
 the deception is complete ; nor is the mistake discov- 
 ered, till, on putting out your hand to pluck the leaf, 
 you stand amazed to see it in an instant, as by magic, 
 (276) 
 
THE BEGINNING, 
 
 277 
 
 change into a living creature, and, taking wing, fly off. 
 These objects are more than curious. A thoughtful 
 eye sees there not only the skill and power, but the 
 goodness of him, who, in that strange livery, so masks 
 a helpless creature, that its enemies are deceived, and 
 it is protected from their attacks. When we see such 
 exquisite devices and almighty power put forth to 
 shield the meanest insect, what force does it give to 
 our Lord’s exhortation, Fear ye not, therefore, ye are 
 of more value than many sparrows. 
 
 But the kingdoms of nature touch at points still 
 more real and palpable. They are so shaded off into 
 each other, that some of the animals which occupy 
 their borders present a combination of properties puz- 
 zling even to philosophers, and an inexplicable wonder 
 to the ignorant multitude. The power of flying be- 
 longs to birds, and the power of walking to quad- 
 rupeds ; yet there are birds that never fly, and four- 
 footed animals that never walk. It is the characteristic 
 of land animals to breathe by lungs, and of fishes to 
 breathe by gills ; yet there are inhabitants of the sea 
 which breathe like creatures of the shore, and, on the 
 other hand, in dry and dusty walls, and beneath the 
 stones of the moorland, there are creatures whose 
 breathing organs are the same as those of fishes. 
 Sensibility characterizes animals, insensibility plants ; 
 but there are plants with leaves so sensitive that they 
 shrink from the slightest touch — shutting like an eye- 
 lid, if they be rudely blown upon ; while, on the other 
 hand, there are animals which you may turn inside 
 out, like the finger of a glove, and the rudeness seems 
 to give them no pain, and certainly neither destroys 
 their life, nor deranges their functions. Deprived of 
 light, plants pale and sicken, droop and die ; and so 
 
278 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 dependent is animal life on a due supply of light, that 
 Dr. Kane imputes the madness that seized his dogs to 
 the darkness of that polar night which lasted for a 
 hundred and forty days. Yet, so independent are 
 some creatures of the blessed light, that in those vast 
 caverns of the New World which the boldest travelers 
 have not ventured fully to explore, amid a gloom deep 
 as the grave, and on the banks of a river which, rush- 
 ing through them, fills the ear with the roar of its 
 cataract, and goes, like a being whose fate is lost in 
 mystery, no man knows where, strange eyeless animals 
 roam, and have their loves, and, not overlooked by 
 God down there, enjoy a life that, faint emblem of the 
 condition of the lost, is passed in utter and perpetual 
 darkness. How marvelous are thy works, Lord God 
 Almighty ! 
 
 In consequence of certain plants and animals being 
 endowed with properties that characterize the classes 
 next in order to themselves, there is a beautiful grada- 
 tion in nature. There is no great wide gap, no abrupt 
 and sudden change. The whole fabric of creation 
 appears rising upwards, like a lofty pyramid, with its 
 different courses dovetailed the one into the other ; 
 and so constructed, that by a series of steps you rise 
 from the lowest forms of existence up to man, stand- 
 ing upon its apex, with his feet resting on earth, and 
 his head, so to speak, touching the stars. And what 
 combinations are so strange as those which meet in 
 man? In some respects how noble, in others how 
 mean he is ; in his corporeal elements an animal, in his 
 spiritual essence an angel ; often the slave of passions 
 that grovel in the dust, yet endowed with powers that 
 hold converse with God ; before the fall half an angel 
 and half an animal, but now, exiled from Eden, his 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 279 
 
 life a mystery, and himself, as an old writer says, half 
 a devil and half a beast — a strange being at the best, 
 symbolized, after a sort, by those cherubim which, to 
 the countenance of a man and the wings of an angel, 
 joined the form of a beast. 
 
 Great is the mystery of godliness ! The most 
 precious mysteries is the greatest of all mysteries. 
 Neither in man, nor in angel, nor in any other crea- 
 ture, is there such a combination of what appear irre- 
 concilable properties, such harmonizing of what seems 
 discordant, such blending and bringing together of the 
 peculiar characteristics of distinct and different orders, 
 as in “ the mystery of godliness.” In his person, and 
 character, and work, our Lord Jesus Christ presents 
 what is explicable, and, to my mind, credible, on no 
 theory but one, that he was God manifest in the flesh, 
 Emmanuel, God with us. Indeed, I should find it, 
 I think, an easier thing to deny the divinity of the 
 Bible, than, having admitted that, to reject the divinity 
 of our Lord. To illustrate this extraordinary conjunc- 
 tion of apparently conflicting elements found in him. 
 
 1. Look at our Lord by the grave of Lazarus. 
 How truly man, partaker of our common nature! 
 The sight of the tomb wakens all his grief ; the suffer- 
 ings of these two sisters, clinging to each other, touch 
 his loving heart ; and there he stands, for ever sanc- 
 tioning sorrow, and even exalting it into a manly, 
 most noble thing. His eyes swim in tears, groans 
 rend his bosom ; he is so deeply, so uncontrollably, so 
 visibly affected, that the spectators say, See how he 
 loved him ! Jesus wept. So it was some moments 
 ago. But now, what a change! The crowd retreat, 
 surprise, wonder, terror seated on every face ; the 
 
280 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 boldest recoiling from that awful form which comes 
 shuffling out of the grave. This man of tears, so gen- 
 tle, so tender, so easily moved that he often wept, 
 endued with a sensibility so delicate that the strings 
 of his heart vibrated to the slightest touch, has, by a 
 word, rent the tomb. Struck with terror, the witch 
 of Endor shrieked when she saw the form of Samuel 
 emerging from the ground ; vhat a contrast this scene 
 to that ! Not in the least surprised at the event, as if, 
 in raising the buried dead, he had done nothing more 
 remarkable than light a lamp or rekindle the embers 
 of an extinguished fire, calm and tranquil, Jesus points 
 to Lazarus, saying, Loose him, and let him go. 
 
 2. Look at Jesus by Jacob’s well. There a woman 
 who has come to draw water about mid-day, finds a 
 traveler seated. She looks at him. He is brown 
 with the dust of a journey ; he looks pale, and worn, 
 and weary ; the hot sun beats upon his head. He 
 accosts her, saying, Give me to drink ! And in grant- 
 ing it — for woman seldom refuses kindness to the 
 needy — she fancies, no doubt, that this is some poor 
 Jew, whose haughty pride bends to necessity in asking 
 the meanest favor from a Samaritan. So he seemed, 
 when, gratefully acknowledging her kindness, he bent 
 his head, and drank deep draughts of the cool refresh- 
 ing water. But, when he has raised his eyes to look, 
 not into her face, but into her heart, and to read off, 
 as from a book, its most secret thoughts, and, although 
 they had never met before, to tell her all, to use her 
 own words, that she had ever done, with what wonder 
 does she regard him? She is amazed and awed. 
 Well she might. The thirsty way-worn man has sud- 
 denly changed into the omniscient God. 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 281 
 
 Thus, the incommunicable attributes of Divinity, 
 and the common properties of humanity stand out 
 equally clear in our Lord’s life and person. And just 
 such a conjunction of things apparently irreconcileable 
 presents itself to our attention in the description given 
 of Jesus Christ in this verse. In this clause, he is 
 described by a term sacred to God ; we pass on to 
 the next, and step at once from the throne of the hea- 
 vens down into a grave. In these words, “ the be- 
 ginning,” we behold him presiding at the creation of 
 the universe ; by those which follow, “ the first-born 
 from the dead,” we are carried in fancy to a lonely 
 garden, where, all quiet within, Roman sentinels keep 
 watch by a tomb, or where, as they fly in pale terror 
 from the scene, we see him who had filled the eternal 
 throne, and been clothed with light as with a garment, 
 putting off a shroud, and leaving a tomb. What key 
 is there to this mystery, what possible way of har- 
 monizing these things, but this, that Christ, while 
 man, was more than man, one who has brought together 
 properties so wide apart as dust and divinity, time and 
 eternity, eternal Godhead and mortal manhood ? What 
 comfort to us, as well as glory to him, in this com- 
 bination ! Should it not dissipate every care and fear, 
 to think that our Saviour, friend, and lover, has the 
 heart of a brother and the hand of God ? 
 
 Let us now consider that clause of this verse in which 
 our Lord is called “ the beginning.” 
 
 I. This term expresses his divine nature. 
 
 I have read a story of a blind man, who, determined 
 to rise above his misfortune, and to pursue knowledge 
 under the greatest difficulties, set himself to study the 
 nature of light and colours. This much he had learned, 
 
282 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 that, while these differ in intensity, it is the red-col- 
 oured ray that glares strongest on the eye. He flat- 
 tered himself that he had at length mastered a subject 
 which must remain forever more or less of a mystery 
 to one, as he was, born blind ; and so, when asked 
 what he thought red was like, lie replied — evident 
 satisfaction at his acquirements lighting up his sight- 
 less face — that he fancied it like the sound of a trumpet. 
 Though we may smile at an answer so wide of the mark, 
 his difficulty in describing colours is more or less ours 
 in describing God. It were easier for these fingers to 
 close upon the world, for this hand to hold the great 
 globe within its grasp, than for any finite mind to com- 
 prehend the infinite fulness of God. “ It is high, I 
 cannot attain unto it.” “ He stretclieth out the north 
 over the empty place, and liangeth the earth upon 
 nothing. By his Spirit he hath garnished the heavens, 
 his hand hath formed the crooked serpent. Lo, these 
 are part of his ways ; but how little a portion is heard 
 of him ? but the thunder of his power, who can under- 
 stand ?” 
 
 Just as that blind man borrowed terms from sounds 
 to express the objects of sight, and therefore did it 
 very imperfectly, even so, familiar only with what is 
 visible, palpable, finite, we have to borrow terms from 
 these things to describe the invisible, the God who is 
 encased in no body, and confined within no bounds. 
 And as I have seen a father, to make a thing plain to 
 his little child, take the boy on his knee, and, forgetting 
 his own learning, dropping all correct and philosophi- 
 cal language, speak to the child after the manner of 
 a child, so our heavenly Father condescends to speak 
 of himself to us. Did he make the heavens and the 
 earth ? They are the work of his hands. Does he 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 283 
 
 rule the storm ? He holds the winds in his fist. Are 
 those tremendous powers of nature, the earthquake and 
 the volcano, obedient to his will ? Like conscious 
 guilt in presence of her judge, the earth trembles at 
 his look, and at his touch the mountains smoke. Does 
 he constantly watch over his people ? As a kind 
 mother’s eye, whatever be her task, follows the move- 
 ments of her infant, so that if it fall she may raise it, 
 or if it wander too near the fire, the cliff, or the brink 
 of a stream, she may run to pluck it out of danger, 
 God’s eyes run to and fro throughout the whole earth, 
 to show himself strong to them whose hearts are per- 
 fect towards him. Does it thunder ? It is the voice 
 of the Lord ; the lightning cloud that comes driving 
 up the sky is his chariot, and when flash blazes upon 
 flash, his arrows go abroad. His presence is now an 
 eye, now a hand, now an arm, and now a shield. His 
 love is a kiss, his anger is a frown. Are his mercies 
 withdrawn ? He repents. Are they restored ? He 
 returns. Does he interpose in any remarkable way ? 
 He plucks his hand from his bosom, and, like one who 
 goes vigorously to work, the blacksmith who wields 
 the hammer, or the woodman who plies the axe, 
 he makes bare his arm. And when inspiration, 
 attempting one of her loftiest flights, seeks to express 
 the greatness of his majesty, she tarns the heavens into 
 a sapphire throne, spangled all with stars, and taking 
 up this great globe rolls it forward for God to set his 
 feet on. “ Thus saith the Lord, the heaven is my throne, 
 and the earth is my footstool.” Thus, by terms bor- 
 rowed from our bodies, and properties, and circum- 
 stances, God describes himself, and among other 
 instances of that kind, there is one where he employs 
 the very term here applied to Jesus in my text. For 
 
284 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 the purpose of teaching us that he is before all, that he 
 is the cause and the end of all, with such condescension 
 as a father shows to his little children, he takes the 
 Greek alphabet, and selecting the first and the last 
 letters, as those within which all else are included, he 
 says, “ I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the 
 ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and 
 which is to come, the Almighty.” 
 
 He must be God who is almighty. He must be God 
 who is, and was, and is to come ; and since “ the 
 beginning ” is another title applied in that passage to 
 the same august, and infinite, and adorable Being, by 
 applying it to our Lord, Paul pronounces him divine, 
 and around the head which was once pillowed on a 
 woman’s bosom, and once bowed in death upon a cross, 
 he throws a halo of uncreated glory. A man wor- 
 shipped in heaven ; a babe adored on earth ; the infant’s 
 advent sung by angels ; sable night throwing off her 
 gloom, and breaking into splendour above his manger- 
 cradle ; one whom many well remembered, as if it were 
 but yesterday, carried in Mary’s arms or playing with 
 the boys of Nazareth, now claiming to be older than 
 Abraham ; his step on the water lighter than a shad- 
 ow’s, his voice on the waters mighty as God’s ; the 
 prompt obedience of unruly elements ; the sullen sub- 
 mission of reluctant devils, as they retired back, and 
 farther back before that single man, like a broken 
 band retreating in the face of an overwhelming force ; 
 the hand that was nailed to the cross freely dispensing 
 crowns of glory, and opening the gates of heaven to a 
 dying thief ; the earth trembling with horror, and the 
 sun turned mourner because they were murdering their 
 Lord ; the adoring admiration of the great apostle, 
 who, contemplating an infant cradled in a manger, a 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 285 
 
 man hanging on a bloody tree, a tomb and its lonely 
 tenant, found heaven too low, and hell too shallow, and 
 space too short, to set forth the greatness of the love 
 that gave the Saviour to die for us ; these marvels, 
 otherwise utterly inexplicable, have their key in “ the 
 mystery of godliness ;” Jesus Christ was “ God mani- 
 fest in the flesh.” What a precious truth ! The blood 
 of Calvary being, as Paul calls it, the blood of God. 
 may well have virtue in it to cleanse from all sin, so 
 that though our sins be as scarlet, they shall be white 
 as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be 
 as wool. 
 
