SOLDIERS

You come to sojourn for a little while in this your county's capital. Swiftly the hours of your stay will fly. But in this little space, much good or evil you may learn and do. Your feet will tread the upward or the downward road. Heavenward or Hellward you will daily move. Better or worse you will go hence — better or worse you will leave others. But oh! how vast the difference! Accept this welcome as a proof that you have friends who long to guide you to the better way.

Parade and drill are over for the day. The time is vacant. Let us then converse. I cross the threshold of my main design by simply asking, what is the purpose of this visit? Why have you left your quiet cot — your fields — your homestead — your familiar work? Why have you changed your rustic garb for the red coat? Why are lowing herds, and bleating flocks, and vocal groves, abandoned for the noise of fife and drum? Why are the cart and plough exchanged for musketry and guns?

I expect you nobly to reply, that duty calls and you obey.

If I inquire what duty? You will reply, perhaps some foreign foe may threaten to invade, or civil tumult may disturb our peace, or ruffian violence may cause alarm — to be in readiness for defense you must learn the military art, and all the warlike training of the camp — England should boast a peasantry well disciplined in arms and skilled to fight for Queen — for country — for home and all our hearts hold dear — peace is secured when none may dare to break it — a ready soldiery prevents attacks. Thus, zeal for our native land impels to preparation.

I listen and approve. A patriot loves a patriot's ardent spirit. I honor bravery in our country's cause. If occasion called, I doubt not you would heroically face the cannon's mouth — the sword's sharp point — the charging cavalry — the battle's din — and all the horrors of the deathful scene. You would advance with life in hand to screen these shores from wrong; and if you fell, your wounds would be in front.

Brave man! who will not say, God bless you! who will not strive to recompense! Urged by this feeling, I come forth to offer counsel which, if heeded, will bring great reward.

I warn, then, there is a cause of nearer dearness than our country's weal — an aim more glorious far than England's defense — a foe more deadly than invading men — a Captain more worthy to be loved and served than earthly leader — a prize more precious than the hard-won medal — a crown which pales and trifles diadems — a victory more brilliant than arms can win, or trumpets can proclaim.

Surely your heart beats high at this bare mention. To win you to adopt this cause, let me detail it in these several heads.

I. "THE ENEMY."

II. "HIS ATTACKS."

III. "THE CHRISTIAN'S CAPTAIN."

IV. "THE IMPLEMENTS of CHRISTIAN WARFARE."
 

I. "THE ENEMY." A mighty foe meets you at every turn. You never move, but by your side he walks. No place excludes his entrance. Unseen, like air, he floats around you. I thus introduce the devil to your notice — that awful and accursed spirit, who, rebelling against God, and breathing hatred of our race, by his malignant craft has filled this earth with sin, and misery, and death. I warn you of his dread hostility, his nearness, and his arts.

He has his blinded votaries, who ridicule his being — jeer at his name, and think it brave to treat him as a joke. Be not so foolish. No battle is a jest, much less a battle in which souls may perish. The Bible speaks not of him in light terms. He and his legion are portrayed as "principalities and powers and rulers of the darkness of this world." It names him "prince of this world" — "god of this world." The picture is lifelike — for his sway is world-wide, and crowds yield him the homage of their hearts.

Trifle not when all his perils are so close. Mark how adroitly he entwined his chains around the parents of our race. He met them while strong in innocence — unweakened by corruption, and quickly laid them low. What are the annals of mankind, but hideous stories of his cruel triumphs, and his murderous deeds. Of woman-born the God-man only has escaped his wounds. Then trifle not. He is in earnest. Be you in earnest too.

He wars with cunning equal to his might. Ages of success have taught him how to lead on his troops — what ambushes to lay — how to advance, and how to feign retreat — what weapons to apply — what snares to hide. When all seems peace he springs upon his prey. Suddenly unwary feet are caught. Unguarded bosoms soon yield to his assault. Then trifle not.

He knows the weak part of your heart. He sees what gates are open. No opportunity is lost by him. No place — no age — no circumstance deter him. Against youth — manhood — and old age — against the healthy and the sick — the joyous and the sorrowing — unsparingly he plots. Without one sign of fear he dares the God-man to the conflict. He who respected not the Son of God, will not be scared by anything in you. Such is a faint picture of the foe. Oh! trifle not.

 

II. "HIS ATTACKS." Particulars best specify his work. Minute directions are safeguards. General counsel is as an arrow without aim — rejected by a blinded heart, as suited only to another's case. Let me then approach more closely, and by details unmask the enemy's attacks.

(1.) UNCLEANNESS. Scripture, well knowing his prevailing bias, calls him the unclean spirit. Uncleanness is his hellish element — the life in which he loves to live. In this character he here will severely tempt you. Will he not use this day some guilty comrade to entice to filth! Will he not urge some wretched wanton to lead you to lust's vilest haunts! — Will he not entice your steps to paths in which polluted pitfalls are concealed! The easy slope will seem most gay with carnal joys. Youths follow — fall — and rise bespattered with disgusting mire. He shows, or seems to show, some pleasing flower. They pluck and find a serpent beneath each leaf! The sting is poison — misery — disease — decrepitude and shame. These wounds are frequent seeds of life-long anguish. The smart attends the victims to the grave.

But there it ends not. It is written — "He who is filthy, let him be filthy still." Rev. 22:11. Could you but hear the wailings of the lost, your ears would ring with unclean victims cursing unclean tempters. How many hiss at the seducing Balaam!

If my words fail to check, oh! heed a voice from heaven. "Hearken unto me now therefore, O you children, and attend to the words of my mouth. Let not your heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths. For she has cast down many wounded — yes, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death." Prov. 7:24-27. And again, "Flee fornication. Every sin that a man does is without the body — but he that commits fornication sins against his own body." 1 Cor. 6:18.

Say not these sins are little. Can that be little which endangers souls, and calls down wrath from God? Say not a little sip from the enticing cup will satisfy — I will not drink again. Vain man! Indulgence is the fuel of this fire. The stone in motion soon descends with speed. How huge a ball soon swells from rolling snow! Say not the devil enlists my passions on his side. Doubtless such is his effort. But yield not. Resist him, and his batteries are silenced. I deny not that traitors in the camp will aid him, but I denounce him as a coward, who will flee when you oppose. You are a soldier — will a soldier let a coward beat him?

(2.) DRUNKENNESS. Behold the devil in another form. He sets the open door of beer-houses before you. He shows the entering crowd and asks, Why should not you go in? He tells how round the table the merry laugh, the lively converse, and the cheery joke abound? He whispers, Care stands without; pleasure within holds joyous court; to drink is to be happy. This is a dexterous attack. But listen not. It is all false. He is a liar, and these words are lies. He is a murderer, and this is a murderer's aim. Let common sense speak out. Have you not seen a drunkard? Is he a happy man? No beast is so degraded. Creation's vilest reptile is not lower. Where is his reason — God's dignifying gift to man? Its light is quenched — each mental faculty is marred — each power is crippled — consciousness is extinct — the vacant eyes deceive — the ears distinguish not true sound — the tottering feet keep not straight path. If tongue can speak, it stammers folly, ribaldry, or oaths. Ah! wretched sight! Can that poor object be a man? Is he not rather some foul fiend in human guise, escaped from hell! Would you be such? Then stop! Take not the first step towards this end.

Would you go hence to make a drunkard's home? Picture the scene. Poverty, and filth, and misery, in each form, sit there. The wife ill-used — downcast — heart-broken — may toil, but toils in vain. The children naked — famished and diseased — fret at an empty table. Wages, if earned, supply the means to aggravate the thirst. The drunkard, a curse to self and all around, soon totters to a drunkard's grave. Would you so live and die? You shudder at the thought. Then flee the beer-house door! Let not the devil triumph, and hell sneer, because you add another drunkard to the drink-slain.

(3.) WICKEDNESS OF TONGUE. The unclean spirit is especially foul-mouthed. As such he wars against you. He will draw near to stab your soul, through ill-use of your tongue. In his school dunces learn that speech defiled with oaths is a fine mark of independent spirit. How many dream that it is brave to curse, to bluster, and blaspheme? Be not deceived. What, though it be an all-pervading vice! He has no strength who cannot climb the downward stream. He is a trembling reed, who cannot stand against a common habit. He is more foolish than a fool, who sells his soul for that which is no gain.

