A Call to the Unconverted
A Sermon
(No. 174)
Delivered on Sabbath Evening, November 8, 1857, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At New Park Street Chapel, Southwark.
"For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it
is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which
are written in the book of the law to do them."–Galatians 3:10.
MY HEARER, ART THOU a believer, or no? for, according to thine answer
to that question, must be the style in which I shall address thee
to-night. I would ask thee as a great favor to thine own soul, this
evening to divest thyself of the thought that thou art sitting in a
chapel, and hearing a minister who is preaching to a large
congregation. Think thou art sitting in thine own house, in thine own
chair, and think that I am standing by thee, with thy hand in mine, and
am speaking personally to thee, and to thee alone; for that is how I
desire to preach this night to each of my hearers–one by one. I want
thee, then, in the sight of God, to answer me this all important and
solemn question before I begin–Art thou in Christ, or art thou not?
Hast thou fled for refuge to him who is the only hope for sinners? or
art thou yet a stranger to the commonwealth of Israel, ignorant of God,
and of his holy Gospel? Come–be honest with thine own heart, and let
thy conscience say yes, or no, for one of these two things thou art
to-night–thou art either under the wrath of God, or thou art delivered
from it. Thou art to-night either an heir of wrath, or an inheritor of
the kingdom of grace. Which of these two? Make no "ifs" or "ahs" in
your answer. Answer straight forward to thine own soul; and if there be
any doubt whatever about it, I beseech thee rest not till that doubt be
resolved. Do not take advantage of that doubt to thyself, but rather
take a disadvantage from it. Depend upon it, thou art more likely to be
wrong than thou art to be right; and now put thyself in the scale, and
if thou dost not kick the beam entirely, but if thou hangest between
the two, and thou sayest, "I know not which," better that thou shouldst
decide for the worst, though it should grieve thyself, than that thou
shouldst decide for the better, and be deceived, and so go on
presumptuously until the pit of hell shall wake thee from thy
self-deception. Canst thou, then, with one hand upon God's holy word,
and the other upon thine own heart, lifts thine eye to heaven, and say,
"One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see; I know that I
have passed from death unto life, I am not now what I once was; I the
chief of sinners am, but Jesus died for me.' And if I be not awfully
deceived, I am this night "A sinner saved by blood, a monument of
grace?'" My brother, God speed you; the blessing of the Most High be
with you. My text has no thunders in it for you. Instead of this verse,
turn to the 13th, and there read your inheritance–"Christ hath
redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us: for
it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree." So Christ
was cursed in the stead of you, and you are secure, if you are truly
converted, and really a regenerated child of God.
But my hearer, I am solemnly convinced that a large proportion of this
assembly dare not say so; and thou to-night (for I am speaking
personally to thee), remember that thou art one of those who dare not
say this, for thou art a stranger to the grace of God. Thou durst not
lie before God, and thine own conscience, therefore thou dost honestly
say, "I know I was never regenerated; I am now what I always was, and
that is the most I can say." Now, with you I have to deal, and I charge
you by him who shall judge the quick and the dead, before whom you and
I must soon appear, listen to the words I speak, for they may be the
last warning you shall ever hear, and I charge my own soul also, be
thou faithful to these dying men, lest haply on thy skirts at last
should be found the blood of souls, and thou thyself shouldst be a
castaway. O God, make us faithful this night and give the hearing ear,
and the retentive memory, and the conscience touched by the Spirit, for
Jesus' sake.
First, to-night we shall try the prisoner; secondly, we shall declare
his sentence; and thirdly, if we find him confessing and penitent, we
shall proclaim his deliverance; but not unless we find him so.
I. First, then, we are about to TRY THE PRISONER.
The text says–"Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things
which are written in the book of the law to do them." Unconverted man,
are you guilty, or not guilty? Have you continued "in all things that
are written in the book of the law to do them?" Methinks you will not
dare to plead, "Not guilty." But I will suppose for one moment that you
are bold enough to do so. So, then, sir, you mean to assert that you
have continued "in all things which are written in the book of the
law." Surely the very reading of the law would be enough to convince
thee that thou art in error. Dost thou know what the law is? Why, I
will give thee what I may call the outside of it, but remember that
within it there is a broader spirit than the mere words. Hear thou
these words of the law–"Thou shalt have no other gods before me."
