“As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness” Psalm 17:15
IT would be difficult to say to which the gospel owes most, to its friends or
to its enemies. It is true, that by the help of God, its friends have done
much for it; they have preached it in foreign lands, they have dared death,
they have laughed to scorn the terrors of the grave, they have ventured all
things for Christ, and so have glorified the doctrine they believed; but the
enemies of Christ, unwittingly, have done no little, for when they have
persecuted Christ’s servants, they have scattered them abroad, so that they
have gone everywhere preaching the Word; yea, when they have trampled
upon the gospel, like a certain herb we read of in medicine, it hath grown
all the faster: and if we refer to the pages of sacred writ how very many
precious portions of it do we owe, under God, to the enemies of the cross
of Christ! Jesus Christ would never have preached many of his discourses
had not his foes compelled him to answer them; had they not brought
objections, we should not have heard the sweet sentences in which he
replied. So with the book of Psalms: had not David been sorely tried by
enemies, had not the foemen shot their arrows at him, had they not
attempted to malign and blast his character, had they not deeply distressed
him, and made him cry out in misery, we should have missed many of those
precious experimental utterances we here find, much of that holy song
which he penned after his deliverance, and very much of that glorious
statement of his trust in the infallible God. We should have lost all this, had
it not been wrung from him by the iron hand of anguish. Had it not been
for David’s enemies, he would not have penned his Psalms; but when
hunted like a partridge on the mountains, when driven like the timid roe
before the hunter’s dogs, he waited for awhile, bathed his sides in the
brooks of Siloa, and panting on the hill-top a little, he breathed the air of
heaven and stood and rested his weary limbs.
Then was it that he gave
honor to God, then he shouted aloud to that mighty Jehovah, who for him
had gotten the victory. This sentence follows a description of the great
troubles which the wicked bring upon the righteous, wherein he consoles
himself with the hope of future bliss.; As for me,” says the patriarch,
casting his eyes aloft; As for me,” said the hunted chieftain of the caves of
Engedi — “As for me,” says the once shepherd boy, who was soon to wear
a royal diadem — “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness, I
shall be satisfied, when I awake with thy likeness.”
In looking at this passage tonight, we shall notice first of all, the spirit of
it secondly, the matter of it; and then, thirdly, we shall close by speaking of
the contrast which is implied in it.
I. First, then, the SPIRIT OF THIS UTTERANCE, for I always love to look at
the spirit in which a man writes, or the spirit in which he preaches; in fact,
there is vastly more in that than in the words he uses.
Now, what should you think is the spirit of these words? “As for me, I will
behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with
thy likeness.” First, they breathe the spirit of a man entirely free from envy. Notice, that the Psalmist has been speaking of the wicked. “They are inclosed in their own fat: with their mouth they speak proudly.” “They are full of children, and leave the rest of their substance to their babes.” But David envies them not. “Go,” says he, “rich man, in all thy riches – go, proud man, in all thy pride – go, thou happy man, with thine abundance of children; I envy thee not; as for me, my lot is different: I can look on you without desiring to have your possessions. I can well keep that commandment, ‘Thou shalt not covet,’ for in your possessions there is nothing worth my love; I set no value upon your earthly treasures; I envy you not your heaps of glittering dust; for my Redeemer is mine.” The man is above envy, because he thinks that the joy would be no joy to him – that the portion would not suit his disposition. Therefore, he turns his eye heavenward, and says, “As for me I shall behold thy face in righteousness.”