The clear commandment of our God forbids vain utterance of His holy name. Threats, barbed with ruin, strive to stop offence. Is it wisdom — is it courage, by cursing to incur God's curse! All sin is folly — but in the list of sins, this surely is the silliest. Where is the pleasure! What sense is gratified! What appetite receives meal! What semblance is there of the slightest gain! Who ever found a grain of profit in blaspheming talk!

Venture not thus madly to incense your God! Use not the tongue, which gives us place above the beasts, and is the glory of our kind, to taint the very air with pestilential sounds, and to invoke just vengeance on your heads.

Wear not this uniform of Satan's slaves. All who adopt it proclaim themselves his fools and tools. Learn rather to revere the name, which is above all names. Never use it but in prayer — in praise — in godly converse — as in his hearing — as at heaven's gate — in deepest sense of its high sanctity.

Akin to cursing is obscenity of talk. The filthy jest and unclean ribaldry are language taught of hell. Tightly bar the portals of your lips. Guard also the ear-gate. Hearing tempts to utterance. We learn to speak by listening to words. Men are apt mimics of the wicked one. Be deaf, then, that you may be dumb. Pure ears are parents to pure tongues. Hearts, too, are barrels of explosive powder. A wicked word cast by a wicked comrade may quickly cause combustion. Be on your guard. Let not the devil slay you through your tongue.

 

III. "THE CHRISTIAN'S CAPTAIN." Say not this warfare baffles hope. A giant enemy appears in giant strength. How weak am I! How can I stand — unarmed — alone! I need some leader skilled to give command — some captain, whom I can love and trust — some voice to cheer me on.

True! what you ask is needful. Without such aid a soldier is a feeble reed; a ship without a helmsman; as chaff, the sport of every wind. But all this aid in boundless fullness is at hand. God, who says 'Fight', presents a Captain to you. While I now cry, 'Behold Him', may the Spirit give you the eye to see — the heart to love — the readiness to follow.

He is well-known — well-tried. His name — His fame resound throughout the world. His noble deeds ring trumpet-tongued in every land.

Behold Him. He is the blessed Jesus — God's co-eternal and co-equal Son — the Lord of hosts — the Captain of Salvation. He bears "upon His vesture and on His thigh, a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords." Rev. 19:16. All monarchs and all heroes are a flimsy shadow before Him. It must be so, for they are creatures of His hand. He is the hero of innumerable fights. He never lost a battle yet. He never lost a man. His cheerful followers give Him their whole hearts, and laud Him with extolling breath, and boast and glory in His name. At His command they readily advance — they march — they charge — they mount the breach — they scale the fortress — they face all foes — they laugh at forlorn hopes — their cry is 'Onward!', and their shout is 'Victory!'

His arm is mighty in almightiness, therefore invincible is His troop. When I regard His might, it overtops the heavens. When I regard His love, it seems to overtop His might. If words cannot depict His power, so they are weak to tell His tenderness of heart. His soldiers are the purchase of His life laid down — the ransomed of His blood. This day He sends His messenger to sound these tidings in your ear. Let all that He has done for you secure your confidence. Come, follow Him. Come, enlist as His true soldier. He gives no promise of inactive life. He tells not of inglorious ease. His soldiers always move on battle-fields. But service is their joy. And thus to fight is glorious victory.

 

IV. "IMPLEMENTS OF THIS WARFARE." You say you cannot fight unarmed. This Captain knows it, and provides full armor. It is framed of heavenly metal — terrible to inflict wounds — and armor against opposing arms. It has been often proved; and never known, when boldly used, to fail. Let me display some pieces of this armor, and may you learn their value by their use! Out of Scripture shall each thought be brought.

(1.) SWORD. A sword is needed and prepared. There is none like it. It bears the name "Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God." Eph. 6:17. It has no scabbard. None, who wield it, ever lay it down. No enemy can wrest it from the hand. Keen is its point. No age can blunt it. It is ever bright and sharp. Satan trembles at its glittering edge. In Jesus' hands it vanquished his assaults. Its virtue lives for ever. "It is written" boldly and skillfully applied is quite omnipotent.

You gain this sword by studying the Bible — the armory of God — the gift of gifts — a light for pilgrim-feet — a lantern for your paths — a chart for travelers — a compass for your voyage — a lively comrade for your side — a well of comfort for each hour — a pillow for the weary head — a staff to strengthen toiling limbs — a cordial when the spirits droop — a counselor in all distress — a word in season for each station and all ages. Store well your memory with its mighty truths. When Satan comes, and come he will, brandish this sword. Quickly he will flee. Pursue him and give wounds to his often-wounded back.

(2.) SHIELD. To the sword a shield is added. In ancient camps no warrior could stand without this guard. Worn on the arm, it was upraised or lowered against battering blows. Thus it gave full defense. As such defense, it is now offered for your aid. The devil ever watches to aim blows. His barbed arrows fly in ruthless showers. Unprotected, you will be unmercifully pierced. Be wise, take up the shield.

It is the "shield of faith," Eph. 6:16. As such it is divinely framed, and comes directly from above — the Spirit's workmanship. Thus its protective power is complete. Its name shows its material. Faith constitutes its essence — that grace, which sees with open eye the blessed Jesus and His perfect work — His sin-atoning blood — His wrath-appeasing death — His endurance of the law's curse in the transgressor's place — His resurrection from the grave, the sign of ransom paid — His seat at God's right hand to intercede, and claim fulfillment of the everlasting covenant. This grace flies instantly to Him — and never pauses until sheltered in His wounds. When it is lively and in active use, temptations tempt in vain. Let Satan's every dart be hurled, forked with the fire of hell, they strike this guard, and hissing fall extinguished, quenched, and harmless.

The case is clear. Faith makes us one with Christ. Can He be wounded? Can they be harmed who are enwrapped in Him? Let faith be exercised and you are safe. But rest not with its meager measure. Pray earnestly and cease not, "Lord increase our faith." Its presence brings life to the soul. Its rich abundance makes this life replete with joy — assured of final victory. Thanks be to God for such a shield!

(3.) HELMET. Are your heads left exposed? Oh! no. The Captain crowns His troop with head-defense. Their helmet, too, descends from heaven — invulnerably wrought. Its crest is the "hope of salvation." 1 Thess. 5:8. All hope is bright — lively — sustaining. The heart is glad, in which it dwells. It ever sees approaching good and smiles. It eyes a calm beyond each storm — a light behind each cloud — a better time in rear of evil days. How joyous, then, is the good hope, which has salvation as its prospect — which feasts on promises of heavenly bliss — and ante-dates fulfillment nearing as each moment flies!

Mark the Christian warrior seeking the fight, thus happily equipped. Let all temptations deluge like a flood — he strides above them with thoughts in the high heavens. Can base desires draw him down, while eyeing pleasures at God's right hand! What are the baubles of this world to him? He has prospect to walk beside his Captain — clothed in white clothing — decked in pure righteousness. Can he defile his hands by pitch of filthy sins! This hope must cleanse. "Every man, who has this hope in Him, purifies himself even as He is pure." 1 John 3:3. Beloved, put on this hope. Look onward — forward — upward — heavenward. Enter the fight, knowing "the hope of His calling" — "rejoicing in hope of the glory of God." "Hope to the end." The head thus helmeted can never be laid low.

(4.) THE FLAG. Shame on the soldier who loves not his flag! While it waves high, his buoyant courage mounts. Where it precedes, he follows with undaunted step. The spirit cannot sink with this in view. The Christian Captain lifts aloft a flag. This banner is His "Love." Song 2:4.

Hearts burn like fire, while this ensign is unfurled. It tells that Jesus loves with love unchangeable — free — full — without beginning — without end — with love so vast, so real, that gladly He died to rescue and to save. Soldiers gazing on this flag, shout gratefully, "we must love Him, who thus loves us — through life — in death, we must serve loyally — His friends are our friends — His foes our foes." Let Satan now assail. The flag will cheer, and you will not give place.

