Confession of Sin–A Sermon With Seven Texts
A Sermon
(No. 113)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, January 18, 1857, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
My sermon this morning will have seven texts, and yet I pledge myself
that there shall be but three different words in the whole of them; for
it so happens that the seven texts are all alike, occurring in seven
different portions of God's holy Word. I shall require, however, to use
the whole of them to exemplify different cases; and I must request
those of you who have brought your Bibles with you to refer to the
texts as I shall mention them.
The subject of this morning's discourse will be this–CONFESSION OF
SIN. We know that this is absolutely necessary to salvation. Unless
there be a true and hearty confession of our sins to God, we have no
promise that we shall find mercy through the blood of the Redeemer.
"Whosoever confesseth his sins and forsaketh them shall find mercy."
But there is no promise in the Bible to the man who will not confess
his sins. Yet, as upon every point of Scripture there is a liability of
being deceived, so more especially in the matter of confession of sin.
There be many who make a confession, and a confession before God, who
notwithstanding, receive no blessing, because their confession has not
in it certain marks which are required by God to prove it genuine and
sincere, and which demonstrate it to be the work of the Holy Spirit. My
text this morning consists of three words, "I have sinned." And you
will see how these words, in the lips of different men, indicate very
different feelings. While one says, "I have sinned," and receives
forgiveness; another we shall meet with says, "I have sinned," and goes
his way to blacken himself with worse crimes than before, and dive into
greater depths of sin than heretofore he had discovered.
The Hardened Sinner.
PHARAOH–"I have sinned."–Exodus 9:27.
I. The first case I shall bring before you is that of the HARDENED
SINNER, who, when under terror, says, "I have sinned." And you will
find the text in the book of Exodus, the 9th chap. and 27th verse: "And
Pharaoh sent, and called for Moses and Aaron, and said unto them, I
have sinned this time: the Lord is righteous, and I and my people are
wicked."
But why this confession from the lips of the haughty tyrant? He was not
often wont to humble himself before Jehovah. Why doth the proud one bow
himself? You will judge of the value of his confession when you hear
the circumstances under which it was made. "And Moses stretched forth
his rod toward heaven; and the Lord sent thunder and hail, and the fire
ran along upon the ground; and the Lord rained hail upon the land of
Egypt. So that there was hail, and fire mingled with the hail, very
grievous, such as there was none like it in all the land of Egypt since
it became a nation." "Now," says Pharaoh, whilst the thunder is rolling
through the sky, while the lightning-flashes are setting the very
ground on fire, and while the hail is descending in big lumps of ice,
now, says he, "I have sinned." He is but a type and specimen of
multitudes of the same class. How many a hardened rebel on shipboard,
when the timbers are strained and creaking, when the mast is broken,
and the ship is drifting before the gale, when the hungry waves are
opening their mouths to swallow the ship up alive and quick as those
that go into the pit–how many a hardened sailor has then bowed his
knee, with tears in his eyes, and cried, "I have sinned!" But of what
avail and of what value was his confession? The repentance that was
born in the storm died in the calm; that repentance of his that was
begotten amidst the thunder and the lightning, ceased so soon as all
was hushed in quiet, and the man who was a pious mariner when on board
ship, became the most wicked and abominable of sailors when he placed
his foot on terra firma. How often, too, have we seen this in a storm
of thunder and lightning? Many a man's cheek is blanched when he hears
the thunder rolling; the tears start to his eyes, and he cries, "O God,
I have sinned!" while the rafters of his house are shaking, and the
very ground beneath him reeling at the voice of God which is full of
majesty. But alas, for such a repentance! When the sun again shines,
and the black clouds are withdrawn, sin comes again upon the man, and
he becomes worse than before. How many of the same sort of confessions,
too, have we seen in times of cholera, and fever, and pestilence! Then
our churches have been crammed with hearers, who, because so many
funerals have passed their doors, or so many have died in the street,
could not refrain from going up to God's house to confess their sins.
And under that visitation, when one, two, and three have been lying
dead in the house, or next door, how many have thought they would
really turn to God! But, alas! when the pestilence had done its work,
conviction ceased; and when the bell had tolled the last time for a
death caused by cholera, then their hearts ceased to beat with
penitence, and their tears did flow no more.
