The Uses of the Law
A Sermon
(No. 128)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, April 19, 1857, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
"Wherefore then serveth the law? "–Galatians 3:19.
THE APOSTLE, by a highly ingenious and powerful argument, had proved
that the law was never intended by God for the justification and
salvation of man. He declares that God made a covenant of grace with
Abraham long before the law was given on Mount Sinai; that Abraham was
not present at Mount Sinai, and that, therefore, there could have been
no alteration of the covenant made there by his consent; that,
moreover, Abraham's consent was never asked as to any alteration of the
covenant, without which consent the covenant could not have been
lawfully changed, and, besides that, that the covenant stands fast and
firm, seeing it was made to Abraham's seed, as well as to Abraham
himself. "This I say, that the covenant, that was confirmed before of
God in Christ, the law, which was four hundred and thirty years after,
cannot disannul, that it should make the promise of none effect. For if
the inheritance be of the law, it is no more of promise: but God gave
it to Abraham by promise." Therefore, no inheritance and no salvation
ever can be obtained by the law. Now, extremes are the error of
ignorance. Generally, when men believe one truth, they carry it so far
as to deny another; and, very frequently, the assertion of a cardinal
truth leads men to generalise on other particulars, and so to make
falsehoods out of truth. The objection supposed may be worded thus:
"You say, O Paul, that the law cannot justify; surely then the law is
good for nothing at all; Wherefore then serveth the law?' If it will
not save a man, what is the good of it? If of itself it will never take
a man to heaven, why was it written? Is it not a useless thing?" The
apostle might have replied to his opponent with a sneer–he must have
said to him, "Oh, fool, and slow of heart to understand. Is it proved
that a thing is utterly useless because it is not intended for every
purpose in the world? Will you say that, because iron cannot be eaten,
therefore, iron is not useful? And because gold cannot be the food of
man, will you, therefore, cast gold away, and call it worthless dross?
Yet on your foolish supposition you must do so. For, because I have
said the law cannot save, you have foolishly asked me what is the use
of it? and you foolishly suppose God's law is good for nothing, and can
be of no value whatever." This objection is, generally, brought forward
by two sorts of people. First, by mere cavillers who do not like the
gospel, and wish to pick all sorts of holes in it. They can tell us
what they do not believe; but they do not tell us what they do believe.
They would fight with everybody's doctrines and sentiments, but they
would be at a loss if they were asked to sit down and write their own
opinions. They do not seem to have got much further than the genius of
the monkey, which can pull everything to pieces, but can put nothing
together. Then, on the other hand, there is the Antinomian, who says,
"Yes, I know I am saved by grace alone;" and then breaks the law–says,
it is not binding on him, even as a rule of life; and asks, "Wherefore
then serveth the law?" throwing it out of his door as an old piece of
furniture only fit for the fire, because, forsooth, it is not adapted
to save his soul. Why, a thing may have many uses, if not a particular
one. It is true that the law cannot save; and yet it is equally true
that the law is one of the highest works of God, and is deserving of
all reverence, and extremely useful when applied by God to the purposes
for which it was intended.