Let me add, His soldiers never march with silent lip. Prayer is their constant utterance, and joyous praises are their chorus. They hold incessant converse with their Lord. They tell Him all their needs and cares. They keep back nothing from His listening ear. Answers descend — thanksgivings in return arise. Thus Asa fights to conquest — "Lord it is nothing with You to help, whether with many, or with those who have no power. Help us, O Lord our God, for we rest on You, and in Your name we go against this multitude. O Lord, You are our God. Let not man prevail against You." 2 Chr. 14:11. Mark the order of Jehoshaphat's array. "He appointed singers unto the Lord, and that should praise the beauty of holiness as they went out before the army, and to say, Praise the Lord, for His mercy endures forever." 2 Chr. 20:21. As they thus prayed and praised, the foe was gone. Similarly wrestle with God, and you will outmatch the devil. These cries bring heaven to the help. The Captain of Salvation answers with victory.

May the Spirit of the Lord most High smile blessings on this effort to train you for conquest! Oh! heed my counsel. Take up these arms so ready for your use. Be resolute — manly — lion-like — devoted — valiant — heroic. Short is the service of this camp. A brief campaign will bring you to the end — the end which has no end. No words can truly paint it, for no thought can comprehend.

I might most rapturously tell of a crown of life, which fades not away — a crown of glory in the heaven of heavens — a hymn of triumph ever swelling without pause — a welcome to the presence of your God. I might describe all labors past — all foes subdued — all victory obtained — all prizes gained. But this is to 'paint the rose' — to gild the sun — to decorate the starry sky — to bring perfume to flowers — to teach new notes to nightingales. The reality — the grand reality! it must be tasted to be known. But this reality may be yours, through grace. I wish you this happiness — this victory — this triumphant glory. I cannot wish you more. Thus may this drill add to salvation's sons, and heaven's loud songs!

 

YOUNG MEN

I plead no small authority for this address. The blessed Jesus used the pen of John to warn the Asiatic Churches. Apostolic letters form a precious portion of God's word. In thus writing, then, I move in heavenly track. But hallowed means, without the Spirit, cannot ensure success. May He give His wonder-working aid! Then these weak words may sow a glorious crop.

Give me your youthful ears. I come with feelings most deep, most true, most lively. Personally, indeed, I cannot claim knowledge of each separate case. But lack of acquaintance prevents not warm affection for you, as a class. Paul ardently avowed his "great conflict," his throes of agony for those who never saw his face. (Col. 2:1). Love for one's country is real as love for individuals. Christian philanthropy expands wide arms, and zealously casts bread on many waters. Strangers have sought and won the souls of strangers. Therefore, turn not from me because I am unknown.

I am alive to your many claims on sympathy — they are real, strong, peculiar. Allow me to unfold them. Though young, you have commenced an endless course. Your bodies are the caskets of inestimable treasure. You have received, and must retain, imperishable life. Count — but count you cannot — the days of eternity; they are the period of your being. You must exist concurrent with all time. The sun of heaven can never set. The darkness of hell can never see a dawn. In this light, or in this gloom, you must rejoice or wail. But which? ah! which? The rapid path of this brief life conducts you to a changeless home. If in your little day you become one with Christ, His heaven is yours forever. If you continue aliens to His grace, you pass to all the miseries of a graceless doom. Can I see your vessel commencing such voyage, and not inquire, Have you the pilot and the chart? Fellow-immortals, in this letter read the yearnings of my heart, that you may reach the harbor which is endless joy.

The present morning will, probably, decide the future day. Tastes now acquired will grow with your growth, and strengthen with your strength. Impressions deepened on the yielding tablet often prove to be indelible. The path now chosen will, probably, retain your steps; to advance will be most easy, to recede how hard! Scripture emphatically asks, "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?" Look at that aged tree; its slant shows how the sapling-twigs were bent. Habits and customs now taking root will scarcely be uprooted. Streams at their source may be directed. The rolling river, who can turn? Your present bias may be unchanging. Pause, then, I pray you, and consider which threshold are you crossing — under what captain are you now enlisting? This is the time to listen to the tender cry, "Those who seek Me early shall find Me." Yield now to the Spirit, and He will seal you to the day of redemption.

Thus I call you to your watch-tower. Beware! for a malignant eye intently marks you. Your deadly foe knows well his opportunity. Experience has taught him the time most favorable for his trade. His every net is spread to entrap careless feet. His snares are mainly laid for novices. He sweetens his intoxicating cup to suit the inexperienced taste. He knows what doors will yield to a slight touch — what baits will catch unwary prey. Your present age is too often thoughtless, and secure; therefore his most crafty arts will cluster round your path. He is aware too that chains now riveted will hold you fast; that false maxims now imbibed will obtain the power of truth; that baneful principles now ingrafted will be written as on a rock.

Therefore, his main struggles are on the battle-field of youthful hearts; here he has gained most signal triumphs, and firmly reared his frightful throne. This, then, is the moment when faithfulness should hasten to your rescue. Clasping tenderly your hands, I would guide you from his ways of ruin. If you resist in the name of the Lord, you are safe. Say, then, will you resist, or will you yield! Awake and face, like men, this foe. Guilt makes him cowardly. Stand firm, and he will flee. Tempt he may — tempt he will — but to compel, he has not power. The outcome, which is life or death, now trembles in the balance. Turn from him. Look upwards to your gracious Savior. He will tread Satan under your feet shortly.

My pen moves eagerly, because my hopes are warm. Thoughts of Jesus — the ever-living, the ever-loving — encourage me. If Satan be strong, Jesus is Almighty. The cry of faith will bring Him swiftly to your side — and all the hosts of heaven obey His bidding. Enlist beneath His banner, and you conquer. You cannot fail. Sure victory is yours. He will equip you in the whole panoply of God. On your heads He will place the helmet of salvation. Heads so defended cannot descend to hell. If you join the flock of the Good Shepherd, the faithful promise is your heritage — "My sheep shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand. My Father, who gave them Me, is greater than all; and none are able to pluck them out of my Father's hand." John 10:28, 29.

When, then, I sketch your perils, my object is to awaken, rather than discourage. Your tender years are healthy blossoms, and not seared leaves. Life's dawn is often the dawn of grace. Scripture sweetly tells of youthful hearts surrendered to the Lord. The early piety of Joseph, Samuel, David, Josiah, Daniel, and others, gild the earlier story. Timothy and Titus shine brightly on the later page. The evening calls of Manasseh and Nicodemus flash as rare meteors. Yours is the age sparkling with conversions. No marvel Jesus loves His own with everlasting love. His delights are with His children. It is His joy to dwell in them, and to have their hearts as His abode. Hence He sends forth His Spirit to win them early to His faith and service.

Let me not be here mistaken. No circumstance of time or place binds the free Spirit. Salvation is of sovereign grace. "The wind blows where it wills — so is every one that is born of the Spirit." "It is not of him that wills, nor of him that runs, but of God that shows mercy." But still encouraging annals record, with clear intent, how lovingly the Spirit breathes upon the young. All soils are not adapted for all seeds; gems are not found in every quarry; flowers will not bloom in uncongenial climates. Thus, old age is not the frequent receptacle of grace. But you are young; therefore, hope views you hopefully. My friends, confirm my hope. I beg you, blight it not.

While I grant that difficulties — baffling human effort — raise barriers against all conversion — while I allow that Omnipotence alone can soften any heart — while I read that the very power of God, which brought again Christ Jesus from the grave, must energize to quicken a dead soul (Eph. 1:19, 20), still hope's liveliest pinions hover over you.

There is hope; because your hearts are warm, affectionate, and tender. You are disposed to love what shines as lovely, and to turn with repugnance from the vile and odious. Thus when Christ in all the charms of His most glorious beauty is commended, and Satan in all his loathsome hideousness is exposed, you quickly feel how sweetly the One attracts — how frightfully the other scares. Your glowing frame of mind aids me, when I call you to love the One, and to abhor the other.

Kindness now melts you. You meet friendliness with friendship. Hardness repels you, and dislike begets dislike. Hence when I tell how Jesus loves our race — how His heart yearns to support us — how He endured all agony to save; and when I show Satan, in contrast hating with deadliest hate — using all deceit and malice to destroy — ever warring against happiness, and having hellish joy in man's endless misery; I pause, expecting your grateful, generous response. Surely you will return Christ's love with all your love. Surely you will recoil with horror from the horrid fiend.

Again, the trampling feet of life-long sin have not yet hardened you as a battered highway. Passions indulged and lusts caressed have not expelled the blush of shame. You are not as rocks devoid of soil. You are not impenetrable as ice congealed. Therefore I burn with hope, that this good seed may gain admission and take root.