Have I any such here this morning? I doubt not I have hardened persons
who would scorn the very idea of religion, who would count me a cant
and hypocrite if I should endeavour to press it home upon them, but who
know right well that religion is true, and who feel it in their times
of terror! If I have such here this morning, let me solemnly say to
them, "Sirs, you have forgotten the feelings you had in your hours of
alarm; but, remember, God has not forgotten the vows you then made."
Sailor, you said if God would spare you to see the land again, you
would be his servant; you are not so, you have lied against God, you
have made him a false promise, for you have never kept the vow which
your lips did utter. You said, on a bed of sickness, that if he would
spare your life you would never again sin as you did before; but here
you are, and this week's sins shall speak for themselves. You are no
better than you were before your sickness. Couldst thou lie to thy
fellow-man, and yet go unreproved? And thinkest thou that thou wilt lie
against God, and yet go unpunished? No; the vow, however rashly made,
is registered in heaven; and though it be a vow which man cannot
perform, yet, as it is a vow which he has made himself, and made
voluntarily too, he shall be punished for the non-keeping it; and God
shall execute vengeance upon him at last, because he said be would turn
from his ways, and then when the blow was removed he did it not. A
great outcry has been raised of late against tickets-of-leave; I have
no doubt there are some men here, who before high heaven stand in the
same position as the ticket-of-leave men stand to our government. They
were about to die, as they thought; they promised good behaviour if
they might be spared, and they are here to-day on ticket-of-leave in
this world: and how have they fulfilled their promise? Justice might
raise the same outcry against them as they do against the burglars so
constantly let loose upon us. The avenging angel might say, "O God,
these men said, if they were spared they would be so much better; if
anything they are worse. How have they violated their promise, and how
have they brought down divine wrath upon their heads!" This is the
first style of penitence; and it is a style I hope none of you will
imitate, for it is utterly worthless. It is of no use for you to say,
"I have sinned," merely under the influence of terror, and then to
forget it afterwards.
The Double-minded Man.
BALAAM–"I have sinned."–Numbers 22:34.
II. Now for a second text. I beg to introduce to you another
character–the double-minded man, who says, "I have sinned," and feels
that he has, and feels it deeply too, but who is so worldly-minded that
he "loves the wages of unrighteousness." The character I have chosen to
illustrate this, is that of Balaam. Turn to the book of Numbers, the
22nd chap. and the 34th verse: "And Balaam said unto the angel of the
Lord, I have sinned."
"I have sinned," said Balaam; but yet he went on with his sin
afterwards. One of the strangest characters of the whole world is
Balaam. I have often marvelled at that man; he seems really in another
sense to have come up to the lines of Ralph Erskine–
"To good and evil equal bent,
And both a devil and a saint."
For he did seem to be so. At times no man could speak more eloquently
and more truthfully, and at other times he exhibited the most mean and
sordid covetousness that could disgrace human nature. Think you see
Balaam; he stands upon the brow of the hill, and there lie the
multitudes of Israel at his feet; he is bidden to curse them, and he
cries, "How shall I curse whom God hath not cursed?" And God opening
his eyes, he begins to tell even about the coming of Christ, and he
says, "I shall see him, but not now. I shall behold him, but not nigh."
And then he winds up his oration by saying–"Let me die the death of
the righteous, and let my last end be like his!" And ye will say of
that man, he is a hopeful character. Wait till he has come off the brow
of the hill, and ye will hear him give the most diabolical advice to
the king of Moab which it was even possible for Satan himself to
suggest. Said he to the king, " You cannot overthrow these people in
battle, for God is with them; try and entice them from their God." And
ye know how with wanton lusts they of Moab tried to entice the children
of Israel from allegiance to Jehovah; so that this man seemed to have
the voice of an angel at one time, and yet the very soul of a devil in
his bowels. He was a terrible character; be was a man of two things, a
man who went all the way with two things to a very great extent. I know
the Scripture says, "No man can serve two masters." Now this is often
misunderstood. Some read it, "No man can serve two masters." Yes he
can; he can serve three or four. The way to read it is this: "No man
can serve two masters," They cannot both be masters. He can serve two,
but they cannot both be his master. A man can serve two who are not his
masters, or twenty either; he may live for twenty different purposes,
but he cannot live for more than one master purpose–there can only be
one master purpose in his soul. But Balaam laboured to serve two; it
was like the people of whom it was said, "They feared the Lord, and
served other gods." Or like Rufus, who was a loaf of the same leaven;
for you know our old king Rufus painted God on one side of his shield,
and the devil on the other, and had underneath, the motto: "Ready for
both; catch who can." There are many such, who are ready for both. They
meet a minister, and how pious and holy they are; on the Sabbath they
are the most respectable and upright people in the world, as you would
think; indeed they effect a drawling in their speech, which they think
to be eminently religious. But on a week day, if you want to find the
greatest rogues and cheats, they are some of those men who are so
sanctimonious in their piety. Now, rest assured, my hearers, that no
confession of sin can be genuine, unless it be a whole hearted one. It
is of no use for you to say, "I have sinned," and then keep on sinning.
