A Faithful Friend
A Sermon
(No. 120)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, March 8, 1857, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At The Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens
"There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."–Proverbs
18:24.
CICERO has well said, "Friendship is the only thing in the world
concerning the usefulness of which all mankind are agreed." Friendship
seems as necessary an element of a comfortable existence in this world
as fire or water, or even air itself. A man may drag along a miserable
existence in proud solitary dignity, but his life is scarce life, it is
nothing but an existence, the tree of life being stripped of the leaves
of hope and the fruits of joy. He who would be happy here must have
friends; and he who would be happy hereafter, must, above all things,
find a friend in the world to come, in the person of God, the Father of
his people.
Friendship, however, though very pleasing and exceedingly blessed, has
been the cause of the greatest misery to men when it has been unworthy
and unfaithful; for just in proportion as a good friend is sweet, a
false friend is full of bitterness. "A faithless friend is sharper than
an adder's tooth." It is sweet to repose in some one; but O! how bitter
to have that support snapped, and to receive a grievous fall as the
effect of your confidence. Fidelity is an absolute necessary in a true
friend; we can not rejoice in men unless they will stand faithful to
us. Solomon declares that "there is a friend that sticketh closer than
a brother." That friend, I suppose, he never found in the pomps and
vanities of the world. He had tried them all, but he found them empty;
he passed through all their joys, but he found them "vanity of
vanities." Poor Savage spoke from sad experience when he said–
"You'll find the friendship of the world a show!
Mere outward show! Tis like the harlot's tears,
The statesman's promise, or false patriot's zeal,
Full of fair seeming, but delusion all."
And so for the most part they are. The world's friendship is ever
brittle. Trust to it, and you have trusted a robber; rely upon it, and
you have leaned upon a thorn; ay, worse than that, upon a spear which
shall pierce you to the soul with agony. Yet Solomon says he had found
"a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." Not in the haunts of
his unbridled pleasures, nor in the wanderings of his unlimited
resources, but in the pavilion of the Most High, the secret
dwelling-place of God, in the person of Jesus, the Son of God, the
Friend of sinners.
It is saying a great thing to affirm that "there is a friend that
sticketh closer than a brother;" for the love of brotherhood has
produced most valiant deeds. We have read stories of what brotherhood
could do, which, we think, could hardly be excelled in the annals of
friendship. Timoleon, with his shield, stood over the body of his slain
brother, to defend him from the insults of the foe. It was reckoned a
brave deed of brotherhood that he should dare the spears of an army in
defense of his brother's corpse. And many such instances have there
been, in ancient and modern warfare, of the attachment of brethren.
There is a story told of a Highland regiment, who, while marching
through the Highlands, lost their way; they were overtaken by one of
the terrible storms which will sometimes come upon travelers unawares,
and blinded by the snow, they lost their way upon the mountains. Well
nigh frozen to death, it was with difficulty they could continue their
march. One man after another dropped into the snow and disappeared.
There were two brothers, however, of the name of Forsythe; one of them
fell prostrate on the earth, and would have lain there to die, but his
brother, though barely able to drag his own limbs across the white
desert, took him on his back, and carried him along, and as others fell
one by one, this brave, true-hearted brother carried his loved one on
his back, until at last he himself fell down overcome with fatigue, and
died. His brother, however, had received such warmth from his body that
he was enabled to reach the end of his journey in safety, and so lived.
Here we have an instance of one brother sacrificing his life for
another. I hope there are some brothers here who would be prepared to
do the same if they should ever be brought into the same difficulty. It
is saying a great thing, to declare that "there is a friend that
sticketh closer than a brother." It is putting that friend first of all
in the list of loving ones; for, surely, next to a mother's love, there
is, and there ought to be, no higher affection in the world than the
love of a brother to one begotten of the same father, and dandled on
the same knee. Those who have "grown in beauty side by side, and filled
one house with glee," ought to love one another. And we think there
have been many glorious instances and mighty proofs of the love of
brethren. Yet, says Solomon, "there is a friend that sticketh closer
than a brother."