Conscience in you is not yet seared. Your eye is not perverted to mistake evil for good. Unvitiated taste discriminates the bitter and the sweet. An inward voice tells you which is the broad and which is the narrow road. Will not this counselor endorse my warning!

But let me add, that this hopeful period will rapidly depart. While I speak, its sands decrease. Tremble, lest old age should over take you in a Christless state. Bitter is the anguish, which laments, "I stifled convictions in my youth, and now I cannot turn — it is too late."

Dear friends, my zeal is strong to save you from such woe.

Other motives in long train constrain me. Smile not incredulous, when I name your present influence. Do not think that you are unknown — unnoticed. You are not the worthless chaff on which feet regardlessly tread. You are not vile weeds which no hand gathers. You live not as they on whom no eye is fixed. You move not as they whom none are quick to follow. Some comrade — some friend — some neighbor — some younger member of your house will surely adopt your ways. You may be slow to think it, but you are a guide. Your example may be life or death. Whether you soar to heaven, or sink to hell, you will not go alone. Believing this, most earnestly I pray that many in heaven may call you blessed — that none in hell may, hissing, point at you.

But soon youth expands into manhood. Parents depart — their children take their seats. You, whom I now seek to train, may soon train others. The family will call you head, and yield obedience to your rule. Shall the household be Christian or worldly! Shall they be Christ's jewels or the devil's chaff! Shall they be precious heirs of life, or brands of fire unquenchable! Under God, this may depend on your present choice. Give yourselves now to Christ, and from you shall flow "rivers of living water." Once truly His, you will be His forever, and in every station, every condition — parent, friend, neighbor — you will allure, attract and lead to heaven. Do you marvel if, feeling this, I thus entreat you!

I hasten to the sum and substance of my strong desires. I pray you to become Christian, not in name only, but in heart and soul, in reality and truth. A name to live is easily assumed. Barren profession may consist with inward death. Trees may be fresh in leaf and yield no fruit. But give yourselves in vital earnestness to serve your God in Christ. Cast yourselves humbly at the Savior's feet. Open the portals of your hearts, and entreat Him to come in. Plead with Him His own assurance, which cannot change and cannot be recalled, "Him that comes unto Me I will never cast out." Plead His office. He came "to seek and to save that which was lost." Plead your need; undone in self, you perish without Him. Plead the sincerity of your wish — your rejection of all other hope — your conviction of deep sinfulness — your knowledge of the power of His blood — your firm resolve to flee all other lords — your willing surrender of body, soul and spirit to His easy yoke — your steadfast purpose to hold Him by the hand of faith, until His blessings come. Act thus, and if the Gospel-page is true — and it is God's truth reaching above the heavens — your salvation is begun. Go on — go forward, and you will ever bless the day, when you gave ear to this address.

As a shield against all error, as a sword repelling every foe, as a magnet attracting to all good, let me now present the Word of God. Ascend this rock, and you may defy all surging waves of evil. The fortress is impregnable. At this momentous crisis, such counsel presses to the forefront. The aged, worn-out world seems to be tottering to its end. Old foundations are crumbling to decay. There is, indeed, much stir and bustle; but, amid all this restlessness, the thoughtful eye discerns weakness, decrepitude, senility. The main distemper is lack of reverence for Scripture. Poor dotards dream that they possess some inward light far brighter than the rays of heaven. Pride scorns to sit, as Mary, at the Savior's feet. Conceit denies that God is wiser than the creature man. It is free thought, we are told, to handle Scripture as some mocking cheat; it is brave reason to ridicule old truths, sanctioned by centuries of faith, and with the reverence of ages.

Young men, spurn these deluded drivelers. Surely your honest minds will scorn them. They exhibit, as bright discoveries of their wit, nonsense culled in exploded schools of skeptic thought. They crouch as slaves to by-gone infidels, and reproduce the oldest blasphemies. Believe me, there is no new deceit. The Father of lies has long since done his worst. He may repeat, but can no more invent. Their utmost genius is to dress anew the dolls with which old deists trifled. Turn from them as you would be saved, and give all reverence to the clear old Bible. Worthy it is, indeed, of all your confidence and all your love. Fix deeply in your minds that it is God's authoritative voice speaking from His highest throne. Be assured that every word, in its first form, came from the Holy Spirit. This is the motto written on its brow — "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God."

If this be true, then all is true. If this be false, the whole foundation of the fabric sinks, and faith totters without a resting-place. But the witness is true. Cling, then, to the Book, as the sure anchor of your hopes. Let no one rob you of life's dearest treasure. The noblest intellects have counted it to be their highest wisdom to do homage to its supremacy. From age to age the holiest of earth's sons have reposed with joy beneath its shade, and gathered fruit to life eternal. Make it, then, your chosen pleasure-ground. As you read, delights will swell until they exceed all bounds. Unfailing gleams of new and noble thoughts will brighten. You cannot exhaust the treasures of this mine. Fresh gems will ever sparkle. Each will outshine what was before admired. "Let, then, the Word of Christ dwell in you richly."

You anxiously desire to be well educated. "In Christ are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." (Col. 2:3.) Steeped in the Bible, you will be wiser than all skeptic sophists; you will rise to a pinnacle of elevated character, and soar magnanimously above the littleness of this little world.

But approach not with crude feet; for it is holy ground. It is no common volume which common intellect can master. The Spirit, who supplied the contents, has affixed His seal. He only can unloose. Read, then, with hearts craving His light. Read, too, with earnest search for the true riches of the sacred page. The Savior Jesus is the hidden wealth. His testimony is its true spirit. Unless you find Him, you find little. If He shines forth, you bask in the light of life. Let me beseech you then, read, pray, and be wise; read and receive salvation.

It borders on sacrilege to descend from this height to lower level. But let me not omit its fascinating charms for intellect. You have desire to be well versed in the best writings. Here your most glowing wishes will be gratified. Here the noblest thoughts live in the noblest language. The historic annals — mighty in the mightiness of truth — stride in majestic purity of style. The enraptured poetry soars on the loftiest wings of dazzling sublimity. Do pastorals delight you! The book of Ruth is touching in all the simple loveliness of rural scenery. Does tragedy entrance you! Job's grand severity is thrilling with varied and heart-stirring incidents. To be brief, the odes are melting melody; the narratives are pictures of real life; the traits of character disclose the secret workings of the heart. In beauty, pathos, and majesty, the Bible pales all other writings, as the mid-day sun blots out the canopy of stars. Bring forth the finest specimens of human pen, they dwindle into nothingness beside the Book divine. Do you doubt? Read constantly, and you will soon confess that its excellences far surpass report.

But this is inferior ground. Read, and you will gain far more than intellectual pleasures. You will acquire inward conviction, which nothing can gainsay, that heaven's own truth pervades the Book. Placing your hand on your responding heart — in face of every wile of every skeptic, of every sneer of every worldling, of every doubt of silly witlings — you will each one avow, "I feel, I know this volume to be true. It talks to me as man could never talk. It speaks to me as God alone can speak. It supplies comforts, which earth can never give. It fills with joys, all redolent of heaven. It chains unruly passions. It sanctifies the inner man." Happy this day, if I thus win you to luxury of thought, and rich reception of renewing truth.

I speak more earnestly, because other friends, most anxious for your weal, regard such counsels as, at least, indiscreet. They decry such study as too stern, forbidding, and severe for your dawning minds. They would lead you through worldly talk to love the world. They present, as congenial to your present taste, the froth and frivolity of daily news and modern gossip, and fiction's silly tales. Is it their perception of your state to regard your minds as only fit for childish toys! To encourage worldliness is not the road which leads to heaven. Let folly be the food of fools. Young eagles' eyes are turned at once toward the sun. Men learn not to climb heights by loitering in a plain. Show your manly nerve of mind by grasping at once the best, the wisest, the most bright of thoughts. Your life is nursery for the palace of the King of kings. Let present discipline fit you for such converse. Be persuaded. Cease to be triflers, and make the grand, the noble, the glorious Bible your chief study.