"I have sinned," say you, and it is a fair, fair face you show; but,
alas! alas! for the sin you will go away and commit. Some men seem to
be born with two characters. I remarked when in the library at Trinity
College, Cambridge, a very fine statue of Lord Byron. The librarian
said to me, "Stand here, sir." I looked, and I said, "What a fine
intellectual countenance! What a grand genius he was!" "Come here," he
said, "to the other side." "Ah! what a demon! There stands the man that
could defy the deity." He seemed to have such a scowl and such a
dreadful leer in his face; even as Milton would have painted Satan when
he said–"Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven." I turned away
and said to the librarian, "Do you think the artist designed this?"
"Yes," he said, "he wished to picture the two characters–the great,
the grand, the almost superhuman genius that he possessed, and yet the
enormous mass of sin that was in his soul." There are some men here of
the same sort. I dare say, like Balaam, they would overthrow everything
in argument with their enchantments; they could work miracles; and yet
at the same time there is something about them which betrays a horrid
character of sin, as great as that which would appear to be their
character for righteousness. Balaam, you know, offered sacrifices to
God upon the altar of Baal: that was just the type of his character. So
many do; they offer sacrifices to God on the shrine of Mammon; and
whilst they will give to the building of a church, and distribute to
the poor, they will at the other door of their counting-house grind the
poor for bread, and press the very blood out of the widow, that they
may enrich themselves. Ah! it is idle and useless for you to say, "I
have sinned," unless you mean it from your heart. That double minded
man's confession is of no avail.
The Insincere Man.
SAUL–"I have sinned."–1 Samuel 15:24.
III. And now a third character, and a third text. In the first book of
Samuel, the 15th chap. and 24th verse: "And Saul said unto Samuel, I
have sinned."
Here is the insincere man–the man who is not like Balaam, to a certain
extent sincere in two things; but the man who is just the opposite–who
has no prominent point in his character at all, but is moulded
everlastingly by the circumstances that are passing over his head. Such
a man was Saul. Samuel reproved him, and he said, "I have sinned." But
he did not mean what he said: for if you read the whole verse you will
find him saying, "I have sinned: for I have transgressed the
commandment of the Lord, and thy words; because I feared the people:"
which was a lying excuse. Saul never feared anybody; he was always
ready enough to do his own will–he was the despot. And just before he
had pleaded another excuse, that he had saved the bullocks and lambs to
offer to Jehovah, and therefore both excuses could not have been true.
You remember, my friends, that the most prominent feature in the
character of Saul. was his insincerity. One day he fetched David from
his bed, as bethought, to put him to death in his house. Another time
he declares, "God forbid that I should do aught against thee, my son
David." One day, because David saved his life, he said, "Thou art more
righteous than I; I will do so no more." The day before he had gone out
to fight against his own son-in-law, in order to slay him. Sometimes
Saul was among the prophets, easily turned into a prophet, and then
afterwards among the witches; sometimes in one place, and then another,
and insincere in everything. How many such we have in every Christian
assembly; men who are very easily moulded! Say what you please to them,
they always agree with you. They have affectionate dispositions, very
likely a tender conscience; but then the conscience is so remarkably
tender, that when touched it seems to give, and you are afraid to probe
deeper,–it heals as soon it is wounded. I think I used the very
singular comparison once before, which I must use again: there are some
men who seem to have india-rubber hearts. If you do but touch them,
there is an impression made at once; but then it is of no use, it soon
restores itself to its original character. You may press them whatever
way you wish, they are so elastic you can always effect your purpose;
but then they are not fixed in their character, and soon return to be
what they were before. O sirs, too many of you have done the same; you
have bowed your heads in church, and said, "We have erred and strayed
from thy ways;" and you did not mean what you said. You have come to
your minister; you have said, "I repent of my sins;" you did not then
feel you were a sinner; you only said it to please him. And now you
attend the house of God; no one more impressible than you; the tear
will run down your cheek in a moment, but yet. notwithstanding all
that, the tear is dried as quickly as it is brought forth, and you
remain to all intents and purposes the same as you were before. To say,
"I have sinned," in an unmeaning manner, is worse than worthless, for
it is a mockery of God thus to confess with insincerity of heart.
