His Name–Wonderful!
A Sermon
(No. 214)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, September 19, 1858, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens
"His name shall be called Wonderful."–Isaiah 9:6.
ONE EVENING LAST WEEK I stood by the sea-shore when the storm was
raging. The voice of the Lord was upon the waters; and who was I that I
should tarry within doors, when my Master's voice was heard sounding
along the water? I rose and stood to behold the flash of his
lightnings, and listen to the glory of his thunders. The sea and the
thunders were contesting with one another; the sea with infinite clamor
striving to hush the deep-throated thunder, so that his voice should
not be heard; yet over and above the roar of the billows might be heard
that voice of God, as he spoke with flames of fire, and divided the way
for the waters. It was a dark night, and the sky was covered with thick
clouds, and scarce a star could be seen through the rifts of the
tempest; but at one particular time, I noticed far away on the horizon,
as if miles across the water, a bright shining, like gold. It was the
moon hidden behind the clouds, so that she could not shine upon us; but
she was able to send her rays down upon the waters, far away, where no
cloud happened to intervene. I thought as I read this chapter last
evening, that the prophet seemed to have stood in a like position, when
he wrote the words of my text. All round about him were clouds of
darkness; he heard prophetic thunders roaring, and he saw flashes of
the lightnings of divine vengeance; clouds and darkness, for many a
league, were scattered through history; but he saw far away a bright
spot–one place where the clear shining came down from heaven. And he
sat down, and he penned these words: "The people that walked in
darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the
shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined;" and though he looked
through whole leagues of space, where he saw the battle of the warrior
"with confused noise and garments rolled in blood," yet he fixed his
eye upon one bright spot in futurity, and he declared, that there he
saw hope of peace, prosperity and blessedness; for said he, "Unto us a
child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shad be upon
his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful."
My dear friends, we live to-day upon the verge of that bright spot. The
world has been passing through these clouds of darkness, and the light
is gleaming on us now, like the glintings of the first rays of morning.
We are coming to a brighter day, and "at evening time it shall be
light." The clouds and darkness shall be rolled up as a mantle that God
needs no longer, and he shall appear in his glory, and his people shall
rejoice with him. But you must mark, that all the brightness was the
result of this child born, this son given, whose name is called
Wonderful; and if we can discern any brightness in our own hearts, or
in the world's history, it can come from nowhere else, than from the
one who is called "Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God."
The person spoken of in our text, is undoubtedly the Lord Jesus Christ.
He is a child born, with reference to his human nature; he is born of
the virgin, a child. But he is a son given, with reference to his
divine nature, being given as well as born. Of course. the Godhead
could not be born of woman. That was from everlasting, and is to
everlasting. As a child he was born, as a son he was given. "The
government is upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called
Wonderful." Beloved, there are a thousand things in this world, that
are called by names that do not belong to them; but in entering upon my
text, I must announce at the very opening, that Christ is called
Wonderful, because he is so. God the Father never gave his Son a name
which he did not deserve. There is no panegyric here, no flattery. It
is just the simple name that he deserves, they that know him best will
say that the word doth not overstrain his merits, but rather falleth
infinitely short of his glorious deserving. His name is called
Wonderful. And mark, it does not merely say, that God has given him the
name of Wonderful–though that is implied; but "his name shall be
called" so. It shall be; it is at this time called Wonderful by all his
believing people, and it shall be. As long as the moon endureth, there
shall be found men, and angels, and glorified spirits, who shall always
call him by his right name. "His name shall be called Wonderful."
I find that this name may bear two or three interpretations. The word
is sometimes in Scripture translated "marvellous." Jesus Christ may be
called marvellous; and a learned German interpreter says, that without
doubt, the meaning of miraculous is also wrapt up in it. Christ is the
marvel of marvels, the miracle of miracles. "His name shall be called
Miraculous," for he is more than a man, he is God's highest miracle.
