“Therefore let us not sleep as do others; but let us watch and be sober.”
1 Thessalonians 5:6
WHAT sad things sin hath done. This fair world of ours was once a
glorious temple, every pillar of which reflected the goodness of God, and
every part of which was a symbol of good, but sin has spoiled and marred
all the metaphors and figures that might be drawn from earth. It has so
deranged the divine economy of nature that those things which were
inimitable pictures of virtue, goodness, and divine plenitude of blessing,
have now become the figures and representatives of sin. ‘Tis strange to
say, but it is strangely true, that the very best gifts of God have by the sin
of men become the worst pictures of man’s guilt. Behold the flood!
breaking forth from its fountains, it rushes across the fields, bearing plenty
on its bosom; it covers them awhile, and anon it doth subside and leaves
upon the plain a fertile deposit, into which the farmer shall cast his seed
and reap an abundant harvest. One would have called the breaking forth of
water a fine picture of the plenitude of providence, the magnificence of
God’s goodness to the human race; but we find that sin has appropriated
that figure to itself. The beginning of sin is like the breaking forth of
waters. See the fire! how kindly God hath bestowed upon us that element,
to cheer us in the midst of winter’s frosts. Fresh from the snow and from
the cold we rush to our household fire, and there by our hearth we warm
our hands, and glad are we. Fire is a rich picture of the divine influences of
the Spirit, a holy emblem of the zeal of the Christian; but alas, sin hath
touched this, and the tongue is called “a fire,” “it is set on fire of hell,” we
are total, and it is so evidently full often, when it uttereth blasphemy and
slanders, and Jude lifts up his hand and exclaims, when he looks upon the
evils caused by sin, “Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth.” And
then there is sleep, one of the sweetest of God’s gifts, fair sleep.
“Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep.”
Sleep God hath selected as the very figure for the repose of the blessed.
“They that sleep in Jesus,” saith the Scripture. David puts it amongst the
peculiar gifts of grace: “So he giveth his beloved sleep.” But alas! sin could
not let even this alone. Sin did override even this celestial metaphor, and
though God himself had employed sleep to express the excellence of the
state of the blessed, yet sin must have even this profaned, ere itself can be
expressed. Sleep is employed in our text as a picture of a sinful condition.
“Therefore let us not sleep as do others but let us watch and be sober.”
With that introduction I shall proceed at once to the text. The “sleep” of
the text is an evil to be avoided. In the second place, the word “therefore”
is employed to show us that there are certain reasons for the avoiding of
this sleep. And since the apostle speaks of this sleep with sorrow, it is to
teach us that there are some, whom he calls “others,” over whom it is our
business to lament, because they sleep, and do not watch, and are not
sober.
I. We commence, then, in the first place, by endeavoring to point out the
EVIL WHICH THE APOSTLE INTENDS TO DESCRIBE UNDER THE TERM
SLEEP. The apostle speaks of “others” who are asleep. If you turn to the
original you will find that the word translated “others” has a more emphatic
meaning. It might be rendered (and Horne so renders it,) “the refuse,” —
”Let us not sleep as do the refuse,” the common herd, the ignoble spirits,
those that have no mind above the troubles of earth. “Let us not sleep as
do the others,” the base ignoble multitude who are not alive to the high and
celestial calling of a Christian. “Let us not sleep as do the refuse of
mankind.” And you will find that the word “sleep,” in the original, has also
a more emphatic sense it signifies a deep sleep, a profound slumber; and
the apostle intimates, that the refuse of mankind are now in a profound
slumber. We will now try if we can explain what he meant by it.
First the apostle meant, that the refuse of mankind are in a state of
deplorable ignorance. They that sleep know nothing. There may be
merriment in the house, but the sluggard shareth not in its gladness, there
may be death in the family, but no tear bedeweth the cheek of the sleeper.