I have been brief upon this character; for it seemed to touch upon that
of Balaam; though any thinking man will at once see there was a real
contrast between Saul and Balaam, even though there is an affinity
between the two. Balaam was the great bad man, great in all he did;
Saul was little in everything except in stature, little in his good and
little in his vice; and he was too much of a fool to be desperately
bad, though too wicked to be at any time good: while Balaam was great
in both: the man who could at one time defy Jehovah, and yet at another
time could say, "If Balak would give me his house full of silver and
gold, I cannot go beyond the word of the Lord my God, to do less or
more."
The Doubtful Penitent.
ACHAN–"I have sinned."–Joshua 7:20.
IV. And now I have to introduce to you a very interesting case; it is
the case of the doubtful penitent, the case of Achan, in the book of
Joshua, the 7th chap. and the 20th verse:–"And Achan answered Joshua,
indeed I have sinned."
You know that Achan stole some of the prey from the city of
Jericho–that he was discovered by lot, and put to death. I have
singled this case out as the representative of some whose characters
are doubtful on their death beds; who do repent apparently, but of whom
the most we can say is, that we hope their souls are saved at last, but
indeed we cannot tell. Achan, you are aware, was stoned with stones,
for defiling Israel. But I find in the Mishna, an old Jewish exposition
of the Bible, these words, "Joshua said to Achan, the Lord shall
trouble thee this day." And the note upon it is–He said this day,
implying that he was only to be troubled in this life, by being stoned
to death, but that God would have mercy on his soul, seeing that he had
made a full confession of his sin." And I, too, am inclined, from
reading the chapter, to concur in the idea of my venerable and now
glorified predecessor, Dr. Gill, in believing that Achan really was
saved, although he was put to death for the crime, as an example. For
you will observe how kindly Joshua spoke to him. He said, "My son,
give, I pray thee, glory to the Lord God of Israel, and make confession
unto him; and tell me now what thou hast done; hide it not from me."
And you find Achan making a very full confession. He says, "Indeed I
have sinned against the Lord God of Israel, and thus and thus have I
done. When I saw among the spoils a goodly Babylonish garment, and two
hundred shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold of fifty shekels weight,
then I coveted them, and took them; and, behold, they are hid in the
earth in the midst of my tent, and the silver under it." It seems so
full a confession, that if I might be allowed to judge, I should say,
"I hope to meet Achan the sinner, before the throne of God." But I find
Matthew Henry has no such opinion; and many other expositors consider
that as his body was destroyed, so was his soul. I have, therefore,
selected his case, as being one of doubtful repentance. Ah! dear
friends, it has been my lot to stand by many a death-bed, and to see
many such a repentance as this; I have seen the man, when worn to a
skeleton, sustained by pillows in his bed; and he has said, when I have
talked to him of judgment to come, "Sir, I feel I have been guilty, but
Christ is good; I trust in him." And I have said within myself, " I
believe the man's soul is safe." But I have always come away with the
melancholy reflection that I had no proof of it, beyond his own words;
for it needs proof in acts and in future life, in order to sustain any
firm conviction of a man's salvation. You know that great fact, that a
physician once kept a record of a thousand persons who thought they
were dying, and whom he thought were penitents; he wrote their names
down in a book as those, who, if they had died, would go to heaven;
they did not die, they lived; and he says that out of the whole
thousand he had not three persons who turned out well afterwards, but
they returned to their sins again, and were as bad as ever. Ah! dear
friends, I hope none of you will have such a death-bed repentance as
that; I hope your minister or your parents will not have to stand by
your bedside, and then go away and say, "Poor fellow, I hope he is
saved. But alas! death-bed repentances are such flimsy things; such
poor, such trivial grounds of hope, that I am afraid, after all, his
soul may be lost." Oh! to die with a full assurance; oh! to die with an
abundant entrance, leaving a testimony behind that we have departed
this life in peace! That is a far happier way than to die in a doubtful
manner, lying sick, hovering between two worlds, and neither ourselves
nor yet our friends knowing to which of the two worlds we are going.