Oh! beloved, it is a happy thing to
be free from envy. Envy is a curse which blighteth creation; and even
Eden’s garden itself would have become defaced, and no longer fair, if the
wind of envy could have blown on it, envy tarnisheth the gold; envy
dimmeth the silver; should envy breathe on the hot sun, it would quench it;
should she cast her evil eye on the moon, it would be turned into blood,
and the stars would fly astonished at her. Envy is accursed of heaven; yea,
it is Satan’s first-born-the vilest of vices. Give a man riches, but let him
have envy, and there is the worm at the root of the fair tree; give him
happiness, and if he envies another’s lot, what would have been happiness
becomes his misery, because it is not so great as that of some one else. But
give me freedom from envy; let me be content with what God has given
me, let me say, “Ye may have yours, I will not envy you -I am satisfied with
mine,” yea, give me such a love to my fellow creatures that I can rejoice in
their joy, and the more they have the more glad I am of it. My candle will
burn no less brightly because theirs outshines it. I can rejoice in their
prosperity. Then am I happy, for all around tends to make me blissful,
when I can rejoice in the joys of others, and make their gladness my own.
Envy! oh! may God deliver us from it! But how, in truth, can we get rid of
it so well as by believing that ye have something that is not on earth, but in
heaven? If we can look upon all the things in the world and say, “As for
me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied by-and-bye!”
then we cannot envy other men, because their lot would not be adapted to
our peculiar taste. Doth the ox envy the lion! Nay, for it cannot feed upon
the carcase. Doth the dove grieve because the raven can gloat itself on
carrion? Nay, for it lives on other food. Will the eagle envy the wren his
tiny nest? Oh, no! So the Christian will mount aloft as the eagle, spreading
his broad wings, he will fly up to his eyrie amongst the stars, where God
hath made him his nest, saying, “As for me, I will dwell here; I look upon
the low places of this earth with contempt. I envy not your greatness, ye
mighty emperors; I desire not your fame, ye mighty warriors; I ask not for
wealth, O Croesus; I beg not for thy power, O Caesar; as for me, I have
something else, my portion is the Lord.” The text breathes the spirit of a
man free from envy. May God give that to us!
Then, secondly, you can see that there is about it the air of a man who is
looking into the future. Read the passage thoroughly, and you will see that
it all has relation to the future, because it says, “As for me, I shall.” It has
nothing to do with the present: it does not say, “As for me I do, or I am,
so-and-so,” but “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall
be satisfied, when I awake.” The Psalmist looks beyond the grave into
another world; he overlooks the narrow death-bed where he has to sleep,
and he says, “When I awake.” How happy is that man who has an eye to
the future; even in worldly things we esteem that man who looks beyond
the present day, he who spends all his money as it comes in will soon bring
himself to rags. He who lives on the present is a fool; but wise men are
content to look after future things.
When Milton penned his book he might
know, perhaps, that he should have little fame in his lifetime; but he said, “I
shall be honored when my head shall sleep in the grave.” Thus have other
worthies been content to tarry until time has broken the earthen pitcher,
and suffered the lamp to blaze; as for honor, they said, “We will leave that
to the future, for that fame which comes late is often most enduring,” and
they lived upon the “shall “and fed upon the future. “I shall be satisfied”
by-and-bye. So says the Christian. I ask no royal pomp or fame now; I am
prepared to wait, I have an interest in reversion; I want not a pitiful estate
here I will tarry till I get my domains in heaven, those broad and beautiful
domains that God has provided for them that love him. Well content will I
be to fold my arms and sit me down in the cottage, for I shall have a
mansion of God, “a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”
Do any of you know what it is to live on the future – to live on expectation to
live on what you are to have in the next world – to feast yourselves with
some of the droppings of the tree of life that fall from heaven – to live upon
the manna of expectation which falls in the wilderness, and to drink that
stream of nectar which gushes from the throne of God? Have you ever
gone to the great Niagara of hope, and drank the spray with ravishing
delight; for the very spray of heaven is glory to one’s soul! Have you ever
lived on the future, and said, “As for me I shall have somewhat, by-and-bye?”
Why, this is the highest motive that can actuate a man. I suppose this
was what made Luther so bold, when he stood before his great audience of
kings and lords, and said, “I stand by the truth that I have written, and will
so stand by it till I die; so help me God!” Me thinks he must have said, “I
shall be satisfied by-and-bye. I am not satisfied now, but I shall be soon.”