"Great is the mystery of godliness; God was manifest in the flesh." It
may also mean separated, or distinguished. And Jesus Christ may well be
called this; for as Saul was distinguished from all men, being head and
shoulders taller than they, so is Christ distinguished above all men;
he is anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows, and in his
character, and in his acts he is infinitely separated from all
comparison with any of the sons of men. "Thou art fairer than the
children of men; grace is poured into thy lips." He is "the chief among
ten thousand and altogether lovely." "His name shall be called the
Separated One," the distinguished one, the noble one, set apart from
the common race of mankind.
We shall, however, this morning, keep to the old version, and simply
read it thus, "His name shall be called Wonderful." And first I shall
notice that Jesus Christ deserveth to be called Wonderful for what he
was in the past; secondly, that he is called Wonderful by all his
people for what he is in the present; and in the third place, that he
shall be called Wonderful, for what he shall be in the future.
I. First, Christ shall be called Wonderful for WHAT HE WAS IN THE PAST.
Gather up your thoughts, my brethren. for a moment, and center them all
on Christ, and you will soon see how wonderful he is. Consider his
eternal existence, "begotten of his Father from before all worlds,"
being of the same substance with his Father: begotten, not made,
co-equal, co-eternal, in every attribute, "very God of very God." For a
moment remember that he who became an infant of a span long, was no
less than the King of ages, the everlasting Father, who was from
eternity. and is to be to all eternity. The divine nature of Christ is
indeed wonderful. Just think for a moment, how much interest clusters
round the life of an old man. Those of us who are but as children in
years, look up to him with wonder and astonishment, as he tells us the
varied stories of the experience through which he has passed; but what
is the life of an aged man–how brief it appears when compared with the
life of the tree that shelters him. It existed long before that old
man's father crept a helpless infant into the world. How many storms
have swept over its brow! how many kings have come and gone! how many
empires have risen and fallen since that old oak was slumbering in its
acorn cradle! But what is the life of the tree compared with the soil
on which it grows? What a wonderful story that soil might tell! What
changes it has passed through in all the eras of time that have elapsed
since "in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." There
is a wonderful story connected with every atom of black mould which
furnishes the nourishment of the oak. But whilst is the history of that
soil compared with the marvellous history of the rock on which it
rests–the cliff on which it lifts its head. Oh! what stories might it
tell, what records lie hidden in its bowels. Perhaps it could tell the
story of the time when "the earth was without form and void, and
darkness was upon the face of the earth." Perhaps it might speak and
tell us of those days when the morning and the evening were the first
day, and the morning and the evening were the second day, and could
explain to us the mysteries of how God made this marvellous piece of
miracle,–the world. But what is the history of the cliff, compared
with that of the sea that rolls at its base–that deep blue ocean, over
which a thousand navies have swept, without leaving a furrow Upon its
brow! But what is the history of the sea, compared with the history of
the heavens that are stretched like a curtain over that vast basin!
What a history is that of the hosts of heaven–of the everlasting
marches of the sun, moon, and stars! Who can tell their generation, or
who can write their biography? But what is the history of the heavens,
compared with the history of the angels? They could tell you of the day
when they saw this world wrapped in swaddling bands of mist–when, like
a newborn infant, the last of God's offspring, it came forth from him,
and the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for
joy. But what is the history of the angels that excel in strength,
compared with the history of the Lord Jesus Christ? The angel is but of
yesterday, and he knoweth nothing; Christ, the Eternal One, chargeth
even his angels with folly, and looks upon them as his ministering
spirits, that come and go at his good pleasure. Oh, Christians, gather
with reverence and mysterious awe around the throne of him who is your
great Redeemer; for "his name is called Wonderful," since he has
existed before all things, and "by him all things were made; and
without him was not anything made that was made."