Yet, pardon me my friends, if I just observe that this is a very
natural question, too. If you read the doctrine of the apostle Paul you
find him declaring that the law condemns all mankind. Now, just let us
for one single moment take a bird's eye view of the works of the law in
this world. Lo, I see, the law given upon Mount Sinai. The very hill
doth quake with fear. Lightnings and thunders are the attendants of
those dreadful syllables which make the hearts of Israel to melt Sinai
seemeth altogether on the smoke. The Lord came from Paran, and the Holy
One from Mount Sinai; "He came with ten thousand of his saints." Out of
his mouth went a fiery law for them. It was a dread law even when it
was given, and since then from that Mount of Sinai an awful lava of
vengeance has run down, to deluge, to destroy, to burn, and to consume
the whole human race, if it had not been that Jesus Christ had stemmed
its awful torrent, and bidden its waves of fire be still. If you could
see the world without Christ in it, simply under the law you would see
a world in ruins, a world with God 8 black seal put upon it, stamped
and sealed for condemnation; you would see men, who, if they knew their
condition, would have their hands on their loins and be groaning all
their days–you would see men and women condemned, lost, and ruined;
and in the uttermost regions you would see the pit that is digged for
the wicked, into which the whole earth must have been cast if the law
had its way, apart from the gospel of Jesus Christ our Redeemer. Ay,
beloved, the law is a great deluge which would have drowned the world
with worse than the water of Noah's flood, it is a great fire which
would have burned the earth with a destruction worse than that which
fell on Sodom, it is a stern angel with a sword, athirst for blood, and
winged to slay; it is a great destroyer sweeping down the nations; it
is the great messenger of God's vengeance sent into the world. Apart
from the gospel of Jesus Christ, the law is nothing but the condemning
voice of God thundering against mankind. "Wherefore then serveth the
law?" seems a very natural question. Can the law be of any benefit to
man? Can that Judge who puts on a black cap and condemns us all this
Lord Chief Justice Law, can he help in salvation? Yes, he did; and you
shall see how he does it, if God shall help us while we preach.
"Wherefore then serveth the law?"
I. The first use of the law is to manifest to man his guilt. When God
intends to save a man, the first thing he does with him is to send the
law to him, to show him how guilty, how vile, how ruined he is, and in
how dangerous a position. You see that man lying there on the edge of
the precipice; he is sound asleep, and just on the perilous verge of
the cliff. One single movement, and he will roll over and be broken in
pieces on the jagged rocks beneath, and nothing more shall be heard of
him. How is he to be saved? What shall be done for him–what shall be
done! It is our position; we, too, are lying on the brink of ruin, but
we are insensible of it. God, when he begins to save us from such an
imminent danger, sendeth his law, which, with a stout kick, rouses us
up, makes us open our eyes, we look down on our terrible danger,
discover our miseries, and then it is we are in a right position to cry
out for salvation, and our salvation comes to us. The law acts with man
as the physician does when he takes the film from the eye of the blind.
Self-righteous men are blind men, though they think themselves good and
excellent. The law takes that film away, and lets them discover how
vile they are, and how utterly ruined and condemned if they are to
abide under the sentence of the law.
Instead, however, of treating this doctrinally, I shall treat it
practically, and come home to each of your consciences. My, hearer,
does not the law of God convince you of sin this morning? Under the
hand of God's Spirit does it not make you feel that you have been
guilty, that you deserve to be lost, that you have incurred the fierce
anger of God? Look ye here, have ye not broken these ten commandments;
even in the letter have ye not broken them? Who is there among you who
hath always honored his father and mother? Who is there among us who
hath always spoken the truth? Have we not sometimes borne false witness
against our neighbor? Is there one person here who has not made unto
himself another God, and loved himself, or his business, or his
friends, more than he has Jehovah, the God of the whole earth? Which of
you hath not coveted your neighbour's house, or his man-servant, or his
ox, or his ass? We are all guilty with regard to every letter of the
law; we have all of us transgressed the commandments. And if we really
understood these commandments, and felt that they condemned us, they
would have this useful influence on us of showing us our danger, and so
of leading us to fly to Christ. But, my hearers, does not this law
condemn you, because even if you should say you have not broken the
letter of it, yet you have violated the spirit of it. What, though you
have never killed, yet we are told, he that is angry with his brother
is a murderer. As a negro said once, "Sir, I thought me no kill–me
innocent there; but when I heard that he that hateth his brother is a
murderer, then me cry guilty, for me have killed twenty men before
breakfast very often, for I have been angry with many of them very
often." This law does not only mean what it says in words, but it has
deep things hidden in its bowels. It says, "Thou shalt not commit
adultery," but it means, as Jesus has it, "He that looketh on a woman
to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his
heart." It says, "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in
vain," it meaneth that we should reverence God in every place, and have
his fear before our eyes, and should always pay respect unto his
ordinances and evermore walk in his fear and love. Ay, my brethren,
surely there is not one here so fool-hardy in self-righteousness as to
say, "I am innocent." The spirit of the law condemns us. And this is
its useful property; it humbles us, makes us know we are guilty, and so
are we led to receive the Saviour.