For this the missionary ventures the stormy sea; for this he treads the
barbarous shore; for this he goes into inhospitable climes, and risks his life,
because he knows there is a payment to come by-and-bye. I sometimes
laughingly tell my friends when I receive a favor from them, that I cannot
return it, but set it up to my Master in heaven, for they shall be satisfied
when they awake in his likeness. There are many things that we may never
hope to be rewarded for here, but that shall be remembered before the
throne hereafter, not of debt, but of grace. Like a poor minister I heard of,
who, walking to a rustic chapel to preach, was met by a clergyman who
had a far richer berth. He asked the poor man what he expected to have for
his preaching. “Well,” he said, “I expect to have a crown.” “Ah!” said the
clergyman, “I have not been in the habit of preaching for less than a guinea,
anyhow.” “Oh!” said the other, “I am obliged to be content with a crown,
and what is more, I do not have my crown now, but I have to wait for that
in the future.” The clergyman little thought that he meant the “crown of life
that fadeth not away!” Christian! live on the future; seek nothing here, but
expect that thou shalt shine when thou shalt come in the likeness of Jesus,
with him to be admired, and to kneel before his face adoringly.
The Psalmist had an eye to the future.
And again, upon this point, you can see that David, at the time he wrote
this, was full of faith. The text is fragrant with confidence. “As for me,”
says David, no perhaps about it. “I will behold thy face in righteousness; I
shall be satisfied when I awake up in thy likeness.” If some men should say
so now, they would be called fanatics, and it would be considered
presumption for any man to say, “I will behold thy face, I shall be
satisfied;” and I think there are many now in this world who think it is quite
impossible for a man to say to a certainty, “I know, I am sure, I am
certain.” But, beloved, there are not one or two, but there are thousands
and thousands of God’s people alive in this world who can say with an
assured confidence, no more doubting of it than of their very existence, “I
will behold thy face in righteousness. I shall be satisfied, when I awake in
thy likeness.” It is possible, though perhaps not very easy, to attain to that
high and eminent position wherein we can say no longer do I hope, but I
know; no longer do I trust, but I am persuaded; I have a happy confidence;
I am sure of it; I an certain; for God has so manifested himself to me that
now it is no longer “if” and “perhaps” but it is positive, eternal, “shall.” “I
shall be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness.” How many are there here
of that sort? Oh! if ye are talking like that, ye must expect to have trouble,
for God never gives strong faith without fiery trial; he will never give a
man the power to say that “shall” without trying him; he will not build a
strong ship without subjecting it to very mighty storms; he will not make
you a mighty warrior, if he does not intend to try your skill in battle. God’s
swords must be used; the old Toledo blades of heaven must be smitten
against the armor of the evil one, and yet they shall not break, for they are
of true Jerusalem metal, which shall never snap.
Oh! what a happy thing to
have that faith to say “I shall.” Some of you think it quite impossible, I
know; but it “is the gift of God,” and whosoever asks it shall obtain it: and
the very chief of sinners now present in this place may yet be able to say
long before he comes to die, “I shall behold thy face in righteousness.”
Methinks I see the aged Christian. He has been very poor. He is in a garret
where the stars look between the tiles. There is his bed. His clothes ragged
and torn. There are a few sticks on the hearth: they are the last he has. He
is sitting up in his chair; his paralytic hand quivers and shakes, and he is
evidently near his end. His last meal was eaten yester-noon; and as you
stand and look at him, poor, weak, and feeble, who would desire his lot?