The present crisis demands another counsel. You enter life, when perils cluster round the Church of our forefathers. We boast that England's glory is the glorious Reformation. Forever blessed be our God for that bright day! Then, mighty heroes marched forth, as giants, waving the banner of the Word, and shouting, "The just shall live by faith." The thraldom of Rome's iron yoke was snapped. Men marveled that they had so long been fettered, blinded, oppressed. Before bold, wise, undaunted, holy preaching, the Dagon of ignorance, superstition, blasphemy, idolatry, fell low. Happy crowds flocked to the standard of pure truth. Many of these nimble champions sealed their witness with their blood. From martyrdom's charred embers the tree of Christian liberty sprang up. It ever since has lived; and, by God's blessing, may it ever live in England's soil! Sometimes, indeed, its leaves have been less verdant, and its branches have not vigorously spread — "We all do fade as a leaf." But Popery, with all its ceaseless arts, has never yet regained its wrongful sway.

But now, we see the hapless day, when many minds view with complacency, or something worse, this deadly foe. This backward look is our disgrace — our folly — and our grievous sin. It is sad proof, that imbecility is doing in our midst its weakening work. The shame of shames is that many preachers are thus in league with anti-Christ. Hence my main fear for you. Your confiding minds are slow to think that fatal error can tarnish pulpits, in which reformers stood — and sons of the Reformation profess to stand. But you must observe, that, stealthily, new ways are creeping in, and outward attractions — many and strange — are striving to bewitch the senses. Mark these things well, and probe their tendency.

It is good, when churches revive in all the garbs of decency and pure taste. It is good, when services are solemn; devout, and warm. In all we do for God, zeal cannot work too zealously. Hearty reverence commands respect. But turn aside — flee as from a plague-spot — when you see soul-slaying error lurking in ornaments and rites. Remember Christ is the first and last — the sum and substance of heaven-taught religion. In Him true worshipers assemble, pray, and praise. In Him true preachers preach. To Him they point. All ceremonial is an empty husk, which leads not to Him. Spiritual sight will soon grow dim, if it sees nothing but officiating show. Suspect the ministry in which Christ is obscured, His Gospel half concealed, and outward means raised to the place of justifying faith. This is priestcraft plotting for supremacy. This is declivity towards Rome.

While many minds thus tremble for our Church, let me look hopefully to you. Be true, I pray you, to yourselves, your country, your family, your Church, your Savior, and your God. As you would live happy, beloved, useful — as you would die honored, peaceful, blessed — as you would serve your generation well — as you would meet with confidence your coming Judge — as you would hear the glorious welcome, "Well done, good and faithful servant" — as you would enter into your Lord's own joy — as you would sit beside Him on His throne — as you would share the triumphs of those "who overcame by the blood of the Lamb, and the word of His testimony," enter the best of services, be good soldiers and servants of the Lord Jesus, be genuine, be firm, be manly, be consistent, be heroic for His holy truth. It gloriously shines in the Word — it is vividly embodied in our Articles — it was preached by the noble army of our martyrs — it was sealed in their still speaking blood. Let it be the health, the strength, the radiance of your lives!

Accept this exhortation from one who prays, "God bless you."

 

HIRING FAIRS

For a few moments let me crave your ear. I am no stranger to the purpose of your visit. I know why you stand jostled in this throng, courting the craze of an ill-mannered crowd.

My present plan, however, leads not to comments on this faulty fair. My purpose is not to remonstrate or upbraid. When I view this concourse, compassion stifles all reproach. Austerity is silent and tenderness desires to speak. Kindness prevails, while sterner feelings stand aside. Others will this day address you, seeking their own ends. Let me be heard, whose only object is your good. Though unknown, I truly wish you well.

Your conduct claims some measure of excuse. You are misguided by a long-lived custom. You have been taught that servants' places are thus lawfully gained. Perhaps your parents and their parents, too, have boldly done what you now boldly do. That this traffic is un-English and most evil, no thoughtful man can possibly deny. But I cast not the total blame on you. Censure, today, shall not depress your heart. You must not, therefore, turn away. I wear no frowns. I point not to the shame and mischief. A present opportunity is before me, and Christian zeal is warm to use it. If God be pleased to bless my words, you may obtain the best of friends, and join the service of the best of masters.

Your look is now inquiring. You seem to say, these words imply intention to do hiring work. Exactly so. Such is my errand. Intent on this design, I look around, and fix my eye on you. But, understand, I seek no servant for myself. I bear commission from another. My Master sends me, and I am prompt to do His bidding.

Do you reply — This mode of dealing is not common — it is unusual thus to hire — but curiosity is roused, and gladly would I ask some explanation! Does fame commend your Master? What is his reputation?"

Gladly I comply. My Master is great, rich, kind, good, noble. There is none like Him in all the county, or in all the world. His spacious mansion contains many servants. Multitudes wait at His gate. They all receive much care, and bless God for their lot. They work, indeed; for none are happy who live idle lives; but in their work they find delight. Their needs are all supplied. He pays good wages now, and when they have fulfilled their tasks, they are enriched beyond their utmost hopes. But this is meager praise. He is, indeed, far better than this poor account. Not one, who ever became His, would leave His service for all the treasures which this earth can give.

In His household there is room for you, and I this day invite you to this choicest place. I think I hear you say — This is, indeed, a grand account. But where can this Master dwell? He surely is no native of these parts; and, as I cannot break home-ties, His place, though tempting, is no place for me.

Stay — stay! I call you not to emigration, or to distant lands. No lengthy voyage conducts to His abode. At any moment you may reach His presence. No distance separates, if you consent. Peculiar license, too, pervades His house. While you serve Him you may still work in a contiguous farm. You may abide, surrounded by home-friends, and still call Him your Lord.

Your look is now amazed. You suspect that my mind wanders, or my words mock. You think I surely trifle — and, to convict me of wild talk, you ask — What, then, is His name?

Your question helps me, and I thank you for it. With eager joy — with holy pride, I give the glorious name. He is the Lord Christ Jesus — the only-begotten Son of God — Very God of Very God — Heir of all things — Emmanuel God with us — the only Savior of a sin-lost world. I could add more, and leave much more untold — but a full catalogue of all His names at present might perplex and weary you.

But, ah! how is it now! your look is changed — awkward — downcast. The name has checked your gaiety. You seem half-frightened — ill at ease — and anxious to depart.

But pause, dear friend, my message now shall not be long. I perceive, at once, that you have knowledge of this name; and that you clearly catch my purpose, and my wish. But tell me, why you now no longer smile. Whence your averted timid look? Do I not read aright your fear that the service of Christ Jesus would nip the pleasures of life's prime, and doom your youth to dismal gloom!

For this alarm I am not unprepared. It is the common artifice of Satan. It is the widespread net, towards which the giddy float. It is the poisoned cup which youthful lips sip thoughtlessly. It is the pillow of delusion, on which so many sleep to wake in hell. What! Christians sad! At once I contradict the falsehood. When Satan said — "You shall not surely die," did he speak truth? When now he whispers, Christ's servants mope in cheerlessness, he equally deceives. No, I am bold to step to higher ground. I fearlessly proclaim that there is no spark of lasting happiness apart from this great Lord. While every mother's child in Satan's service is an enslaved drudge, Jesus' followers feast at banquets of delight — and quaff an overflowing cup — and sing on the highest heights of joy — and walk in holy liberty.

You raise your eyes wondering — incredulous. You marvel what strange utterance will follow. Well! Let me call you a witness on my side. Looking you in the face, I ask — Is happiness your state? Probably you often laugh and sport. It may be so. But masks of mirth may hide unpeaceful hearts. Do no intruding thoughts put merriment to flight? In pleasure's giddy whirl are there no misgiving pauses? An inward voice will whisper — This life is wrong. A cloud of gloom will darken noisy gaiety. You must confess this picture to be true. Though now you are so gladsome, perhaps you have felt pain and sickness. Where was your gladness then! It left you with a mocking sneer. But if you yet are free from malady's sharp touch, still some neighbor's groans — the passing bell — an open grave — a train of mourners — the pulpit's warning — the thought that you may be the next to die, have caused a shudder. Then the remembrance of judgment after death — of wrath so righteously deserved — of the wages due to sin — of the fire which ever burns — of the worm which ever gnaws — of the unending torments of the lost, has chilled with terror through your aching bosom. If solid happiness were your abiding portion, it would exclude such gloomy guests. Honest conscience cannot but assent that worldly hearts are like the troubled sea, which knows no rest. You are not happy.

But, heed my bidding, give yourself to Christ, and your peace shall flow as a river, and your joy sparkle as the sun-lit sea. Mark His invitation. It is rich in promise — "Come unto Me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The motto on each servant's brow is, "Happy are You, O Israel."