Consider, again, the incarnation of Christ, and you will rightly say,
that his name deserveth to be called "Wonderful." Oh! what is that I
see? Oh! world of wonders, what is that I see? The Eternal of ages,
whose hair is white like wool, as white as snow, becomes an infant. Can
it be? Ye angels, are ye not astonished? He becomes an infant, hangs at
a virgin's breast, draws his nourishment from the breast of woman. Oh
wonder of wonders! Manger of Bethlehem, thou hast miracles poured into
thee. This is a sight that surpasses all others. Talk ye of the sun,
moon, and stars; consider ye the heavens, the work of God's fingers,
the moon and the stars that he hath ordained; but all the wonders of
the universe shrink into nothing, when we come to the mystery of the
incarnation of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was a marvellous thing when
Joshua bade the sun to stand still, but more marvellous when God seemed
to stand still, and no longer to move forward, but rather, like the sun
upon the dial of Ahaz, did go back ten degrees, and veil his splendor
in a cloud. There have been sights matchless and wonderful, at which we
might look for years, and yet turn away and say, "I cannot understand
this; here is a deep into which I dare not dive; my thoughts are
drowned; this is a steep without a summit; I cannot climb it; it is
high, I cannot attain it!" But all these things are as nothing,
compared with the incarnation of the Son of God. I do believe that the
very angels have never wondered but once and that has been incessantly
ever since they first beheld it. They never cease to tell the
astonishing story, and to tell it with increasing astonishment too,
that Jesus Christ. the Son of God, was born of the Virgin Mary, and
became a man. Is he not rightly called Wonderful? Infinite, and an
infant–eternal, and yet born of a woman–Almighty, and yet hanging on
a woman's breast supporting the universe, and yet needing to be carried
in a mother's arms–king of angels, and yet the reputed son of
Joseph–heir of all things and yet the carpenter's despised son.
Wonderful art thou O Jesus, and that shall be thy name for ever.
But trace the Saviours course, and all the way he is wonderful. Is it
not marvellous that he submitted to the taunts and jeers of his
enemies–that for a long life he should allow the bulls of Bashan to
gird him round, and the dogs to encompass him? Is it not surprising
that he should have bridled in his anger when blasphemy was uttered
against his sacred person? Had you or I been possessed of his matchless
might, we should have dashed our enemies down the brow of the hill, if
they had sought to cast us there; we should never have submitted to
shame and spitting; no, we would have looked upon them, and with one
fierce look of wrath, have dashed their spirits into eternal torment.
But he hears it all–keeps in his noble spirit–the lion of the tribe
of Judah, but bearing still the lamb-like character of
"The humble man before his foes,
A weary man, and full of woes."
I do believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the king of heaven, and yet he
was a poor, despised, persecuted, slandered man; but while I believe it
I never can understand it. I bless him for it; I love him for it; I
desire to praise his name while immortality endures for his infinite
condescension in thus suffering for me; but to understand it, I can
never pretend. His name must all his life long be called Wonderful.
But see him die. Come O my brothers, ye children of God, and gather
round the cross. See your Master. There he hangs. Can you understand
this riddle: God was manifest in the flesh, and crucified of men? My
Master, I cannot understand how thou couldst stoop thine awful head to
such a death as this–how then couldst take from thy brow the coronet
of stars which from old eternity had shone resplendent there; but how
thou shouldest permit the thorn-crown to gird the temples astonishes me
far more. That thou shouldest cast away the mantle of thy glory, the
azure of thine everlasting empire, I cannot comprehend; but how thou
shouldest have become veiled in the ignominious purple for awhile, and
then be bowed to by impious men, who mocked thee as a pretended king,
and how thou shouldest be stripped naked to thy shame, without a single
covering, this is still more incomprehensible. Truly thy name is
Wonderful. Oh thy love to me is wonderful, passing the love of woman.
Was ever grief like thine? Was ever love like thine, that could open
the flood gates of such grief. Thy grief is like a river; but was there
ever spring that poured out such a torrent? Was ever love so mighty as
to become the fount from which such an ocean of grief could come
rolling down? Here is matchless love–matchless love to make him
suffer, matchless power to enable him to endure all the weight of his
Father's wrath. Here is matchless justice, that he himself should
acquiesce in his Father's will, and not allow men to be saved without
his own sufferings; and here is matchless mercy to the chief of
sinners, that Christ should suffer even for them. "His name shall be
called Wonderful."