But ask him, “Old man, wouldst thou change thy garret for Caesar’s
palace? Aged Christian, wouldst thou give up these rags for wealth, and
cease to love thy God?” See how indignation burns in his eyes at once! He
replies,” ‘As for me, I shall,’ within a few more days, ‘behold his face in
righteousness; I shall be satisfied soon; here I never shall be. Trouble has
been my lot, and trial has been my portion, but I have ‘a house not made
with hands, eternal in the heavens.’” Bid high; bid him fair; offer him your
hands full of gold; lay all down for him to give up his Christ. “Give up
Christ?” he will say, “no, never!”
“While my faith can keep her hold,
I envy not the miser’s gold.”
Oh! what a glorious thing to be full of faith, and to have the confidence of
assurance, so as to say, “I will behold thy face; I shall be satisfied when I
awake with thy likeness.” Thus much concerning the spirit of David. It is one very much to be copied and eminently to be desired.
II. But now, secondly, THE MATTER OF THIS PASSAGE. And here we will
dive into the very depths of it, God helping us; for without the Spirit of
God I feel I am utterly unable to speak to you. I have not those gifts and
talents which qualify men to speak; I need an afflatus from no high,
otherwise I stand like other men and have nought to say. May that be given
me; for without it I am dumb. As for the matter of this verse, methinks it
contains a double blessing. The first is a beholding — “I will behold thy
face in righteousness,” and the next is a satisfaction — “I shall be satisfied
when I awake with thy likeness.”
Let us begin with the first, then. David expected that he should behold
God’s face. What a vision will that be, my brethren! Have you ever seen
God’s hand? I have seen it, when sometimes he places it across the sky,
and darkens it with clouds. I have seen God’s hand sometimes, when the
ears of night drag along the shades of darkness. I have seen his hand when,
launching the thunder-bolt, his lightning splits the clouds and rends the
heavens. Perhaps ye have seen it in a gentler fashion, when it pours out the
water and sends it rippling along in rills, and then rolls into rivers. Ye have
seen it in the stormy ocean – in the sky decked with stars, in the earth
gemmed with flowers; and there is not a man living who can know all the
wonders of God’s hand. His creation is so wondrous that it would take
more than a lifetime to understand it. Go into the depths of it, let its
minute parts engage your attention; next take the telescope, and try to see
remote worlds, and can I see all God’s handiwork – behold all his hand? No,
not so much as one millionth part of the fabric. That mighty hand wherein
the callow comets are brooded by the sun, in which the planets roll in
majestic orbits; that mighty hand which holds all space, and grasps all
beings – that mighty hand, who can behold it? but if such be his hand, what
must his face be?
Ye have heard God’s voice sometimes, and ye have
trembled; I, myself, have listened awestruck, and yet with a marvellous
joy, when I have heard God’s voice, like the noise of many waters, in the
great thunderings. Have you never stood and listened, while the earth
shook and trembled, and the very spheres stopped their music, while God
spoke with his wondrous deep bass voice? Yes, ye have heard that voice,
and there is a joy marvellously instinct with love which enters into my soul,
whenever I hear the thunder. It is my Father speaking, and my heart leaps
to hear him. But you never heard God’s loudest voice. It was but the
whisper when the thunder rolled. But if such be the voice, what must it be
to behold his face? David said, “I will behold thy face.” It is said of the
temple of Diana, that it was so splendidly decorated with gold, and so
bright and shining, that a porter at the door always said to every one that
entered, “Take heed to your eyes, take heed to your eyes; you will be
struck with blindness unless you take heed to your eyes.” But oh! that view
of glory! That great appearance. The vision of God! to see him face to
face, to enter into heaven, and to see the righteous shining bright as stars in
the firmament; but best of all, to catch a glimpse of the eternal throne! Ah!
there he sits! ‘Twere almost blasphemy for me to attempt to describe him.
How infinitely far my poor words fall below the mighty subject! But to
behold God’s face. I will not speak of the lustre of those eyes, or the
majesty of those lips, that shall speak words of love and affection; but to
behold his face’ Ye who have dived into the Godhead’s deepest sea, and
have been lost in its immensity, ye can tell a little of it! Ye naughty “ones,
who have lived in heaven these thousand years perhaps ye know, but ye
cannot tell, What it is to see his face. We must each of us go there we must
be clad with immortality. We must go above the blue sky, and bathe in the
river of life: we must outsoar the lightning, and rise above the stars to
know what it is to see God’s face. Words cannot set it forth. So there I
leave it.