To repeat our assertion, we believe that this friend is the blessed
Redeemer, Jesus Christ. It shall be ours, first, to prove, this
morning, the fact that he sticks closer than a brother; then, as
briefly as we can, to show you why he sticks closer than a brother; and
then to finish up by giving you some lessons which may be drawn from
the doctrine, that Jesus Christ is a faithful Friend.
I. First, then, beloved, we assert that CHRIST IS "A FRIEND THAT
STICKETH CLOSER THAN A BROTHER." And in order to prove this from facts,
we appeal to such of you as have had him for a friend. Will you not,
each of you, at once give your verdict, that this is neither more nor
less than an unexaggerated truth? He loved you before all worlds; long
ere the day star flung his ray across the darkness, before the wing of
angel had flapped the unnavigated ether, before aught of creation had
struggled from the womb of nothingness, God, even our God, had set his
heart upon all his children. Since that time, has he once swerved, has
he once turned aside, once changed? No; ye who have tasted of his love
and know his grace, will bear me witness, that he has been a certain
friend in uncertain circumstances.
"He, near your side hath always stood.
His loving-kindness. O! how good."
You fell in Adam; did he cease to love you? No; he became the second
Adam to redeem you. You sinned in practice, and brought upon your head
the condemnation of God; you deserved his wrath and his utter anger;
did he then forsake you? No!
"He saw you ruined in the fall,
Yet loved you notwithstanding all."
He sent his minister after you; you despised him; he preached the
gospel in your ears; you laughed at him; you broke God's Sabbath, you
despised his Word. Did he then forsake you? No!
"Determined to save, he watched o'er your path,
Whilst, Satan's blind slave, you sported with death."
And at last he arrested you by his grace, he humbled you, he made you
penitent, he brought you to his feet, and he forgave you all your sins.
Since then, has he left you? You have often left him; has he ever left
you? You have had many trials and troubles; has he ever deserted you?
Has he ever turned away his heart, and shut up his bowels of
compassion? No, children of God, it is your solemn duty to say "No,"
and bear witness to his faithfulness. You have been in severe
afflictions and in dangerous circumstances; did your friend desert you
then? Others have been faithless to you; he that eat bread with you has
lifted up his heel against you; but has Christ ever forsaken you? Has
there ever been a moment when you could go to him, and say, "Master,
thou hast betrayed me?" Could you once, in the blackest hour of your
grief, dare to impugn his fidelity? Could you dare to say of him,
"Lord, thou hast promised what thou didst not perform?" Will you not
bear witness now, "Not one good thing hath failed of all that the Lord
God hath promised; all hath come to pass?" And do you fear he will yet
forsake you? Ask, then, the bright ones before the throne–"Ye
glorified spirits! did Christ forsake you? Ye have passed through
Jordan's stream; did he leave you there? Ye have been baptized in the
black flood of death; did he there forsake you? Ye have stood before
the throne of God; did he then deny you?" And they answered, "No;
through all the troubles of our life, in all the bitterness of death,
in all the agonies of our expiring moments, and in all the terrors of
God's judgment, he hath been with us, a friend that sticketh closer
than a brother.'" Out of all the millions of God's redeemed, there is
not one he hath forsaken. Poor they have been, mean and distressed, but
he hath never abhorred their prayer, never turned aside from doing them
good. He hath been ever with them.
"For his mercy shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure."
But I shall not longer stay, since I can not prove this to the ungodly,
and to the godly it is already proven, for they know it by experience;
therefore it is but little necessary that I should do more than just
certify the fact that Christ is a faithful friend–a friend in every
hour of need and every time of distress.
II. And now I have to tell you THE REASONS WHY WE MAY DEPEND UPON
CHRIST AS BEING A FAITHFUL FRIEND.
There are some things in himself which render it certain that he will
stick close to his people.
1. True friendship can only be made between true men. Hearts are the
soul of honor. There can be no lasting friendship between bad men. Bad
men may pretend to love each other, but their friendship is a rope of
sand, which shall be broken at any convenient season; but if a man have
a sincere heart within him, and be true and noble, then we may confide
in him. Spenser sings in fine old English verse–
"No, certes can that friendship long endure,
However gay and goodly be the style,
That doth ill cause or evil end enure,
For Vertue is the band that bindeth Harts most sure."
