Archibald G. Brown, February 14th, 1869, Stepney Green Tabernacle

"Run, speak to this young man!" Zechariah 2:4

This young man was the prophet Zechariah, who in early life had his lips touched with a live coal from off the altar, and on whom in youth the spirit of prophecy descended. He lived at the time when the captivity was drawing near its close, and the chief burden of his eloquence was encouragement to the Jews to rebuild Jerusalem and the temple. In the verses preceding the text we are told that he was in conversation with an angel; whom he describes "as the angel that talked with him." While thus engaged, he lifted up his eyes and saw another angel in the form of a man, with a measuring line in his hand. There can, I think, be little doubt that this second angel was none other than the Lord Jehovah Jesus, "the angel of the covenant," Malachi 3.1, who with his measuring line of sovereign grace, marks out and prescribes the exact limits of his church, which is the spiritual Jerusalem.

The angel conversing with the prophet hastens forth to meet his Lord, and receives the following mandate, "Run, speak to this young man," and then words are given to him to say. Let us this evening leave the context, and only dwell upon the command. Zechariah is not the only young man that needs speaking to; nor is an angel the only one permitted to carry the message. I am certain of this, that I am no angel, although I trust someday to mingle with the shining band; and I am equally certain that the Lord has said to me tonight, "Run, speak to this young man!"

It was a message sent on a special occasion to a specified young man, and in this light we intend to view it.

And is this not a special occasion? Do we not as a church feel that the annual sermon to young men demands special prayer, and awakens expectations of special blessings? Marvelously has God blessed them in the two former years, having owned them to the conversion of over one-hundred, of whom we have either heard or seen. And why not tonight? His power is the same as ever. He says, "Call upon me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know." Jer 33.3. "Lord, we have, we do call on you now, make bare your arm and this night outdo all former mercies."

My division will be very simple, and will consist of questions that arose in my heart while pondering over the text.

1. The Lord said to me, "Run, speak to this young man," and I asked, "Lord, which one?" Let this question be our first topic.

2. "Why should I speak to him?" This was my second question, so it will be our second division.

3. "But why should I run?" Let this be our third head.

4. I will close by asking the question, "And when I catch up to him, Lord, what shall I say to him?"

The Lord has said to me, "speak to this young man," but behold what a number there are here. How am I to get the ear of the right one? How to make him feel the message is personal? Lord, which one?
 

I. "Lord, which one?" I see him sitting there yonder; he is the son of godly parents; he was nursed in the lap of piety, and cradled in prayer; ten thousand holy influences have surrounded him like a heavenly atmosphere; if he gives play to memory tonight, and lets it go back to its utmost limit — he will see in the dim haze of the past, a loving face bending over him as he rests in the child's cot; he will remember that those mother's lips said something about "loving Jesus," and from that moment right down to the present time, the silken cords of a mother's influence have drawn heavenward.

He cannot remember the time when he had no serious thoughts. He has never dared to join the scoffer or the profligate. He is, in the general acceptance of the word, a good fellow. The home is all the brighter when he is in it. The parents all the happier for his presence. His sisters have not a word to say against him — but constantly declare that "he is as kind a brother as they could wish to have."

Well, dear friend, I am glad to hear so good a testimony about you; but don't think you are excepted in my Lord's command, for he has said to me, "Run," speak to this young man."

"Is he, Lord, the only one?" No, "speak to this young man," the one up on the top of the staircase there. Ah, I see him now. His experience has been a very different one from the last. No prayers ever arose on his behalf; no holy influences ever surrounded him; his earliest remembrances are oaths, curses, and Sabbath excursions; he has been left to find his companions for himself in the streets; and if ever any impression was made on him in some ragged school he may have entered, it was at once removed when he entered his home again. He is a true subject for our pity and sympathy. His sins are more the sins of his bringing up, than anything else. Friend, I welcome you; I rejoice you have been induced to come into our number tonight. Don't think there is no part of the service for you, for my Master has said, "Run, speak to this young man."