Great events may have transpired in the world’s history, but he wots not of
them. An earthquake may have tumbled a city from its greatness, or war
may have devastated a nation, or the banner of triumph may be waving in
the gale, and the clarions of his country may be saluting us with victory,
but he knoweth nothing.
“Their labor and their love are lost
Alike unknowing and unknown.”
The sleeper knoweth not anything. Behold how the refuse of mankind are
alike in this! Of some things they know much, but of spiritual things they
know nothing, of the divine person of the adorable Redeemer they have no
idea; of the sweet enjoyments of a life of piety they cannot even make a
guess; towards the high enthusiasms and the inward raptures of the
Christian they cannot mount. Talk to them of divine doctrines, and they are
to them a riddle, tell them of sublime experiences, and they seem to them
to be enthusiastic fancies. They know nothing of the joys that are to come;
and alas! for them they are oblivious of the evils which shall happen to
them if they go on in their iniquity. The mass of mankind are ignorant; they
know not they have not the knowledge of God, they have no fear of
Jehovah before their eyes; but, blind-folded by the ignorance of this world,
they march on through the paths of lust to that sure and dreadful end, the
everlasting ruin of their souls. Brethren, if we be saints, let us not be
ignorant as are others. Let us search the Scriptures, for in them we have
eternal life, for they do testify of Jesus. Let us be diligent; let not the Word
depart out of our hearts, let us meditate therein both by day and night, that
we may be as the tree planted by the rivers of water. “Let us not sleep as
do others.”
Again, sleep pictures a state of insensibility. There may be much
knowledge in the sleeper, hidden, stored away in his mind, which might be
well developed, if he could but be awakened. But he hath no sensibility, he
knoweth nothing. The burglar hath broken into the house, the gold and
silver are both in the robber’s hands; the child is being murdered by the
cruelty of him that hath broken in, but the father slumbereth, though all the
gold and silver that he hash, and his most precious child, are in the hands of
the destroyer. He is unconscious, how can he feel, when sleep hath utterly
sealed his senses! Lo! in the street there is mourning. A fire hath just now
burned down the habitation of the poor and houseless beggars are in the
street. They are crying at his window, and asking him for help. But he
sleeps, and what wots he, though the night be cold, and though the poor
are shivering in the blast? He hath no consciousness; he feeleth not for
them. There! take the title deed of his estate, and burn the document,
There! set light to his farm-yard! burn up all that he hath in the field, kill his
horse and destroy his cattle; let now the fire of God descend and burn up
his sheep let the enemy fall upon all that he hath and devour it. He sleeps as
soundly as if he were guarded by the angel of the Lord.
Such are the refuse of mankind. But alas! that we should have to include in
that word “refuse” the great bulk thereof! How few there are that feel
spiritually! They feel acutely enough any injury to their body, or to their
estate, but alas! for their spiritual concerns they have no sensation
whatever! They are standing on the brink of hell, but they tremble not; the
anger of God is burning against them but they fear not; the sword of
Jehovah is unsheathed, but terror doth not seize upon them. They proceed
with the merry dance, they drink the bowl of intoxicating pleasure; they
revel and they riot; still do they sing the lascivious song, yea they do more
than this; in their vain dreams they do defy the Most High, whereas if they
were once awakened to the consciousness of their state, the marrow of
their bone” would melt, and their heart would dissolve like wax in the
midst of their bowels. They are asleep, indifferent and unconscious. Do
what you may to them; let everything be swept away that is hopeful, that
might give them cheer when they come to die, yet they feel it not; for how
should a sleeper feel anything! But “Therefore let us not sleep, as do
others, but let us watch and be sober.”
Again: the sleeper cannot defend himself. Behold yonder prince, he is a
strong man, ay, and a strong man armed. He hath entered into the tent. He
is wearied. He hath drunken the woman’s milk; he hath eaten her “butter in
a lordly dish;” he casteth himself down upon the floor, and he slumbereth.
And now she draweth nigh. She hath with her, her hammer and her nail.