What! hast thou never loved anything better than God? Hast thou never
made a god of thy belly, or of thy business, or of thy family, or of
thine own person? Oh! surely thou durst not say thou art guiltless
here. "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness
of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath,
or that is in the water under the earth." What! hast thou never in thy
life set up anything in the place of God? If thou hast not, I have,
full many a time. And I wot, if conscience would speak truly, it would
say, "Man, thou hast been a mammon worshiper, thou hast been a belly
worshiper, thou hast bowed down before gold and silver; thou hast cast
thyself down before honor, thou hast bowed before pleasure, thou hast
made a god of thy drunkenness, a god of thy lust, a god of thy
uncleanness, a god of thy pleasures!" Wilt thou dare to say that thou
hast never taken the name of the Lord thy of God in vain? If thou hast
never sworn profanely, yet surely in common conversation thou hast
sometimes made use of God's name when thou oughtest not to have done
so. Say, hast thou always hallowed that most holy name? Hast thou never
called upon God without necessity? Hast thou never read his book with a
trifling spirit? Hast thou never heard his gospel without paying
reverence to it? Surely thou art guilty here. And as for that fourth
commandment, which relates to the keeping of the Sabbath–"Remember the
Sabbath day to keep it holy,"–hast thou never broken it? Oh, shut thy
mouth and plead guilty, for these four commandments were enough to
condemn thee! "Honor thy father and thy mother." What! wilt thou say
thou has kept that? Hast thou never been disobedient in thy youth? Hast
thou never kicked against a mother's love, and striven against a
father's rebuke? Turn over a page of your history till you come to your
childhood; see if you cannot find it written there; ay, and your
manhood too may confess that you have not always spoken to your parents
as you should, or always treated them with that honor they deserved,
and which God commanded you to give unto them. "Thou shalt not kill;"
you may never have killed any, but have you never been angry? He that
is angry with his brother is a murderer; thou art guilty here. "Thou
shalt not commit adultery." Mayhap thou hast committed unclean things,
and art here this very day stained with lust; but if thou hast been
never so chaste, I am sure thou hast not been quite guiltless, when the
Master says, "He that looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath
committed adultery already with her in his heart." Has no lascivious
thought crossed thy mind? Has no impurity ever stirred thy imagination?
Surely if thou shouldest dare to say so, thou wouldest be brazen-faced
with impudence. And hast thou never stolen? "Thou shalt not steal;" you
are here in the crowd to-night with the product of your theft mayhap,
you have done the deed, you have committed robbery; but if you have
been never so honest, yet surely there have been times in which you
have felt an inclination to defraud your neighbor, and there may have
been some petty, or mayhap some gross frauds which you have secretly
and silently committed, on which the law of the land could not lay its
hand, but which nevertheless, was a breach of this law. And who dare
say he has not borne false witness against his neighbor? Have we never
repeated a story to our neighbor's disadvantage, which was untrue? Have
we never misconstrued his motives? Have we never misinterpreted his
designs? And who among us can dare to say that he is guiltless of the
last–"Thou shalt not covet?" for we have all desired to have more than
God has given us; and at times our wandering heart has lusted after
things which God has not bestowed upon us. Why, to plead not guilty, is
to plead your own folly; for verily, my brethren, the very reading of
the law is enough, when blessed by the Spirit, to make us cry, "Guilty,
O Lord, guilty."
But one cries, "I shall not plead guilty, for though I am well aware
that I have not continued in all things which are written in the book
of the law,' yet I have done the best I could." That is a lie–before
God a falsehood. You have not! You have not done the best you could.
There have been many occasions upon which you might have done better.
Will that young man dare to tell me that he is doing the best he can
now? that he cannot refrain from laughter in the house of God? It may
be possible that it is hard for him to do so, but it is just possible
he could, if he pleased, refrain from insulting his Maker to his face.
Surely we have none of us done the best we could. At every period, at
every time, there have been opportunities of escape from temptation. If
we had had no freedom to escape from the sin, there might have been
some excuse for it; but there have been turning points in our history
when we might have decided for right or for wrong, but when we have
chosen the evil and have eschewed the good, and have turned into that
path which leadeth unto hell.