The hope the Psalmist had was, that he might see God’s face.
But there was a peculiar sweetness mixed with this joy, because he knew
that he should behold God’s face in righteousness. “I shall behold thy face
in righteousness.” Have I not seen my Father’s face here below? Yes, I
have, “through a glass darkly,” But has not the Christian sometimes beheld
him, when in his heavenly moments earth is gone, and the mind is stripped
of matter? There are some seasons when the gross materialism dies away,
and when the ethereal fire within blazes up so high that it almost touches
the fire of heaven. There are seasons, when in some retired spot, calm and
free from all earthly thought, we have put our shoes from off our feet
because the place whereon we stood was holy ground; and we have talked
with God! even as Enoch talked with him so has the Christian held intimate
communion with his Father. He has heard his love whispers, he has told
out his heart, poured out his sorrows and his groans before him. But after
all he has felt that he has not beheld his face in righteousness. There was so
much sin to darken the eyes, so much folly, so much frailty, that we could
not get a clear prospect of our Jesus. But here the Psalmist says, “I will
behold thy face in righteousness.” When that illustrious day shall arise, and
I shall see my Savior face to face, I shall see him “in righteousness.” The
Christian in heaven will not have so much as a speck upon his garment; he
will be pure and white; yea, on the earth he is
“Pure through Jesus’ blood, and white as angels are.”
But in heaven that whiteness shall be more apparent. Now, it is sometimes
smoked by earth, and covered with the dust of this poor carnal world; but
in heaven he will have brushed himself, and washed his wings and made
them clean; and then will he see God’s face in righteousness. My God; I
believe I shall stand before thy face as pure as thou art thyself, for I shall
have the righteousness of Jesus Christ there shall be upon me the
righteousness of a God. “I shall behold thy face in righteousness.” O
Christian, canst thou enjoy this? Though I cannot speak about it, dost thy
heart meditate upon it? To behold his face for ever; to bask in that vision!
True, thou canst not understand it; but thou mayest guess the meaning. To
behold his face in righteousness!
The second blessing, upon which I will be brief, is satisfaction. He will be
satisfied, the Psalmist says, when he wakes up in God’s likeness.
Satisfaction! this is another joy for the Christian when he shall enter
heaven. Here we are never thoroughly satisfied. True, the Christian is
satisfied from himself; he has that within which is a wet-spring of comfort,
and he can enjoy solid satisfaction. But heaven is the home of true and real
satisfaction. When the believer enters heaven I believe his imagination will
be thoroughly satisfied. All he has ever thought of he will there see; every
holy idea will be solidified; every mighty conception will become a reality,
every glorious imagination will become a tangible thing that he can see. His
imagination will not be able to think of anything better than heaven; and
should he sit down through eternity, he would not be able to conceive of
anything that should outshine the lustre of that glorious city. His
imagination will be satisfied. Then his intellect will be satisfied.
“Then shall I see, and hear, and know,
All I desired, or wished, below.”
Who is satisfied with his knowledge here? Are there not secrets we want to
know, depths in the arcana of nature that we have not entered? But in that
glorious state we shall know as much as we want to know. The memory
will be satisfied. We shall look back upon the vista of past years, and we
shall be content with whatever we endured, or did, or suffered on earth.
“There, on a green and flowery mound,
My wearied soul shall sit,
And with transporting joys recount
The labors of my feet.”