Warrior! thou couldst break her into atoms with one blow of thy mighty
arm, but thou canst not now defend thyself. The nail is at his ear, the
woman’s hand is on the hammer and the nail hath pierced his skull; for
when he slept he was defenceless. The banner of Sisera had waved
victoriously over mighty foes; but now it is stained by a woman. Tell it, tell
it, tell it! The man, who when he was awake made nations tremble, dies by
the hand of a feeble woman when he sleepeth.
Such are the refuse of mankind. They are asleep; they have no power to
resist temptation. Their moral strength is departed, for God is departed
from them. There is the temptation to lust. They are men of sound principle
in business matters, and nothing could make them swerve from honesty,
but lasciviousness destroyeth them, they are taken like a bird in a snare,
they are caught in a trap, they are utterly subdued. Or, mayhap, it is
another way that they are conquered. They are men that would not do an
unchaste act, or even think a lascivious thought; they scorn it. But they
have another weak point, they are entrapped by the glass. They are taken
and they are destroyed by drunkenness. Or, if they can resist these things,
and are inclined neither to looseness of fire nor to excess in living, yet
mayhap covetousness entereth into them, by the name of prudence it
slideth into their hearts, and they are led to grasp after treasure and to heap
up gold, even though that gold be wrung out of the veins of the poor, and
though they do suck the blood of the orphan. They seem to be unable to
resist their passion. How many times have I been told by men, “I cannot
help it, sir, do what I may, I resolve, I re-resolve, but I do the same; I am
defenceless; I cannot resist the temptation!” Oh, of course you cannot,
while you are asleep. O Spirit of the living God! wake up the sleeper! Let
sinful sloth and presumption both be startled, lest haply Moses should
come their way, and finding them asleep should hang them on the gallows
of infamy forever.
Now, I come to give another meaning to the word “sleep.” I hope there
have been some of my congregation who have been tolerably easy whilst I
have described the first three things, because they have thought that they
were exempt in those matters. But sleep signifies also inactivity. The
farmer cannot plough his field in his sleep, neither can he cast the grain into
the furrows, nor watch the clouds, nor reap his harvest. The sailor cannot
reef his sail, or direct his ship across the ocean, whilst he slumbereth. It is
not possible that on the Exchange, or the mart, or in the house of business,
men should transact their affairs with their eyes fast closed in slumber. It
would be a singular thing to see a nation of sleepers; for that would be a
nation of idle men. They must all starve; they would produce no wealth
from the soil, they would have nothing for their backs, nought for clothing
and nought for food. But how many we have in the world that are inactive
through sleep! Yes, I say inactive. I mean by that, that they are active
enough in one direction but they are inactive in the right. Oh how many
men there are that are totally inactive in anything that is for God’s glory, or
for the welfare of their fellow creatures! For themselves, they can “rise up
early, and sit up late, and eat the bread of carefulness;” — for their
children, which is an alias for themselves, they can toil until their fingers
ache — they can weary themselves until their eyes are red in their sockets,
till the brain whirls, and they can do no more but for God they can do
nothing. Some say they have no time, others frankly confess that they have
no will: for God’s church they would not spend an hour, whilst for this
world’s pleasure they could lay out a month. For the poor they cannot
spend their time and their attention. They may haply have time to spare for
themselves and for their own amusement, but for holy works, for deeds of
charity, and for pious acts they declare they have no leisure; whereas, the
fact is, they have no will.