But he died. He died! See Salem's daughters weep around. Joseph of
Arimathea takes up the lifeless body after it has been taken down from
the cross. They bear it away to the sepulcher. It is put in a garden.
Do you can him Wonderful now?
"Is this the Saviour long foretold
To usher in the age of gold?"
And is he dead? Lift his hands! They drop motionless by his side. His
foot exhibits still the nail-print; but there is no mark of life.
"Aha," cries the Jew, "is this the Messiah? He is dead; he shall see
corruption in a little space of time. Oh! watchman, keep good ward lest
his disciples steal his body. His body can never come forth, unless
they do steal it; for he is dead. Is this the Wonderful the
Counsellor?" But God did not leave his soul in Hades; nor did he suffer
his body–"his holy one"–to see corruption? Yes, he is wonderful, even
in his death. That clay-cold corpse is wonderful. Perhaps this is the
greatest wonder of all, that he who is "Death of death and hell's
destruction" should for awhile endure the bonds of death. But here is
the wonder. He could not be holden of those bonds. Those chains which
have held ten thousand of the sons and daughters of Adam, and which
have never been broken yet by any man of human mould, save by a
miracle, were but to him as green withes. Death bound our Samson fast
and said, "I have him now, I have taken away the locks of his strength;
his glory is departed, and now he is mine; but the hands that kept the
human race in chains were nothing to the Saviour; the third day he
burst them, and he rose again from the dead, from henceforth to die no
more. Oh! thou risen Saviour–thou who couldst not see corruption–thou
art wonderful in thy resurrection. And thou art wonderful too in thine
ascension–as I see thee leading captivity captive and receiving gifts
for men. "His name shall be called Wonderful."
Pause here one moment, and let us think–Christ is surpassingly
wonderful. The little story I have told you just now–not little in
itself, but little as I have told it–has in it something surpassingly
wonderful. All the wonders that you ever saw are nothing compared with
this. As we have passed through various countries we have seen a
wonder, and some older traveler than ourselves has said, "Yes this is
wonderful to you. but I could show you something that utterly eclipses
that." Though we have seen some splendid landscapes, with glorious
hills, and we have climbed up where the eagle seemed to knit the
mountain and the sky together in his flight, and we have stood and
looked down, and said, "How wonderful!" Saith he, "I have seen fairer
lands than these, and wider and richer prospects far." But when we
speak of Christ, none can say they ever saw a greater wonder than he
is. You have come now to the very summit of everything that may be
wondered at. There are no mysteries equal to this mystery, there is no
surprise equal to this surprise; there is no astonishment, no
admiration that should equal the astonishment and admiration that we
feel when we behold Christ in the glories of the past. He surpasses
everything.
And yet again. Wonder is a short-lived emotion; you know, it is
proverbial that a wonder grows gray-headed in nine days. The longest
period that a wonder is found to last is about that time. It is such a
short-lived thing. But Christ is and ever shall be wonderful. You may
think of him through three-score years and ten, but you shall wonder at
him more at the end than at the beginning. Abraham might wonder at him,
when he saw his day in the distant future; but I do mat think that even
Abraham himself could wonder at Christ so much as the very least in the
kingdom of heaven of to-day wonders at him, seeing that we know more
than Abraham, and therefore wonder more. Think again for one moment,
and you will say of Christ that he deserves to be called Wonderful, not
only because he is always wonderful, and because he is surpassingly
wonderful, but also because he is altogether wonderful. There have been
some great feats of skill in the arts and sciences; for instance, if we
take a common wonder of the day, the telegraph–how much there is about
that which is wonderful! But there are a great many things in the
telegraph that we can understand. Though there are many mysteries in
it, still there are parts of it that are like keys to the mysteries, so
that if we cannot solve the riddle wholly, yet it is disrobed of some
of the low garments of its mystery. But now if you look at Christ
anyhow, anywhere, anyway, he is all mystery, he is altogether
wonderful, always to be looked at and always to be admired.