 II. This term, “ the beginning,” expresses Christ's 
 relation to his church and people. 
 
 The beginning of a tree is the seed it springs from. 
 The giant oak had its origin in the acorn. From 
 that dry, hard shell, sprung the noble growth that 
 laughed at the storm, in the course of time covered 
 broad acres with its ample shade, and built the ship 
 that, with wings spread to the wind, flies under a 
 Bethel flag, to bear the gospel to heathen lands, or, 
 opening her ports, rushes on the bloody slave-ship, and 
 fights the battle of humanity on the rolling deep. Nov/, 
 as a seed, Jesus Christ was one apparently of little 
 promise. According to the prophet, he was, in the 
 eyes of men, a root out of a dry ground. He was all 
 his lifetime despised and rejected ; yet out of him has 
 grown that church which shall bear the blessings of 
 salvation to the ends of the earth, and pursue her 
 bloodless, victorious course, till continents and islands 
 have knelt at his feet. All the kingdoms of this world 
 shall become the kingdoms of our Christ. 
 
 A house, again, begins at the foundation. The first 
 
286 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 stone laid is the foundation stone. That ma j be sunk 
 in a deep, dark hole ; yet though it lies there, unseen 
 and forgotten by the thoughtless, it is the stability and 
 support of all the superincumbent structure. And 
 when the nails were drawn, and the mangled body of 
 our Lord was lowered from the cross, and received 
 into women’s arms, and borne without any funeral 
 pomp by a few sincere mourners to the lonesome tomb, 
 and, amid sobs, and groans, and tears, and bitter griefs, 
 laid in that dark sepulchre, then did God in heaven 
 say, “ Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation stone, a 
 tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation. 
 Yes, it was a tried stone. He had been tried by men 
 and devils, and by his Father too ; hunger, and thirst, 
 and suffering, and death, Ttad tried him. Since then 
 the foundation has often been tried, in great tempta- 
 tions, and sore afflictions, and fierce assaults of the 
 Evil One ; winds have blown, and rains have fallen, 
 and rivers have swelled, and heavy floods have rolled, 
 but the man who has believed in Christ, and the hopes 
 that have rested on his finished work, have stood firm 
 and unmoved. Saints triumphing over temptation, 
 martyrs singing in prison, believers dying in peace, 
 devils baffled, hell defeated, have made good Christ’s 
 words, Upon this rock I will build my church ; and 
 the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. 
 
 The author of our faith, the founder of his church, 
 Christ began it ere the world began, or sun or stars 
 shone in heaven. He provided for the fall before the 
 event happened. He had the life-boat on the beach 
 before the bark was stranded, or launched, or even 
 built. Not eighteen hundred years ago, when the 
 cross rose with its bleeding victim high above the 
 heads of a crowd on Calvary, not the hour of the Fall, 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 287 
 
 when God descended into the garden to comfort our 
 parents, and crush, if not then the head, the hopes of 
 the serpent, but eternal ages before these events saw 
 the beginning of the church of Christ. He began it 
 in the councils of eternity, when, standing up before 
 his Father to say, Lo, I come (in the volume of the 
 book it is written of me) to do thy will, 0 God, lie 
 offered himself a substitute and a sacrifice for men. 
 He was u the Lamb slain from the foundation of the 
 world. 77 
 
 The author then, and, when he died on Calvary, the 
 finisher of our faith. 
 
 III. Jesus is “ the beginning 77 of salvation in every 
 individual believer. 
 
 He is “all our salvation. 77 We owe everything to 
 Christ. Whatever was the instrument employed in our 
 conversion, whether a silent book, or a solemn provi- 
 dence, or a living preacher, it was his grace that began 
 what had a beginning, but, thanks be to God, never 
 shall have an end ; the health that never sickens, the 
 life that never dies, the glory that never fades. By 
 his Spirit convincing us of sin, and revealing himself 
 to us as a willing and all-sufficient Saviour, he began 
 it at conversion ; he carries it on through sanctifica- 
 tion ; and he crowns it in glory. The preacher was a 
 man bat drawing a bow at a venture. Jesus! it was 
 thiue eye that aimed the shaft, and thy strength which 
 bent the bow that day the arrow stuck quivering in 
 our heart. When our sins were carrying us out to our 
 burial, it was thou that didst stop the bier, and with 
 thy touch impartedst life. Brought by the prayers of 
 others to the grave, where we lay corrupting in our 
 sins, it was thy voice that pierced the ear. of death, and 
 
288 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 brought, us alive from the dead. Having none in 
 heaven or on earth but thee, thou hast been all in all 
 to us. In thy birth our hopes were born, in thy death 
 our fears expired, in thy sepulchre our guilt was buried, 
 the sufferings of thy cross were natal pangs, and to us 
 and millions more thy grave has been the pregnant 
 womb of life. 
 
 The “beginning,” and therefore “ the author,” Jesus 
 is the finisher of our faith. He does no half work, 
 half saving or half sanctifying a man. Trust him, 
 that where he has begun a good work, he will carry it 
 on to the end. What would become of us if he did 
 not ? Blessed Lord ! but that thy hand sustained me, 
 how often had hell received me ? but that thy faithful- 
 ness did not fail with my faith, but that thy goodness 
 did not ebb with my gratitude, but that thy love of me 
 did not wane with my love of thee, how often had I 
 perished ? How often have I been as nearly damned 
 as Simon was nearly drowned in the deep waters and 
 stormy waves of Galilee ? How great, 0 Lord, has 
 been thy mercy towards me ; thou hast brought up my 
 soul from the lowest hell ! 
 
 We know that men have turned this doctrine to a 
 bad purpose, just as to a bad purpose many turn the 
 best gifts of providence. But it is no reason why the 
 children should be starved that dogs sometimes steal 
 their meat. The man who presumes on this doctrine 
 to continue in sin because grace abounds, affords in his 
 very presumption the plainest, strongest evidence that 
 he never has been converted — just as the falling star 
 by falling proves that it never was a true star, never 
 was a thing of heaven, though it seemed to shoot 
 through the stellar regions, and by a train of light 
 illumined its dusky path? never was other than an at- 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 289 
 
 mospheric meteor, “ of the earth, earthy.” The best, 
 indeed, in a sense, will fall, and do often fall ; but he 
 who rises from his falls, whose sins are the occasions 
 of bitter sorrow, whose peace is the child, and whose 
 faith is the parent of love, can, I believe, no more drop 
 out of Christ, than a true, God-made star, can drop 
 out of heaven. He will keep that which God has 
 committed to him. He will perfect that which con- 
 cerneth them. 
 
 How can it be otherwise ? He is ever near to them 
 that call upon him, and that never can happen to them 
 which befell a child who had heedlessly wandered 
 from its mother’s side. She sought her darling all 
 round her cottage, and wherever he had been wont to 
 play. Alarmed, she rushed into the gloomy forest that 
 grew by her moorland home ; she called ; in frantic 
 terror, she shrieked his name. No answer ; he was a 
 lost child. A child lost ! the tidings spread like wild- 
 fire through the hamlet ; and some leaving business, 
 others pleasure, the country-side rose for the search ; 
 and through that weary night, glen and mountain, 
 moor and den, rung with the shouts, and gleamed with 
 the lights of anxious searchers. The coming morn 
 ushered in the Sabbath, but brought no rest. Believ- 
 ing that mercy was better than sacrifice, and that had 
 He who came to seek and save the lost been there, He 
 would have led the way, they resumed the search ; and 
 for the first time the feet of piety turned from the 
 house of God. But all in vain. Now hope was burn- 
 ing low even in the mother’s breast, and the stoutest 
 hearts were sinking, when a woman, guided doubtless 
 by God to the spot, heard a feeble cry, a low moaning 
 sound. One thrill of joy, one bounding spring, and 
 there, with its dying face to heaven, lay the poor lost 
 13 
 
290 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 child before her on the cold ground, its young life ebb- 
 ing fast, as it faintly cried, “ Mother, mother ! ” It 
 was saved, yet how nearly lost ; and nearly lost be- 
 cause it had wandered far from a mother’s ear and a 
 mother’s eye. Its danger is never ours. From Christ 
 no darkness hides, no distance parts us ; and through 
 whatever dangers his people have to pass, though they 
 but turn the brink of the pit, the very edge of hell, 
 though their escapes are so narrow that the righteous 
 scarcely are saved, he will make good his words, I 
 give unto them eternal life ; and they shall never 
 perish. 
 
The first-born from the dead ; that in all things he might have the 
 pre-eminence. — Colossians i. 18. 
 
 Death is an event we do not attempt to shut out of 
 view. Here, our city has its cemeteries, which, by their 
 taste and beauty, rather attract than repel a visit. 
 There, where hoary trees fling their shadow on graves, 
 stands th 5 rural church, within whose humbled walls 
 the living worship in closest neighborhood with the 
 dead ; a type of heaven, the approach to that sanctu- 
 ary is by a path which passes through the realms of 
 death. When death occurs among us, friends and 
 neighbors are invited to the funeral ; and in broad day 
 the sad procession, following the nodding hearse, 
 wends slowly along our most public streets. The spot 
 that holds our dead we sometimes visit, and always 
 regard as a sort of sacred ground ; there a monument 
 is raised to record their virtues ; or a willow, with its 
 weeping branches flung over the grave, expresses our 
 grief ; or a pine or laurel, standing there in evergreen 
 beauty when frosty blasts have stripped the woods, 
 symbolises the hopes of the living, and the immortality 
 of the dead ; our hand plants some sweet flowers, 
 which though they shed their blossoms as our hopes 
 were shed, and hide their heads awhile beneath the 
 
 (291) 
 
292 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 turf, spring up again to remind us how the dear ones 
 who there sleep in Jesus are awaiting the resurrection 
 of the just. 
 
 I have read of a tribe of savages that have very dif- 
 ferent customs. They bury their dead in secret, by 
 the hands of unconcerned officials. No grassy mound, 
 no memorial stone guides the poor mother’s steps to 
 the quiet corner where her infant lies. The grave is 
 levelled with the soil ; and afterwards, as some to 
 forget their loss drive the world and its pleasures over 
 their hearts, a herd of cattle is driven over and over 
 the ground, till every trace of the burial has been ob- 
 literated by their hoofs. Anxious to forget death and 
 its inconsolable griefs, these heathen resent any allusion 
 to the dead. You may not speak of them. In a mo- 
 ther’s hearing, name, however tenderly, her lost one, 
 recall a dead father to the memory of his son, and there 
 is no injury which they feel more deeply. From the 
 thought of the dead their hearts recoil. 
 
 How strange ! How unnatural ! No, not unnatural. 
 Benighted heathen, their grief has none of the allevia- 
 tions which are balm to our wounds, none of the hopes 
 that bear us up beneath a weight of sorrows. Their 
 dead are sweet flowers withered, never to revive ; joys 
 gone, never to return. To remember them is to keep 
 open a rankling wound, and preserve the memory of a 
 loss which was bitter to feel and still is bitter to think 
 of ; a loss which brought only grief to the living, and 
 no gain to the dead. To me, says Paul, to live is 
 Christ, and to die is gain. They know nothing of 
 this ; nothing of the hopes that associate our dead in 
 Christ with sinless souls, and sunny skies, and shining 
 angels, and songs seraphic, and crowns of glory, and 
 harps of gold. Memory is only a curse, from which 
 
THE FIRST-BORN- FROM THE HEAD. 
 
 293 
 
 they seek relief by removing the picture from the cham- 
 bers of their imagery, or turning its face to the wall. 
 
 Without the hope of a better world, apart from 
 mercy, pardon, grace and glory, through the blood of 
 Jesus Christ, what were death to me, or to any, but an 
 object of unutterable gloom ? I shrink from seeing it. 
 With all the strong consolations of the gospel, ah ! 
 what sight so bitter as to see a loved one dying ; our 
 sweet flower withering day by day on its drooping 
 stalk ; the cold shadow of death, like an eclipse, creep- 
 ing over the whole horizon of our being, till, one hope 
 after another disappearing, the case assuming a gloomier 
 and yet gloomier aspect, we are left, but for the inner 
 light of the Spirit and God’s truth, in blank despair ? 
 As we hang over the dying couch or cradle, how it 
 wrings the heart to see the imploring look turned on 
 us, and we can give no relief ; to hear the low moan- 
 ings, and we cannot still them ; and when the struggle 
 is long protracted, to be forced to pray that God in 
 mercy would drop the curtain, and close this dreadful 
 scene. There is no event so terrible as death. There 
 is no sound so awful as that last sigh. There is no 
 coldness feels so chill to the hand as the brow or face 
 of the dead. And wfen, in place of one full once of 
 light, and life, and love, our arms embrace a pale, clay- 
 cold corpse, when, for the smiling face, childhood’s 
 pattering feet, and prattling tongue, and bright spark- 
 ling eye, and merry laughter, we have nothing but that 
 solemn countenance, that rigid form, that marble brow, 
 that cold clammy hand, that silent tenant of a lonesome 
 room, beside whom we tread with noiseless step, and, 
 as if afraid to disturb their slumbers, speak in hushed 
 whispers, and with bated breath, verily death needs all 
 the consolations that religion can administer. 
 