But who can find a stain in the character of Jesus, or who can tarnish
his honor? Has there ever been a spot on his escutcheon? Has his flag
ever been trampled in the dust? Does he not stand the true witness in
heaven, the faithful and just? Is it not declared of him that he is God
who can not lie? Have we not found him so up to this moment; and may we
not, knowing that he is "Holy, holy, holy Lord," confide in him, that
he will stick closer to us than a brother? His goodness is the guaranty
of his fidelity; he can not fail us.
2. Faithfulness to us in our faults is a certain sign of fidelity in a
friend. You may depend upon that man who will tell you of your faults
in a kind and considerate manner. Fawning hypocrites, insidious
flatterers, are the sweepings and offal of friendship. They are but the
parasites upon that noble tree. But true friends put enough trust in
you to tell you openly of your faults. Give me for a friend the man who
will speak honestly of me before my face; who will not tell first one
neighbor, and then another, but who will come straight to my house, and
say, "Sir, I feel there is such-and-such a thing in you, which, as my
brother, I must tell you of." That man is a true friend; he has proved
himself to be so; for we never get any praise for telling people of
their faults; we rather hazard their dislike; a man will sometimes
thank you for it, but he does not often like you any the better. Praise
is a thing we all love. I met with a man the other day who said he was
impervious to flattery; I was walking with him at the time, and turning
round rather sharply, I said, "At any rate, sir, you seem to have a
high gift in flattering yourself, for you are really doing so, in
saying you are impervious to flattery." "You can not flatter me," he
said. I replied, "I can, if I like to try; and perhaps may do so before
the day is out." I found I could not flatter him directly, so I began
by saying what a fine child that was of his; and he drank it in as a
precious draught; and when I praised this thing and that thing
belonging to him, I could see that he was very easily flattered; not
directly, but indirectly. We are all pervious to flattery; we like the
soothing cordial, only it must not be labeled flattery; for we have a
religious abhorrence of flattery if it be so called; call it by any
other name, and we drink it in, even as the ox drinketh in water. Now,
child of God, has Christ every flattered you? Has he not told you of
your faults right truly? Has he not pricked your conscience even upon
what you thought to gloss over–your little secret sins? Has he not
provoked conscience to thunder in your ears notes of terror, because of
your misdeeds? Well, then, you may trust him, for he shows that
faithfulness which renders a man right trustworthy. Thus I have pointed
out to you that there are reasons in himself for which we may trust
him.
3. In the next place, there are some things in his friendship which
render us sure of not being deceived, when we put our confidence in
him. True friendship must not be of hasty growth. As quaint old Master
Fuller says: "Let friendship creep gently to a height; if it rush to
it, it may soon run itself out of breath." It is even so. I think it
was Joanna Baillie said–
"Friendship is no plant of hasty growth.
Though planted in esteem's deep fixed soil,
The gradual culture of kind intercourse
Must bring it to perfection."
In vain thou trustest the gourd over thy head, O Jonah; it will not be
of much use to thee; it came up in a night, it may wither in a night.
It is the strong stiff oak, of ages' growth, which shall abide the
tempest; which shall alike put out its wings to shield thee from the
sun, and shall afterward find thee a hovel in its heart, if necessary,
in its gray old age, when its branches tremble in the blast. Friendship
is true when it begins; but we must have a man's friendship long before
we can say of him, that he will stick closer than a brother. And how
long has Christ loved you? That you can not tell. When the ages were
not born he loved you; when this world was an infant, wrapped in the
swaddling clothes of mist, he loved you; when the old pyramids had not
begun to be builded, his heart was set upon you; and ever since you
have been born he has had a strong affection for you. He looked on you
in your cradle, and he loved you then; he was affianced to you when you
were an infant of a span long, and he has loved you ever since. Some of
you I see with gray hairs, some with heads all bald with age; he has
loved you up till now, and will he now forsake you? O! no, his
friendship is so old that it must last; it has been matured by so many
tempests, it has been rooted by so many winds of trouble, that it can
not but endure; it must stand. Even as the granite peak of the mountain
shall not be melted, because, unlike the snow, it has braved the blast,
and borne the heat of the burning sun; it has stood out always,
catching in its face every blow from the face of nature, and yet been
unmoved and uninjured. It shall last, for it has lasted. But when the
elements shall melt, and in a stream of dissolving fire shall run away,
then shall Christ's friendship still exist, for it is of older growth
than they. He must be "a friend that sticketh closer than a brother;"
for his friendship is a hoary friendship–hoary as his own head, of
which it is said, "His head and his hair are white like snow, as white
as wool."