Behold ye, how many professing Christians there are that are asleep in this
sense! They are inactive. Sinners are dying in the street by hundreds; men
are sinking into the flames of eternal wrath; but they fold their arms, they
pity the poor perishing sinner, but they do nothing to show that their pity is
real. They go to their places of worship, they occupy their well-cushioned
easy pew; they wish the minister to feed them every Sabbath; but there is
never a child taught in the Sunday-school by them; there is never a tract
distributed at the poor man’s house; there is never a deed done which
might be the means of saving souls. We call them good men, some of them
we even elect to the office of deacons, and no doubt good men they are;
they are as good as Anthony meant to say that Brutus was honorable, when
he said, “So are we all, all honorable men.” So are we all, all good, if they
be good. But these are good, and in some sense — good for nothing; for
they just sit and eat the bread, but they do not plough the field, they drink
the wine, but they will not raise the vine that doth produce it. They think
that they are to live unto themselves, forgetting that “no man liveth unto
himself, and no man dieth unto himself.” Oh, what a vast amount of
sleeping we have in all our churches and chapels; for truly if our churches
were once awake, so far as material is concerned, there are enough
converted men and women, and there is enough talent with them, and
enough money with them, and enough time with them, God granting the
abundance of his Holy Spirit, which he would be sure to do if they were all
zealous — there is enough to preach the gospel in every corner of the
earth. The church does not need to stop for want of instruments, or for
want of agencies we have everything now except the will; we have all that
we may expect God to give for the conversion of the world, except just a
heart for the work, and the Spirit of God poured out into our midst. Oh!
brethren, “let us not sleep as do others.” You will find the “others” in the
church and in the world: “the refuse” of both are sound asleep.
Ere, however, I can dismiss this first point of explanation, it is necessary
for me just to say that the apostle himself furnishes us with part of an
exposition, for the second sentence, “let us watch and be sober,” implies
that the reverse of these things is the sleep, which he means. “Let us
watch.” There are many that never watch. They never watch against sin;
they never watch against the temptations of the enemy; they do not watch
against themselves, nor against “the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye,
and the pride of life.” They do not watch for opportunities to do good,
they do not watch for opportunities to instruct the ignorant, to confirm the
weak, to comfort the afflicted, to succor them that are in need; they do not
watch for opportunities of glorifying Jesus, or for times of communion,
they do not watch for the promises; they do not watch for answers to their
prayers; they do not watch for the second coming of our Lord Jesus. These
are the refuse of the world: they watch not, because they are asleep. But let
us watch: so shall we prove that we are not slumberers.
Again: let us “be sober.” Albert Barnes says, this most of all refers to
abstinence, or temperance in eating and drinking. Calvin says, not so: this
refers more especially to the spirit of moderation in the things of the world.
Both are right; it refers to both. There be many that are not sober; they
sleep, because they are not so; for insobriety leadeth to sleep. They are not
sober — they are drunkards, they are gluttons. They are not sober — they
cannot be content to do a little business — they want to do a great deal.
They are not sober — they cannot carry on a trade that is sure — they
must speculate. They are not sober — if they lose their property, their
spirit is cast down within them, and they are like men that are drunken with
wormwood. If on the other hand, they get rich, they are not sober: they so
set their affections upon things on earth that they become intoxicated with
pride, because of their riches — become purse-proud, and need to have the
heavens lifted up higher, lest their heads should dash against the stars. How
many people there are that are not sober! Oh! I might especially urge this
precept upon you at this time, my dear friends. We have hard times
coming, and the times are hard enough now. Let us be sober. The fearful
panic in America has mainly arisen from disobedience to this command —
“Be sober,” and if the professors of America had obeyed this
commandment, and had been sober, the panic might at any rate have been
mitigated, if not totally avoided. Now, in a little time you who have any
money laid by will be rushing to the bank to have it drawn out, because
you fear that the bank is tottering. You will not be sober enough to have a
little trust In your fellow-men, and help them through their difficultly, and
so be a blessing to the commonwealth. And you who think there is
anything to be got by lending your money at usury will not be content with
lending what you have got, but you will be extorting and squeezing your
poor debtors, that you may get the more to lend. Men are seldom content