294 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 Apart from the hopes of a better and a brighter 
 world, to one’s self, also, what is death but an unutter- 
 able evil ? What weary hours, and days, and nights, 
 are often preludes to the closing scene. And that 
 scene ! what terrible sufferings may we have to endure, 
 and others have to witness in our dying chamber? 
 How may they resemble those appalling struggles amid 
 which the dying man seemed to us to be doing battle 
 with an invisible enemy, who had him by the throat, 
 and whom he was trying, but in vain trying, to throw 
 off ? Steps he into a palace or a hovel, Death, without 
 any question the King of Terrors, presents the features 
 of a tremendous curse in that ghastly countenance, the 
 fixed and filmy eyes, the restless head, the wild tossing 
 of the arms, the hands that, as if they sought something 
 to cling to, clutch the bed-clothes, the muttering lips, 
 the wandering mind, the deep insensibility, the heavy 
 breathing, the awful pauses, and that long-drawn, shiv- 
 ering sigh, which closes the scene, and seems to say, as 
 the departing spirit, ere it quit the bounds of time, 
 casts one last look on all that is past and gone, Vanity 
 of vanities, all is vanity and vexation of spirit. 
 
 Solomon pronounces a living dog to be better than 
 a dead lion : and I say, better be a living beggar than 
 a dead king. I love life : I love to walk abroad and 
 see the sun shine, and hear the birds sing, and wander 
 by rippling stream, or sit on banks where sweet flowers 
 grow ; I love the homes where I look on happy faces 
 smiling, receive welcome greetings, and hear kind voices 
 speaking. To have all these shut out, to be nailed up 
 in a narrow coffin, to be buried in the dull earth, to 
 moulder amid silence into dust, to be forgotten, and, 
 when fires are cheerily blazing on our own hearth, and 
 songs and laughter by their merry ring tell how broken 
 
THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 295 
 
 hearts are sound again, to think of ourselves lying cold, 
 and lonely, and joyless in the tomb, are not things we 
 love to dwell on. Our Lord himself shrank from 
 death ; he cast himself at his Father’s feet, to cry in an 
 agony, If it be possible let this cup pass from me. And 
 who, unless some unhappy wretch, courts death, wishes 
 to die, to lie down among those naked skulls, and the 
 grim unsocial tenants of the grave ? Faith herself 
 turns away from the thought. Standing on the edge 
 of the grave, she turns her eye upward ; and, leaving 
 the poor body to worms and dust, she wings her flight 
 heavenward, follows the spirit to the realms of bliss, 
 and loves to think of the dead as living ; as not dead ; 
 as standing before the Lamb with crowns of glory, and 
 bending on us looks of love and kindness from their 
 celestial seats. Yes ; death needs all the comforts that 
 religion can summon to our aid. 
 
 Nor has Christ left his people comfortless. By his 
 life, and death, and resurrection, he has fulfilled the 
 high expectations of prophets ; nor, bold as it is, is tho 
 language too lofty which Hosea puts into his mouth, 
 0 death, I will be thy plagues ; 0 grave, I will be thy 
 destruction. The death of Death, the life of the grave 
 and greatest of all its tenants, he has conquered the 
 conqueror of kings ; he has broken the prison, he has 
 bound the jailer, he has seized the keys, and he comes 
 in the fullness of time to set all his imprisoned people 
 free. They are prisoners of hope. He will bring 
 back his banished. He has entered into glory as their 
 forerunner, or, as my text calls hifn, “ the first-born 
 from the dead.” 
 
 Let us consider in what respects Christ is “ the first- 
 born from the dead.” 
 
296 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE HEAD. 
 
 I. He is so in the dignity of his person. He is the 
 greatest who ever entered, or shall ever leave, the 
 gates of death. 
 
 In one of the boldest flights of fancy, Isaiah sets 
 forth the destruction of the Babylonian monarchy. 
 He sees a mighty king descending into the grave, 
 breaking its awful silence. His footsteps disturb the 
 dead ; they raise themselves in their coffins ; and as 
 he enters alone the dark domain of a monarch might- 
 ier than himself, on his ear fall the voices of kings 
 long buried, muttering, Art thou also become as we ? 
 Art thou become like unto us ? When we die we sink 
 into the grave like raindrops into the sea, as snow- 
 flakes alight on the water ; for however man’s death 
 may for a little agitate some living circles, it never 
 stirs the dead. But Jesus Christ being the Lord of 
 glory, the fountain of life, the creator of the sun that 
 darkened over his cross, and of the moon that shed 
 her silver light on his lonely sepulchre, his descent into 
 the tomb was an event which might well be set forth 
 in the prophet’s magnificent imagery. I can fancy all 
 the dead astonished at his coming ; and that, as he 
 enters the domain of the grave, a spirit-voice breaks 
 its silence, saying, “ It is moved for thee to meet thee 
 at thy coming ; it stirreth up the dead for thee, even 
 all the chief ones of the earth ; it hath raised up from 
 their thrones all the kings of the nations. All they 
 shall speak and say unto thee, Art thou also become 
 weak as we ? Att thou become like unto us ?” 
 
 Fancy some great, good, brave, patriotic monarch, 
 bound in chains, and after being ignominiously paraded 
 through the public streets, thrust into the common 
 gaol, to exchange the glory of a palace for the gloom 
 
THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 297 
 
 and shame of a dungeon. IIow would such an event 
 impress the spectators with the mutability of earthly 
 greatness ! And were such a reverse of fortune borne 
 out of love to his subjects, how would it win their 
 admiration, how would it move their love as well as 
 pity! Yet, what were such an event to that which 
 unnoticed by the world, is passing in yonder garden, 
 where by the waning light of day two men and a 
 group of weeping women, amid silence broken only 
 by sobs and soft whispers, are laying a dead body on 
 a hurriedly prepared bed of spices? Nor man’s, nor 
 angel’s eyes, had ever looked on a scene so wonderful. 
 Solomon had said, Will God in very deed dwell with 
 men on the earth ? but what would Solomon have 
 said, had he seen the young child in the manger, 
 still more, had he seen the lonely tenant of that tomb ? 
 Whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain, here a 
 sepulchre holds. Repulsive to the eye as are these 
 skulls and mouldering bones, the grave boasts of having 
 held some nights within its chambers one who, while 
 he honored lowly cottages with his visits, was greater 
 than any whom palaces have opened to receive. The 
 language of the prophet is literally accomplished. 
 The regions of death were moved at Jesus’ coming. 
 Never before, never since, has the opening of these 
 gates awakened those within. They sleep too sound 
 for that. IIow unmoved do parents lie when their 
 children are laid by their side ; the mother never flings 
 her arms about the dear babe that death restores to 
 her bosom ; and to the cry of room, room, the unman- 
 nerly beggar stirs not to make way for a king. They 
 neither revere the good, nor respect the great. They 
 feel no love there ; and, unlike the burst of joy, the 
 rushing into each other’s embrace, the smiles, the tears, 
 13 * 
 
298 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 when the loving and long parted meet again on earth, 
 how cold and dreary the reunions of the grave, these 
 silent meetings of the dead ! 
 
 But Christ’s descent into the tomb roused death 
 from its deepest apathy. That awoke those who are 
 heedless of the shock of earthquakes. The dead were 
 moved at his coming. The graves were opened. The 
 inspired poet’s fancy became a literal fact. And, 
 waiting for him to lead the way, many dead saints 
 left the tomb on the morning of his resurrection ; in 
 them he led captivity captive, and was followed by 
 the strangest train that ever graced the triumph of a 
 returning conqueror. If we should certainly conclude 
 that the jailer has been beaten and bound, when we see 
 the captives pouring from the open prison, how plainly 
 do those yawning tombs, untouched by mortal hand, 
 and these dead men, who return alive to Jerusalem, 
 show that the long reign of death is drawing to a 
 close, and the oldest of earth’s kingdoms tottering to 
 its fall. Their escape plainly proved that death had 
 received from Christ’s hand, what no other hand could 
 deal, a mortal blow. Thus, all the circumstances that 
 signalized alike our Lord’s descent into the tomb and 
 his triumphant resurrection, proclaim him, as with the 
 sound of royal trumpets, the first and greatest of the 
 dead. 
 
 II. Because he rose by his own power. 
 
 There is no sensibility in the dead. The eyelids 
 your fingers have closed open no more to the light of 
 day. The morning raises up all within the house to 
 afresh sense of bereavement : without, it wakens busi- 
 ness, pleasure, the music of skies and groves ; but it 
 wakens not the sleeper in that locked and lonely 
 
THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 299 
 
 chamber, who, once dreading to be left alone, is alike 
 fearless now of darkness and of solitude. 
 
 There is no passion in the dead. The sight of them 
 affects us, not our grief and sorrow them ; as well kiss 
 marble as that icy brow ; our tears will flow, nor does 
 Christ forbid them ; but their hottest gushes thaw not 
 the fountains that death has frozen. 
 
 There is no power in the dead. The cold hand you 
 lift drops ; the poor body lies as it is laid. And, so 
 soon as that last, long sigh is drawn, though the color 
 still lingers on the cheek, and the limbs are not yet 
 stiffened into cold rigidity, they can rise no more than 
 the ashes on the hearth can resume their original form, 
 and change into what once they were, a branch green 
 with leaves, and decked with fragrant blossoms. The 
 dead can do nothing to help themselves. In all cases 
 but Christ’s resurrection, life was not resumed, but 
 restored ; it was given, not taken back. At the grave 
 of Lazarus it proceeded from Christ’s lips, wafted on 
 the air to the ear of death. At the gate of Nain it 
 passed from Christ’s hand, streaming, like the electric 
 fluid, into the body of the widow’s son. And there, 
 where Elisha lies stretched on the Shunammite’s dead 
 boy, his eyes on the child’s eyes, his hands on the 
 child’s hands, his lips on the child’s lips, that prostrate, 
 praying man forms a connecting medium by which life 
 flows out of Him in whom is its fulness, to fill a vessel 
 that death has emptied. And, at the last day, we our- 
 selves shall not awake, but be v r akened, roused from 
 sleep by the trump of God, as, blown by an angel’s 
 breath, it sounds throughout the world, echoing in the 
 deepest caves of ocean, and rending the marble of the 
 tomb. 
 
 Now look at our Lord’s resurrection. He rose in 
 
800 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 the silent night ; no hand at the door, no voice in his 
 ear, no rough touch awaking him. Other watchers 
 than Pilate’s soldiers stood by the sepulchre ; but these 
 angels whom it well became to keep guard at this dead 
 man’s chamber door, beyond opening it, beyond rolling 
 away the stone, beyond looking on with wondering 
 eyes, took no part in the scenes of that eventful morn- 
 ing. The hour sounds ; the appointed time arrives. 
 Having slept out his sleep, Jesus stirs ; he awakes of 
 his own accord ; he rises by his own power ; and 
 arranging, or leaving attending angels to arrange, the 
 linen clothes, he walks out on the dewy ground, be- 
 neath the starry sky, to turn grief into the greatest 
 joy, and hail the breaking of the brightest morn that 
 ever rose on this guilty world. That open empty 
 tomb assures us of a day when ours too shall be as 
 empty. Having raised himself, he has power to raise 
 his people. Panic-stricken soldiers flying the scene, 
 and Mary rising from his blessed feet to haste to the 
 city, to rush through the streets, to burst in among the 
 disciples, and with a voice of joy to cry, He is risen, 
 He is risen ! prove this was no vain brag or boast, 
 “ I lay down my life that I might take it again. No 
 man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. 
 I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take 
 it again.” 
 
 III. Because he is the only one who rose never to 
 die again. 
 
 The child of the Shunammite, the daughter of the 
 ruler, the widow of Nain’s son Lazarus, and all the 
 saints who followed our Lord from the grave, were 
 prisoners on parole. The grave took them bound to 
 return. Dear-bought honors theirs! While Enoch 
 
THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 SOI 
 
 and Elijah never tasted death, these twice drank the 
 bitter cnp ; with one cradle, each had two coffins ; one 
 birth, but two burials ; and thus, that God might be 
 glorified, suffering pains from which obscurer saints 
 have been exempt, they in part fulfilled the noble say- 
 ing of that dauntless martyr, who declared his love 
 for Christ to be such, that if he had as many lives as 
 he had gray hairs on his head, he would lay them all 
 down for him. These honored ones were out on bail. 
 After a while they retraced their steps ; and, now lying 
 in dusty death, they wait the summons of the resurrec- 
 tion. But Jesus waits to summon, not to be summoned. 
 The grave holds them, but heaven holds him. For 
 heaven, as well as hell, was moved at his coming ; and 
 there, saints adoring, angels worshipping at his feet, 
 in the very body which was stretched on the cross and 
 laid in the sepulchre for us, he fills his Father’s throne. 
 The King of kings and Lord of lords is “ He who 
 liveth and was dead.” 
 
 IY. Because he has taken precedence of his people, 
 who are all to rise from their graves to glory. 
 
 It is better for me, if I am a poor man standing in 
 need of royal favors, to have a friend at court than in 
 my own humble cottage ; and it is better for us that 
 Christ is with his Father in heaven than with his peo- 
 ple on earth. It is expedient for you, he said, that I 
 go away. He has gone to prepare a place for us ; and 
 while his Spirit has come down to take care of the 
 business of his church on earth, he looks after and 
 watches over its affairs in heaven. He had work to 
 do which could not otherwise be done. He that keep- 
 eth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. So, after 
 three days’ unbroken rest, he rose to sleep no more, 
 
302 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN - FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 and be the first-born of the dead. Apart from that, 
 precedence was his right. It belonged to him in the 
 very nature of things. The king precedes his train ; 
 the head rises first out of pit or grave, afterwards the 
 body and its members ; the foundation stone is laid 
 first, afterwards the stones of the superstructure ; the 
 elder brother breaks first from a mother’s womb, after- 
 wards the children of whom he is forerunner. 
 