"Are there any more, Lord, I have to speak to?" "Yes, this one." He is a young man of considerable mental ability, who is fast making his way in the world. By the way, that is what he always said he meant to do. A bright future seems to be opening up before him. It needs no great spirit of prophecy to foretell his future state to be one of affluence. If he does not have success, he is determined it will be through lack of energy and activity on his part. He is planning tomorrow's engagements now. Young man, I want your attention tonight. I must have it, for the Lord has told me to run and speak to you as well as others.

Sitting to his right hand I see another I have to address. He is of a very different stamp of character. I thought I heard him say just now, "Well, thank goodness, I'm no money-grub. I don't care so much about getting all in life, as enjoying life." When he came up the steps in front, one or two said, "The idea of him coming;" and well they might, for his face is a great deal more familiar in the theater and music hall, than in the sanctuary. He is one of the "young men of the times," about whom we have heard so much lately. His motto is "begone dull care!" yes, by any means so long-as it goes. We don't say there is any malice about him — but only that he is a light, frivolous, pleasure seeker. I am very glad to see you friend; you are the right one to come, for the Lord has said to me, "Run, speak to this young man."

But who is that one standing among the crowd around that gallery door? Well, I must come out with the truth. He is one who has spurned every entreaty, and mocked every warning. He is bringing his old father's grey hair down to the grave more rapidly than time could! His mother they say died of consumption; but the truth is, he killed her by breaking her heart. He has leapt over every barrier that parental love has flung across his path. He seems to have made up his mind to reach Hell at all hazards — he seems positively to be in a hurry to be damned. Ah, sir, I cannot tell what has brought you here this evening, perhaps to scoff and make our sermon a subject for future merriment. But at all events, this I can tell you, that you must give me your ear, whether you will or not, for the Lord has marked you out, and said, "Run, speak to this young man."

Are these all, Lord? No, there is one more. He sits right back and tries to keep out of sight. He is a seeking sinner. Has been so for some time. All the way here he kept praying, "Lord, save me tonight. O, this night give me peace in Jesus!" Blessed be God, there are many such present. During the past week many are the letters I have received from seeking sinners, saying they hoped to be here, and asking for prayer that this night the set time for God to graciously save them. Cheer up, poor desponding heart, for my Lord has told me, whoever else I may omit, not to forget you. Divine mercy is waylaying you, and has commanded me to run and speak to this young man.

I want, in a word, to speak to every young man present, and to so speak, that he will feel that he alone is being spoken to. The Lord help you to recognize yourself in one of the characters described, and take home the message to your own heart, not as the word of man — but of God. So much then for the first question. "Which one?" The second question my heart asked was,
 

II. WHY Should I Speak to Him? To this question three answers at once came.

1. Speak to him because DANGER awaits him. The very least we can do for a man in peril, is to arouse him to a sense of danger if he is ignorant of it. Humanity itself will dictate this.

Playing on that sandbank are a number of thoughtless ones. They do not notice that the tide is rising; that between them and the shore there is already the incoming water, deepening every minute. The water is by slow but sure degrees, encroaching on the bank; let it once flow over, and the treacherous sand will sink beneath their feet, and without a single warning, the whole laughing company will be entombed in a watery grave!

Am I to stand upon the shore wondering whether I should give the alarm? Out upon such nonsense! My duty is clear, and that is to shout out with all my strength, "Beware, beware! the tide is coming in; the tide is coming in; come ashore while there is time!"

This is just my position tonight. I see before me a mass of young men upon the sandbank of 'time'. Some are engaged about one thing, some about another — but all are equally forgetful that the tide is coming in. Do you ask 'what tide?' I answer the tide of 'eternity' is upon the flow. Its waters are licking away your standing ground. With some of you, its waves are breaking at your very feet. "Ahoy there! Come to the rock while there is time; come away to Jesus." Your danger says to me, "Run, speak to this young man."