May God grant us grace to give in our lives evidences of true
conversion, that our case may not be doubtful!
The Repentance of Despair.
JUDAS–"I have sinned."–Matthew 27:4.
V. I shall not detain you too long, I trust, but I must now give you
another bad case; the worst of all. It is the REPENTANCE OF DESPAIR.
Will you turn to the 27th chap. of Matthew, and the 4th verse? There
you have a dreadful case of the repentance of despair. You will
recognize the character the moment I read the verse: "And Judas said, I
have sinned." Yes, Judas the traitor, who had betrayed his Master, when
be saw that his Master was condemned, "repented, and brought again the
thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, saying, I have
sinned, in that I have betrayed innocent blood, and cast down the
pieces in the temple, and went" and what?–" and hanged himself." Here
is the worst kind of repentance of all; in fact, I know not that I am
justified in calling it repentance; it must be called remorse of
conscience. But Judas did confess his sin, and then went and hanged
himself. Oh! that dreadful, that terrible, that hideous confession of
despair. Have you never seen it? If you never have, then bless God that
you never were called to see such a sight. I have seen it once in my
life, I pray God I may never see it again,–the repentance of the man
who sees death staring him in the face, and who says, "I have sinned."
You tell him that Christ has died for sinners; and he answers, "There
is no hope for me; I have cursed God to his face; I have defied him; my
day of grace I know is past; my conscience is seared with a hot iron; I
am dying, and I know I shall be lost!" Such a case as that happened
long ago, you know, and is on record–the case of Francis Spira–the
most dreadful ease, perhaps, except that of Judas, which is upon record
in the memory of man. Oh! my hearers, will any of you have such a
repentance? If you do, it will be a beacon to all persons who sin in
future; if you have such a repentance as that, it will be a warning to
generations yet to come. In the life of Benjamin Keach–and he also was
once of my predecessors–I find the case of a man who had been a
professor of religion, but had departed from the profession, and had
gone into awful sin. When he came to die, Keach, with many other
friends, went to see him, but they could never stay with him above five
minutes at a time; for he said, "Get ye gone; it is of no use your
coming to me; I have sinned away the Holy Ghost; I am like Esau, I have
sold my birthright, and though I seek it carefully with tears, I can
never find it again." And then he would repeat dreadful words, like
these: My mouth is filled with gravel stones, and I drink wormwood day
and night. Tell me not tell me not of Christ! I know he is a Saviour,
but I hate him and he hates me. I know I must die; I know I must
perish!" And then followed doleful cries, and hideous noises, such as
none could bear. They returned again in his placid moments only to stir
him up once more, and make him cry out in his despair, "I am lost ! I
am lost ! It is of no use your telling me anything about it!" Ah! I
there may be a man here who may have such a death as that; let me warn
him, ere he come to it ; and may God the Holy Spirit grant that that
man may be turned unto God, and made a true penitent, and then he need
not have any more fear; for he who has had his sins washed away in a
Saviour's blood, need not have any remorse for his sins, for they are
pardoned through the Redeemer.
The Repentance of the Saint.
JOB–"I have sinned."–Job 7:20
VI. And now I come into daylight. I have been taking you through dark
and dreary confessions; I shall detain you there no longer, but bring
you out to the two good confessions which I have to read to you. The
first is that of Job in 7th chap., at the 20th verse: "I have sinned;
what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men?" This is the
repentance of the saint. Job was a saint, but he sinned. This is the
repentance of the man who is a child of God already, an acceptable
repentance before God. But as I intend to dwell upon this in the
evening, I shall now leave it, for fear of wearying you. David was a
specimen of this kind of repentance, and I would have you carefully
study his penitential psalms, the language of which is ever full of
weeping humility and earnest penitence.
The Blessed Confession.
THE PRODIGAL–"I have sinned."–Luke 15:18.