I watch your countenance, and I read its stare. You think I overstate. You know some neighbors, famed for their love of Christ, who writhe in pain, and are brought low by losses — poverty — distress. You perceive that Christians soar not above trouble's reach. Mark me, I say not that union to Christ will guard your body from all pain, and keep back the ever-flowing tide of tears, and bar the door against sorrow and affliction. Far otherwise. My all-wise Master knows the need of chastening discipline.

Thus love corrects, and seemingly is often harsh. A gracious scourge repels from perils — drives from destruction's path — restrains the straying feet. But in these trials there is wondrous gain. Troubles give life to dormant promises — darkness issues in clearer light — in every storm God is a present stay.

Consult your pious neighbors. They will gratefully confess that in their keenest pains they have found supports of sustaining grace. Their experience confirms the word — "I will never leave you, nor forsake you." Question those conversant with hospitals, infirmaries, and scenes of saddest woe. True testimony has often told that greater peace is seldom seen than by the suffering Christian's bed. The words of Sheba's Queen may be applied to Christ — "Happy are your men, happy are these your servants which stand continually before you, and that hear your wisdom."

I have persuasion that your heart responds — Yes! God's children are thus blessed. Theirs is the happy lot. But you have lurking thoughts that this household admits none but the holy and the sanctified. You are conscious that your state is sadly different. Ways of unrighteousness detain your feet. Your light heart is steeped in worldly-mindedness, and has no taste for gospel-walk. Spirituality is not your life.

Do you thence infer that entrance is forbidden, and that rejection waves you off! Would you delight to hear that this objection is a cruel cheat! Take, then, assurance of its utter emptiness. It is a noble feature in this Lord's fame — "He receives sinners." His command is, "Preach the gospel to every creature." He bids His servants to go into the highways and hedges, and to compel the outcasts to come in. His mansion is peopled with rejoicing crowds, who once were light and trifling as you are. All His servants strayed afar off, until they yielded to His call. His gates are never closed against a humble applicant. But is there readiness with you? Will you renounce the devil and his works, and all earth's sinful vanities! I distinctly warn you that His easy yoke requires your entire heart. You must be wholly His, or wholly toil in Satan's slave-house.

But can you hesitate? Wisely make trial of this gracious Lord. All whom He receives He wondrously transforms. The heart of stone will soften. A heart of flesh will take its place. He will renew in you a right spirit. New affections — new desires — new hopes — new tastes — new prospects — new delights — will sprout as blossoms on a summer tree. Old things will pass away; all things will become new. The present desert of your mind will bloom as Eden's lovely garden. The inward blank will be replete with precious, elevated, enchanting thoughts. You will find conversion to be a heaven-wrought change from wretched slavery to noble freedom — from doubts to peace — from blindness to clear sight — from low estate to heavenly heirdom. Will you not come and drink this happy cup?

Why do you yet so seriously sigh? Do I detect a lingering fear that in Christ's household you would still be sad, remembering your former sinful state? You apprehend that keen remorse would still adhere a bitter comrade by your side. You know that wrath pursues transgression. You fear, then, that wrath must ever follow at your heels.

True; each sin must have its punishment — God's truth and justice have this claim. But from this vengeance there is rescue and escape. Hear the glad tidings of His kingdom. "All we like sheep have gone astray. We have turned every one to his own way, and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." Jesus is made His people's substitute — their burden-bearer — their sin-remover — their guilt-sustainer. Their debt is placed to His account. His riches pay the full amount. Their curse is rolled on Him, and He endures it, until no more remains. God deals with Him as the guilty one. He, spotless as God can be, receives imputed sins, and fully expiates them all. In the vicarious victim, all claims are satisfied, and wrath expires. Thus His servants are exempt. Jesus, in His life — in the garden — on the cross — suffers their sufferings — dies their death — and so becomes their uttermost salvation. His pains are their pardon — His stripes are their healing — His agony is their recovery. Thus over the portals of His palace the scroll shines brightly, "Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!"

I allow that consciousness of unforgiven sin brings torment — but I maintain that sins washed out can terrify no more. Can crimson dye affright when it is whiter than the whitest snow? All His servants have this cheering knowledge. It is the earliest lesson of their faith — "the blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanses from all sin." Therefore, throughout His many mansions, the happy chorus rings — "There is redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins." "Their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more." Would not you rejoice to take part in this song! Come, then, and learn the melody.

Well, what is your reply? You look on homely garb — you think of humble birth — you recollect the childhood's hut, and you conclude that this abode is not a fit place for you. This scruple shows ignorance of His condescending grace. Distinction of the poor and rich — the lowly and the great — exists not in His eyes. No! the poor and needy seem to win especial favor. The very humblest, in the humblest hovel — the very neediest of the race of poverty are called as freely as earth's lords. No golden keys are needed to unlock His gates. They open gladly to the poor man's touch. Many a Lazarus is borne by angels to the heights of heaven. "You see your calling, how that not many mighty — not many noble are called; but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised has God chosen; and things which are not, to bring to nothing things that are." Your apprehension is a groundless fancy. The lowly state is not despised in heaven.

But I will not enlarge. Believe me, no valid bar prevents your instant welcome. Faith overleaps all hindrances. Let me, then, counsel, exhort, beseech you to cast away reluctance, fear, and hesitation. Linger not, nor pause to commune with your carnal heart, or worldly friends. Be persuaded at once — resolutely, unreservedly — to surrender yourself to Christ, the only Savior and the only Hope. "Now is the accepted time." Now, invitations echo in your ears. Now, ready arms are outstretched to receive you. Dream not of a future day. Young as you are, you may be near your grave! Traverse the cemetery. Many lie there who are not as old as you. Some, too, have entered fairs healthy and blithe, and never reached their homes alive.

Say not, I will return — reform my ways — acquire some fitness, and then accept this offered yoke. Be not so mad. Such efforts are the wreck of every hope. You have no power to cleanse your heart as fit abode for Christ. Christ is the entrance to the Christian course. By faith receive Him; and, thus united, advance forward. Until this first step be rightly taken you grope in darkness — no spark of holiness can kindle — your dwelling is in the shadow of death. Extend, then, the hand of faith and grasp the Savior.

You are not called to travel slowly towards Him through a long road of outward forms. Rites may sweetly nourish true believers. But you must be Christ's, before you can be member of His Church, and claim the privileges of His household, and call God, Abba, Father. You must be joined to Him, as branch to the parent stem, before you can look up to heaven as your home, and joy in the promises, and feast with His family at the sacramental table. Stay not in the crowd of formalists who are content with outward show; while faith, which is the saving grace, has never occupied their hearts. True religion is the reign of faith.

May the mighty Spirit of the living God bless, by His conquering power, this earnest effort for your good! While many shall return this night to plunge more deeply into sin, may angels sing aloud because the Lord receives in you another jewel for His crown! While this Fair shall rivet around many stronger bands of ruin, may you enter on a new course leading to victory over sin, and death, and hell, and Satan — securing peace of conscience — usefulness of life — fullness of present joy, and pleasures at His right hand forever!

I now must say, Farewell, and bear your answer to my Lord. Shall I report acceptance, or refusal? Do you welcome or reject? The balance trembles between heaven and hell.

Hear my parting importunity. By all His boundless love — by His accursed death — by His most precious blood — by His redeeming wounds — by His triumphant rising from the grave — by His exalted seat at God's right hand — by the power of His interceding life — by His near coming to reign gloriously — by final gathering before the great white throne — by all the joys of saints in light — by all the miseries of everlasting woe, I implore you to lift up the portals of your heart and cry — Come in, great Savior, come! Let your inmost soul bound forward to profess, "Now to be Yours, and Yours alone, O Lamb of God, I come." May this hiring Fair thus join you to the saved! Seeking an earthly Master, may you find heaven, and a heavenly Lord!

 

 

THE FALLEN

Come, listen for a few short minutes to some friendly words. If you hear me to the end, you will be detained but for a little while. If you should become weary of me, turn your eye from the page, and I am gone. But my hope is that you will not dismiss me, until my message has been fully told.

Do you say, "I know you not. What can be your business with me?" In social life we do not refuse to exchange courteous words with strangers. Therefore the fact that I plead no previous acquaintance, is no reason why your ears should instantly be closed. Strangers have talked with you and you have gained no good. Let me, though a stranger, tell my tale, and I have good hope that you may bless the day which brought me to your notice.