 It is as the prelude of our own resurrection, that 
 Christ’s is to us the object of the greatest satisfaction 
 and joy. In these cast-off grave clothes, in that linen 
 shroud and napkin, there is more to draw our eyes, 
 and fix our interest, and move our admiration, than in 
 the jewelled robes or royal purple of the greatest 
 monarch of earth. That empty tomb, roughly hewn 
 in the rock, is a greater sight than Egypt’s mighty 
 pyramids, or the costliest sepulchres that have received 
 the ashes of the proudest kings. How full of meaning 
 is its very emptiness ! What good news to us in 
 Mary’s disappointment ! What joys flow to us in these 
 women’s tears ! Thanks be to God, they could not 
 find him. He is not there. No, Mary ! they have 
 not taken away your Lord ; no robber has rifled that 
 sacred tomb. See, the dew lies sparkling on the grass, 
 nor feet have brushed it but those of one who has left 
 the grave. He is risen ; and, as the first fruits of them 
 that sleep, as the first ripe sheaf that was offered to 
 the Lord, his resurrection is the pledge and promise of 
 a coming harvest. Henceforth the grave holds but a 
 lease of the saints. Because he rose, we shall rise 
 also. 
 
 Sweeter to our ear than the full chorus of bright 
 skies and greenwood, are the first notes of the warbler 
 that pipes away the winter, and breaks in on its long, 
 
THE FIE ST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 303 
 
 drear silence ! And more welcome to our eye than the 
 flush of summer’s gayest flowers, is the simple snow- 
 drop that hangs its pure white bell above the dead 
 bare ground. And why ? These are the first-born of 
 the year, the forerunners of a crowd to follow. In 
 that group of silver bells that ring in the spring with 
 its joys, and loves, and singing birds, my fancy’s eye 
 sees the naked earth clothed in beauty, the streams, 
 like children let loose, dancing, and laughing, and 
 rejoicing in their freedom, bleak winter gone, and 
 nature’s annual resurrection. And in that solitary 
 simple note, my fancy hears the carol of larks, wild 
 moor, hillside, and woodlands full of song, and ringing 
 all with music. And in Christ, the first-born, I see 
 the grave giving up its dead ; from the depths of the 
 sea, from lonely wilderness and crowded churchyard 
 they come, like the dews of the grass, an innumerable 
 multitude. Risen Lord ! we rejoice in thy resurrec- 
 tion. We hail it as the harbinger and blessed pledge 
 of our own. The first to come forth, thou art the 
 elder brother of a family, whose countless numbers the 
 patriarch saw in the dust of the desert, whose holy 
 beauty he saw shining in the bright stars of heaven. 
 
 The first-born ! This spoils the grave of its horrors, 
 changing the tomb into a capacious womb that death 
 is daily filling with the germs of life. The first fruits ! 
 This explains why men called the churchyard, as once 
 they did, God’s acre. Looking at these grassy mounds 
 in the light of that expression, the eye of faith sees it 
 change into a field sown with the seeds of immortality. 
 Blessed field ! What flowers shall spring there ! What 
 a harvest shall be gathered there ! In the neighbor- 
 ing fields “ whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also 
 reap b ut here how great the difference between what 
 
304 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 is sown amid mourners 7 tears, and what shall be reaped 
 amid angels 7 joys ; between the poor body we restore 
 to the earth, and the noble form that shall spring from 
 its ashes. Who saw the rolling waves stand up a 
 rocky wall ; who saw the water of Cana flow out rich 
 purple wine ; who saw Lazarus’s festering corpse, with 
 health glowing on its cheek, and its arms enfolding 
 sisters ready to faint with joy, saw nothing to match 
 the change the grave shall work on these mouldering 
 bones. Sown in corruption, they shall rise in incorrup- 
 tion, mortal putting on immortality. How beautiful 
 they shall be ! Never more shall hoary time write age 
 on a wrinkled brow. The whole terrible troop of dis- 
 eases cast with sin into hell, the saints shall possess 
 unfading beauty, and enjoy a perpetual youth ; a pure 
 soul shall be mated with a worthy partner in a perfect 
 body, and an angel form shall lodge an angel mind. 
 There shall be no more death, nor sighing, nor sorrow, 
 for there shall be no more sin. 
 
 If we are reconciled to God through Jesus Christ, 
 what reconciling views of death does this open up to 
 us ? Why don’t we think better of death, and oftener 
 of death? No doubt his hand is rough, and his voice 
 is gruff, and, rudely seizing us by the throat, as if he 
 were an officer and we were the prisoners of justice, 
 he has none of the courtly manners of Eleazer when 
 he went to bring his bride home to Isaac ; yet why 
 should those things make us overlook so much the glit- 
 tering crown he brings in his grisly hand, the message 
 he brings us to come away home. We should be much 
 happier if we familiarised our minds with this event, 
 and trained ourselves to think of death more as glory 
 than as death, as our return to our Father and our 
 Father’s house, as going home to be with Jesus and 
 
THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 305 
 
 the saints ; or, if you will have death in, as the death 
 of all sin and sorrow, as the death of Death. To a 
 child of God, what are its pains but the pangs of birth; 
 its battle, but the struggle that precedes the victory ; 
 its tossings but the swell and surf that beats on the 
 shores of eternal life ; its grave but a bed of peaceful 
 rest, where the bodies of saints sleep out the night that 
 shall fly away for ever before the glories of a resurrec- 
 tion morn. I know a churchyard where this is strik- 
 ingly set forth in the rude sculpturing of a burial stone. 
 Beneath an angel figure, that, with outstretched 
 wings and trumpet at the mouth, blows the resurrec- 
 tion, there lies a naked skull. Beneath the angel, and 
 beside this emblem of mortality, two forms stand ; one 
 is the tenant of the grave below, the other it is impos- 
 sible to mistake, it is the skeleton figure of the King 
 of Terrors. His dart lies on the ground broken in 
 two, and the hand that has dropped it is stretched out 
 over the skull, and held in the grasp of the other 
 figure. Enemies reconciled, the man bravely shakes 
 hands with death, and his whole air and bearing show 
 that they are become sworn friends. As if he had just 
 heard Jesus announcing, I am the resurrection and the 
 life, you seem to hear him saying, 0 death where is 
 thy sting, 0 grave where is thy victory ? The sting 
 of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law ; but 
 thanks be to God who giveth me the victory through 
 my Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 We shall rise like Him who, in his own resurrection, 
 and in the church he has redeemed with his own blood, 
 and in the universe he created by his own power, has 
 the preeminence, the unchallenged preeminence. Let 
 him have it in our thoughts, our lives, our hearts. 
 Who but he should have it ? Holy Spirit ! enable us 
 
306 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE HEAD. 
 
 to enthrone in our hearts him whom his Father hath 
 enthroned in the heaven of heavens. Preeminence ! 
 Shall we give it to the world that hated him, to the 
 devil that tempted him, to the sins that crucified him? 
 Gracious God, forbid ! Let Jesus have the preemin- 
 ence ! Help us, Lord, to love thee best, to serve thee 
 first, to follow thee, leaving all to follow thee. If, in 
 one sense, we cannot say, Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee, because there we may have father and mother, 
 brother and sister, and sweet children whom we loved, 
 and love still, and will rejoice again to embrace, we 
 would say, Thou art the chiefest among ten thousand, 
 thou art altogether lovely. If, in one sense, we cannot 
 say, There is none upon earth that I desire beside thee, 
 we would say, there is none on all the earth that I 
 desire before thee, nor deem equal to thee. Blessed 
 Lord, thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love 
 of women. To thee, as the sun of my firmament, may 
 the moon and stars make obeisance ; to thee, as the 
 needle to its pole, may my trembling heart be ever 
 turning ; to thee, as the waters seek the ocean, may 
 my desires be ever flowing. Bend every sheaf to 
 Joseph’s! Jesus, the best be thine, the honor thine, 
 the glory thine, the kingdom thine. The feast to thee, 
 the fragments to others. This ever be my question, 
 not What can I spare from myself for Christ, but 
 What can I spare from Christ for myself? Be thou 
 preferred above my chief joy. In all things have thou 
 the preeminence ! 
 
It pleased the Father, that in Him should all fullness dwell.— 
 Colossians i. 19. 
 
 Our happiness depends in a very small degree upon 
 That is external to us. Its springs lie deep within ; 
 like those waters that, warm in winter and cold in 
 summer, have their fountains bordered with evergreen 
 grass. Yet, how common it is to think otherwise ! 
 Hence the keen pursuit of pleasure, lovers’ sighs, war’s 
 fierce ambition, the student’s patient labor as he feeds 
 his midnight lamp with the oil of life, the panting race 
 for riches, the desperate struggles some make to keep 
 themselves from sinking into poverty, and the toil and 
 trouble others endure, to say nothing of the sins which 
 these may alike commit, to rise in the world, as it is 
 called — to keep a better table, to wear a better dress, 
 to live in a better house than satisfied their humble, 
 but happier parents. These paths, crowded and beaten 
 down though they be by the feet of thousands who are 
 treading on each other’s heels, never yet conducted any 
 man to happiness. Never. It lies in another direc- 
 tion. Whatever be his condition, be he poor or rich, 
 pining on a sick bed or with health glowing on his 
 cheek, to be married or to be hanged to morrow 
 “ Blessed,” or, as we should say, Happy, “ is he whose 
 transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed 
 
 (307) 
 
308 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, 
 and in whose spirit there is no guile.” 
 
 The way to happiness does not lie in attempting to 
 bring our circumstances up to our minds, but our minds 
 down to our circumstances. Many birds wear a finer 
 coat than the lark, nor is there any that dwells in a 
 lowlier home ; yet which of the feathered songsters 
 soars so high, or sings so merrily, or teaches man so 
 well how to leave the day’s cares and labors for the 
 bosom of his family, as when, neither envying the pea- 
 cock his splendid plumage, nor the proud eagle her 
 lofty realm, it drops singing into its grassy nest, to 
 caress its young, and with its wings to shield them 
 from the cold dews of night ? To indulge an unsanc- 
 tified and insatiable ambition, to attempt to bring our 
 circumstances up to our minds, is to fill a sieve with 
 water, or the grave with dead, or the sea with rivers. 
 The passions that in such a case seek gratification, are 
 like that wretched drunkard’s thirst ; they burn the 
 fiercer for indulgence, and crave for more the more 
 they get. It is often difficult, I grant, to bring our 
 minds down to our circumstances, but he attempts not 
 a difficult, but an impossible thing, who attempts to 
 bring his circumstances up to the height of his ambi- 
 tion. Nature, says the old adage, is contented with 
 little, grace with less, lust with nothing. And ours be 
 the happiness of him who, content with less than little, 
 pleased with whatever pleases the Father, careful for 
 nothing, thankful for anything, prayerful in everything, 
 can say with Paul, I have learned, in whatsoever state 
 I am, therewith to be content. 
 
 Before directing your attention to the fullness that 
 is in Christ, let me embrace the opportunity which the 
 expression offers of exhorting you. 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 309 
 
 I. To be pleased with whatever pleases God. 
 
 I have read of an Italian who had learned that diffi- 
 cult lesson so well, that all who witnessed his magnani- 
 mity, under the most adverse fortunes, stood astonished. 
 He recalled to men’s minds the grand saying of an old 
 heathen, that a good man struggling with adversity 
 was a sight for the gods to look at. It was not that 
 his natural temper was too sweet to be soured or too 
 phlegmatic to be moved ; nor was it that, like a cold- 
 blooded animal, he did not feel the iron when it entered 
 his soul. No. He felt it keenly, and bore it bravely ; 
 and the secret of his tranquil, heroic patience lay in 
 these four things. First, he said, I look within me, 
 then without me, afterwards beneath me, and last of 
 all, I look above me. 
 
 First, he looked within him ; and what saw he 
 there? Corruption, guilt, so much unworthiness, as 
 led him to conclude that he deserved no good thing at 
 the hand of God ; and that, therefore, whatever bles- 
 sings his calamities had left to him, were more than he 
 had any right to expect. We write our blessings on 
 the water, but our afflictions on the rock. Those are 
 forgot, these are remembered ; and yet, if we turn 
 away our eyes from our trials, and look back on our 
 lives and in upon our hearts, how would that check 
 each rising rebellious murmur ? Gratitude would 
 temper our grief ; and though we might continue to 
 mourn, we should say with David, I will sing of mercy 
 and judgment ? 
 
 Next, he looked without him, and there he saw, what 
 you all may see, many more severely tried than him- 
 self ; thousands in point of merit not more uinvorthy, 
 yet in point of circumstances much more unhappy. 
 
310 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 Would it not help to clear away the vapours, and 
 rebuke the discontent, and improve the temper of some 
 grumblers among us, were they now and then to visit 
 the sad abodes of wretchedness and poverty ? It 
 would certainly teach them how thankful they ought 
 to be that they are not as many are, and how thankful 
 many would be to be as they are. Have I not seen 
 many a poor wretch in this w^orld who would gladly 
 change places with those of you that are most weary 
 of your burdens, and almost weary of your life. How 
 has it reconciled us to the discomforts of a cold, blus- 
 tering storm on land, to think of the poor seamen who 
 were tossing on the deep in dread of shipwreck, or 
 hanging on by the shrouds, or whelmed in the ocean, 
 their last prayer washed from their lips, their cries for 
 help drowned in the roar of breakers. When we lay 
 stretched on a bed of sickness, with kind faces around 
 us, angels, as it were, ministering to our wants, it has 
 helped to reconcile us to the weary pillow to think of 
 them who, far from home, lay bleeding on the battle- 
 field, none near to raise their drooping head, or to 
 answer their dying cry of “ water, water ! ?; And when 
 death, unwelcome visitor, entered our home, ah ! the 
 one coffin felt less heavy, when, looking on sweet ones 
 left, we thought of dwellings that the spoiler had, or 
 had all but desolated. Such a thought has calmed the 
 troubled breast, and said to murmuring passions, Peace, 
 be still. It is with its potent spell that in this humble 
 cottage a pious peasant approaches a mother who, 
 wringing her hands, hangs in wild, frantic, terrible 
 grief, over the body of her dead babe ; by the wild- 
 ness of her passion, as a vehement wind beats down the 
 sea, calming the grief of others. Laying her hand 
 kindly on her shoulder, she says, with eyes full of tears, 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 811 
 
 and a voice trembling with emotion, “ Hush, Mary , 
 you have but one pair of empty little shoes to look on. 
 Be you thankful. I have six of them.” And, when 
 most severely tried, and all God’s billows seem to be 
 going over us, besides feeling that we are visited with 
 far less than our iniquities deserve, we have only to 
 look abroad to see that our afflictions are fewer than 
 those which many others suffer. 
 