VII. I come now to the last instance, which I shall mention; it is the
case of the prodigal. In Luke xv. 18, we find the prodigal says:
"Father I have sinned." Oh, here is a blessed confession! Here is that
which proves a man to be a regenerate character–" Father, I have
sinned." Let me picture the scene. There is the prodigal; he has run
away from a good home and a kind father, and he has spent all his money
with harlots, and now he has none left. He goes to his old companions,
and asks them for relief. They laugh him to scorn. "Oh," says he, "you
have drunk my wine many a day; I have always stood paymaster to you in
all our revelries; will you not help me?" "Get you gone" they say; and
he is turned out of doors. He goes to all his friends with whom he had
associated, but no man gives him anything. At last a certain citizen of
the country said,–"You want something to do, do you? Well go and feed
my swine." The poor prodigal, the son of a rich landowner, who had a
great fortune of his own, has to go out to feed swine; and he a Jew
too!–the worst employment (to his mind,) to which he could be put. See
him there, in squalid rags, feeding swine; and what are his wages? Why,
so little, that he "would fain have filled his belly with the husks the
swine eat, but no man gave to him." Look, there he is, with the fellow
commoners of the sty, in all his mire and filthiness. Suddenly a
thought put there by the good Spirit, strikes his mind. "How is it,"
says he, "that in my father's house there is bread enough and to spare,
and I perish with hunger? I will arise and go to my father, and will
say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and
am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired
servants." Off he goes. He begs his way from town to town. Sometimes he
gets a lift on a coach, perhaps, but at other times he goes trudging
his way up barren hills and down desolate vales, all alone. And now at
last he comes to the hill outside the village, and sees his father's
house down below. There it is; the old poplar tree against it, and
there are the stacks round which he and his brother used to run and
play; and at the sight of the old homestead all the feelings and
associations of his former life rush upon him, and tears run down his
cheeks, and he is almost ready to run away again. He says "I wonder
whether father's dead? I dare say mother broke her heart when I went
away; I always was her favorite. And if they are either of them alive,
they will never see me again; they will shut the door in my face. What
am I to do? I cannot go back, I am afraid to go forward." And while he
was thus deliberating, his father had been walking on the housetop,
looking out for his son; and though he could not see his father, his
father could see him. Well, the father comes down stairs with all his
might, runs up to him, and whilst he is thinking of running away, his
father's arms are round his neck, and he falls-to kissing him, like a
loving father indeed, and then the son begins,–"Father, I have sinned
against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy
son," and he was going to say, "Make me as one of thy hired servants."
But his father puts his hand on his mouth. "No more of that," says he;
"I forgive you all; you shall not say anything about being a hired
servant–I will have none of that. Come along," says he, "come in, poor
prodigal. Ho!" says he to the servants, "bring hither the best robe,
and put it on him, and put shoes on his poor bleeding feet; and bring
hither the fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and be merry: For
this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found. And
they began to be merry." Oh, what a precious reception for one of the
chief of sinners! Good Matthew Henry says–" His father saw him, there
were eyes of mercy; he ran to meet him, there were legs of mercy; he
put his arms round his neck, there were arms of mercy; he kissed him,
there were kisses of mercy; he said to him–there were words of
mercy,–Bring hither the best robe, there were deeds of mercy, wonders
of mercy–all mercy. Oh, what a God of mercy he is."
Now, prodigal, you do the same. Has God put it into your heart? There
are many who have been running away a long time now. Does God say
"return?" Oh, I bid you return, then, for as surely as ever thou dost
return he will take thee in. There never was a poor sinner yet who came
to Christ, whom Christ turned away. If he turns you away, you will be
the first. Oh, if you could but try him! "Ah, sir, I am so black, so
filthy, so vile." Well come along with you–you cannot be blacker than
the prodigal. Come to your Father's house, and as surely as he is God
he will keep his word–"Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast
out."
Oh, if I might hear that some had come to Christ this morning, I would
indeed bless God! I must tell here for the honor of God and Christ, one
remarkable circumstance, and then I have done. You will remember that
one morning I mentioned the case of an infidel who had been a scorner
and scoffer, but who, through reading one of my printed sermons, had
been brought to God's house and then to God's feet. Well, last
Christmas day, the same infidel gathered together all his books, and
went into the market-place at Norwich, and there made a public
recantation of all his errors, and a profession of Christ, and then
taking up all his books which he had written, and had in his house, on
evil subjects, burned them in the sight of the people. I have blessed
God for such a wonder of grace as that, and pray that there may be many
more such, who, though they be born prodigal will yet return home,
saying, "I have sinned."