to get rich slowly, but he that hasteth to be rich shall not be innocent. Take
care, my brethren — if any hard times should come in London, if
commercial houses should smash, and banks be broken — take care to be
sober. There is nothing will get us over a panic so well as every one of us
trying to keep our spirits up — just rising in the morning, and saying,
“Times are very hard, and to-day I may lose my all; but fretting will not
help it, so just let me set a bold heart against hard sorrow, and go to my
business. The wheels of trade may stop; I bless God, my treasure is in
heaven; I cannot be bankrupt. I have set my affections on the things of God
I cannot lose those things. There is my jewel; there is my heart!” Why, if all
men could do that, it would tend to create public confidence; but the cause
of the great ruin of many men is the covetousness of all men and the fear of
some. If we could all go through the world with confidence, and with
boldness, and with courage, there is nothing in the world that could avert
the shock so well. Come, I suppose the shock must; and there are many
men now present, who are very respectable, who may expect to be beggars
ere long. Your business is, so to put your trust in Jehovah that you may be
able to say, “Though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be
carried into the midst of the sea, God is my refuge and strength a very
present help in trouble therefore will I not fear,” and doing that, you will be
creating more probabilities for the avoidance of your own destruction than
by any other means which the wisdom of man can dictate to you. Let us
not be intemperate in business, as are others; but let us awake. “Let us not
sleep” — not be carried away by the somnambulism of the world, for what
is it better than that? — activity and greed in sleep “but let us watch and be
sober.” Oh, Holy Spirit help us to watch and be sober.
II. Thus I have occupied a great deal of time in explaining the first point
— What was the sleep which the apostle meant? And now you will notice
that the word “therefore” implies that there are CERTAIN REASONS FOR
THIS. I shall give you these reasons; and if I should cast them somewhat
into a dramatic form, you must not wonder; they will the better, perhaps,
be remembered. “Therefore,” says the apostle, “let us not sleep.”
We shall first look at the chapter itself for our reasons. The first reason
precedes the text. The apostle tells us that “we are all the children of the
light and of the day; therefore let us not sleep as do others. I marvel not
when, as I walk through the streets after nightfall, I see every shop closed,
and every window-blind drawn down, and I see the light in the upper room
significant of retirement to rest. I wonder not that a half an hour later my
foot-fall startles me, and I find none in the streets. Should I ascend the
staircase, and look into the sleepers’ placid countenances, I should not
wonder; for it is night, the proper time for sleep. But if some morning at
eleven or twelve o’clock, I should walk down the streets and find myself
alone, and notice every shop closed, and every house straitly shut up, and
hearken to no noise, I should say, “‘Tis strange, ‘tis passing strange, ‘tis
wonderful. What are these people at? ‘Tis day-time, and yet they are all
asleep. I should be inclined to seize the first rapper I could find, and give a
double knock, and rush to the next door, and ring the bell, and so all the
way down the street; or go to the police station, and wake up what men I
found there, and bid them make a noise in the street; or go for the fire
engine, and bid the firemen rattle down the road and try to wake these
people up. For I should say to myself “There is some pestilence here, the
angel of death must have flown through these streets during the night and
killed all these people, or else they would have been sure to have been
awake.” Sleep in the day-time is utterly incongruous. “Well, now,” says the
apostle Paul, “ye people of God, it is day-time with you; the sun of
righteousness has risen upon you with healing in his wings; the light of
God’s Spirit is in your conscience ye have been brought out of darkness
into marvellous light; for you to be asleep, for a church to slumber, is like a
city a-bed in the day, like a whole town slumbering when the sun is shining.
It is untimely and unseemly.”
And now, if you look to the text again, you will find there is another
argument.
Let us who are of the day be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and
love.” So, then, it seems, it is war-time; and therefore, again, it is unseemly
to slumber. There is a fortress yonder, far away in India. A troop of those
abominable Sepoys have surrounded it. Blood-thirsty hell-hounds, if they
once gain admission, they will rend the mother and her children, and cut
the strong man in pieces. They are at the gates: their cannon are loaded;
their bayonets thirst for blood, and their swords are hungry to slay. Go
through the fortress, and the people are all asleep. There is the warder on
the tower, nodding on his bayonet. There is the captain in his tent, with his
pen in his hand and his dispatches before him, asleep at the table. There are
soldiers lying down in their tents, ready for the war, but all slumbering.