4. But note, further, the friendship which lasts does not take it rise
in the chambers of mirth, nor is it fed and fattened there. Young lady,
you speak of a dear friend whom you acquired last night in a ball-room.
Do not, I beseech you, misuse the word; he is not a friend if he was
acquired merely there; friends are better things than those which grow
in the hot-house of pleasure. Friendship is a more lasting plant than
those. You have a friend, have you? Yes; and he keeps a pair of horses,
and has a good establishment. Ah! but your best way to prove your
friend is to know that he will be your friend when you have not so much
as a mean cottage, and when, houseless and without clothing, you are
driven to beg your bread. Thus you would make true proof of a friend.
Give me a friend who was born in the winter time, whose cradle was
rocked in the storm; he will last. Our fair weather friends shall flee
away from us. I had rather have a robin for a friend than a swallow;
for a swallow abides with us only in the summer time, but a robin
cometh to us in the winter. Those are tight friends that will come the
nearest to us when we are in the most distress; but those are not
friends who speed themselves away when ill times come. Believer, hast
thou reason to fear that Christ will leave you now? Has he not been
with you in the house of mourning? You found your friend where men find
pearls, "in caverns deep, where darkness dwells;" you found Jesus in
your hour of trouble. It was on the bed of sickness that you first
learned the value of his name; it was in the hour of mental anguish
that you first did lay hold of the hem of his garment; and since then,
your nearest and sweetest intercourse has been held with him in the
hours of darkness. Well, then, such a friend, proved in the house of
sorrow–a friend who gave his heart's blood for you, and let his soul
run out in one great river of gore–such a friend never can and never
will forsake you; he sticketh closer than a brother.
5. Again, a friend who is acquired by folly is never a lasting friend.
Do a foolish thing, and make a man your friend; tis but a confederacy
in vice, and you will soon discover that his friendship is worthless;
the friendship you acquire by doing wrong, you had better be without.
O! how many silly friendships there are springing up, the mere fruit of
a sentimentalism, having no root whatever, but like the plant of which
our Saviour tells us, "It sprang up because it had no depth of earth."
Jesus Christ's friendship is not like that; there is no ingredient of
folly in it; he loves us discreetly, not winking or conniving at our
follies, but instilling into us his wisdom. His love is wise; he hath
chosen us according to the counsel of his wisdom; not blindly and
rashly, but with all judgment and prudence.
Under this head I may like wise observe, that the friendship of
ignorance is not a very desirable one. I desire no man to call himself
my friend, if he doth not know me. Let him love me in proportion to his
knowledge of me. If he loves me for the little he knows, when he
knoweth more he may cast me aside. "That man," says one, "seems to be a
very amiable man." "I am sure I can love him," says another, as he
scans his features. Ay, but do not write "friend" yet; wait a wee bit,
until you know more of him; just see him, examine him, try him, test
him, and not till then enter him on the sacred list of friends. Be
friendly to all, but make none your friends until they know you, and
you know them. Many a friendship born in the darkness of ignorance,
hath died suddenly in the light of a better acquaintance with each
other. You supposed men to be different from what they were, and when
you discovered their real character you disregarded them. I remember
one saying to me, "I have great affection for you, sir," and he
mentioned a certain reason. I replied, "My dear fellow, your reason is
absolutely false; the very thing you love me for, I am not, and hope I
never shall be." And so I said, "I really can not accept your
friendship, if it be founded upon a misunderstanding of what I may have
said." But our Lord Jesus never can forsake those whom once he loves,
because he can discover nothing in us worse than he knew, for he knew
all about us beforehand. He saw our leprosy, and yet he loved us; he
knew our deceitfulness and unbelief, and yet he did press us to his
bosom; he knew what poor fools we were, and yet he said he would never
leave us nor forsake us. He knew that we should rebel against him and
despise his counsel often times; he knew that even when we loved him
our love would be cold and languid, but he loved for his own sake.