But now an uncomfortable feeling seems to creep over you. You say, "I understand you. This introduction intimates that your design is to talk about my soul and my eternity; I must not admit such thoughts; they cannot fail to make me unhappy, therefore I think we had better part at once."

No, do not thus cut me short. You fear that my converse, if on eternal matters, will interrupt your happiness. Tell me then, Are you happy?

Pause one moment, give an honest answer. Ah! your countenance is sad — a sigh breaks from you; the truth is manifest — you are not. If then you do not possess happiness, my words cannot rob you of what you have not.

Now I seem to read an anxious thought in your bosom; "would that I could gain that treasure!" But something like despair tells you that all such hope is in vain — that happiness and you can never meet. You shrink from listening to my statements, lest they should only show you that your state cannot be mended. You are disposed to hasten away, and to drown thought by forcing some noisy merriment into the present hour.

Stay, stay, my friend; you are wholly wrong — a cruel enemy — a vile deceiver — leads you into this self-destroying error. I come with tidings, which, if God grants His blessing, will bring happiness in their hand, and change all your wretchedness into peace; all your misery into joy; all your forlorn disquietude into tranquil delight.

You say, "Can it be so?" I reply, Fear not — it is true. Will you listen? I see that I have gained your ear, and will therefore thankfully, hopefully, proceed.

Why is it that you are always striving to drown thought? It is because you know that conscience, if aroused to speak, would show that you are pursuing a course of deliberate sin, the end of which must be the eternal wrath of God. I gain then one important point in having your confession, that you are a transgressor of God's law, and that you dread condemnation at His just bar.

Now I do not come to set your sins before you in the terrific light of God's condemning law. My object is not to upbraid you, nor to depict your low condition in the eyes of men, and your fearful prospect for the endless ages. I take my stand on the acknowledged fact, that your heart is lonely, desolate, and sad — that you are conscious of the multitude of your transgressions — and that you dare not face the awful future. My heart burns to tell you that all this gloom may yet be chased away. I am eager to announce a sweet hope of pardon and of peace.

Do not be incredulous. Do not reason, "I cannot undo the past — I cannot undo the abominations which have stained my life; I cannot be innocent before God; my sins are many and most vile; and such must be their character forever."

Friend, you pronounce these bitter things against yourself, either wholly ignorant, or utterly forgetful, that Jehovah, your great Creator, your gracious preserver is a God, whose name is Love; who delights in mercy; who wills not the death of a sinner; who, in the riches of His grace, has decreed and accomplished a scheme of salvation, in which forgiveness reigns — in which all guilty stains become whiter than snow — all mountains of iniquity disappear — all impurity is washed away — the vilest are welcomed — the most hardened are melted — the worst outcasts are brought home.

All these great and good things are freely dispensed in the glorious Gospel of His beloved Son. And now, He, who has spared you so long, and has not allowed His full displeasure to dash you in pieces, comes, and by the voice of His messenger bids you contemplate the treasures of grace, and mercy, and loving-kindness, which are here opened for your hands to take. Hear then a few sentences concerning Jesus, the sum and substance of our Gospel-hope.

Would that I could tell you how great He is! But thoughts and words fail. Let it then suffice to say, that He is God's only begotten and well-beloved Son. He is equal to the Father in all the glories of Deity; He is very and eternal God. All power, might, majesty, glory, are His essential property.

When you have fully set before your mind the all-surpassing dignity of His person, advance in thought to this fact. God, in His tender love, sent this, His glorious Son, higher than the heavens, to become man, to take the poverty and lowliness of our nature upon Him, to be made in all things like unto us, sin only excepted. "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." And again, "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." Here you see the greatest conceivable effort on the part of the Father to rescue sinners from their misery.

Here you see the glorious Jesus ready to undergo any humiliation, that He may become a Savior. You must admit, then, the desire of God is to deliver from woe.

When Jesus was thus very man, without ceasing to be very God, our Heavenly Father, in His grace, transferred to Him the transgressions of His people. He removed sin from the sinner, and placed it on the Sinless. "All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned every one to his own way, and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." Isaiah 53:6. "He has made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." 2 Cor. 5:21. This fact might be confirmed by many other Bible-statements. But enough is said to prove that infinite grace has called Jesus to bear our griefs and carry our sorrows. You must surely admit God is willing to relieve the sinner of his sins. The sinner need no longer be his own sin-bearer.

Advance another step. When the sins of His people were thus regarded as belonging to Jesus, God dealt with Jesus as though He were the perpetrator of all and each. He righteously inflicted on Him the total punishment. He exacted of Him the whole curse. The vengeance denounced against them collectively and individually fell on Him. Thus Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, and on the Cross of Calvary, made "His soul an offering for sin." He actually and verily stood in the sinner's place. — In the sinner's name and stead He gave due satisfaction to every attribute of God. Each believer endures in the person of his Lord the whole wrath denounced against his personal transgressions.

Marvelous fact! glorious truth! blessed reality! The believer suffers in Christ — dies in Christ — pays in Christ — satisfies in Christ. Thus Paul exclaims, "I am crucified with Christ." Gal. 2:20. You must now admit, that in the work of Christ — redemption is accomplished — salvation is procured — sins are atoned for — souls are saved.

And now the proclamation goes forth, "Look unto me, and be saved." "Whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life." "By Him, all who believe are justified from all things."

"Incline your ear, and come unto me — hear, and your soul shall live." "Whoever will, let him take the water of life freely." God is "just, and the justifier of him who believes in Jesus." "He who believes has everlasting life."

These calls and assurances are so amazing, that perhaps — half-persuaded, half-doubting — you think– But can these things be? Can there be such grace in God? can such blessedness be extended to the children of men? But God must be true. There cannot be any word from His lips in which error has place. Jehovah from His throne on high cannot deceive His children or delude them by visionary hopes. Whatever is said by Him must be an eternal truth, which never can fail — which nothing can hinder. And does not every gospel-page echo and re-echo with the tidings, that every poor sinner, who comes to the blessed Jesus in faith, shall be delivered from all condemnation, and shall be made heir of heaven's blessedness?

You assent to this statement. You know it to be the faithful tidings of the Gospel. Well then, turn not from the glorious hope set before you. Only make it your own. Only draw near to Jesus — accept His invitation — cast yourself on His grace and mercy — put all your trust in the merits of His sufferings — hide your sins under the perfection of His infinite righteousness — and you are pardoned, cleansed from all iniquity, and everlastingly saved.

But perhaps you sigh, "my sins! my sins!! there never were the like. Oh! no. I may not venture to the holy Savior. I would be spurned, rejected, cast back."

I boldly reply, that this fear is only the offspring of unwillingness, and unbelief. It is suggested by the enemy, who trembles, lest you should escape. Will you cast it away, if I can prove it to be utterly opposed to the Word and the Heart of Jesus, and the ways of His grace.

1. HIS WORD. He has, as if for the very purpose of slaying such doubts, by His Spirit recorded this gracious assurance, "Him that comes to Me, I will never cast out." John 6:37. If this word be a deception, the whole Gospel falls to the ground, and there is no hope for any child of Adam. But it is the solemn pledge of Him who is "the way, the truth, and the life." At this very moment then, let your soul draw near to Jesus; tell Him that you know there is salvation in Him, and Him alone; that you come pleading His word, and beseeching Him to give you a place among His saved ones.

2. HIS HEART. But perhaps some fears still keep you back. You think that He cannot but loathe one, who has so rolled in the mire of pollution. I will say nothing to extenuate your guilt. I will not send you for comfort to the flimsy plea, that your case is not uncommon. No! I direct you only to the tender heart of our Lord. The immensity of your misery is a strong plea to the infinity of His compassions. Why did Jesus become man, groan in the garden, and lay down His life on the Cross? Because He so tenderly felt for the extremity of misery, and loved us when we were dead in trespasses and sins. His heart is in not changed, "He is the same yesterday, and today, and forever." Among all His saved multitudes there is not one whom He has not, in the pitifulness of His mercies, rescued from depths of iniquity. Your sins are a mighty mass — but the magnitude of His tenderness overtops them all. His heart is a tablet engraved with sinners' names. Plead with Him that He loves the wretched, and that you draw near the most wretched of the wretched. He will receive you, for He cannot act in opposition to His Heart.