"Ah, but," saith another, "I declare, sir, that while I have broken
that law, without a doubt, I have been no worse than my
fellow-creatures." And a sorry argument is that, for what availeth it
thee? To be damned in a crowd is no more comfortable than to be damned
alone. It is true, thou hast been no worse than thy fellow-creatures,
but this will be of very poor service to thee. When the wicked are cast
into hell, it will be very little comfort to thee that God shall say,
"Depart ye cursed" to a thousand with thee. Remember, God's curse, when
it shall sweep a nation into hell, shall be as much felt by every
individual of the crowd, as if there were but that one man to be
punished. God is not like our earthly judges. If their courts were
glutted with prisoners, they might be inclined to pass over many a case
lightly; but not so with Jehovah. He is so infinite in his mind, that
the abundance of criminals will not seem to be any difficulty with him.
He will deal with thee as severely and as justly as it there were never
another sinner in all the world. And pray, what hast thou to do with
other men's sins? Thou art not responsible for them. God made thee to
stand or fall by thyself. According to thine own deeds thou shalt be
judged. The harlot's sin may be grosser than thine, but thou wilt not
be condemned for her iniquities. The murderers guilt may far exceed thy
transgressions, but thou wilt not be damned for the murderer. Religion
is a thing between God and thine own soul, O man; and therefore, I do
beseech thee, do not look upon thy neighbor's, but upon thine own
heart.
"Ay, but," cries another, "I have very many times striven to keep the
law, and I think I have done so for a little." Hear ye the sentence
read again–"Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things
which are written in the book of the law to do them." Oh! sirs; it is
not some hectic flush upon the cheek of consumptive irresolution that
God counts to be the health of obedience. It is not some slight
obedience for an hour that God will accept at the day of judgment. He
saith "continueth;" and unless from my early childhood to the day when
my gray hairs descend into the tomb, I shall have continued to be
obedient to God, I must be condemned. Unless I have from the first dawn
of reason, when I first began to be responsible, obediently served God,
until, like a shock of corn, I am gathered into my Master's garner,
salvation by works must be impossible to me, and I must (standing on my
own footing), be condemned. It is not I say, some slight obedience that
will save the soul. Thou hast not continued "in all things which are
written in the book of the law," and therefore thou art condemned.
"But," says another, "there are many things I have not done, but still
I have been very virtuous." Poor excuse that, also. Suppose thou hast
been virtuous; suppose thou hast avoided many vices: turn to my text.
It is not my word, but God's–turn to it–"all things. It does not say
"some things."–"Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things
which are written in the book of the law to do them." Now, hast thou
performed all virtues? Hast thou shunned all vices? Dost thou stand up
and plead, "I never was a drunkard?"–Yet shalt thou be damned, if thou
hast been a fornicator. Dost thou reply, "I never was unclean?" Yet
thou hast broken the Sabbath. Dost thou plead guiltless of that charge?
Dost thou declare thou hast never broken the Sabbath? Thou hast taken
God's name in vain, hast thou not? Somewhere or other God's law can
smite thee. It is certain (let thy conscience now speak and affirm what
I assert)–it is certain thou hast not continued "in all things which
are written in the book of the law." Nay, more, I do not believe thou
hast even continued in any one commandment of God to the full, for the
commandment is exceeding broad. It is not the overt act, merely, that
will damn a man; it is the thought, the imagination, the conception of
sin, that is sufficient to ruin a soul. Remember, my dear hearers, I am
speaking now God's own word, not a harsh doctrine of my own. If you had
never committed one single act of sin, yet the thought of sin, the
imagination of it would be enough to sweep your soul to hell for ever.
If you had been born in a cell, and had never been able to come out
into the world, either to commit acts of lasciviousness, murder, or
robbery, yet the thought of evil in that lone cell might be enough to
cast your soul for ever from the face of God. Oh! there is no man here
that can hope to escape. We must every one of us bow our heads before
God, and cry, "Guilty, Lord, guilty–every one of us guilty–'Cursed is
every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the
book of the law to do them.'" When I look into thy face, O law, my
spirit shudders. When I hear thy thunders, my heart is melted like wax
in the midst of my bowels. How can I endure thee? If I am to be tried
at last for my life, surely I shall need no judge, for I shall be mine
own swift accuser, and my conscience shall be a witness to condemn.
I think I need not enlarge further on this point. O thou that art out
of Christ, and without God, dost thou not stand condemned before him?