Surely, then, he will stick closer than a brother.
6. Yet again, friendship and love, to be real, must not lie in words,
but in deeds. The friendship of bare compliment is the fashion of this
age, because this age is the age of deceit. The world is the great
house of sham. Go where you may in London, sham is staring you in the
face; there are very few real things to be discovered. I allude not
merely to tricks in business, adulterations in food, and such like.
Deception is not confined to the tradesman's shop. It prevails
throughout society; the sanctuary is not exempt. The preacher adopts a
sham voice. You hardly ever hear a man speak in the pulpit in the same
way he would speak in the parlor. Why, I hear my brethren, sometimes,
when they are at tea or dinner, speak in a very comfortable decent sort
of English voice, but when they get into their pulpits they adopt a
sanctimonious tone, and fill their mouths with inflated utterance, or
else whine most pitifully. They degrade the pulpit by pretending to
honor it; speaking in a voice which God never intended any mortal to
have. This is the great house of sham; and such little things show
which way the wind blows. You leave your card at a friend's house; that
is an act of friendship–the card! I wonder whether, if he were hard up
for cash, you would leave your banker's book! You write "My dear sir,"
"Yours very truly;" it is a sham; you do not mean it. "Dear!" that is a
sacred word; it ought to be used to none but those you regard with
affection; but we tolerate falsehoods now, as if they were truths; and
we call them courtesies. Courtesies they may be; but untruths they are
in many cases. Now, Christ's love lieth not in words, but in deeds. He
saith not, "My dear people;" but he let his heart out, and we could see
what that was. He doth not come to us, and say, "Dearly beloved"
simply; but he hangs upon the cross, and there we read "Dearly beloved"
in red letters. He does not come to us with the kisses of his lips
first–he giveth us blessings with both his hands; he giveth himself
for us, and then he giveth himself to us. Trust no complimentary
friend; rely upon the man who giveth you real tokens worth your having,
who does for you deeds to show the truthfulness of his heart. Such a
friend–and such is Jesus–"sticketh closer than a brother."
7. Once more, and I shall not weary you, I trust. A purchased friend
will never last long. Give to a man nineteen times, and deny him the
twentieth, and he shall hate you; for his love sprang only from your
gifts. The love which I could buy for gold I would sell for dross; the
friendship that I could buy for pearls I would dispense with for
pebbles; it were of no value, and therefore the sooner lost the better.
But O believer, Christ's love was unpurchased love. Thou broughtest him
no present. Jacob said, when his sons went to Egypt, "Take the man a
present, a little oil, a little balm, a few nuts and almonds;" but you
took Christ no presents. When you came to him you said,
"Nothing in my hands I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling."
You did not even promise that you would love him; for you had such a
faithless heart, you durst not say so. You asked him to make you love
him; that was the most you could do. He loved you for nothing at
all–simply because he would love you. Well, that love which so lived
on nothing but its own resources, will not starve through the
scantiness of your returns; the love which grew in such a rocky heart
as this, will not die for want of soil. That love which sprang up in
the barren desert, in your unirrigated soul, will never, never die for
want of moisture; it must live, it can not expire. Jesus must be "a
friend that sticketh closer than a brother."
8. Shall I stay to urge more reasons? I may but mention one other,
namely, this–that there can not, by any possibility, arise any cause
which could make Christ love us less. You say, how is this? One man
loves his friend, but he on a sudden grows rich, and now he says I am a
greater man than I used to be, I forget my old acquaintances. But
Christ can grow no richer; he is as rich as he can be, infinitely so.