Do you see that magnificent steamer plowing its way through the ocean? Do you mark the snowy 'wake' it leaves behind? Who on board has a single fear? I can hear the merry laugh of the passengers; but let me tell you that it is out of its course, and right ahead is a sunken rock, over which the water just gently flows. Another five minutes and the vessel will hurl itself with a crash to ruin. "Down with the helm — turn astern!" Never mind frightening the crew, better to do that, than all be lost through lack of warning.

Young men, I can see many of you going straight ahead upon the rocks. There is enough water to hide them — but not enough to tide you over. Will I stand with folded arms and silent lips for fear that your nerves would be shocked? No! Your danger says "lift up your voice like a trumpet and warn them — or have their blood upon your head. Rocks ahead, sinner!! Rocks ahead!! Down on your knees!! Stop! Turn your course!! God save you from eternal shipwreck, for his own mercy's sake. Because of your danger, my Master says, "Run, speak to this young man."

2. I am bound to speak to you, because one wrong step will lead to many. While meditating on this portion of this evening's sermon as I sat in my study, I saw in my mind two roads; they differed from one another in every respect.

The one road was broad and pleasant to behold — its appearance for the first few steps was attractive. But I noticed on looking along it, that its character soon changed, that it abounded in quagmires and pits, and ended in perdition.

The other road was straight as a line, and rather rugged in its nature than otherwise — but I observed that from its very commencement, you could see its end, which was a celestial city, entered by gates of pearl.

I observed, moreover, that the two roads branched out in their different directions from this Tabernacle, and that standing at their juncture was a crowd of some five hundred young men. Amazed, I waited to see which road the multitude would take; and while observing the greater number turn their faces toward the broad road, I heard a voice say, "Run, speak to this young man."

Dropping the simile, let me say, dear friends, it is a fact. The roads do meet here tonight. The decisive step will be taken by some this evening. The scales that have been quivering in the balance, will now turn, either one way or the other. Oh! stop, young man, stop; and before the fatal step is taken, let me tell you that as certainly as you hear my voice tonight, so certainly does the broad road of sin lead to destruction; and the straight road of faith in Jesus to everlasting life!

How solemn the thought that the step on which all eternity hangs may be taken by some before this evening's service is over; the one step which will insure all the others until Hell is reached, is made tonight! Surely this thought is sufficient to make us, "run and speak to this young man."

3. I am bound to speak to you, for if I do not, there are many that will. No one knows the temptations that surround young men, except a young man. If there are but few to lead him right — there are plenty to lead him astray. He is encompassed with evil influences — preachers in their own way.

"Speak to him," says my master, "for if you don't, godless companions will. There are plenty to fill his ears with lies — if you do not fill them with truth. What with worldly associates and worldly chums, open scoffers and professing infidels — he will never lack a leader to perdition. They have his ear six days out of seven; therefore speak to him while you may."

Then, too, he has the attractive preacher called the world, who like some fair siren seated on a rock by the deadly pool, smiles but to deceive, only sings to lure, kisses but to betray — and then flinging her arms around his neck, leaps with him into Hell!

"Speak to him," still my Lord says, "for if you do not, Satan will." And he is now. The evil preacher of the bottomless pit is gliding from pew to pew, from ear to ear. He says to yonder young man, who is rather impressed, "Oh never mind, it is only a special sermon to young men; you will feel all right again when you get outside; it is only his business; he gets his living by frightening people; go and see friend so-and-so after the service, and have a laugh about it." Oh, close your ear to his accursed counsel, for my message from the Lord Almighty is, "Run, speak to this young man!"

　

III. Why Should I RUN? You will see from the text that I am not only to go — but go quickly; not to walk — but to run to the young man. Speed, and the greatest, is to be used. No grass is to be allowed to grow beneath my feet. All delay is forbidden — all haste is commanded. "Run! Run!" says the mandate. Why?