There is not a man to be seen keeping watch; there is not a sentry there. All
are asleep. Why, my friends, you would say, “Whatever is the matter here?
What can it be? Has some great wizard been waving his wand, and put a
spell upon them all? Or are they all mad? Have their minds fled? Sure, to be
asleep in wartime is indeed outrageous, Here! take down that trumpet, go
close up to the captain’s ear, and blow a blast, and see if it does not awake
him in a moment. Just take away that bayonet from the soldier that is
asleep on the walls, and give him a sharp prick with it, and see if he does
not awake.” But surely, surely, nobody can have patience with people
asleep, when the enemy surround the walls and are thundering at the gates.
Now, Christians, this is your case. Your life is a life of warfare the world
the flesh, and the devil, are a hellish trinity, and your poor nature is
wretched mudwork behind which to be intrenched. Are you asleep?
Asleep, when Satan has fire-balls of lust to hurl into the windows of your
eyes — when he has arrows of temptation to shoot into your heart —
when he has snares into which to trap your feet? Asleep, when he has
undermined your very existence, and when he is about to apply the match
with which to destroy you, unless sovereign “race prevents? Oh! sleep not,
soldier of the cross! To sleep in war-time is utterly inconsistent. Great
Spirit of God forbid that we should slumber.
But now, leaving the chapter itself, I will give you one or two other
reasons that will, I trust, move Christian people to awake out of their sleep.
“Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!“ Then
comes the ringing of a bell What is this? Here is a door marked with a
great white cross. Lord, have mercy upon us! All the houses down that
street seem to be marked with that white death cross. What is this? Here is
the grass growing in the streets here are Cornhill and Cheapside deserted;
no one is found treading the solitary pavement, there is not a sound to be
heard but those horse-hoofs, like the hoofs of death’s pale horse upon the
stones, the ringing of that bell that sounds the death-knell to many, and the
rumbling of the wheels of that cart, and the dreadful cry, “Bring out your
dead! Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!” Do you see that house?
A physician lives there. He is a man who has great skill, and God has lent
him wisdom. But a little while ago, whilst in his study God was pleased to
guide his mind, and he discovered the secret of the plague. He was plaguesmitten
himself, and ready to die, but he lifted the blessed phial to his lips,
and he drank a draught and cured himself. Do you believe what I am about
to tell you? Can you imagine it? That man has the prescription that will
heal all these people; he has it in his pocket. He has the medicine which, if
once distributed in those streets, would make the sick rejoice, and put that
dead man’s bell away. And he is asleep! He is asleep! He is asleep! O ye
heavens! why do ye not fall and crush the wretch? O earth! how couldst
thou bear this demon upon thy bosom? Why not swallow him up quick? He
has the medicine; he is too lazy to go and tell forth the remedy. He has the
cure, and is too idle to go out and administer it to the sick and the dying!
No, my friends, such an inhuman wretch could not exist! But I can see him
here to-day. There are you! You know the world is sick with the plague of
sin, and you yourself have been cured by the remedy, which has been
provided. You are asleep, inactive, loitering. You do not go forth to
“Tell to others round,
What a dear Savior you have found.”
There is the precious gospel: you do not go and put it to the lips of a
sinner. There is the all-precious blood of Christ: you never go to tell the
dying what they must do to be saved. The world is perishing with worse
than plague: and you are idle! And you are a minister of the gospel; and
you have taken that holy office upon yourself; and you are content to
preach twice on a Sunday, and once on a week-day, and there is no
remonstrance within you. You never desire to attract the multitudes to hear
you preach; you had rather keep your empty benches, and study propriety,
than you would once, at the risk of appearing over-zealous, draw the
multitude and preach the word to them. You are a writer: you have great
power in writing; you devote your talents alone to light literature, or to the
production of other things which may furnish amusement, but which
cannot benefit the soul. You know the truth, but you do not tell it out.