And again, he is universally wondered at. They tell us that the
religion of Christ is very good for old women. I was once complimented
by a person, who told me he believed my preaching would be extremely
suitable for blacks–for negroes. He did not intend it as a compliment,
but I replied, "Well sir, if it is suitable for blacks I should think
it would be very suitable for whites; for there is only a little
difference of skin, and I do not preach to people's skins, but to their
hearts." Now, of Christ we can say that he is universally a wonder, the
strongest intellects have wonderful at him. Our Lockes and our Newtons
have felt themselves to be as little children when they have come to
the foot of the cross. The wonder has not been confined to ladies, to
children, to old women and dying men, the highest intellects, and the
lustiest minds have all wondered at Christ. I am sure it is a difficult
task to make some people wonder. Hard thinkers and close mathematicians
are not easily brought to wonder: but such men have covered their faces
with their hands and cast themselves in the dust, and confessed that
they have been lost in wonder and amazement. Well then may Christ be
called Wonderful.
II. "His name shall be called Wonderful." He is wonderful for WHAT HE
IS IN THE PRESENT. And here I will not diverge, but will just appeal to
you personally. Is he wonderful to you? Let me tell the story of my own
wonderment at Christ, and in telling it, I shall be telling the
experience of all God's children. There was a time when I wondered not
at Christ. I heard of his beauties, but I had never seen them; I heard
of his power, but it was nought to me; it was but news of something
done in a far country–I had no connection with it, and therefore I
observed it not. But once upon a time, there came one to my house of a
black and terrible aspect. He smote the door; I tried to bolt it–to
hold it fast. He smote again and again, till at last he entered, and
with a rough voice he summoned me before him; and he said, "I have a
message from God for thee; thou art condemned on account of thy sins."
I looked at him with astonishment; I asked him his name. He said, "My
name is the Law." and I fell at his feet as one that was dead. "I was
alive without the law once: but when the commandment came, sin revived,
and I died." As I lay there, he smote me. He smote me till every rib
seemed as if it must break, and the bowels be poured forth. My heart
was melted like wax within me; I seemed to be stretched upon a rack–to
be pinched with hot irons–to be beaten with whips of burning wire. A
misery extreme dwelt and reigned in my heart. I dared not lift up mine
eyes, but I thought within myself, "There may be hope, there may be
mercy for me. Perhaps the God whom I have offended may accept my tears
and my promises of amendment, and I may live." But when that thought
crossed me, heavier were the blows and more poignant my sufferings than
before, till hope entirely failed me, and I had nought wherein to
trust. Darkness black and dense gathered round me; I heard a voice as
it were, of rushing to and fro, and of wailing and gnashing of teeth. I
said within my soul, "I am cast out from his sight, I am utterly
abhorred of God, he hath trampled me in the mire of the streets in his
anger." And there came one by, of sorrowful but of loving aspect, and
he stooped over me, and he said, "Awake thou that sleepest, and arise
from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." I arose in
astonishment, and he took me, and he led me to a place where stood a
cross, and he seemed to vanish from my sight. But he appeared again
hanging there. I looked upon him as he bled upon that tree. His eyes
darted a glance of love unutterable into my spirit, and in a moment,
looking at him, the bruises that my soul had suffered were healed; the
gaping wounds were cured; the broken bones rejoiced; the rags that had
covered me were all removed; my spirit was white as the spotless snows
of the far-off north; I had melody within my spirit, for I was saved,
washed, cleansed, forgiven, through him that did hang upon the tree.
Oh, how I wondered that I should be pardoned! It was not the pardon
that I wondered at so much; the wonder was that it should come to me. I
wondered that he should be able to pardon such sins as mine; such
crimes, so numerous and so black, and that after such an accusing
conscience he should have power to still every wave within my spirit,
and make my soul like the surface of a river, undisturbed, quiet, and
at ease. His name then to my spirit was Wonderful. But, brethren and
sisters, if you have felt this, you can say you thought him wonderful
then–if you are feeling it, a sense of adoring wonder enraptures your
heart even now.