3. THE WAYS OF GRACE. The Holy Spirit in tender love is diffuse in records of striking instances to attract the chief of sinners and to level doubts. Behold the case of our first parents. The sin which stands the foremost in the Word is the foremost in gigantic enormity. No motions of internal corruptions tempted to it. The enticement was of trivial strength. The consequence was the just perdition of the whole family of man. It was followed by no tears of contrition — no confession of iniquity — no cries for pardon. If there could be guilt beyond the utmost limits of forgiveness, surely the guilt is here. But no — grace bounds to save them — and the Gospel of redemption through the woman's seed is freely proclaimed. Let this instance so conspicuous in the Bible-page have full effect. It surely tells, that there is pardon for the worst.

You doubtless know the history of Rahab. She lived a heathen among heathens. To say the least, her name is linked with infamy. No outward reason can be found why heavenly smiles should raise her to distinction. But she was favored above women. Her eyes were opened to perceive the truths of God. She was delivered in the general destruction of her town. She was the means to save her kindred. She obtained place among the progenitors of the God-man. She stands a monument of saving grace — and calls on you to turn from evil to our pardoning God. Can you consider her, and bar the door to hope?

Manasseh stands out as a monster among the monsters. We turn with loathing from the bare recital of his odious course. But grace yearned over him. Afflictions were ordained. He was hurried a captive from his home. In the prison his heart was humbled — a spirit of supplication was conferred — and the truth was received, that "the Lord He was God." 2 Chr. 33. You see in him, that no amount of abominable crime places the sinner beyond the reach of enlightening and converting grace. Surely this case forbids you to despair.

In the fullness of time the Great Redeemer comes. His own lips tell His wondrous purpose. Do they refuse the vilest of the vile — the most polluted of sin's slaves — the stained with the deepest taint of infamy — the branded with the crimson and the scarlet dye? Far otherwise — the smile averted from the self-righteous beams tenderly on such poor outcasts. The proclamation runs, "I came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." Matt. 9:13. May the Spirit open your ears this day to hear the call extending unto you! Again hear His announcement, "The publicans and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you." Matt. 21:31. Matchless grace! These words assure you that in His kingdom there is room for you — yes, even for you! Can you now fear that heaven's gate is not wide open for you! Do you not hear a voice, Come, enter in!

Go to Samaria's well. Jesus, way-worn and weary, is there seated. A woman from the town draws near. He leads her on by gentle converse to confess her guilty state. Is she then reproached — reviled and spurned in righteous anger from Him? No, she hears the glorious truth, that He was indeed the Christ. "I who speak unto you am He." John 4:26. May the same voice now ring throughout your heart, I am Jesus, still able and willing to save you to the uttermost.

Go to the house of Simon the Pharisee. A poor female cannot be kept back. She breaks through obstacles and reaches Him. Showing every sign of penitence and ardent love, she "stood at His feet behind Him weeping, and washed His feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head and kissed His feet, and anointed them with the ointment." Simon was shocked and startled, that such endearments were received — for this poor penitent was one notorious for evil living in the town. But Jesus gave no repulse. His words assure her, "Your sins are forgiven." "Your faith has saved you, go in peace." Draw near in penitence as deep — in love as true — in faith as lively — in gratitude as fervent, and fear not that a similar welcome will be yours.

Who can mark unmoved the loving train, which followed the steps of Jesus! From each the testimony comes — See whom this precious Savior joys to save! See whom He rescues from the vilest depths. See whom He mightily reclaims. See from whose hands He deigns to take His sustenance. "And certain women, which had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary called Magdalene, out of whom went seven devils, and many others, which ministered to Him of their substance." Luke 8:2, 3. If you had joined this company, would you have been repelled? Why then now hesitate? Though high in heaven He is still very near. The hand of faith may at each moment touch Him. Other instances most tenderly invite. They thicken round you, like constraining cords, drawing with sweet force.

Say not these cases show the gracious heart of Jesus walking as man among His fellow-men. But was there no change when the death at Calvary concluded His personal ministry on earth? Approach and see. He rises victorious from the grave. He gives commission to His disciples. They are to preach repentance and remission of sins in His name among all nations. Is any place selected for especial notice? Are any sinners to have priority of call? It is so. The first call is to Jerusalem-sinners. The mandate states, "Beginning at Jerusalem." Luke 24:47. What! Jerusalem! The scene of His bitter scorn — reviling — suffering. What, among those whose murderous cry almost still lingers in the echo, "Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" What, among those whose hands are almost reeking with His blood! Yes! Seek first my maddened murderers, and tell them, that there is pardon — mercy — grace, acceptance for them — tell them, that My arms are open to embrace them. Follow them with invitations, Come, Come to Me. Can then your case be desperate? Are you beyond the pale of hope? Look toward the Mercy-seat. You will find that grace still reigns unexhausted — inexhaustible.

You have heard of luxurious Corinth — ill-famed for all impurity, the lewdest seat of sexual excess. Of this city the blessed Jesus testifies, that He has many people in it. Acts 18:10. Paul preached there, and many heard and turned unto the Lord. He subsequently states a hideous catalogue of the outrageous evils which most soil our race. He fixes on them large participation, "And such were some of you." Does he add, Therefore your doom is sealed — I turn away. No, he subjoins, "But you are washed, but you are sanctified, but you are justified, in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." 1 Cor. 6:11. Why should it not be said of you — You too are washed — you too are sanctified — you too are justified! The cleansing blood has lost no power — the renovating Spirit is still omnipotent to sanctify — the power of faith is still unbounded to make righteous.

Gaze on these jewels sparkling on the Gospel-page. They are written for your encouragement. Oh! then, be encouraged. I appeal to you, that you never heard of a case in which the cry to Jesus for pardon, and peace, and life, was not heard and answered. If you really flee to Him, and He drives you back, yours will be the first rejected case; and it would break the countless assurances which the God of grace and truth has given.

It would be very pleasing to me to proceed to depict the change which pervades the heart, in which Jesus is admitted as Savior and Friend. But I promised to be brief, and therefore will retire beseeching you to think of Him to whom my words have called you. Contemplate His greatness — His majesty and glory — His tenderness and love and grace. Think how great He is, who is Jehovah's fellow — "God over all blessed for evermore" — "the brightness of His Father's glory — the express image of His person." It is in Jesus Christ, that the Father is seen and known, and loved and worshiped. He is the seal, which shows the Father's image. He is the superscription which records the Father's essence. Would you learn the Father's attributes? You must study Christ, who is their visible display. The light of the knowledge of the glory of God is in the face of Jesus Christ. There you see justice — wisdom — truth and love blended in harmonious beauty. Learn to know Christ and you know God. He is the pearl of great price hid in the Bible-field. He is the end of the law for righteousness — the first and last of Scripture-revelation — the truth of every type — the purpose of the noble line of prophecy. Without Him Scripture is a blank — a chaos — a delusion. Without Him the Spirit has no testimony — no channel through which His gifts can flow — the preacher no theme — faith no object — the sinner no hope.

Think of Jesus' matchless worth. Angels are great — but their collected weight is infinitely outweighed by Him. Pile in one mass all kings and potentates of earth — all the wisdom of the wisest — and might of the mightiest — and strength of the strongest — it is all less than nothing, when compared to Him. Without Him heaven is no heaven — there is no crown of life — no hymn of victory — no never-ending hallelujah — no good now — no happiness forever.

Think too of His work to save poor sinners. To redeem them he came down from heaven — put on the rags of our mortality — agonized and bled and died. To justify them He rose again from the dead — ascended into heaven — and sits on the right hand of the Majesty on high. To bless them He ever lives to intercede — pouring down the Spirit's gifts. To receive them He will soon come again. Oh! think of Him, and open wide your heart to give Him welcome. As you value your soul, as you desire to escape the bitter pains of eternal death, as you would be partaker of the pleasures for evermore at God's right hand, ponder these things.

I say, Farewell, asking you by all the love, which is in God our heavenly Father — by all the merits of the Cross of Jesus — by all His rising power, and interceding grace — by all the glories of His coming kingdom — by all the life-giving virtue, and comforting presence, and sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit — to fall on your knees before the God of our Salvation, and not to let Him go until you can say, "I have found the Savior," or rather "the Savior has found me. My sins, which are many, are forgiven."