Yonder mother is a converted woman: you have children, and you forget
to instruct them in the way to heaven. You yonder, are a young man,
having nothing to do, on the Sabbath-day, and there is the Sunday-school;
you do not go to tell those children the sovereign remedy that God has
provided for the care of sick souls. The death-bell is ringing e’en now; hell
is crying out, howling with hunger for the souls of men. “Bring out the
sinner! Bring out the sinner! Bring out the sinner! Let him die and be
damned!” And there are you professing to be a Christian, and doing
nothing which might make you the instrument of saving souls — never
putting out your hand to be the means in the hand of the Lord, of plucking
sinners as brands from the burning! Oh! May the blessing of God rest on
you, to turn you from such an evil way, that you may not sleep as do
others, but may watch and be sober. The world’s imminent danger
demands that we should be active, and not be slumbering.
Hark how the mast creaks! See the sails there, rent to ribbons. Breakers
ahead! She will be on the rocks directly. Where is the captain? Where is the
boatswain? Where are the sailors? Ahoy there! Where are you? Here’s a
storm come on. Where are you? You are down in the cabin. And there is
the captain in a soft sweet slumber. There is the man at the wheel, as sound
asleep as ever he can be; and there are all the sailors in their hammocks.
What! and the breakers ahead? What! the lives of two hundred passengers
in danger, and here are these brutes asleep? Kick them out. What is the
good of letting such men as these be sailors, in such a time as this
especially? Why, out with you! If you had gone to sleep in fine weather we
might have forgiven you. Up with you, captain! What have you been at?
Are you mad? But hark! the ship has struck she will be down in a moment.
Now you will work, will you? Now you will work when it is of no use, and
when the shrieks of drowning women shall toll you into hell for your most
accursed negligence, in not having taken care of them. Well that is very
much like a great many of us, in these times too.
This proud ship of our commonwealth is reeling in a storm of sin; the very
mast of this great nation is creaking under the hurricane of vice that sweeps
across the noble vessel, every timber is strained, and God help the good
ship, or alas! none can save her. And who are her captain and her sailors,
but ministers of God, the professors of religion? These are they to whom
God gives grace to steer the ship. “Ye are the salt of the earth;” ye
preserve and keep it alive, O children of God. Are ye asleep in the storm?
Are ye slumbering now? If there were no dens of vice, if there were no
harlots, if there were no houses of profanity, if there were no murders and
no crimes, oh! ye that are the salt of the earth, ye might sleep; but to-day
the sin of London crieth in the ears of God. This behemoth city is covered
with crime, and God is vexed with her. And are we asleep, doing nothing?
Then God forgive us! But sure, of all the sins he ever doth forgive, this is
the greatest, the sin of slumbering when a world is damning — the sin of
being idle when Satan is busy, devouring the souls of men. “Brethren let us
not sleep” in such times as these; for if we do, a curse must fall upon us,
horrible to bear.
There is a poor prisoner in a cell. His hair is all matted over his eyes. A few
weeks ago the judge put on the black cap, and commanded that he should
be taken to the place from whence he came, and hung by the neck until
dead. The poor wretch has his heart broken within him, whilst he thinks of
the pinion, of the gallows, and of the drop, and of after-death. Oh! who can
tell how his heart is rent and racked, whilst he thinks of leaving all, and
going he knoweth not where? There is a man there, sound asleep upon a
bed. He has been asleep there these two days, and under his pillow he has
that prisoner’s free pardon. I would horsewhip that scoundrel, horsewhip
him soundly, for making that poor man have two days of extra misery.