Mark this, moreover, my dear hearers, one breach of this law is enough
to condemn us for ever. He that breaketh the law in one point is guilty
of the whole. The law demands that we should obey every command, and
one of them broken, the whole of them are injured. It is like a vase of
surpassing workmanship, in order to destroy it you need not shiver it
to atoms, make but the smallest fracture in it and you have destroyed
its perfection. As it is a perfect law which we are commanded to obey,
and to obey perfectly, make but one breach thereof and though we be
ever so innocent we can hope for nothing from the lay; except the
voice, "Ye are condemned, ye are condemned, ye are condemned." Under
this aspect of the matter ought not the law to strip many of us of all
our boasting? Who is there that shall rise in his place and say, "Lord,
I thank thee I am not as other men are?" Surely there cannot be one
among you who can go home and say, "I have tithed mint and cummin; I
have kept all the commandments from my youth?" Nay, if this law be
brought home to the conscience and the heart we shall stand with the
publican, saying, "Lord, be merciful to me a sinner." The only reason
why a man thinks he is righteous is because he does not know the law.
You think you have never broken it because you do not understand it.
There are some of you most respectable people; you think you have been
so good that you can go to heaven by your own works. You would not
exactly say so, but you secretly think so; you have devoutly taken the
sacrament, you have been mightily pious in attending your church or
chapel regularly, you are good to the poor, generous and upright, and
you say, "I shall be saved by my works." Nay, sir, look to the flame
that Moses saw, and shrink, and tremble, and despair. The law can do
nothing for us except condemn us. The utmost it can do is to whip us
out of our boasted self-righteousness and drive us to Christ. It puts a
burden on our backs and makes us ask Christ to take it off. It is like
a lancet, it probes the wound. It is, to use a parable as when some
dark cellar has not been opened for years and is full of all kinds of
loathsome creatures, we may walk through it not knowing they are there.
But the law comes, takes the shutters down, lets light in, and then we
discover what a vile heart we have, and how unholy our lives have been;
and, then, instead of boasting, we are made to fall on our faces and
cry, "Lord, save or I perish. Oh, save me for thy mercy's sake, or else
I shall be cast away." Oh, ye self-righteous ones now present, who
think yourselves so good that ye can mount to heaven by your
works–blind horses, perpetually going round the mill and making not
one inch of progress–do you think to take the law upon your shoulders
as Sampson did the gates of Gaza? Do you imagine that you can perfectly
keep this law of God? Will you dare to say, you have not broken it.
Nay, surely, you will confess, though it be in but an under tone, "I
have revolted." Then, this know: the law can do nothing for you in the
matter of forgiveness. All it can do is just this: It can make you feel
you are nothing at all; it can strip you; it can bruise you; it can
kill you, but it can neither quicken, nor clothe, nor cleanse–it was
never meant to do that. Oh, art thou this morning, my hearer, sad,
because of sin? Dost thou feel that thou hast been guilty? Dost thou
acknowledge thy transgression? Dost thou confess thy wandering? Hear
me, then, as God's ambassador, God hath mercy upon sinners. Jesus
Christ came into the world to save sinners. And though you have broken
the law, he has kept it. Take his righteousness to be yours. Cast
yourself upon him. Come to him now, stripped and naked and take his
robe as your covering, Come to him, black and filthy, and wash yourself
in the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness; and then you shall know
"wherefore then serveth the law?" That is the first point.