Hope will be satisfied, if there be such a thing in heaven. We shall hope for
a future eternity, and believe in it. But we shall be satisfied as to our hopes
continually: and the whole man will be so content that there will not remain
a single thing in all God’s dealings, that he would wish to have altered; yea,
perhaps I say a thing at which some of you will demur – but the righteous in
heaven will be quite satisfied with the damnation of the lost. I used to think
that if I could see the lost in hell, surely I must weep for them. Could I hear
their horrid wailings, and see the dreadful contortions of their anguish,
surely I must pity them. But there is no such sentiment as that known in
heaven. The believer shall be there so satisfied with all God’s will, that he
will quite forget the lost in the idea that God has done it for the best, that
even their loss has been their own fault, and that he is infinitely just in it. If
my parents could see me in hell they would not have a tear to shed for me,
though they were in heaven, for they would say, “It is justice, thou great
God; and thy justice must be magnified, as well as thy mercy;” and
moreover, they would feel that God was so much above his creatures that
they would be satisfied to see those creatures crushed if it might increase
God’s glory.
Oh! in heaven I believe we shall think rightly of men. Here
men seem great things to us; but in heaven they will seem no more than a
few creeping insects that are swept away in ploughing a field for harvest;
they will appear no more than a tiny handful of dust, or like some nest of
wasps that ought to be exterminated for the injury they have done. They
will appear such little things when we sit on high with God, and look down
on the nations of the earth as grasshoppers, and “count the isles as very
little things.” We shall be satisfied with everything; there will not be a
single thing to complain of. “I shall be satisfied.”
But when? “I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.” But not till
then. No, not till then. Now here a difficulty occurs. You know there are
some in heaven who have not yet waked up in God’s likeness. In fact, none
of those in heaven have done so. They never did sleep as respects their
souls; the waking refers to their bodies, and they are not awake yet – but are
still slumbering. O earth! thou art the bedchamber of the mighty dead!
What a vast sleeping-house this world is! It is one vast cemetery. The
righteous still sleep; and they are to be satisfied on the resurrection morn,
when they awake. “But,” say you, “are they not satisfied now? They are in
heaven: is it possible that they can be distressed?” No, they are not; there is
only one dissatisfaction that can enter heaven – the dissatisfaction of the
blest that their bodies are not there. Allow me to use a simile which will
somewhat explain what I mean. When a Roman conqueror had been at
war, and won great victories, he would very likely come back with his
soldiers enter into his house, and enjoy himself till the next day, when he
would go out of the city and then come in again in triumph. Now, the
saints, as it were, if I might use such a phrase, steal into heaven without
their bodies; but on the last day, when their bodies wake up, they will enter
in their triumphal chariots. And methinks I see that grand procession, when
Jesus Christ, first of all, with man; crowns on his head, with his bright,
glorious body, shall lead the way. I see my Savior entering first. Behind
him come the saints, all of them clapping their hands all of them touching
their golden harps, and entering in triumph. And when they come to
heaven’s gates, and the doors are opened wide to let the king of glory in,
now will the angels crowd at the windows, and on the house-tops, like the
inhabitants in the Roman triumphs, to watch them as they pass through the
streets, and scatter heaven’s roses and cities upon them, crying, crying,
“Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!” “I
shall be satisfied” in that glorious day, when all his angels shall come to see
the triumph, and when his people shall be victorious with him.
One thought here ought not to be forgotten; and that is, the Psalmist says
we are to wake up in the likeness of God. This may refer to the soul; for
the spirit of the righteous will be in the likeness of God as to its happiness
holiness, purity, infallability, eternity, and freedom from pain; but specially,
I think, it relates to the body because it speaks of the awaking. The body is
to be in the likeness of Christ. What a thought! It is – and alas! I have had
too many such tonight – a thought too heavy for words. I am to awake up
in Christ’s likeness. I do not know what Christ is like, and can scarcely
imagine. I love sometimes to sit and look at him in his crucifixion. I care
not what men say – I know that sometimes I have derived benefit from a
picture of my dying crucified Savior; and I look at him with his crown of
thorns, his pierced side, his bleeding hands and feet, and all those drops of
gore hanging from him; but I cannot picture him in heaven, he is so bright,
so glorious; the God so shines through the man; his eyes are like lamps of
fire; his tongue like a two-edged sword; his head covered with hair as
white as snow, for he is the Ancient of days, he binds the clouds round
about him for a girdle; and when he speaks, it is like the sound of many
waters! I read the accounts given in the book of Revelation, but I cannot
tell what he is; they are Scripture phrases, and I cannot understand their
meaning; but whatever they mean, I know that I shall wake up in Christ’s
likeness. Oh; what a change it will be, when some of us get to heaven!