Why, if I had had that man’s pardon, I would have been there, if I rode on
the wings of lightning to get at him, and I should have thought the fastest
train that ever run but slow, if I had so sweet a message to carry, and such
a poor heavy heart to carry it to. But that man, that brute, is sound asleep,
with a free pardon under his pillow, whilst that poor wretch’s heart is
breaking with dismay! Ah! do not be too hard with him: he is here to-day.
Side by side with you this morning there is sitting a poor penitent sinner;
God has pardoned him, and intends that you should tell him that good
news. He sat by your side last Sunday, and he wept all the sermon through,
for he felt his guilt. If you had spoken to him then, who can tell? He might
have had comfort, but there he is now — you do not tell him the good
news. Do you leave that to me to do? Ah! sirs, but you cannot serve God
by proxy; what the minister does is nought to you; you have your own
personal duty to do, and God has given you a precious promise. It is now
on your heart. Will you not turn round to your next neighbor, and tell him
that promise? Oh! there is many an aching heart that aches because of our
idleness in telling the good news of this salvation. “Yes,” says one of my
members, who always comes to this place on a Sunday, and looks out for
young men and young women whom he has seen in tears the Sunday
before, and who brings many into the church, “yes, I could tell you a
story.” He looks a young man in the face, and says, “Haven’t I seen you
here a great many times?” “Yes.” “I think you take a deep interest in the
service, do you not?” “Yes, I do: what makes you ask me that question?”
“Because I looked at your face last Sunday, and I thought there was
something at work with you.” “Oh! sir,” he says, “nobody has spoken to
me ever since I have been here till now, and I want to say a word to you.
When I was at home with my mother, I used to think I had some idea of
religion, but I came away, and was bound apprentice with an ungodly lot of
youths, and have done everything I ought not to have done. And now, sir, I
begin to weep, I begin to repent. I wish to God that I knew how I might be
saved! I hear the word preached, sir, but I want something spoken
personally to me by somebody.” And he turns round, he takes him by the
hand and says, “My dear young brother, I am so glad I spoke to you; it
makes my pour old heart rejoice to think that the Lord is doing something
here still. Now, do not be cast down; for you know, ‘This is a faithful
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world
to save sinners.’” The young man puts his handkerchief to his eyes and
after a minute, he says, “I wish you would let me call and see you, sir,”
“Oh! you may,” he says. He talks with him, he leads him onward, and at
last by God’s grace the happy youth comes forward and declares what God
has done for his soul, and owes his salvation as much to the humble
instrumentality of the man that helped him as he could do to the preaching
of the minister.
Beloved brethren, the bridegroom cometh! Awake! Awake! The earth
must soon be dissolved, and the heavens must melt! Awake! Awake! O
Holy Spirit arouse us all, and keep us awake.
III. And now I have no time for the last point, and therefore I shall not
detain you, suffice me to say in warning, there is AN EVIL HERE
LAMENTED. There are some that are asleep, and the apostle mourns it.
My fellow sinner, thou that art this day unconverted, let me say six or
seven sentences to thee, and thou shalt depart. Unconverted man!
unconverted woman! you are asleep to day, as they that sleep on the top of
the mast in time of storm; you are asleep, as he that sleeps when the waterfloods
are out, and when his house is undermined, and being carried down
the stream far out to sea; you are asleep, as he who in the upper chamber,
when his house is burning and his own locks are singeing in the fire, knows
not the devastation around him; you are asleep — asleep as he that lies
upon the edge of a precipice, with death and destruction beneath him. One
single start in his sleep would send him over, but he knows it not. Thou art
asleep this day; and the place where thou sleepest, has so frail a support
that when once it breaks thou shalt fall into hell: and if thou wakest not till
then, what a waking it will be! “In hell he lifted up his eyes, being in
torment;” and he cried for a drop of water, but it was denied him. “He that
believeth in the Lord Jesus Christ and is baptized, shall be saved; he that
believeth not shall be damned.” This is the gospel. Believe ye in Jesus, and
ye shall “rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.”