II. Now, the second. The law serves to slay all hope of salvation of a
reformed life. Most men when they discover themselves to be guilty,
avow that they will reform. They say, "I have been guilty and have
deserved God's wrath, but for the future I will seek to win a stock of
merits which shall counterbalance all my old sins." In steps the law,
puts its hand on the sinner's mouth, and says, "Stop, you cannot do
that, it is impossible." I will show you how the law does this. It does
it partly thus, by reminding the man that future obedience can be no
atonement for past guilt. To use a common metaphor that the poor may
thoroughly understand me, you have run up a score at your chop. Well,
you cannot pay it. You go off to Mrs. Brown, your shopkeeper, and you
say to her, "Well, I am sorry, ma'am, that through my husband being out
of work," and all that, "I know I shall never be able to pay you. It is
a very great debt I owe you, but, if you please ma'am, if you forgive
me this debt I will never get into your debt any more; I will always
pay for all I have." "Yes," she would say, "but that will not square
our accounts. If you do pay for all you have, it would be no more than
you ought to do. But what about the old bills? How are they to be
receipted? They won't be receipted by all your fresh payments." That is
just what men do towards God. "True," they say, "I have gone far astray
I know; but then I won't do so any more." Ah, it was time you threw
away such child's talk. You do but manifest your rampant folly by such
a hope. Can you wipe away your trangression by future obedience? Ah,
no. The old debt must be paid somehow. God's justice is inflexible, and
the law tells you all your requirements can make no atonement for the
past. You must have an atonement through Christ Jesus the Lord. "But,"
says the man, "I will try and be better, and then I think I shall have
mercy given to me." Then the law steps in and says, "You are going to
try and keep me, are you? Why, man, you cannot do it." Perfect
obedience in the future is impossible. And the ten commandments are
held up, and if any awakened sinner will but look at them, he will turn
away and say, "It is impossible for me to keep them." "Why, man, you
say you will be obedient in the future. You have not been obedient in
the past, and there is no likelihood that you will keep God's
commandments in time to come. You say you will avoid the evils of the
past. You cannot. Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his
spots? then may ye also do good that are accustomed to do evil.'" But
you say "I will take greater heed to my ways." "Sir, you will not; the
temptation that overcame you yesterday will overcome you to-morrow.
But, mark this, if you could, you could not win salvation by it." The
law tells you that unless you perfectly obey you cannot be saved by
your doings, it tells you that one sin will make a flaw in it all, that
one transgression will spoil your whole obedience. It is a spotless
garment that you must wear in heaven; it is only an unbroken law which
God can accept. So, then, the law answers this purpose, to tell men
that their acquirements, their amendings, and their doings, are of no
use whatever in the matter of salvation. It is theirs to come to
Christ, to get A new heart and a right spirit; to get the evangelical
repentance which needeth not to be repented of, that so they may put
their trust in Jesus and receive pardon through his blood. "Wherefore
then serveth the law?" It serveth this purpose, as Luther hath it, the
purpose of a hammer. Luther, you know, is very strong on the subject of
the law. He says, "For if any be not a murderer, an adulterer, a thief,
and outwardly refrain from sin, as the Pharisee did, which is mentioned
in the gospel, he would swear that he is righteous, and therefore he
conceiveth an opinion of righteousness, and presumeth of his good works
and merits. Such a one God cannot otherwise mollify and humble, that he
may acknowledge his misery and damnation, but by the law, for that is
the hammer of death, the thundering of hell, and the lightning of God's
wrath, that beateth to powder the obstinate and senseless hypocrites.
For as long as the opinion of righteousness abideth in man, so long
there abideth also in him incomprehensible pride, presumption,
security, hatred of God, contempt of his grace and mercy, ignorance of
the promises and of Christ. The preaching of free remission of sins,
through Christ, cannot enter into the heart of such a one, neither can
he feel any taste or savor thereof; for that mighty rock and adamant
wall, to wit, the opinion of righteousness, wherewith the heart is
environed, doth resist it. Wherefore the law is that hammer, that fire,
that mighty strong wind, and that terrible earthquake rending the
mountains, and breaking the rocks, (1 Kings 19:11-13) that is to say,
the proud and obstinate hypocrites. Elijah, not being able to abide
these terrors of the law, which by these things are signified, covered
his face with his mantle. Notwithstanding, when the tempest ceased, of
which he was a beholder, there came a soft and a gracious wind, in the
which the Lord was; but it behoved that the tempest of fire, of wind,
and the earthquake should pass, before the Lord should reveal himself
in that gracious wind."