1. Because the LOST SINNER is running. Lost sinners never creep to ruin. As slow as the tortoise, the godly are on the road to Heaven. As swift as the bounding stag, lost sinners are on the road to Hell. The road to perdition is down-hill all the way. The natural heart which is so heavy a load heavenward —  lends a tremendous impetus to our downward course.

It is truly astonishing to notice the giant strides that many will make in sin even in one year. Proficiency in sin is soon learned. The feet turned from God are winged; or to use another illustration, the sinner is not being carried along by so placid a stream that we can stroll along the bank and quietly talk to him as we walk — but he is in the rapids! His bark is being whirled along with an impetuosity which makes us hold our breath for fear; it darts with the velocity of an arrow that has only just left the string. If we would speak to him at all, we must run, and speak to him too as we run.

2. Because TIME is running. Time is . . .
a ship that never casts anchor,
an eagle that is ever on the wing,
a shuttle that always flies,
an ocean that never ebbs.

Whether we eat or drink, walk or sleep, it does not matter; whether day shines or midnight casts its gloom, it is the same — on, on time stalks with measured tread, and none can hinder or hold it back. Stop the pendulum of yonder clock whose tick we hear — and time only laughs as it sweeps on. Our life is being ticked out, and eternity is being ticked in, by a pendulum that no hand but God's can stay! Time is hastening on — and its voice to us is "Run, speak to this young man."

3. Run, because OPPORTUNITIES are running. I have read somewhere that some years back the water of a river was swollen to a flood. A man who had such valuable timber was afraid it was in danger of being swept away; so he ventured with a light boat into the mad current, if possible to save it; hoping to keep sheltered from the full force of the stream. Vain hope — he was drawn into the rushing tide, and in a moment was at the mercy of the wild torrent himself! A friend saw his peril, and saw also that there was only one way of saving him; so mounting a fleet horse, he plied his spurs and made for a bridge a short distance below; reaching the bridge before the light craft which came like an arrow toward the arch, he dropped a rope over to the surface of the stream, and then called out to the man to seize it as his only chance. The trembling hand was stretched forth, the rope was grasped, the boat sped on from under him to ruin — but the man was saved.

Young man, such is your position tonight! I have tried, at my Lord's command, to run, and blessed be his name, I have reached the bridge before you; I let down the rope which reaches to your very hands, it is "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved!" Lay hold on it, man! lay hold!! Perhaps this is the last opportunity I will ever have of offering you the gospel — or you have of receiving it. Tonight's service will perhaps be to some present, the last bridge of mercy across the stream — the closing opportunity! May God help you to lay hold of the rope now while it touches the stream, for it may never be within your reach again.

4. Run, because DEATH is running. The grim despot is after every one of us; nothing can turn his course; he laughs all bribes to scorn, and every moment he gains on us. His scythe swings with the speed of the lightning flash, and never grows blunt in its work. Who next in this great crowd will fall before its stroke, is known but to one!

It may be the speaker — the eyes that now gaze upon you, wondering which among this multitude will be saved tonight, may be glazed in death the first; the voice that speaks may be hushed on earth forever, before tomorrow dawns!

Or it may be you or you! To all it comes; therefore I must run to speak. God has just taught us, as a people, a solemn lesson. Three weeks ago, as fine a sailor as ever put foot on deck came to our Saturday prayer meeting. He sent in a special request for prayer that he might be enabled to live for Christ and show his colors during a long voyage he was about to take. Just a week ago, when the gale blew so furiously, the ship Calcutta met with that terrible collision; the harrowing account of which doubtless most of us have read. The mate of the Calcutta was thrown down in the crash and half-killed; a huge wave then swept him overboard, and he sank to rise no more until the resurrection morning. That mate was the same man who was at our prayer meeting! Death came riding on the south-west gale. The billows rolled fast — but death outstripped them and dragged his prey beneath!

Thank God, we believe he is safe in Heaven. His prayer that he might reach his "desired haven" has been answered, though differently from what we all expected. And now in all affection, would we commend his widow and little ones to Him who is the "God of the fatherless."