Off with all thy masks, and away with all excuses; let every one of us
turn our idle pretences to the wind. Unless we have the blood and
righteousness of Jesus Christ to cover us, we must every one of us
acknowledge that this sentence shuts the gates of heaven against us,
and only prepares us for the flames of perdition.
II. Thus have I singled out the character, and he is found guilty; now
I have TO DECLARE THE SENTENCE.
God's ministers love not such work as this. I would rather stand in
this pulpit and preach twenty sermons on the love of Jesus, than one
like this. It is very seldom that I meddle with the theme, because I do
not know that it is often necessary; but I feel that if these things
were kept altogether in the background, and the law were not preached,
the Master would not own the gospel; for he will have both preached in
their measure, and each must have its proper prominence. Now,
therefore, hear me whilst I sorrowfully tell you what is the sentence
passed upon all of you who this night are out of Christ. Sinner, thou
art cursed to-night. Thou art cursed, not by some wizard whose fancied
spell can only frighten the ignorant. Thou art cursed–not cursed by
some earthly monarch who could turn his troops against thee, and
swallow up thy house and thy patrimony quick. Cursed! Oh! what a thing
a curse is anyhow! What an awful thing is the curse of a father. We
have heard of fathers, driven to madness by the undutiful and
ungracious conduct of their children, who have lifted their hands to
heaven, and have implored a curse, a withering curse upon their
children. We can not excuse the parent's mad and rash act. God forbid
we should exempt him from sin; but oh, a father's curse must be awful.
I can not think what it must be to be cursed by him that did beget me.
Sure, it would put out the sunlight of my history for ever, if it were
deserved. But to be cursed of God–I have no words with which to tell
what that must be. "Oh, no," you say, "that is a thing of the future;
we do not care about the curse of God; it does not fall upon us now."
Nay, soul, but it does. The wrath of God abideth on you even now. You
have not yet come to know the fullness of that curse, but you are
cursed this very hour. You are not yet in hell; not yet has God been
pleased to shut up the bowels of his compassion, and cast you for ever
from his presence; but notwithstanding all that, you are cursed. Turn
to the passage in the book of Deuteronomy, and see how the curse is a
present thing upon the sinner. In the 28th chapter of Deuteronomy, at
the 15th verse, we read all this as the sentence of the sinner: "Cursed
shalt thou be in the city"–where you carry on your business God will
curse you. "Cursed shalt thou be in the fields"–where you take your
recreation; where you walk abroad, there shall the curse reach you.
"Cursed shall be thy basket and thy store. Cursed shall be the fruit of
thy body and the fruit of thy land, the increase of thy kine, and the
flocks of thy sheep. Cursed shalt thou be when thou comest in, and
cursed shalt thou be when thou goest out." There are some men upon whom
this curse is very visible. Whatever they do is cursed. They get
riches, but there is God's curse with the riches. I would not have some
men's gold for all the stars, though they were gold: and if I might
have all the wealth of the world, if I must have the miser's greed with
it, I would rather be poor than have it. There art some men who are
visibly cursed. Don't you see the drunkard? He is cursed, let him go
where he may. When he goes into his house, his little children run up
stairs to bed, for they are afraid to see their own father; and when
they grow a little older, they begin to drink just as he did, and they
will stand and imitate him; and they too will begin to swear, so that
he is cursed in the fruit of his body. He thought it was not so bad for
him to be drunk and to swear; but O what a pang shoots through the
fathers conscience, if he has a conscience at all, when he sees his
child following his footsteps. Drunkenness brings such a curse upon a
man, that he can not enjoy what he eats. He is cursed in his basket,
cursed in his store. And truly, though one vice may seem to develop the
curse more than others, all sin brings the curse, though we can not
always see it. O! thou that art out of God, and out of Christ, and a
stranger to Jesus, thou art cursed where thou sittest, cursed where
thou standest; cursed is the bed thou liest on; cursed is the bread
thou eatest; cursed is the air thou breathest. All is cursed to thee.
Go where thou mayest, thou art a cursed man. Ah! that is a fearful
thought. O! there are some of you that are cursed to-night. O, that a
man should say that of his brethren! but we must say it, or be
unfaithful to your poor dying souls. O! would to God that some poor
soul in this place would say, "Then I am cursed to-night; I am cursed
of God, and cursed of his holy angels–cursed! cursed! cursed!–for I
am under the law." I do think, God the Spirit blessing it, it wants
nothing more to slay our carelessness than that one word–"cursed!"
"Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are
written in the book of the law to do them."
But now, my hearer, thou that art in this state, impenitent and
unbelieving, I have more work to do before I close. Remember, the curse
that men have in this life is as nothing compared with the curse that
is to come upon them hereafter. In a few short years, you and I must
die. Come, friend, I will talk to you personally again–young man, we
shall soon grow old, or, perhaps, we shall die before that time, and we
shall lie upon our bed–the last bed upon which we shall ever sleep–we
shall wake from our last slumber to hear the doleful tidings that there
is no hope; the physician will feel our pulse, and solemnly assure our
relatives that it is all over! And we shall lie in that still room,
where all is hushed except the ticking of the clock, and the weeping of
our wife and children; and we must die. O! how solemn will it be that
hour when we must struggle with that enemy, Death! The death-rattle is
in our throat–we can scarce articulate–we try to speak; the
death-glaze is on the eye: Death hath put his fingers on those windows
of the body, and shut out the light for ever; the hands well-nigh
refuse to lift themselves, and there we are, close on the borders of
the grave! Ah! that moment, when the Spirit sees its destiny; that
moment, of all moments the most solemn, when the soul looks through the
bars of its cage, upon the world to come! No, I can not tell you how
the spirit feels, if it be an ungodly spirit, when it sees a fiery
throne of judgment, and hears the thunders of Almighty wrath, while
there is but a moment between it and hell. I can not picture to you
what must be the fright which men will feel, when they realize what
they often heard of! Ah! it is a fine thing for you to laugh at me
to-night. When you go away, it will be a very fine thing to crack a
joke concerning what the preacher said; to talk to one another, and
make merry with all this. But when you are lying on your death-bed, you
will not laugh. Now, the curtain is drawn, you can not see the things
of the future, it is a very fine thing to be merry. When God has
removed that curtain, and you learn the solemn reality, you will not
find it in your hearts to trifle. Ahab, on his throne laughed at
Micaiah. You never read that Ahab laughed at Micaiah when the arrow was
sticking between the joints of his harness. In Noah's time, they
laughed at the old man; they called him a gray-headed fool, I doubt
not, because he told them that God was about to destroy the earth with
a flood. But ah! ye scorners, ye did not laugh in that day when the
cataracts were falling from heaven, and when God had unloosed the doors
of the great deep, and bidden all the hidden waters leap upon the
surface; then ye knew that Noah was right. And when ye come to die,
mayhap ye will not laugh at me. You will say, when you lie there, "I
remember such-and-such a night I strolled into Park street; I heard a
man talk very solemnly; I thought at the time I did not like it, but I
knew he was in earnest, I am quite certain that he meant good for me;
oh, that I had hearkened to his advice; oh, that I had regarded his
words! What would I give to hear him again!" Ah! it was not long ago
that a man who had laughed and mocked at me full many a time, went down
one Sabbath day to Brighton, to spend his day in the excursion–he came
back that night to die! On Monday morning, when he was dying, who do
you suppose he wanted? He wanted Mr. Spurgeon! the man he had laughed
at always; he wanted him to come and tell him the way to heaven, and
point him to the Saviour. And although I was glad enough to go, it was
doleful work to talk to a man who had just been Sabbath breaking,
spending his time in the service of Satan, and had come home to die.
And die he did, without a Bible in his house, without having one prayer
offered for him except that prayer which I alone did offer at his
bedside. Ah! it is strange how the sight of a death-bed may be blessed
to the stimulating of our zeal. I stood some year or so ago, by the
bedside of a poor boy, about sixteen years of age, who had been
drinking himself to death, in a drinking bout, about a week before, and
when I talked to him about sin and righteousness, and judgment to come,
I knew he trembled, and I thought that he had laid hold on Jesus. When
I came down from those stairs, after praying for him many a time, and
trying to point him to Jesus, and having but a faint hope of his
ultimate salvation, I thought to myself, O God! I would that I might
preach every hour, and every moment of the day, the unsearchable riches
of Christ; for what an awful thing it is to die without a Saviour. And
then, I thought how many a time I had stood in the pulpit, and had not
preached in earnest as I ought to have done; how I have coldly told out
the tale of the Saviour, when I ought to have wept very showers of
tears, in overwhelming emotion. I have gone to my bed full many a
season, and have wept myself to sleep, because I have not preached as I
have desired, and it will be even so to-night. But, oh, the wrath to
come! the wrath to come! the wrath to come!