III. And now, a step further. You that know the grace of God can follow
me in this next step. The law is intended to show man the misery which
will, fall upon him through his sin. I speak from experience, though
young I be, and many of you who hear me will hear this with ears of
attention, because you have felt the same. There was a time with me,
when but young in years, I felt with much sorrow the evil of sin. My
bones waxed old with my roaring all day long. Day and night God's hand
was heavy upon me. There was a time when he seared me with visions, and
affrighted me by dreams; when by day I hungered for deliverance, for my
soul fasted within me: I feared lest the very skies should fall upon
me, and crush my guilty soul. God's law had got hold upon me, and was
strewing me my misery. If I slept at night I dreamed of the bottomless
pit, and when I awoke I seemed to feel the misery I had dreamed. Up to
God's house I went; my song was but a groan. To my chamber I retired,
and there with tears and groans I offered up my prayer, without a hope
and without a refuge. I could then say with David, "The owl is my
partner and the bittern is my companion," for God's law was flogging me
with its ten-thonged whip, and then rubbing me with brine afterwards,
so that I did shake and quiver with pain and anguish, and my soul chose
strangling rather than life, for I was exceeding sorrowful. Some of you
have had the same. The law was sent on purpose to do that. But, you
will ask, "Why that misery?" I answer, that misery was sent for this
reason: that I might then be made to cry to Jesus. Our heavenly Father
does not usually make us seek Jesus till he has whipped us clean out of
all our confidence; he cannot make us in earnest after heaven till he
has made us feel something of the intolerable tortures of an aching
conscience, which has foretaste of hell. Do you not remember, my
hearer, when you used to awake in the morning, and the first thing you
took up was Alleine's Alarm, or Baxter's Call to the Unconverted? Oh,
those books, those books, in my childhood I read and devoured them when
under a sense of guilt, but they were like sitting at the foot of
Sinai. When I turned to Baxter, I found him saying some such things as
these:–"Sinner, bethink thee, within an hour thou mayest be in hell.
Bethink thee; thou mayest soon be dying–death is even now gnawing at
thy cheek. What wilt thou do when thou standest before the bar of God
without a Saviour? Wilt thou tell him thou hadst no time to spend on
religion? Will not that empty excuse melt into thin air? Oh, sinner,
wilt thou, then, dare to insult thy Maker? Wilt thou, then, dare to
scoff at him? Bethink thee; the flames of hell are hot and the wrath of
God is heavy. Were thy bones of steel, and thy ribs of brass, thou
mightest quiver with fear. Oh, hadst thou the strength of a giant, thou
couldst not wrestle with the Most High. What wilt thou do when he shall
tear thee in pieces, and there shall be none to deliver thee? What wilt
thou do when he shall fire off his ten great guns at thee? The first
commandment shall say, Crush him; he hath broken me!' The second shall
say, Damn him; he hath broken me!' The third shall say, A curse upon
him; he hath broken me!' And so shall they all let fly upon thee; and
thou without a shelter, without a place to flee to, and without a
hope." Ah! you have not forgotten the days when no hymn seemed suitable
to you but the one that began,
"Stoop down my soul that used to rise
Converse awhile with death
Think how a gasping mortal lies,
And pants away his breath."
Or else,
"That awful day shall surely come,
The pointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test."