And has he not been wonderful to you since that auspicious hour, when
first you heard Mercy's voice spoken to you? How often have you been in
sadness, sickness, and sorrow! But your pain has been light, for Jesus
Christ has been with you on your sick-beds; your care has been no care
at all, for you have been able to cast your burden upon him. The trial
which threatened to crush you, rather lifted you up to heaven, and you
have said "How wonderful that Jesus Christ's name should give me such
comfort, such joy, such peace, such confidence." Various things bring
to my recollection a period now removed by the space of nearly two
years. Never shall we forget, beloved, the judgments of the Lord, when
by terrible things in righteousness he answered our prayer that he
would give us success in this house. We cannot forget how the people
were scattered–how some of the sheep were slain, and the shepherd
himself was smitten. I may not have told in your hearing the story of
my own woe. Perhaps never soul went so near the burning furnace of
insanity, and yet came away unharmed. I have walked by that fire until
these locks seemed to be crisp with the heat thereof. My brain was
racked. I dared not look up to God, and prayer that was once my solace,
was cause of my affright and terror, if I attempted it. I shall never
forget the time when I first became restored to myself. It was in the
garden of a friend. I was walking solitary and alone, musing upon my
misery, much cheered as that was by the kindness of my loving friend,
yet far too heavy for my soul to bear, when on a sudden the name of
Jesus flashed through my mind. The person of Christ seemed visible to
me. I stood still. The burning lava of my soul was cooled. My agonies
were hushed. I bowed myself there, and the garden that had seemed a
Gethsemane became to me a Paradise. And then it seemed so strange to
me, that nought should have brought me back but that name of Jesus. I
thought indeed at that time that I should love him better all the days
of my life. But there were two things I wondered at. I wondered that he
should be so good to me, and I wondered more that I should have been so
ungrateful to him. But his name has been from that time "Wonderful" to
me, and I must record what he has done for my soul.
And now, brothers and sisters, you shall all find, every day of your
life, whatever your trials and troubles, that he shall always be made
the more wonderful by them. He sends your troubles to be like a black
foil, to make the diamond of his name shine the brighter. You would
never know the wonders of God if it were not that you find them out in
the furnace. "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business
in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in
the deep," and we shall never see the wonders of God except in that
deep; we must go into the deeps before we know how wonderful his power
and his might to save.
I must not leave this point without one more remark. There have been
times when you and I have said of Christ, "His name is wonderful
indeed, for we have been by it transported entirely above the world,
and carried upward to the very gates of heaven itself." I pity you,
beloved, if you do not understand the rhapsody I am about to use. There
are moments when the Christian feels the charms of earth all broken,
and his wings are loosed, and he begins to fly; and up he soars, till
he forgets earth's sorrows and leaves them far behind, and up he goes
till he forgets earth's joys, and leaves them like the mountain tops
far below, as when the eagle flies to meet the sun; and up, up, up he
goes, with his Saviour full before him almost in vision beatific. His
heart is full of Christ; his soul beholds his Saviour, and the cloud
that darkened his view of the Saviour's face seems to be dispersed. At
such a time the Christian can sympathise with Paul. He says, "Whether
in the body or out of the body I cannot tell–God knoweth!" but I am,
as it were, "caught up to the third heaven." And how is this rapture
produced? By the music of flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds
of instruments? No. How then? By riches? By fame? By wealth? Ah, no. By
a strong mind? By a lively disposition? No. By the name of Jesus. That
one name is all sufficient to lead the Christian into heights of
transport that verge upon the region where the angels fly in cloudless
day.
III. I have no more time to stay upon this point, although the text is
infinite, and one might preach upon it for ever. I have only to notice
that his name shall be called Wonderful IN THE FUTURE.