 He looked next beneath him. And there, to his 
 fancy’s eye, lay his grave : a green grassy mound, six 
 feet of earth ! How foolish it seemed to repine over 
 the loss of broad lands, when so small a portion of this 
 earth was all he soon would need, and all, though 
 stretched out at his full length, he could occupy ! That 
 man blunts the keen edge of misfortune, who meets its 
 stroke with the thought, that when it does its worst, it 
 cannot strip him so bare as death shall the most pros- 
 perous and envied of men ? Adversity, at the worst, 
 but takes time by the forelock, and, by a few brief 
 years, anticipates the hand of the greatest spoiler, in- 
 exorable death. W e came into the world naked infants, 
 and we shall go out of it as naked. We brought noth 
 ing into this world, and it is certain we can carry 
 nothing out. The men of fortune shall not carry 
 away a penny of their gains, nor the men of fame so 
 much as one leaf of their laurel crowns. When life’s 
 play in all its acts is over, and the curtain drops, and 
 the lights are put out, and the stage is deserted, its 
 kings, queens, priests, soldiers, peasants, statesmen, 
 dropping their distinctive characters, must all return 
 to one common level. There is one event to all. And 
 let us remember that it shall be witli us as with those 
 actors on the stage whom men applaud, not because 
 of the parts they play, but of the way in which they 
 
312 
 
 THE FULLNESS, 
 
 play them. Well done from God, well done from 
 Christ, well done from the tongues of ten thousand 
 angels, shall crown the life of a good servant, but not 
 the life of a bad sovereign. God has no respect for 
 persons, but will reward every man, not according to 
 his place, but according to the way he filled it. He 
 shall reward every man according to his work. 
 
 He looked last of all above him, and saw his home 
 in heaven. And how should that glorious prospect 
 sustain us under our severest trials ! To that refuge 
 our thoughts may always fly ; and as there is no pit so 
 deep but it has that opening over head, though it may 
 be dark below and all around, it is always bright above 
 us. Let the world reel and shake, let banks break, let 
 sudden changes whelm affluence into the lowest depths 
 of poverty, let convulsion succeed convulsion, till the 
 stateliest fabrics and firmest fortunes are hurled into 
 the dust, how blessed at such a time to know that 
 heaven is sure. No tempests sweep its sea of glass. 
 Up there it is calm when it is stormy here ; up there 
 it is clear when it is cloudy here ; up there it is day 
 when it is darkness here ; nor are those realms of bliss 
 any more affected by the events of earth, than are the 
 stars of the firmament by the earthquakes that shake 
 our world, or the thunders that shake our skies. By 
 considerations like these, we should strengthen our 
 minds, and give them that firmness of texture which 
 shall preserve us from devouring cares, as solid, close- 
 grained oak is preserved from those insects that eat 
 out the heart of softer woods. Let God give his 
 blessing to such thoughts, and they will enable a Chris- 
 tian man to meet evil as the mountain crag looks out 
 on the approaching storm. 
 
 Yet the Italian’s explanation of his equanimity under 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 313 
 
 afflictions to which all of us are exposed, and against 
 which, therefore, we do well to be fortified, does not 
 bring out the grandest secret of a calm, resigned, 
 happy spirit ; the secret of a patriarch’s unparalleled 
 patience and of a prophet’s dauntless courage. That 
 lies not so much in looking within, or looking without, 
 in dropping our eye on the grave, or raising it to the 
 crown, as in looking to God. The brightest light that 
 falls on our trials issues from his throne. That changed 
 the whole aspect of Job’s afflictions, and hence, his 
 well-known exclamation, The Lord gave, and the Lord 
 hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord. 
 And what also but a sight of God inspired the courage 
 with which the prophet eyed the approach of misfor- 
 tune, defying it as a man on a rock defies the swelling 
 billows of an angry sea. “ Although the fig tree shall 
 not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the 
 labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield 
 no meat ; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and 
 there shall be no herd in the stalls : yet I will rejoice 
 in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” 
 Extravagant as that may sound in the ears of some, 
 it is the language of a calm, sober, solid faith. For 
 what in reason should hinder him who sees in God a 
 Father, and believes that all events proceed from his 
 hand, and are managed by his wisdom, and are prompted 
 by his love, from kissing the rod, and saying, Father, 
 not my will, but thine be done ; from taking the cup 
 and draining it to the bitterest dregs. We have per- 
 fect confidence in his wisdom and in his love ; and we 
 only do him the justice which we would expect from 
 our own children when we believe that he doth not 
 afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men, nor 
 ever chastens but in love. His was a noble saying 
 14 
 
314 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 who, when his crops were rotting in flooded fields, and 
 ruin stared him from the scowling heavens, and other 
 men cursed the weather, on being asked his reason for 
 Shying that it pleased him, replied, It pleases God to 
 send it, and whatever pleases him pleases me. That 
 sounds like an echo of the old prophet’s voice ; and 
 we are ready to envy a man whose faith could triumph 
 over such great misfortunes. Yet why should we not 
 lie as calmly in the arms of God’s providence as we 
 lay in infancy on a mother’s breast ? Having an ever- 
 living, an everlasting, an ever-loving father in God, 
 how may we welcome all providences ; and, drawing 
 some good from every evil, as the bee extracts honey 
 even from poisoned flowers, hbw may we say, “ Our 
 light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for 
 us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory !” 
 Sweetly submissive to the will of God, shall it not fare 
 with us as w T ith the pliant reeds that love the hollows 
 and fringe the margin of the lake, and bending to the 
 blast, not resisting it, raise their heads anew, unharmed 
 by the storm that has snapped the mountain pine, and 
 rent the hearts of oak asunder ? The joy of the Lord 
 is our strength. 
 
 Let us now consider that which, while it pleased 
 God, will certainly please all his people, 
 
 II. The fullness that is in Christ. 
 
 Within the palace, but without the throne-room of 
 Shushan, Queen Esther stands. They who enter the 
 king’s presence unsummoned do it at the peril of their 
 life ; and resolved in a good cause to dare the penalty, 
 she stands there with her jewelled foot upon the grave. 
 A noble spectacle ! not so much for her unrivalled 
 beauty, still less for the splendour of her apparel, a a 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 816 
 
 for the resolution to venture life, and either save her 
 nation or perish in the attempt. In her blooming 
 youth, in the admiration of the court, in the affections 
 of her husband, in her lofty rank, in her queenly hon- 
 ours, she has everything to make life attractive. Hers 
 is a golden cup ; and it is foaming of pleasures to the 
 brim. But her mind is made up to die ; and so, with 
 a silent prayer, and “ if I perish, I perish,” on her lips, 
 she passes in, and now stands mute and pallid, yet calm 
 and resolute outside the ring of nobles, to hear her 
 doom. Nor has she to endure the agony of a long sus- 
 pense. Her fate, which seems to tremble in the balance, 
 is soon determined. No sooner does the monarch 
 catch sight of the beautiful woman, and brave and good 
 as beautiful, whom he had raised from slavery to share 
 his bed and throne, than her apprehensions vanish. 
 The clouds break ; and she finds, as we often do with 
 Christ, that her fears have wronged her Lord. In- 
 stantly his hand stretches out the golden sceptre ; the 
 business of the court is stopped ; the queen, the queen ! 
 divides the crowd of nobles ; and up that brilliant 
 lane she walks in majesty and in charms that outvie 
 her gems, to hear the blessed words, What wilt thou, 
 Queen Esther ? and what is thy request ? it shall be 
 even given thee to the half of the kingdom. 
 
 What wilt thou, Queen Esther ? is but an echo of 
 the voice which faith catches from the lips of Jesus ; 
 and the whole scene presents but a dim, imperfect image 
 of that which heaven presents when the gate rolls open, 
 and angels and archangels making way for him, a be- 
 liever enters with his petitions. Was that beautiful 
 woman once a slave ? So was he. In her royal mar- 
 riage was lowliness allied to majesty ? So it is in his 
 union by faith with Jesus Christ. And as to her royal 
 
316 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 apparel, the diadem, the cloth of gold bedecked with 
 sparkling gems, in which her maids have attired their 
 mistress, why, in the righteousness that clothes, and 
 the graces of the Spirit that adorn him, the believer 
 wears a robe, which wins the admiration, not of men’s, 
 but angels’ eyes, and shines even amid the glories of 
 a city whose gates are made of pearls, and whose 
 streets are paved with gold. To the half of his king- 
 dom, the Persian promised whatever his queen might 
 ask ; and generous, right-royal as was his offer, it helps 
 us by its very meanness, as a molehill at the foot of a 
 mountain, as a taper’s feeble, yellow flame held up 
 against the blazing sun, to form some estimate of the 
 boundless grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Half his 
 kingdom ! He offers nothing by halves. His promise 
 is illimitable. All mine is thine. Confining his gen- 
 erosity neither to kingdoms, nor continents, nor worlds, 
 nor heaven itself, he lays the whole universe at a poor 
 sinner’s feet. Away then with fears and cares ! There 
 is nothing we need that we shall not get, nothing we 
 can ask that we shall not receive. It pleased the 
 Father that in him should all fullness dwell. Trans- 
 ferring divine wealth, if I may so speak, to our account 
 in the bank of heaven, and giving us an unlimited 
 credit there, Jesus says, All things, whatsoever ye ask 
 in prayer believing, ye shall receive. 
 
 In regard to Christ’s fullness, I remark — 
 
 1. That there is all fullness of mercy to pardon in 
 him. 
 
 Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to 
 send forth a stinking savor, so, says Solomon, doth a 
 little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and 
 honor. Such great mischief can little things do. One 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 317 
 
 small leak will sink the biggest ship that ever sailed 
 the ocean ; one bad link in the chain she rides by, and 
 parting from her anchor, she is hurled on the horrid 
 reef or driven before the fury of the tempest ; and even 
 one little wedge left carelessly on the slips arrests her 
 progress when the signal is given, and eager crowds 
 are waiting to cheer the launch, and the bosom of the 
 sea is swelling to receive her into its arms. And had 
 there the smallest doubt expressed in the Bible about 
 the fullness of pardoning mercy, had it not been made 
 clear as noon-day that the blood of Christ cleanseth 
 from all sin, from sins as well of the deepest as of the 
 lightest dye, what a stumbling-block would that have 
 been ! I believe that it would have arrested the steps 
 of thousands now happy in Christ, or now safe in 
 heaven, as they went to throw themselves at his feet 
 and cry, Lord, save us, we perish. 
 
 But there is no such doubt. A herald of the cross, 
 I stand here in my master’s name to proclaim a uni- 
 versal amnesty. When the last gun is fired, and par- 
 don is proclaimed in reconquered provinces, is it not 
 always marked by some notable exceptions ? When 
 the sword of war is sheathed, the sword of justice is 
 drawn, only to be returned to the scabbard after it is 
 filled with blood. Men say that they need not look 
 for mercy in the hour of retribution, who wreaked 
 ruthless vengeance on helpless women, nor had pity on 
 sweet tender babes. But from the pardon of redeem- 
 ing mercy there are none excepted, unless those, who, 
 by refusing to accept it, except themselves. Are you 
 unjust ? Christ Jesus died, the just for the unjust. 
 Are you sinners ? He came not to call the righteous, 
 but sinners to repentance. Are you the vilest of the 
 vile ? He never lifted his foot, when he was on this 
 
318 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 earth, to spurn the guiltiest away. He pitied whom 
 others spurned ; he received whom others rejected ; he 
 loved whom others loathed. Let the vilest, meanest, 
 most wretched outcasts, know that they have a friend 
 in him. A mother’s door may be shut against them, 
 but not his. It was his glory then, and it is his glory 
 still, to be reproached as the friend of sinners. He 
 faced contumely to save them ; he endured death to 
 save them. And be you groaning under a load of 
 cares or guilt, of sins or sorrows, kind and gracious 
 Lord! he says, Come unto me all ye that labor and 
 are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 
 
 John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, “which also 
 leaned on his breast at supper,” and lingered by his 
 cross, and was entrusted with the care of his mother, 
 and more than any of the others enjoyed his master’s 
 intimacy and knew his mind, says, not as one who 
 balances his language, and carefully selects his words, 
 lest he should compromise and commit his master too 
 far, “ If any man sin, we have an advocate with the 
 Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous adding, “and he 
 is the propitiation for our sins ; and not for ours only, 
 but also for the sins of the whole world.” The whole 
 world ! ah ! some would say, that is dangerous lan- 
 guage. It is God’s language. It binds a zone of 
 mercy around the world, and perish the hand that 
 would narrow it by a hair’s breadth. Beneath his 
 grace in Christ, as beneath that ample sky, there is 
 room enough for all the men and women in the wide 
 world. None shall be damned but they who damn 
 themselves. What were it but to make God a liar, 
 should we doubt that our sins can be pardoned, ay, 
 and shall be pardoned, if we seek their forgiveness ? 
 Within its widest shores the vast ocean has its bounds, 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 319 
 
 and so lias the far-travelling snn within his orbit ; but 
 this pardon is confined within no limits of time, or age, 
 or guilt, or class, or character, and is clogged with no 
 conditions but that you accept it. 
 
 One might fancy that now all are certain to be saved. 
 Who will not accept of it? Offer a starving man 
 bread, he will take it ; offer a poor man money, he will 
 take it ; offer a sick man health, he will take it ; offer 
 an ambitious man honor, he will take it ; offer a life- 
 boat in the wreck, a pardon at the gallows, oh ! how 
 gladly lie will take them. Salvation, which is the one 
 thing needful, is the only tiling man will not accept. 
 He will stoop to pick up a piece of gold out of the 
 mire, but he will not rise out of the mire to receive a 
 crown from heaven. What folly ! What infatuation ! 
 May God by his Spirit empty our hearts of pride, and 
 take away the heart of unbelief ! Vain here is the help 
 of man. Arise, 0 Lord, and plead the cause that is thine 
 own. Break the spell of sin, and help us to say with 
 the man of old, Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief! 
 