Ay, that was why the law was sent–to convince us of sin, to make us
shake and shiver before God. Oh! you that are self-righteous, let me
speak to you this morning with just a word or two of terrible and
burning earnestness. Remember, sirs, the day is coming when a crowd
more vast than this shall be assembled on the plains of earth; when on
a great white throne the Saviour, Judge of men, shall sit. Now, he is
come; the book is opened; the glory of heaven is displayed, rich with
triumphant love, and burning with unquenchable vengeance; ten thousand
angels are on either hand; and you are standing to be tried. Now,
self-righteous man, tell me now that you went to church three times a
day! Come, man, tell me now that you kept all the commandments! Tell me
now that you are not guilty! Come before him with a receipt of your
mint, and your anise, and your cummin! Come along with you! Where are
you? Oh, you are fleeing. You are crying, "Rocks hide us; mountains on
us fall." What are you after, man? Why, you were so fair on earth that
none dare to speak to you; you were so good and so comely; why do you
run away? Come, man, pluck up courage; come before thy Maker; tell him
that thou wert honest, sober, excellent, and that thou deservest to be
saved! Why dost thou delay to repeat thy boastings? Out with it–come,
say it! No, you will not. I see you still flying, with shrieks, away
from your Maker's presence. There will be none found to stand before
him, then, in their own righteousness. But look! look! look! I see a
man coming forward out of that motley throng; he marches forward with a
steady step, and with a smiling eye. What! is there any man found who
shall dare to approach the dread tribunal of God? What! is there one
who dares to stand before his Maker? Yes, there is one; he comes
forward, and he cries, "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's
elect?" Do you not shudder? Will not the mountains of wrath swallow
him? Will not God launch that dreadful thunderbolt against him? No;
listen while he confidently proceeds: "Who is he that condemneth? It is
Christ that died; yea, rather, that hath risen again." And I see the
right hand of God outstretched–"Come, ye blessed, enter the kingdom
prepared for you." Now is fulfilled the verse which you once sweetly
sang:–
"Bold shall I stand in that great day,
For who aught to my charge shall lay?
While, through thy blood, absolv'd I am
From sin's tremendous curse and shame."
IV. And now, my dear friends, I am afraid of wearying you; therefore,
let me briefly hint at one other thought. "Wherefore then serveth the
law." It was sent into the world to shew the value of a Saviour. Just
as foils set off jewels, and as dark spots make bright tints more
bright, so doth the law make Christ appear the fairer and more
heavenly. I hear the law of God curse, but how harsh its voice. Jesus
says, "come unto me;" oh, what music! all the more musical after the
discord of the law. I see the law condemns; I behold Christ obeying it.
Oh! how ponderous that price–when I know how weighty was the demand! I
read the commandments, and I find them strict and awfully severe–oh!
how holy must Christ have been to obey all these for me! Nothing makes
me value my Saviour more than seeing the law condemn me. When I know
this law stands in my way, and like a flaming cherubim will not let me
enter paradise, then I can tell how sweetly precious must Jesus
Christ's righteousness be, which is a passport to heaven, and gives me
grace to enter there.
V. And, lastly, "Wherefore serveth the law." It was sent into the world
to keep Christian men from self-righteousness. Christian men–do they
ever get self-righteous? Yes, that they do. The best Christian man in
the world will find it hard work to keep himself from boasting, and
from being self-righteous. John Knox on his death-bed was attacked with
self-righteousness. The last night of his life on earth, he slept some
hours together, during which he uttered many deep and heavy moans.
Being asked why he moaned so deeply, he replied, "I have during my life
sustained many assaults of Satan; but at present he has assaulted me
most fearfully, and put forth all his strength to make an end of me at
once. The cunning Serpent has labored to persuade me, that I have
merited heaven and eternal blessedness by the faithful discharge of my
ministry. But blessed be God, who has enabled me to quench this fiery
dart, by suggesting to me such passages as these: What hast thou that
thou hast not received?' and, By the grace of God I am what I am.'"
Yes, and each of us have felt the same. I have often felt myself rather
amused at some of my brethren, who have come to me, and said, "I trust
the Lord will keep you humble," when they themselves were not only as
proud as they were high, but a few inches over. They have been most
sincere in prayer that I should be humble, unwittingly nursing their
own pride by their own imaginary reputation for humility. I have long
since given up entreating people to be humble, because it naturally
tends to make them proud. A man is apt to say, "Dear me, these people
are afraid I shall be proud; I must have something to be proud of."