But friend, suppose it had been you instead of him. How then? The same swift-footed death is after each and all — and therefore I am to "Run, and speak to this young man."

5. Run, because HELL is running. We read in the book of Revelation that death rode forth on a white horse and Hell followed after — to every impenitent sinner the two go together. Oh, sirs, we should not be in such earnestness about you, nor have these special sermons, if it were not for death's attendant — Hell! If when you die, you died like dogs, if death were only an annihilation — we would have no need to run to you.

But sinner, all Hell is up in chase;
the damned demons of the pit pursue you;
perdition yawns and opens its fiery mouth to receive you;
the hounds of Hell are on the scent!

Well may we run, and with weeping eyes exclaim, "Back sinner! Back! For Heaven's sake, back! For eternity's sake, back! To the cross of Jesus fly, for only there will Hell dare not touch you!"

Surely here are reasons enough why I should run.
You are running.
Time is running.
Opportunities are running.
Death is running.
Hell is running.
May mercy also run, and run to you tonight!

I am now in the fourth and last place, I asked the question:
 

IV. And when I catch up to him, Lord, what shall I SAY to him? I thank God I have caught up to so many tonight. Here I have you within sound of my voice. I have tried (alas how poorly I feel) to run after you; and now may my master guide me to speak aright. Let me address you in the same order in which I tried to describe you at the commencement of the sermon.

Son of pious parents, with many a noble, amiable quality — let me say this word to you: "Your morality will not save you." Unless you are 'born again,' you will be as much lost as if you never possessed any morality! Do not think I speak harshly; it is only in love; but believe me, there is as much need for conversion in you, as in the case of the foulest sinner present. Thank God you have been restrained from many a sin others have fallen into — but do not rest on that. Nothing short of simple faith in Christ saves. With all your morality, you must just come as a lost sinner to Jesus — and as such, trust him.

Young man, you who have had nothing but evil example from infancy, to you let me speak. Do not think that an evil upbringing frees you from responsibility. Your parents' sins will not exonerate you from yours. If they led, you have willingly followed. Remember, too, you can no longer plead ignorance as to the way of salvation, for you have just heard it, if never before. Listen yet again. Jesus died for sinners; being God as well as man, his atonement is of infinite value, sufficient to save all who trust it. He invites you to come to him, and declares he will never cast you out. If as a sinner you trust him tonight, then tonight you will be saved. Oh, blessed, simple gospel

Young man, so occupied in getting on in this world, I will just ask you one question, and leave you to give the answer. It is this — "What will it profit a man, if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul. Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" Mark 8.36, 37.　

Poor pleasure seeker, I would that I could undeceive you. You are being duped. The world itself laughs at you. You are flinging away happiness — not getting it. As a young man who knows a little about what the world is, I tell you there is no pleasure it can give, that is worthy to be compared with the joys that flow from the cross of Jesus.

"Tis religion that can give,
Sweetest pleasure while we live."

Young man, you who have hardened your neck in sin, and are running a steeple chase to Hell, leaping every barrier — just a solemn word to you. The day is fast coming when you will be unable to despise those mother's prayers; the day when they will add their solemn 'Amen' to your damnation. Laugh at them now, if you are mad enough; but as God's ambassador, I declare that if you die unsaved, they will be like a millstone round your neck, to drown you deeper in perdition!

Poor anxious seeker, I will close with a word to you. Your very concern to be saved is God's work. Your broken heart is not despised by him, for he has broken it on purpose to bind it up. In your letters you said, "I would that I could find the way to peace with God." Then behold it in a bleeding Savior! Cast your longing soul just as it is on him. From this 14th of February, rest your whole soul's eternal interest on him, and you are saved.

And now, Lord. I have tried to do as you have bid me; but to save is yours alone. Results I leave with you. O Divine Master, arise, and from your throne of mercy. "Run," and speak Yourself to these young men — and they shall live! Lord, do, for your own honor's sake. Amen.