My hearers, the matters I now talk of are no dreams, no frauds, no
whims, no old wives' stories. These are realities, and you will soon
know them. O sinner, thou that hast not continued in all things written
in the book of the law; thou that hast no Christ; the day is coming
when these things will stand before thee, as dread, solemn, real
things. And then; ah! then; ah! then; ah! then what wilt thou do?–"And
after death the judgment."–O, can ye picture–
"The pomp of that tremendous day,
When Christ with clouds shall come."
I think I see that terrible day. The bell of time has tolled the last
day. Now comes the funeral of damned souls. Your body has just started
up from the grave, and you unwind your cerements, and you look up. What
is that I see? O! what is that I hear? I hear one dread, tremendous
blast, that shakes the pillars of heaven, and makes the firmament reel
with affright; the trump, the trump, the trump of the arch-angel shakes
creation's utmost bound. You look and wonder. Suddenly a voice is
heard, and shrieks from some, and songs from others–he comes–he
comes–he comes; and every eye must see him. There he is; the throne is
set upon a cloud, which is white as alabaster. There he sits. Tis He,
the Man that died on Calvary–I see his pierced hands–but ah, how
changed! No thorn-crown now. He stood at Pilate's bar, but now the
whole earth must stand at his bar. But hark! the trumpet sounds again:
the Judge opens the book, there is silence in heaven, a solemn silence:
the universe is still. "Gather mine elect together, and my redeemed
from the four winds of heaven." Swiftly they are gathered. As with a
lightning flash, the angel's wing divides the crowd. Here are the
righteous all in-gathered; and sinner, there art thou on the left hand,
left out, left to abide the burning sentence of eternal wrath. Hark!
the harps of heaven play sweet melodies; but to you they bring no joy,
though the angels are repeating the Saviour's welcome to his saints.
"Come ye blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundations of the world." You have had that moments respite, and now
his face is gathering clouds of wrath, the thunder is on his brow; he
looks on you that have despised him, you that scoffed his grace, that
scorned his mercy, you that broke his Sabbath, you that mocked his
cross, you that would not have him to reign over you; and with a voice
louder than ten thousand thunders, he cries, "Depart, ye cursed. And
then–No, I will not follow you. I will not tell of quenchless flames:
I will not talk of miseries of the body, and tortures for the spirit.
But hell is terrible; damnation is doleful. Oh, escape! escape! Escape,
lest haply, being where you are, you should have to learn what the
horrors of eternity must mean, in the gulf of everlasting perdition.
"Cursed is the man that hath not continued in all things that are
written in the book of the law to do them."
III. DELIVERANCE PROCLAIMED.
"You have condemned us all," cries one. Yes, but not I–God has done
it. Are you condemned? Do you feel you are to night? Come, again, let
me take thee by the hand, my brother: yes, I can look round upon the
whole of this assembly, and I can say, there is not one now in this
place whom I do not love as a brother. If I speak severely unto any of
you, it is that you may know the right. My heart, and my whole spirit
are stirred for you. My harshest words are far more full of love than
the smooth words of soft-speaking ministers, who say, "Peace, peace,"
where there is no peace. Do you think it is any pleasure to me to
preach like this? Oh? I had far rather be preaching of Jesus; his
sweet, his glorious person, and his all-sufficient righteousness. Now,
come, we will have a sweet word before we have done. Do you feel you
are condemned? Do you say, "O God, I confess thou wouldest be just, if
thou shouldest do all this to me?" Dost thou feel thou canst never be
saved by thine own works, but that thou art utterly condemned through
sin? Dost thou hate sin? Dost thou sincerely repent? Then, let me tell
thee how thou mayest escape.
Men and brethren, Jesus Christ, of the seed of David, was crucified,
dead, and buried; he is now risen, and he sitteth on the right hand of
God, where he also maketh intercession for us. He came into this world
to save sinners, by his death. He saw that poor sinners were cursed: he
took the curse on his own shoulders, and he delivered us from it. Now,
if God has cursed Christ for any man, he will not curse that man again.
You ask me, then, "Was Christ cursed for me?" Answer me this question,
and I will tell you–Has God the Spirit taught you that you are
accursed? Has he made you feel the bitterness of sin? Has he made you
cry, "Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner?" Then, my dear friend, Christ
was cursed for you; and you are not cursed. You are not cursed now.