Then we say to ourselves, "I will not let them see it;" and we try to
keep our pride down, but after all, are as proud as Lucifer within. I
find that the proudest and most self-righteous people are those who do
nothing at all, and have no shadow of presence for any opinion of their
own goodness. The old truth in the book of Job is true now. You know in
the beginning of the book of Job it is said, "The oxen were ploughing,
and the asses were feeding beside them." That is generally the way in
this world. The oxen are ploughing in the church–we have some who are
laboring hard for Christ–and the asses are feeding beside them, on the
finest livings and the fattest of the land. These are the people who
have so much to say about self-righteousness. What do they do? They do
not do enough to earn a living, and yet they think they are going to
earn heaven. They sit down and fold their hands, and yet they are so
reverently righteous, because forsooth they sometimes dole out a little
in charity. They do nothing, and yet boast of self-righteousness. And
with Christian people it is the came. If God makes you laborious, and
keeps you constantly engaged in his service, you are less likely to be
proud of our self-righteousness than you are if you do nothing. But at
all times there is a natural tendency to it. Therefore, God has written
the law, that when we read it we may see our faults; that when we look
into it, as into a looking-glass, we may see the impurities in our
flesh, and have reason to abhor ourselves in sackcloth and ashes, and
still cry to Jesus for mercy. Use the law in this fashion, and in no
other.
And now, says one, "Sir, are there any here that you have been
preaching at?" Yes, I like to preach at people. I do not believe it is
of any avail to preach to people; preach right into them and right at
them. I find in every circle a class, who say, in plain English, "Well,
I am as good a father as is to be found in the parish, I am a good
tradesman; I pay twenty shillings in the pound; I am no Sir John Dean
Paul; I go to church, or I go to chapel, and that is more than
everybody does; I pay my subscriptions–I subscribe to the infirmary; I
say my prayers; therefore, I believe I stand as good a chance of heaven
as anybody in the world." I do believe that three out of four of the
people of London think something of that sort. Now, if that be the
ground of your trust, you have a rotten hope; you have a plank to stand
upon that will not bear your weight in the day of God's account As the
Lord my God liveth, before whom I stand, "Unless your righteousness
exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no
wise enter into the kingdom of heaven." And if ye think the best
performance of your hands can save you, this know, that "Israel, which
followed after the law of righteousness, hath not attained to the law
of righteousness." Those who sought not after it have attained it.
Wherefore? Because the one hath sought it by faith, the other hath
sought it by the deeds of the law, where justification never was to be
found. Hear, now, the gospel, men and women; down with that boasting
form of your righteousness; away with your hopes, with all your trusts
that spring from this–
"Could your tears for ever flow,
Could your zeal no respite know,
All for sin could not atone;
Christ must save, and save alone."
If ye would know how we must be saved, hear this–ye must come with
nothing of your own to Christ. Christ has kept the law. You are to have
his righteousness to be your righteousness. Christ has suffered in the
stead of all who repent. His punishment is to stand instead of your
being punished. And through faith in the sanctification and atonement
of Christ, you are to be saved. Come, then, ye weary and heavy laden,
bruised and mangled by the Fall, come then, ye sinners, come, then, ye
moralists, come, then, all ye that have broken God's law and feel it,
leave your own trusts and come to Jesus, he will take you in, give you
a spotless robe of righteousness, and make you his for ever. "But how
can I come?" says one; "Must I go home and pray?" Nay, sir, nay. Where
thou art standing now, thou mayest come to the cross. Oh, if thou
knowest thyself to be a sinner, now–I beseech you, ere thy foot shall
leave the floor on which thou standest–now, say this–
"Myself into thy arms I cast:
Lord, save my guilty soul at last."
Now, down with you, away with your self-righteousness. Look to
me–look, now; say not, "Must I mount to heaven and bring Christ down?"
"The word is nigh thee, on thy mouth and in thy heart; if thou shalt
confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe with thy heart, thou
shalt be saved." Yes, thou–thou–thou. Oh! I bless God, we have heard
of hundreds who have in this place believed on Christ. Some of the
blackest of the human race have come to me but even lately, and told me
what God has done for them. Oh, that you, too, would now come to Jesus.
Remember, he that believeth shall be saved, be his sins never so many;
and he that believeth not, must perish, be his sins never so few. Oh,
that the Holy Spirit would lead you to believe; so should ye escape the
wrath to come? and have a place in paradise among the redeemed!