There is a man who fell in battle with the word of salvation on his lips, his
legs had been shot away, and his body had been scarred by sabre thrusts;
he wakes in heaven, and finds that he has not a broken body, maimed and
cut about, and hacked and injured, but that he is in Christ’s likeness. There
is an old matron, who has tottered on her staff for years along her weary
way; time has ploughed furrows on her brow; haggard and lame, her body
is laid in the grave. But oh! aged woman, thou shalt arise in youth and
beauty. Another has been deformed in his lifetime, but when he wakes, he
wakes in the likeness of Christ. Whatever may have been the form of our
countenance, whatever the contour, the beautiful shall be no more beautiful
in heaven than those who were deformed. Those who shone on earth,
peerless, among the fairest, who ravished men with looks from their eyes,
they shall be no brighter in heaven than those who are now passed by and
neglected: for they shall all be like Christ.
III. But now to close up, HERE IS A VERY SAD CONTRAST IMPLIED. We
shall all slumber A few more years and where will this company be? Xerxes
wept, because in a little while his whole army would be gone; how might I
stand here and weep, because within a few more years others shall stand in
this place, and shall say, “The fathers, where are they?” Good God! and is
it true? Is it not a reality? Is it all to be swept away? Is it one great
dissolving view? Ah! it is. This sight shall vanish soon, and you and I shall
vanish with it. We are but a show. This life is but “a stage whereon men
act;” and then we pass behind the curtain, and we there unmask ourselves,
and talk with God. The moment we begin to live we begin to die. The tree
has long been growing that shall be sawn to make you a coffin. The sod is
ready for you all. But this scene is to appear again soon. One short dream,
one hurried nap, and all this sight shall come o’er again. We shall all
awake, and as we stand here now, we shall stand together, perhaps, even
more thickly pressed. But we shall stand on the level then – the rich and
poor, the preacher and hearer. There will be but one distinction – righteous
and wicked. At first we shall stand together.
Methinks I see the scene. The
sea is boiling; the heavens are rent in twain, the clouds are fashioned into a
chariot, and Jesus riding on it, with wings of fire, comes riding through the
sky. His throne is set. He seats himself upon it. With a nod he hushes all
the world. He lifts his fingers, opens the great books of destiny, and the
book of our probation, wherein are written the acts of time. With his
fingers he beckons to the hosts above. “Divide,” said he, “divide the
universe.” Swifter than thought all the earth shall part in sunder. Where
shall I be found when the dividing comes? Methinks I see them all divided,
and the righteous are on the right. Turning to them, with a voice sweeter
than music, he says, “Come! Ye have been coming – keep on your progress!
Come! it has been the work of your life to come, so continue. Come and
take the last step. ‘Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom
prepared for you from before the foundation of the world.’” And now the
wicked are left alone; and turning to them, he says, “Depart! Ye have been
departing all your life long; it was your business to depart from me; ye said,
‘Depart from me, I love not thy ways.’ You have been departing, keep on,
take the last step!’” They dare not move. They stand still. The Savior
becomes the avenger. The hands that once held out mercy, now grasp the
sword of justice; the lips that spoke loving kindness, now utter thunder; and
with a deadly aim; he lifts up the sword, and sweeps amongst them. They
fly like deer before the lion, and enter the jaws of the bottomless pit.