Christ was cursed for you. Be of good cheer; if Christ was cursed for
you, you can not be cursed again. "Oh!" says one, "if I could but think
he was cursed for me." Do you see him bleeding on the tree? Do you see
his hands and feet all dripping gore? Look unto him, poor sinner. Look
no longer at thyself, nor at thy sin; look unto him, and be saved. All
he asks thee to do is to look, and even that he will help thee to do.
Come to him, trust him, believe on him. God the Holy Spirit has taught
you that you are a condemned sinner. Now, I beseech you, hear this word
and believe it: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all
acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners."
Oh, can you say, "I believe this Word–it is true–blessed be his dear
name; it is true to me, for whatever I may not be, I know that I am a
sinner; the sermon of this night convinces me of that, if there were
nothing else; and, good Lord, thou knowest when I say I am a sinner, I
do not mean what I used to mean by that word. I mean that I am a real
sinner. I mean that if thou shouldest damn me, I deserve it; if thou
shouldest cast me from thy presence forever, it is only what I have
merited richly. O my Lord I am a sinner; I am a hopeless sinner, unless
thou savest me; I am a helpless sinner, unless thou dost deliver me. I
have no hope in my self-righteousness; and Lord, I bless thy name,
there is one thing else, I am a sorrowful sinner, for sin grieves me; I
can not rest, I am troubled. Oh, if I could get rid of sin, I would be
holy, even as God is holy. Lord, I believe. But I hear an objector cry
out, "What, sir, believe that Christ died for me simply because I am a
sinner!" Yes; even so. "No, sir; but if I had a little righteousness;
if I could pray well, I should then think Christ died for me." No, that
would not be faith at all, that would be self-confidence. Faith
believes in Christ when it sees sin to be black, and trusts in him to
remove it all. Now, poor sinner, with all thy sin about thee, take this
promise in thy hands, go home to-night, or if thou canst, do it before
thou gettest home–go home, I say, up stairs, alone, down by the
bed-side, and pour out thine heart, "O Lord, it is all true that that
man said; I am condemned, and Lord, I deserve it. O Lord, I have tried
to be better, and have done nothing with it all, but have only grown
worse. O Lord, I have slighted thy grace, I have despised thy gospel: I
wonder thou hast not damned me years ago; Lord, I marvel at myself;
that thou sufferest such a base wretch as I am to live at all. I have
despised a mother's teaching, I have forgotten a father's prayers.
Lord, I have forgotten thee; I have broken thy Sabbath, taken thy name
in vain. I have done everything that is wrong; and if thou dost condemn
me, what can I say? Lord, I am dumb before thy presence. I have nothing
to plead. But Lord; I come to tell thee to-night, thou hast said in the
Word of God, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out."
Lord, I come: my only plea is that thou hast said, This is a faithful
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the
world to save sinners.' Lord, I am a sinner; he came to save me; I
trust in it–sink or swim–Lord, this is my only hope: I cast away
every other, and hate myself to think I ever should have had any other.
Lord, I rely on Jesus only. Do but save me, and though I can not hope
by my future life to blot out my past sin, O Lord, I will ask of thee
to give me a new heart and a right spirit, that from this time forth
even for ever I may run in the way of thy commandments: for, Lord, I
desire nothing so much as to be thy child. Thou knowest, O Lord, I
would give all, if thou wouldest but love me; and I am encouraged to
think that thou dost love me; for my heart feels so. I am guilty, but I
should never have known that I was guilty if thou hadst not taught it
to me. I am vile, but I never should have known my vileness, unless
thou hadst revealed it. Surely, thou wilt not destroy me, O God, after
having taught me this. If thou dost, thou art just, but,
"Save a trembling sinner, Lord,
Whose hopes still hovering round thy Word,
Would light on some sweet promise there;
Some sure support against despair."
If you can not pray such a long prayer as that, I tell you what to go
home and say. Say this, "Lord Jesus, I know I am nothing at all; be
thou my precious all in all."
Oh, I trust in God there will be some to-night that will be able to
pray like that, and if it be so, ring, the bells of heaven; sing, ye
seraphim; shout, ye redeemed; for the Lord hath done it, and glory be
unto his name, for ever and ever.
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