He loves you now; then it can not be possible that he will by reason of
an increase in his own personal glory forsake you, for everlasting
glories now crown his head; he can never be more glorious and great,
and therefore he will love you still. Sometimes, on the other hand, one
friend grows poorer, and then the other forsakes him; but you never can
grow poorer than you are, for you are "a poor sinner and nothing at
all" now; you have nothing of your own; all you have is borrowed, all
given you by him. He can not love you, then, less, because you grow
poorer; for poverty that hath nothing is at least as poor as it can be,
and can never sink lower in the scale. Christ, therefore, must love
thee for all thy nakedness and all thy poverty.
"But I may prove sinful," sayest thou. Yes, but thou canst not be more
so than he foreknew thou wouldst be; and yet he loved thee with the
foreknowledge of all thy sins. Surely, then, when it happens it will
occasion no surprise to him; he knew it all beforehand, and he can not
swerve from his love; no circumstance can possibly arise that ever will
divide the Saviour from his love to his people, and the saint from his
love to his Saviour. He is "a friend that sticketh closer than a
brother."
III. Now, then, AN INFERENCE TO BE DERIVED FROM THIS. Lavater says,
"The qualities of your friends will be those of your enemies; cold
friends, cold enemies, half friends, half enemies, fervid enemies, warm
friends." Knowing this to be a truth, I have often congratulated
myself, when my enemies have spoken fiercely against me. Well, I have
thought, "My friends love me hard and fast; let my enemies be as hot as
they please; it only indicates that the friends are proportionately
firm in affection. Then we draw this inference, that if Christ sticks
close, and he is our friend, then our enemies will stick close, and
never leave us till we die. O, Christian, because Christ sticks close,
the devil will stick close too; he will be at you and with you; the dog
of hell will never cease his howlings, till you reach the other side of
Jordan; no place in this world is out of bow-shot of that great enemy;
till you have crossed the stream his arrows can reach you, and they
will. If Christ gave himself for you, the devil will do all he can to
destroy you; if Christ has been long-suffering to you, Satan will be
persevering, in hopes that Christ may forget you; he will strive after
you, and strive until he shall see you safely landed in heaven. But be
not disappointed: the louder Satan roars, the more proof you shall have
of Christ's love. "Give me," said old Rutherford, "give me a roaring
devil rather than a sleeping one; for sleeping devils make me slumber,
but roaring ones provoke me to run to my Master." O! be glad, then, if
the world rant at thee, if thy foes attack thee fiercely. Christ is
just as full of love to thee as they are of hatred. Therefore,
"Be firm and strong;
Be grace thy shield and Christ thy song."
And now I have a question to ask: that question I ask of every man and
every woman in this place, and of every child too–Is Jesus Christ your
friend? Have you a friend at court–at heaven's court? Is the judge of
quick and dead your friend? Can you say that you love him, and has he
ever revealed himself in the way of love to you? Dear hearer, do not
answer that question for thy neighbor; answer it for thyself. Peer or
peasant, rich or poor, learned or illiterate, this question is for each
of you; therefore, ask it: Is Christ my friend? Did you ever consider
that question? Have you ever asked it? O! to be able to say "Christ is
my friend," is one of the sweetest things in the world. A man who had
lived much in sin, one day casually entered a place of worship. Before
the sermon, this hymn was sung–
"Jesus, lover of my soul."
The next day the man was met by an acquaintance who asked him how he
liked the sermon. Said he, "I do not know, but there were two or three
words that took such a hold of me that I did not know what to do with
myself. The minister read that hymn, Jesus, lover of my soul.' Ah!'