 2. There is all fullness of grace to sanctify in Christ. 
 
 “ My leanness ! my leanness ! 77 is a lamentation which 
 
 God 2 * * * * 7 s people, as well as the old prophet, have often 
 used in mourning over their spiritual condition. It 
 may be very low, very sad ; presenting the contrast of 
 a soul famished, and a body luxuriously fed ; increase 
 of earthly, but a diminution of sacred joys ; at the 
 year 7 s end more money in the bank, but less grace in 
 the heart ; the tide of worldly fame flowing, and the 
 
 tide of God 7 s favor ebbing ; gardens, and orchards, and 
 woodlands, and the fields of nature, green, gay, and 
 
 beautiful, but barrenness of soul within ; graces wither- 
 
 ing, prayers dull, faith weak, love cold, desires feeble, 
 
320 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 spiritual appetite failing ; much to alarm the saint, and 
 send him to his knees crying, My soul cleaveth to the 
 dust, quicken thou me according to thy word. 
 
 But why is it, why should it be so ? Why burns the 
 virgins 7 lamp with such a flickering flame ? Why runs 
 the stream of grace so small, shrunk to the size of a 
 summer brook ? Why are the best of us no better, no 
 holier, no happier, than we are ? Hath God forgotten 
 to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his tender 
 mercies ? No. The supplies are not exhausted, nor is 
 the fountain empty ; nor is our Father fallen into 
 poverty, that his children are so scantily supplied, and 
 have to go about meanly begging a share of the world’s 
 enjoyments. It is easy to know why many poor chil- 
 dren in this city come to have misery stamped on their 
 young faces, and look as if they had never smiled in 
 this world, nor found this world smiling on them ; a 
 tyrant rules at home, harsh, stern, cruel, forbidding. 
 Hapless creatures, they wander shoeless and shivering 
 on our frosty streets, and with hunger in their hollow 
 cheeks, and beggary hung on their backs, they hold out 
 their skinny hands for charity ; their father is poor, or 
 dead, or, worse than dead, the base slave of a most 
 damning vice, a drunkard, from whose imperious voice 
 they fly, whose reeling step they tremble to hear. But 
 what have God’s children to do with unhappy looks ? 
 
 God is love. Fury is not in me, saith the Lord. 
 With him is fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore. 
 What do you wish or want ? Go tell it to your Father. 
 They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing. 
 Can he who justified not sanctify? Can he who en- 
 listed us under his holy banner not provide munitions 
 of war enough to secure, though there may be a hard 
 fight for it, the final victory ? Can he who led the 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 321 
 
 march out of Egypt not beat down our foes, and con- 
 duct our triumphant way through a thousand dangers 
 and over a thousand difficulties on to the promised 
 land ? Oh, yes ; there is all efficiency and sufficiency 
 in Jesus Christ to crown the work of grace, and to 
 complete what he has begun. There is his Holy Spirit 
 to sanctify you ; there are stores of grace which, like 
 the widow’s barrel that grew no emptier for all the 
 meals it furnished, will appear the fuller the more you 
 draw on them. As with an arch, the grace of God 
 stands the firmer, the more weight you lay on it ; its 
 sufficiency, at least, will be the more evident ; the more 
 clearly you will see the truth of the promise, My grace 
 is sufficient for thee. With the well ever full and ever 
 flowing, our vessels need never be empty. Whether, 
 therefore, you want more faith, more purity of heart 
 or peace of mind, more light or love, a humbler or a 
 holier spirit, a calmer or a tenderer conscience, a live- 
 lier sense of Christ’s excellences or of your own un- 
 worthiness, more tears for Christ’s feet or more honors 
 for his head, fear not to draw, to hope, to ask, too 
 much. No earthly fortune will stand daily visits to 
 the bank, but this will. You may ask too little, you 
 cannot ask too much ; you may go too seldom, you 
 cannot go too often, to the throne ; for in Jesus dwell- 
 eth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. 
 
 III. There is a constant supply of pardoning and 
 sanctifying grace in Christ. 
 
 It pleased the Father that in him should all fullness 
 dwell ; dwell, not come and go, like a wayfaring man 
 who tarrieth but a night, who is with us to-day, and 
 away to-morrow ; not like the shallow, noisy, treach- 
 erous brook that fails, when most needed, in heat ot 
 14 * 
 
322 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 summer, but like this deep-seated spring, that rising 
 silently though affluently at the mountain’s foot, and 
 having unseen communication with its exhaustless sup- 
 plies, is ever flowing over its grassy margin, equally 
 unaffected by the long droughts that dry the wells, and 
 the frosts that pave the neighboring lake with ice. 
 So fail the joys of earth ; so flow, supplied by the full- 
 ness that is in Christ, the pleasures and the peace of 
 piety. It cannot be otherwise. If a man love me, 
 says Jesus, he will keep my words ; and my Father 
 will love him, and we will come unto him, and make 
 our abode with him. 
 
 I have read how, in the burning desert, the skeletons 
 of unhappy travellers, all withered and white, are found, 
 not only on the way to the fountain, but lying grim 
 and ghastly on its banks, with their skulls stretched 
 over its very margin. Panting, faint, their tongue 
 cleaving to the roof of their mouth, ready ^to fill a 
 cup with gold for its fill of water, they press on to 
 the well, steering their course by the tall palms that 
 stand full of hope above the glaring sands. Already, 
 in fond anticipation, they drink where others had been 
 saved. They reach it. Alas ! sad sight for the dim 
 eyes of fainting men, the well is dry. With stony 
 horror in their looks, how they gaze into the empty 
 basin, or fight with man and beast for some muddy 
 drops that but exasperate their thirst. The desert 
 reels around them. Hope expires. Some cursing, 
 some praying, they sink, and themselves expire. And 
 by and by the sky darkens, lightnings flash, loud 
 thunders roll, the rain pours down, and, fed by the 
 showers, the treacherous waters rise to play in mockery 
 with long fair tresses, and kiss the pale lips of death. 
 
 But yonder, wfflere the cross stands up high to mark 
 
THE FULLNESS. 
 
 323 
 
 the fountain of the Saviour’s blood, and heaven’s sanc- 
 tifying grace, no dead souls lie. Once a Golgotha, 
 Calvary has ceased to be a place of skulls. Where 
 men went once to die, they go now to live ; and to 
 none that ever went there to seek pardon, and peace, 
 and holiness, did God ever say, Seek ye me in vain. 
 There are times when the peace of God’s people, al- 
 ways like a river, is like one in flood, overflowing its 
 margin, and rolling its mighty current between bank 
 and brae. There are times when the righteousness of 
 God’s people, always like the waves of the sea, seems 
 like the tide at the stream, as, swelling beyond its 
 ordinary bounds, it floats the boats and ships that lie 
 highest, driest on the beach. But at all times and 
 seasons, faith and prayer find fullness of mercy to par- 
 don, and of grace to sanctify, in Jesus Christ. The 
 supply is inexhaustible. 
 
 Mountains have been exhausted of their gold, mines 
 of their diamonds, and the depths of ocean of their 
 pearly gems. The demand has emptied the supply. 
 Over once busy scenes, silence and solitude now reign ; 
 the caverns ring no longer to the miner’s hammer, nor 
 is the song of the pearl-fisher heard upon the deep. 
 But the riches of grace are inexhaustible. All that 
 have gone before us have not made them less, and we 
 shall make them no less to those who follow us. When 
 they have supplied the wants of unborn millions, the 
 last of Adam’s race, that lonely man, over whose head 
 the sun is dying, beneath whose feet the earth is reel- 
 ing, shall stand by as full a fountain as this day in- 
 vites you to drink and live, to wash and be clean. 
 
 I have found it an interesting thing to stand on the 
 edge of a noble rolling river, and to think, that 
 although it has been flowing on for six thousand years, 
 
824 
 
 THE FULLNESS. 
 
 watering the fields, and slaking the thirst of a hundred 
 generations, it shows no sign of waste or want ; and 
 when I have watched the rise of the sun, as he shot 
 above the crest of the mountain, or in a sky draped 
 with golden curtains, sprang up from his ocean bed, I 
 lia^e wondered to think that he has melted the snows 
 of so many winters, and renewed the verdure of so 
 many springs, and painted the flowers of so many sum- 
 mers, and ripened the golden harvests of so many 
 autumns, and yet shines as brilliant as ever, his eye not 
 dim, nor his natural strength abated, nor his floods of 
 light less full for centuries of boundless profusion. 
 Yet what are these but images of the fullness that is 
 in Christ ? Let that feed your hopes, and cheer your 
 hearts, and brighten your faith, and send you away 
 this day happy and rejoicing. For, when judgment 
 flames have licked up that flowing stream, and the 
 light of that glorious sun shall be quenched in dark- 
 ness or veiled in the smoke of a burning world, the 
 fullness that is in Christ shall flow on throughout eter- 
 nity in the bliss of the redeemed. Blessed Saviour, 
 Image of God, divine Redeemer ! in thy presence is 
 fullness of joy ; at thy right hand there are pleasures 
 for evermore. What thou hast gone to heaven to pre- 
 pare, may we be called up at death to enjoy ! 
 
And, haying made peace through the blood of his cross, by him to 
 reconcile all things unto himself. — C olossians i. 20. 
 
 The salutations that pass between man and man 
 differ in different countries. Boaz, for example, goes 
 out to see his reapers. The field is flashing with sick- 
 les ; the tall corn is falling to the sweep of young 
 men’s arms, and to maidens’ songs ; and gleaning on 
 behind them come widows, and orphans, and little 
 children, all made welcome to share the bounties of 
 providence and the fullness of a good man’s cup. A 
 busy, joyous, crowded harvest-field, where brown labor 
 piles her healthful task in a bright autumn day, is one 
 of the most pleasant scenes a man can look on ; though 
 now-a-days wc not only miss the gleaners, but also 
 that kindly, pious intercourse between master and 
 servants which lent a peculiar charm to Bethlehem’s 
 harvests. Boaz moves on from band to band, and, as 
 each stops to do him reverence, he says, The Lord be 
 with you, and, meet reply to such pious and courteous 
 language, they answer, The Lord bless thee. Without 
 undervaluing the progress which the world has made 
 since then, in arts and science, in wealth and the more 
 general diffusion of the pleasures and comforts of life, 
 surely it has not been all gain. It is difficult to look 
 
 ( 325 ) 
 
326 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 back without some regret on those happy days when 
 children played, and no ragged orphans pined, in the 
 streets, when manners were simple, and people were 
 guileless, and the rich were kind to the poor, and the 
 poor did not scowl upon the rich, and nobody was 
 trodden on or neglected, and no wide yawning gulf 
 separated the highest from the lowest classes of the 
 community. 
 
 The ordinary salutation of the East, however, was 
 one of peace. It is so still. Seated on his fiery steed 
 and armed to the teeth, the Bedouin careers along the 
 desert. Catching, away in the haze of the burning 
 sands, a form similarly mounted and similarly armed 
 approaching him, he is instantly on the alert ; for life 
 is a precarious possession among these wild sons of free- 
 dom. His long spear drops to the level ; and grasping 
 it in his sinewy hand he presses forward, till the black 
 eyes that glance out from the folds of his shawl recog- 
 nise in the stranger one of a friendly tribe, between 
 whom and him there is no quarrel, no question of 
 blood to settle. So, for the sun is hot, and it is far to 
 their tents, like two ships in mid-ocean, they pass ; 
 they pull no reign, but sweep on, with a “ Salem 
 Aleikum,” Peace be unto you. Like their flowing 
 attire, the black tents of Kedar, the torch procession 
 at their marriages, this salutation is one of the many 
 stereotyped habits of the East. Throughout the Holy 
 Land and the neighboring countries, the modern trav- 
 eller hears the old salutation, fresh and unchanged, as 
 if it were but yesterday that David was a fugitive in 
 the wilderness of Paran, and sent this message to that 
 rude, surly, niggard churl, with whom Abigail, “ a 
 woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful 
 countenance,” was unhappily mated, Peace be both to 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 327 
 
 thee, and peace be to thine house, and peace be unto 
 all that thou hast. 
 
 Beautiful as this custom is, like the fragrant wall- 
 flower that springs from the mouldering ruin it adorns, 
 it sprung from an unhappy condition of society. Why 
 peace ? Because frequent wars, sudden interruptions 
 of hostile tribes, made the people of these lands sigh 
 for peace. Hence their habit of expressing their 
 kindly feelings to each other in the wish that they 
 might have peace ; a blessing which many had not, 
 and which they who had might not long enjoy. War 
 does not take us unawares. We see the black storm- 
 cloud gathering before it bursts ; and by prudent 
 policy we may avert it, or, if it be inevitable, prepare 
 bravely to meet it. But this course of humanity, this 
 dreadful scourge fell on the villages and cities of these 
 countries with the suddenness of the sea-squall that 
 strikes the ship, and, ere time is found to reef a sail 
 or lower a boat, throws her on her beam-ends, and 
 sends her, crew and cargo, foundering into the deep. 
 Look at the case of Job ; camels, cattle, sheep and 
 servants gone, he is reduced in one short day from 
 affluence to the most abject poverty. One morning 
 the sun rises in peace on Abraham's tents ; and ere 
 noon or nightfall they are ringing with cries to the 
 rescue ; in wild confusion children are crying, women 
 are weeping, and men are arming ; there is hot haste 
 to mount and away ; and, with two hundred retainers 
 at his back, Abraham scours the country, raising it as 
 he goes, to deliver Lot and his family from the hand 
 of the spoilers. Three days ago, David and his fol- 
 lowers left Ziklag, sweet peace brooding over the quiet 
 scene ; and where is Ziklag on their return ? They 
 come back, but not to happy homes ; they are silent, a 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 328 
 
 mass of smoking ruins ; no wife hastens to embrace 
 her husband, no child runs to climb its father’s knee ; 
 the red-handed spoiler has been there ; their mountain 
 nest has been harried ; and, appalled at the desolation, 
 these stout-hearted men burst into frantic grief, weep- 
 ing till, as the Bible says, they can weep no more. 
 Looking at these scenes, it is easy to understand how 
 the most kind and common greeting in such countries 
 was Peace be unto you. 
 