But never, I hope, shall I cease preaching, without telling you what to do
to be saved. This morning I preached to the ungodly, to the worst of
sinners, and many wept – I hope many hearts melted – while I spoke of the
great mercy of God. I have not spoken of that tonight. We must take a
different line sometimes; led, I trust, by God’s Spirit. But oh! ye that are
thirsty, and heavy laden, and lost and ruined, mercy speaks yet once again
to you! Here is the way of salvation. “He that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved.” “And what is it to believe?” says one; “is it to say I know
Christ died for me?” No, that is not to believe, it is part of it, but it is not
all. Every Arminian believes that; and every man in the world believes it
who holds that doctrine, since he conceives that Christ died for every man.
Consequently that is not faith. But faith is this: to cast yourself on Christ.
As the negro said, most curiously, when asked what he did to be saved;
“Massa,” said he, “I fling myself down on Jesus, and dere I lay; I fling
myself flat on de promise, and dere I lay.” And to every penitent sinner
Jesus says, “I am able to save to the uttermost;” throw thyself flat on the
promise, and say, “Then, Lord, thou art able to save me.” God says,
“Come now, let us reason together, though your sins be as scarlet they
shall be white as snow, and though they be red like crimson they shall be as
wool.” Cast thyself on him, and thou shalt be saved.
“Ah!” says one, “I am
afraid I am not one of God’s people; I cannot read my name in the book of
life.” A very good thing you can’t, for if the Bible had every body’s name
in it, it would be a pretty large book; and if your name is John Smith and
you saw that name in the Bible, if you do not believe God’s promise now,
you would be sure to believe that it was some other John Smith. Suppose
the Emperor of Russia should issue a decree to all the Polish refugees to
return to their own country; you see a Polish refugee looking at the great
placards hanging on the wall he looks with pleasure, and says, “Well, I
shall go back to my country.” But some one says to him, “It does not say
Walewski.” “Yes, “he would reply, “but it says Polish refugees: Polish is
my Christian name, and refugee my surname, and that is me.” And so,
though it does not say your name in the Scriptures, it says lost sinner.
Sinner is your Christian name, and lost is your surname; therefore, why not
come? It says, “lost sinner;” – is not that enough? “This is a faithful saying,
and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save
sinners of whom I am chief.” “Yes, but,” another one says, “I am afraid I
am not elect.’ Oh! dear souls, do not trouble yourselves about that. If you
believe in Christ you are elect. Whoever puts himself on the mercy of Jesus
is elect; for he would never do it if he had not been elect. Whoever comes
to Christ, and looks for mercy through his blood, is elect, and he shall see
that he is elect afterwards; but do not expect to read election till you have
read repentance. Election is a college to which you little ones will not go
till you have been to the school of repentance. Do not begin to read your
book backwards, and say Amen before you have said your paternoster.
Begin with “Our Father,” and then you will go on to “thine is the kingdom
the power and the glory;” but begin with “the kingdom,” and you will have
hard work to go back to “Our Father.” We must begin with faith. We must
begin with:-
“Nothing in my hands I bring.”
As God made the world out of nothing, he always makes his Christians out
of nothing; and he who has nothing at all to-night, shall find grace and
mercy, if he will come for it.
Let me close up by telling you what I have heard of some poor woman,
who was converted and brought to life, just by passing down a street, and
hearing a child, sitting at a door, singing-
“I am nothing at all
But Jesus Christ is all in all.”
That is a blessed song; go home and sing it; and he who can rightly
apprehend those little words, who can feel himself vanity without Jesus,
but that he has all things in Christ, is not only far from the kingdom of
heaven, but he is there in faith, and shall be there in fruition, when be shall
wake up in God’s likeness.
) are looking for folks to join them on their month long ‘overland extreme’ journey 19th June – 17th July. If you can go, then make sure you do, because I guarantee, it will change your life for the better forever!