said he, though he was by no means a religious man, "to be able to say
that, I would give up all I have got! But do you think," he asked "that
Jesus ever will be the lover of such a man as I am? Jesus, lover of my
soul!' O! could I say it." And then he buried his head in his hands and
wept. I have every reason to fear that he went back to his sin, and was
the same afterwards as before. But, you see, he had conscience enough
to let him know how valuable it was to have Christ for his lover and
his friend. Ah! rich man, thou hast many friends. There be some here
who have toiled for their country's good, and deserve a meed of honor
at their country's hands, who, for one mistake–or what, perhaps, was a
mistake–have been neglected by too many who once appeared to be their
most trusty adherents. O! put no confidence, ye great men and ye rich,
in the adherence of your friends. David said in his hast," All men are
liars;" you may one day have to say it at your leisure. And O! ye kind
and affectionate hearts, who are not rich in wealth, but who are rich
in love–and that is the world's best wealth–put this golden coin
among your silver ones, and it will sanctify them all. Get Christ's
love shed abroad in your hearts, and your mother's love, your
daughter's love, your husband's love, your wife's love, will become
more sweet than ever. The love of Christ cast not out the love of
relatives, but it sanctifies our loves, and makes them sweeter far.
Remember, dear hearer, the love of men and women is very sweet; but all
must pass away; and what will you do, if you have no wealth but the
wealth that fadeth, and no love but the love which dies, when death
shall come? O! to have the love of Christ! You can take that across the
river of death with you; you can wear it as your bracelet in heaven,
and set it up as a seal upon your hand; for his love is "strong as
death and mightier than the grave." Good old Bishop Beveridge, I think
it was, when dying, did not know his best friends. Said one, "Bishop
Beveridge, do you know me?" Said he, "Who are you?" and when the name
was mentioned, he said, "No." "But don't you know your wife, Bishop?"
"What is her name?" said he. Said she, "I am your wife." "I did not
know I had got one," said he. Poor old man! his faculties all failed
him. At last one stooped down and whispered, "Do you know the Lord
Jesus Christ?" "Yes," said he, making an effort to speak, "I have known
him these forty years, and I never can forget him." It is marvelous how
memory will hold the place with Jesus, when it will with no one else;
and it is equally marvelous, that,
"When all created things are dry, Christ's fullness is the same."
My dear hearers, do think of this matter. O that you might get Christ
for your friend; he will never be your friend while you are
self-righteous; he will never be your friend while you live in sin. But
do you believe yourselves guilty? Do you desire to leave off sin? Do
you want to be saved? Do you desire to be renewed? Then let me tell
you, my Master loves you! Poor, weak, and helpless worms, my Master's
heart if full of love to you; his eyes at this moment are looking down
with pity on you. "O! Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!" He now bids me
tell you that he died for all of you who confess yourselves to be
sinners, and feel it. He bids me say to you, "Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ, and you shall be saved." He tells me to proclaim salvation full
and free; full, needing nothing of yours to help it; free, needing
nothing of yours to buy it.
"Come ye thirsty, come and welcome;
God's free bounty glorify:
True belief and true repentance,
Every grace that brings us nigh–
Without money,
Come to Jesus Christ, and buy."
There is nothing I feel that I fail so much in as addressing sinners.
O! I wish I could cry my heart out, and preach my heart out, to you and
at you.
"Dear Saviour, draw reluctant hearts,
To thee let sinners fly,
And take the bliss thy love imparts;
And drink, and never die."
Farewell, with this one thought–we shall never all of us meet together
here again. It is a very solemn thought, but according to the course of
nature and the number of deaths, if all of you were willing to come
here next Sabbath morning, it is not at all likely that all of you
would be alive; one out of this congregation will be sure to have gone
the way of all flesh. Farewell, thou that are appointed to death; I
know not where thou art–yon strong man, or yon tender maiden with the
hectic flush of consumption on her cheek. I know not who is appointed
to death; but I do now most solemnly take my farewell of such an one.
Farewell, poor soul; and is it farewell for ever? Shall we meet in the
land of the hereafter, in the home of the blessed; or do I bid you
farewell now for ever? I do solemnly bid farewell to you for ever, if
you live and die without Christ. But I can not bear that dreary
thought; and I therefore say, poor sinner! stop and consider–consider
thy ways, and now "turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" "Why will ye
die?" "Why will ye die?" "Why will ye die?" Ah! ye can not answer that
question. May God help you to answer it in a better fashion, by saying,
"Here Lord!
Just as I am, without one plea,
But that thy blood was shed for me,
O Son of God I come to thee.
I trust my soul in thy kind hands." The Lord bless you all for Christ's
sake! Amen.