 Though the practice would ill accord with our con- 
 ventional manners, that have often more of art than of 
 nature, I think, considering the day, the place, the pur- 
 pose of the assembly, it were a beautiful and appro- 
 priate thing, when ministers and people meet in the 
 house of God, to meet after the manner of Boaz and 
 his people ; the minister, on appearing in the pulpit, 
 saying The Lord be with you, and the people respond- 
 ing The Lord bless thee. Our vine and fig- tree are 
 good laws, a free government, a home around which 
 the sea throws her protecting arms, and a stout people 
 who fear God and honor the king. Thus preserved 
 from the fears of those countries, we have not learned 
 their fashions. Yet when we ransack these sunny 
 lands for gay flowers to adorn our gardens, why should 
 we not transplant some of their beautiful habits ? 
 While others introduce offensive novelties into the 
 pulpit, as if the gospel required such wretched aids, he 
 would follow the footsteps, and give utterance to the 
 spirit of Jesus, who, boldly breaking the ice of our 
 cold customs, should meet his people on the morning 
 of the blessed Sabbath with his master’s salutation, 
 Peace be unto you. 
 
 With these words our Lord, on returning from the 
 grave, accosted his disciples. Nor on his lips were 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 329 
 
 lliey mere words of course, the ordinary courtesies of 
 life. How well did they suit the occasion ! The bat- 
 tle of salvation has been fought out, and a great vic- 
 tory won ; and in that salutation Jesus, his own herald, 
 announces the news to an anxious church. Passing 
 into that upper room which holds it, passing through 
 the barred and bolted door which protects it, he sud- 
 denly appears among them. He has fulfilled the 
 anthem with which angels sang his advent, and ushered 
 him into this distracted, guilty world. Though he 
 had to recal herffrom heaven, where she had fled in 
 alarm at the Fall, or, rather, had to seek her in the 
 gloomy retreats of death, he brings back sweet holy 
 Peace to earth. And hastening to tell them the good 
 news, the glad tidings of great joy, he proclaims it in 
 the words, Peace be unto you. He shows them his 
 hands, with the nail-marks there ; he uncovers his side 
 with the spear-scar there ; and when the disciples are 
 gazing through streaming eyes on these affecting love- 
 tokens, his heart swells, fills, overflows with tender- 
 ness, and, as if he could never tire of saying it, nor 
 they of hearing it, he bends over them to say again 
 and again, Peace be unto you. 
 
 Suppose that, instead of descending, like dews, in 
 those gracious but silent and unseen influences of the 
 Spirit, that people should pray for and preachers should 
 trust to, our Lord were to come in person, appear in a 
 visible form, and reveal his glory to every eye, how 
 would he address us ? I believe that he would bring 
 from heaven the very salutation which he brought from 
 the grave. As he looked around on those he had pur- 
 chased with his blood, and renewed by his grace, I can 
 fancy him breaking the deep silence, and stilling the 
 heart-throbbings, and dissipating the sudden terrors 
 
S30 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 which a vision might produce, with the old gracious 
 words, Peace be unto you. And what a load would 
 that take off some hearts ; what a calm, like his voice 
 on Galilee, would it impart to some troubled minds ; 
 what a gracious answer would it bring to some earnest 
 prayers ! To hear his own voice, however, to behold 
 his blessed face, to be assured of forgiveness from his 
 own lips, these are joys reserved for heaven. Yet 
 with strong, though childlike faith in exercise, the next 
 best thing is to be assured, as we are assured in my 
 text, that peace has been made, and that God, for the 
 purpose of reconciling us to himself, has made it 
 through the blood of Christ’s cross. 
 
 I. The text implies that by nature man is at enmity 
 with God. 
 
 So says the apostle Paul. Nor is it possible to lay 
 down that doctrine more clearly or more strongly than 
 he does in these remarkable words, “ The carnal mind 
 is enmity against God.” He does not say that it is in 
 a state of enmity. Not at all ; for states and frames 
 may undergo change, and are variable as wind or 
 weather. As God is love, so the carnal mind is enmi- 
 ty ; this being so much the nature, essence, element of 
 its existence, that if you took away the enmity, it 
 would cease to be ; enmity being the breath of its life, 
 the very marrow of its bones. From such a view of 
 the heart, from so hideous a picture some start back ; 
 they hesitate to believe it, while others plainly, indig- 
 nantly deny it.\|Pointing us to a beautiful, sweet, 
 angel-like child, as with open brow and unclouded face, 
 it bends at a mother’s knee, and, lifting its little hands 
 to heaven, repeats from her gentle lips its evening 
 prayer, they ask who can fancy that creature to be 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 331 
 
 enmity against God ? True. But who would fancy, 
 as it twines its arms around a mother’s neck, and kisses 
 her, and sings itself asleep on her loving bosom, that 
 the day can ever come when it will stab that bosom, 
 and these little hands will plant wrongs sharper than 
 a dagger in her bleeding heart? Yet that happens. 
 And many things else happen that you would never 
 fancy. The purple bells of the nightshade change 
 into poisonous berries ; the cold, dull flint sends out 
 sparks of burning fire ; the viper that lay quiet in the 
 “ bundle of sticks ” is aroused by the heat, and leaps 
 from the flames to fasten on an apostle’s hand. 
 
 Sins, like seeds, lie dormant till circumstances call 
 them into active existence. Aware of that, Satan 
 knew right well what he was saying when, in reply to 
 God’s praise of his servant Job, he said with a sneer, 
 “ Both Job fear God for nought? Hast thou not made 
 an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all 
 that he hath on every side ? thou hast blessed the work 
 of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land. 
 But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he 
 hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.” And so 
 the good man had done, but for restraining grace. 
 What a burst of pent-up passion, like the lie v ‘y erup- 
 tion of a volcano, breaks the seven days’ awful 
 silence, “ Let the day perish wherein I was born, and 
 the night in which it was said, There is a man child con- 
 ceived ; let that day be darkness. Why died I not 
 from the womb? Why did the knees prevent me? 
 Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and 
 life unto the bitter in soul ; which long for death, but 
 it cometh not ; and dig for it more than for hid trea- 
 sures ; which rejoice exceedingly and are glad when 
 they can find the grave?” Here Job curses the day 
 
332 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 that he was born ; and he who curses God’s provi* 
 dence has to take but another step, and he curses God 
 himself. But that a divine arm had borne his burden, 
 but that a divine hand curbed his passions, that woman, 
 raging like a bear bereaved of her whelps, would have 
 had no occasion to reproach him for his tame submis- 
 sion. No. He had vented curses, if not as loud, per- 
 haps, like the river where it flows sullen and black, 
 more deep than hers ; and, standing side by side over 
 a grave big with bodies and with griefs, they had 
 raised their hands together against the heavens, and 
 flung back their life at him who had embittered it. 
 But for the grace of God Job had been no pattern of 
 patience. And let the grace, which both sustained 
 and restrained him, be withdrawn from any of us, and 
 our natural enmity and corruption would break out 
 after such a fashion as would astonish ourselves, shock 
 the ears of the public, and lead many to hold up their 
 hands to exclaim, Lord, what is man ! 
 
 This enmity is a doctrine into which the believer 
 does not need to be reasoned. He feels it. He reads 
 its evidence elsewhere than in the Bible ; he reads it 
 in his own heart. He, who knows himself, knows it. 
 Breaking out like old sores, the sins of heart, and 
 speech, and conduct, by which it makes itself manifest, 
 are his daily pain, and fear, and grief. Other soldiers 
 have easy times of peace, when swords rust idly in 
 their sheaths, and the trumpet sounds but for parade. 
 Not he. There is never a day but he has to fight this 
 enmity to the holy will and sovereign ways of God. 
 His life is a long battle and a hard battle ; and, like a 
 soldier tired of war, though true to his colors, he often 
 wishes that it were over, as, overcome of evil, and 
 vexed with himself, he throws himself on his knees to 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 333 
 
 cry, Create in me a clean heart, 0 God, and renew a 
 right spirit within me, Be merciful unto me, 0 God, 
 be merciful unto me, Purge me with hyssop, and I shall 
 be clean ; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 
 
 This enmity is a thing, whose existence is taken for 
 granted in the language of my text ; for what need 
 can there be to make peace between God and man if 
 they are friends already ? Does not the making peace 
 between two nations imply that they had been stand- 
 ing to each other in the relation of antagonists, not 
 of allies? Not friends required to be reconciled, but 
 foes. When, with tabard and trumpet, royal heralds 
 proclaim the peace, and cannon roar, and church-bells 
 ring, and bonfires blaze, and bright illuminations turn 
 night into day, in that darkened house, where the 
 shouts of the crowd fall heavy on a widow’s heart, 
 who clasps her children in her arms, or where a father 
 and mother are weeping over a bloody lock of their 
 soldier boy’s hair, they know too well that war went 
 before the peace, a tempest of blood and carnage be- 
 fore that dear-bought calm. When, therefore, my text 
 says that peace was made, it implies that, though un- 
 equal antagonists, more unequally matched than if a 
 presumptuous worm, which I could crush with one 
 stamp of my foot, should raise itself up to bar my path 
 and to contend with me, God and man stood face to 
 face, front to front, in opposition the one to the other. 
 I pray the sinner to think of his madness in contend- 
 ing with God. The issue is not doubtful yonder, 
 where the chaff and the whirlwind meet, or the blast 
 and the autumn leaves meet, or the potsherd and the 
 potter meet ; where the unmasted, rudderless wreck 
 meets the mountain-billow that lifts her up, and whirls 
 her crashing on the reef, around which next moment 
 
334 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 there float but some broken timbers. Nor is it doubt- 
 ful here. Throw down, I pray you, the weapons of 
 your rebellion ; down on your knees ; yield yourselves 
 to the love of Christ ; kiss the Son, lest he be angry 
 and ye perish from the way ; for, who has an arm like 
 God, or who can thunder with a voice like his ? Let 
 the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth, 
 but woe to the man that striveth with his Maker. 
 
 Animated by fierce despair, man would fight on, and 
 fight it out to the last. If God is only set before me 
 in the attitude and act of cursing, I believe I should 
 curse back again. Such is our nature ; and he is as 
 ignorant of philosophy as of the gospel, who expects 
 to conquer my enmity by the terrors of the law, or by 
 any other argument than the love of God. But does 
 God appear as reciprocating our enmity, as the enemy 
 of man ? No ; not even when he condemns him. To 
 suppose so were a great mistake, were to do base 
 wrong to a gracious God. I know that some have 
 painted him in dark, and gloomy, and repulsive colors, 
 imputing to the Supreme Being their own vengeful 
 and malignant passions ; but that terrible spectre, who 
 has a better claim than Death to be called the King of 
 Terrors, is not the God of the Bible, is not the Father 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, is not He in whose name I 
 call on the sinner to come to the throne of grace, and 
 throw himself with confidence at the feet of mercy. 
 I cannot deny that God condemns, but I deny that he 
 ever condemns willingly. He does not hate the sinner, 
 though he hates his sins. He loves him ; he loves you. 
 And if that judge is not considered the enemy of the 
 pale, guilty, trembling wretch, on whose doomed, sunken 
 head, with a voice choked by emotion, and eyes drop- 
 ping tears that leave no stain on the judge’s ermine, 
 
THE RECONCILER 
 
 835 
 
 reluctant he pronounces the terrible sentence of death, 
 is God to be considered the enemy even of him whom, 
 after years of long suffering, he condemns to perdition ? 
 No. He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked. 
 The man who is damned has been his own enemy. 
 And should such, wdiich God forbid, be your awful 
 fate, I warn you that it will be the bitterest thought 
 of hell, that God sought to be reconciled to you and 
 you madly refused. Give me a voice loud enough to 
 reach the ends of the earth, and I would raise it to 
 proclaim that God is not willing that any man in that 
 wide world should perish, but that all should come to 
 him and live. Do men perish? Hear the reason, Ye 
 will not come to me that ye might have life. Would 
 you be saved ? listen to these gracious words, Him that 
 cometli to me, I will in no wise cast out, If any man 
 thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. 
 
 II. God desires to be reconciled to his enemies. 
 
 He did me wrong ; if there are faults on both sides, 
 he was the first in the transgression ; therefore, if we 
 are to be reconciled, he, not I, must be the first to make 
 advances ! Such, if you ever undertook the too often 
 thankless, and sometimes perilous office of a mediator 
 between friends whom differences had estranged, you 
 know to be the law which man lays down. Man stands 
 upon his dignity. He talks loftily of his honour, and 
 what he calls justice to himself and the interests of so- 
 ciety. The injured says of the injurer, and each gene- 
 rally thinks not himself but the other such, He is to 
 come to me, I am not to go to him. Indignant at the 
 proposal of anything that wounds his pride, he spurns 
 it away, asking, Am I to stand at his door in the humble 
 attitude of a suppliant, to appear as if I were the 
 
336 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 injurer, not the injured? You may tell him that he 
 who conquers himself, wins the victory ; you may tell 
 him, that he who ruleth his own spirit is greater than 
 he who taketh a city ; you may tell him that it is noble 
 to make the first advances. No, he says, I wall not 
 meet him even half way ; let him come and acknowl- 
 edge his offence ; I will not refuse my hand, but he 
 must ask it ; I am willing to bury the quarrel, but he 
 must dig the grave. 
 
 Strange terms for those to insist on who know the 
 grace of God, and how our own great debts are for- 
 given ! If God had so dealt with us, we should have 
 gone to hell, every one of us. Yet such are commonly 
 the lowest, easiest terms on which man agrees to treat 
 with man. And I have known a mother sternly refuse 
 to grant a daughter the forgiveness she asked even on 
 her knees. Come with me into that woman’s cottage 
 when she has received her summons to a bar, where she 
 herself, as well as all of us, will need forgiveness. 
 Her last hour is come ; and though in the dim light 
 of a candle which we hold to her face, it looks firm 
 and stern even in a dying hour, w^e think surely she 
 will relent now, and afford some hope, however faint, 
 that the spirit that forgives goes to be forgiven. Put- 
 ting kind neighbours aside, I bend over that ghastly 
 form, and in the awful presence of death, put her to 
 the trial. There is no relenting. It is no time for 
 speaking smooth things ; a soul is at stake ; and in 
 half an hour she will be in hell or heaven. She has 
 been plainly told, that unless she forgives, she cannot 
 be forgiven. Jesus hanging for sinners on the cross, 
 and praying, Father, forgive them, for they know not 
 what they do ; God entreating the guilty to return 
 to his bosom, and stooping in love over his bit* 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 337 
 
 terest enemies, these are set before her, but in vain. 
 The tree falls as it leans, as well as lies as it falls. 
 God may forgive, not she. And, when sent away, as 
 it were, by a voice saying, She is joined to her idols, 
 let her alone, I left these horrors, and stepping out 
 into the calm night, raised my eyes to the spangled 
 sky, how pleasant it was to think of the contrast between 
 our father there and that iron mother, and how natural 
 it was to exclaim with David, Let me fall into the 
 hand of the Lord ; for his mercies are great ; and let 
 me not fall into the hand of man. Many a star studded 
 the nightfe dark vault, but I thought none looked so 
 bright and beautiful as the blessed promise, Can a 
 woman forget her sucking child, that she should not 
 have compassion on the son of her womb ? Yea, they 
 may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have 
 graven thee upon the palms of my hands. 
 
 My ways are not as your ways, neither are my thoughts 
 as your thoughts, saith the Lord. How strikingly and 
 blessedly is that illustrated in the peace restored 
 between God and man ! Who is the first to seek recon- 
 ciliation here ? Does God stand upon his dignity, his 
 honour, the justice of the case ? If ever any might, it 
 was He. But did the great God sit aloft on his impe- 
 rial throne, surrounded by holy angels, saying, Let 
 these sinners come to me ; the offence was theirs, and 
 the humiliation must be all their own ? No. He takes 
 the humiliation to himself, and might be supposed to 
 be the injurer, not the injured. Veiling his majesty, 
 and leaving heaven to seek our door, he stands there, 
 knocks there, waits there ; nay, with an infinite kind- 
 ness and condescension, he goes down, as it were, on 
 his knees, beseeching us, as if it were a favour done to 
 him, to be reconciled , “Now then we are ambassa- 
 15 
 
338 
 
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 dors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us : 
 we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.” 
 How hard are your hearts, if ye can resist such love ! 
 
 Some talk as if we were saved just because Christ 
 paid our debt, representing God’s share in the transac- 
 tion as little else than that of a severe, stern, unrelent- 
 ing creditor, who takes no interest in his imprisoned 
 debtor beyond letting him out when the surety has 
 taken up the bond. Is this true ? Is it fair to God ? 
 True ? It is utterly false. Salvation flows from a 
 higher source than Calvary. It has its fountain, not 
 in the cross of the incarnate Son, but in the bosom of 
 the eternal Father. These hoar hills with their time- 
 furrowed brows, that ocean which bears on its face no 
 mark of age, those morning stars which sang together 
 when our world was born, these old heavens, are not 
 so old as the love of God. It dates from eternity. 
 Eternal ages before the Law was given, or broken, or 
 satisfied, he loved us. The central truth of the Bible, 
 that on which I lay the greatest stress and rest my 
 strongest hopes, is this, that God does not love us 
 because Christ died for us, but that Christ died for us 
 because God loved us. I do not disparage the work 
 of Christ ; far be such a thought from me. Yet Christ 
 himself is the gift of divine love, the divine expression 
 of our Father’s desire to be reconciled. The Lord of 
 angels hanging on a mother’s bosom, the Creator of 
 heaven and earth bending to a humble task, the judge 
 of all standing accused in the place of common felons, 
 the Son of his Father’s love nailed amid derision to 
 an ignominious cross, death rudely seizing him, the 
 dark grave receiving him, we owe to the love of God. 
 God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten 
 Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not per- 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 339 
 
 ish, but have everlasting life. What love do we owe 
 him who so loved us ! 
 
 III. To make our peace with God, Jesus Christ laid 
 down his life. 
 
 I have seen one who had roughly reckoned up the 
 cost of the gems, the rubies, pearls, emeralds, diamonds, 
 that studded the golden arches of an earthly crown, 
 stand astonished at its value. And yet, in point either 
 of cost or brilliancy, what is that to the crown any ran- 
 somed beggar or saved harlot wears in heaven ? Im- 
 perial diadems are nothing to the crown of glory. In 
 the sanctuary balances a saint weighs heavier than a 
 sovereign. And there is more value in the crown of a 
 redeemed infant, one of these little ones, than in all the 
 glory of all the holy angels. A word made them. 
 He said, and it was done ; heaven was full of them. 
 But to make a saint, he who never left his throne to 
 make or save an angel, descended on our world in the 
 form of a servant, and, more amazing still, hung dead 
 on a cross in the form of a sinner. The price of our 
 pardon was nothing less than what the apostle calls the 
 blood of God. He was made sin for us who knew no 
 sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in 
 him. To restore peace, and open up a way of reconcilia- 
 tion, to save us from the perdition of that bottomless 
 pit, Jesus took our sins upon him, and poured out his 
 soul unto death. 
 
 An ancient historian tells us that, at the siege of 
 Babylon, Darius condemned to the cross three thou- 
 sand captives. Another relates how, when Alexander 
 inflicted long-threatened vengeance on Tyre, he cruci- 
 fied two thousand prisoners, and that crosses stood on 
 her bloody shores thicker than ship masts in her 
 
340 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 crowded harbor. And when the Roman let fly his 
 eagles against Jerusalem, Titus, measuring out to the 
 Jews the measure they had meted to Jesus, gave them 
 crosses enough, “ good measure, pressed -down and 
 shaken together, and running over.” A spectator of 
 the scenes, the dreadful, tragic scenes, amid which Ju- 
 dah’s sun set in blood for ever, tells that wood was 
 wanting for crosses, and crosses were wanting for 
 bodies. Yet had Babylon’s, Tyre’s, Jerusalem’s, all 
 these crosses been raised to save you, and on each cross 
 of that forest, not a man, but a dying angel hung, had 
 all heaven been crucified, here is greater love, a greater 
 spectacle. God commendeth his love towards us, in 
 that, wdiile we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 
 
 Purchasing our peace at such a price, God has done 
 more for you and me than for all the universe besides. 
 Creator of earth and heaven, he threw suns from his 
 hand like sparks shot from the fire, and, as a potter 
 turns off clay vessels from his wheel, he fashioned the 
 worlds, and sent them away spinning in their orbits ; 
 but here is a greater work. If Nehemiah’s words were 
 ever specially appropriate to any lips, it was to those 
 that maintained unbroken silence amid the taunts and 
 insults of the cross. "When they cried, If thou be the 
 Son of God, come down from the cross, I do not know 
 that our Lord so much as felt the insult, that in that 
 hour it troubled him. It might be but a pebble flung 
 into a storm-tossed ocean, adding nothing to the tur- 
 moil, nor so much as felt amid the roar and swell of 
 breakers. It might be but the st;ng of a miserable in- 
 sect on the cheek of one who bestrides in battle a fallen 
 friend, his shield ringing with blows, and his flashing 
 blade sweeping down the foe around him. It might be 
 but a feather added to that mountain burden of sin and 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 341 
 
 wrath beneath which Christ’s great soul was bowing ; 
 yet, had it pleased our dying Lord to answer the taunt, 
 I can fancy him bending from the cross to say, “ I am 
 doing a great work so that I cannot come down ; ” I 
 have a world to save, therefore I cannot save myself ; 
 without shedding of blood is no remission. Poor scof- 
 fer ! no cross for me, no crown for thee. 
 
 Well may we say with Moses, I will turn aside, and 
 see this great sight. What spectacle so wonderful, so 
 affecting ? Behold, how he loved us ! Around that 
 cross let faith fling her eager, joyful arms. Embrace it. 
 Oh ! clasp it with more than a lover’s ardor ; in life 
 and death, cling to it like a drowning man, whom the 
 waves cannot tear from his hold. 
 
 In making our peace with God, Christ had a great 
 work to do. It is finished ; and ours, like his, closes 
 not save with life. We may sometimes think of an 
 aged Christian as one seated on the bank of Jordan in 
 the serene evening of a holy life, waiting the summons, 
 looking back on the world without a regret, and for- 
 ward into eternity without the shadow of a fear. We 
 fancy him, by the eye of faith, piercing the thick mists 
 that hang over death’s dark flood, and as he descries 
 the “shining ones” walking on the other shore, we 
 fancy him stretching out his eager arms and crying* 
 “ Oh, that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly 
 away and be at rest ! ” But the picture is more beau- 
 tiful than true. In working out their salvation with 
 fear and trembling, in carrying forward, through the 
 help of the Holy Spirit, the work of sanctification, 
 God’s people will feel the need of watching and work- 
 ing to the very end. The corn shakes when it is ripe ; 
 the fruit drops when it is mellow ; the Christian dies 
 when his work is done. I see him, as a soldier, dying 
 
342 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 in harness, fighting on to the very last gasp ; as a 
 servant, he may be found, up to the very hour of his 
 Master's coming, putting the house in order. Though 
 the more work done now, the less there is to do at a 
 less suitable time, it occasionally happens that the 
 death-bed of the believer is the scene of his hardest 
 fight, and of Satan's fiercest temptations. Nowhere 
 has the roaring of the lion sounded more dreadful than 
 in the valley of the shadow of death. And it is some- 
 times with sin as with the monster of the deep, when 
 to the cry, “ Stern all," the men who have buried their 
 lances in its ample sides, seize the oars, and pull rapidly 
 out of the sweep of that tremendous tail that beats the 
 ocean till it sounds afar, and churns the blood-stained 
 waves into crimson foam. Men of undoubted piety 
 have found sin's dying to be sin's hardest struggles. 
 It happens with the kingdom of heaven as with a city 
 the violent take by force ; the hardest fighting may be 
 in the breach, the battle may rage fiercest where the 
 city is entered, and just when the prize is to be won. 
 
 We can leave the cares of our death to God ; our 
 business is with present duty. Our work is not finished, 
 while with some of us it may be little more than begun. 
 And I may address the most advanced and aged Chris- 
 tian, in God's words to Joshua, Thou art old and well 
 stricken in years, and yet there is much land to be pos- 
 sessed. Sin has still more or less power over you, 
 and it should have none ; your corruptions have suf- 
 fered a mortal wound, but they are not dead ; your 
 affections rise upward to heaven, yet how much are 
 they held back by the things earth ; though your heart 
 turns to Christ, like the compass needle to the pole, 
 how easily is it disturbed, how tremblingly it points to 
 him ; your spirit has wings, yet how short are its 
 
THE RECONCILER. 
 
 843 
 
 flights, and how often, like a half-fledged eaglet has 
 it to return to its nest on the Rock of Ages ; your 
 soul is a garden where Christ delights to walk when 
 the north and south winds blow, to exhale its spices, 
 yet with many lovely flowers, how many vile weeds 
 grow there. With a great work to do, and little time 
 to do it, and that little most uncertain, there is much 
 need to work, the Spirit aiding, heaven helping us. 
 Work, work while it is called to-day, looking for your 
 rest in heaven. Oh, how far short is our holiness of 
 the holiness of heaven. So much imperfection, so 
 many infirmities cleave to the best of us, that I some- 
 times think that a change must take place at the mo- 
 ment of death second only to that at the moment of 
 conversion. There is much sin to be cast off, like a 
 slough, with this mortal flesh. Saw we the spirit at 
 its departure, as Elisha saw his ascending master, we 
 might see a mantle of infirmity and imperfection 
 dropped from the chariot that bears it in triumph to 
 the skies. I have thought that there must be a mys- 
 terious work done by the Spirit of God in the very 
 hour of death to form the glorious crown and cope- 
 stone of all his other labors ; and that, like the won- 
 drous but lovely plant which blows at midnight, grace 
 comes out in its perfect beauty amid the darkness of 
 the dying hour. How that is done I do not know. 
 It takes one whole summer to ripen the fields of corn, 
 and five hundred years to bring the oak to its full 
 maturity. But He at whose almighty word this earth 
 sprung at once into perfect being, with loaded orchards, 
 and golden harvests, and clustering vines, and stately 
 palms, and giant cedars, man in ripened manhood, and 
 woman in her full-blown charms, is able in the twink- 
 ling of an eye, ere our fingers have closed the filmy 
 
344 
 
 THE RECONCILER. 
 
 orbs, or we have stooped to print one fond last kiss ou 
 the marble brow, to crown the work his grace began. 
 With him one day is as a thousand years, and a thorn 
 sand years are as one day. He shall perfect that 
 which concern eth you. He shall bring forth the head- 
 stone thereof, with shoutings, crying, Grace, grace 
 unto it. Now, THEREFORE, UNTO HlM THAT IS ABLE TO 
 KEEP YOU FROM FALLING, AND TO PRESENT YOU FAULT- 
 LESS BEFORE THE PRESENCE OF HlS GLORY WITH EXCEED- 
 ING JOY, TO THE ONLY WISE GOD OUR Sa YIOUR, BE GLORY 
 AND MAJESTY, DOMINION AND POWER, BOTn NOW AND 
 
 ever, Amen. 
 
 THE END. 
 
*