The day is come, the day of wrath, the day of fire. The ages are ended;
the last century, like the last pillar of a dilapidated temple, has
crumbled to its fall. The clock of time is verging to its last hour. It
is on the stroke. The time is come when the things that are made must
disappear. Lo, I see earth's bowels moving. A thousand hillocks give up
the slumbering dead. The battle fields are clothed no more with the
rich harvests that have been manured with blood; but a new harvest has
sprung up. The fields are thick with men. The sea itself becomes a
prolific mother, and though she hath swallowed men alive, she gives
them up again, and they stand before God, an exceeding great army.
Sinners! ye have risen from your tombs; the pillars of heaven are
reeling; the sky is moving to and fro; the sun, the eye of this great
world, is rolling like a maniac's, and glaring with dismay. The moon
that long has cheered the night now makes the darkness terrible, for
she is turned into a clot of blood. Portents, and signs, and wonders
past imagination, make the heavens shake, and make men's hearts quail
within them. Suddenly upon a cloud there comes one like unto the Son of
Man. Sinners! picture your astonishment and your wonder when you see
him. Where art thou, Voltaire? Thou saidst, "I will crush the wretch."
Come and crush him now! "Nay" saith Voltaire, "he is not the man I
thought he was." Oh how will he wonder when he finds out what Christ
is! Now, Judas, come and give him a traitor's kiss! "Ah! nay," says he,
"I knew not what I kissed: I thought I kissed only the son of Mary, but
lo! he is the everlasting God." Now, ye kings and princes, that stood
up and took counsel together against the Lord and against his anointed,
saying, "Let us break his bands asunder, and cast his cords from us!"
Come now, take counsel once more; rebel against him now! Oh! can ye
picture the astonishment, the wonder the dismay, when careless, godless
infidels and Socinians find out what Christ is? "Oh!" they will say,
"this is wonderful, I thought not he was such as this;" while Christ
shall say to them, "thou thoughtest that I was altogether such as
yourselves; but I am no such thing; I am come in all my Father's glory
to judge the quick and dead."
Pharaoh led his hosts into the midst of the Red Sea. The path was dry
and shingly, and on either shore stood like a wall of alabaster the
clear white water stiff as with the breath of frost, consolidated into
marble. There it stood. Can ye guess the astonishment and dismay of the
hosts of Pharaoh, when they saw those walls of water about to close
upon them? "Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish!" Such will be
your astonishment, when Christ, whom ye have despised to-day–Christ,
whom ye would not have to be your Saviour–Christ whose Bible ye left
unread, whose Sabbath ye despised–Christ, whose gospel ye rejected,
shall come in the glory of his Father, and all his holy angels with
him. Ay, then indeed will ye "behold, and wonder, and perish," and you
shall say, "His name is Wonderful."
But perhaps, the most wonderful part of the day of judgment is this, do
you see all the horrors yonder–the black darkness the horrid night,
the clashing comets the pale stars, sickly and wan, falling like figs
from the fig tree? Do you hear the cry, "Rocks, hide us, mountains, on
us fall?" "Every battle of the warrior is with confused noise;" but
there never was a battle like this. This is with fire and smoke indeed.
But do ye see yonder? All is peaceful all serene and quiet. The myriads
of the redeemed, are they shrieking, crying, wailing? No; see them!
They are gathering–gathering round the throne. That very throne that
seems to scatter, as with a hundred hands, death and destruction on the
wicked, becomes the sun of light and happiness to all believers. Do you
see them coming robed in white, with their bright wings? while
gathering round him they veil their faces. Do ye hear them cry, "Holy,
holy, holy, Lord God of hosts, for thou wast slain, and thou hast risen
from the dead; worthy art thou to live and reign, when death itself is
dead?" Do ye hear them? It is all song, and no shriek. Do ye see them?
It is all joy, and no terror. His name to them is Wonderful; but it is
the wonder of admiration the wonder of ecstacy, the wonder of
affection, and not the wonder of horror and dismay. Saints of the Lord!
ye shall know the wonders of his name, when ye shall see him as he is,
and shall be like him in the day of his appearing. Oh! my enraptured
spirit, thou shalt bear thy part in thy Redeemer's triumph, unworthy
though thou art, the chief of sinners, and less than the least of
saints. Thine eye shall see him and not another; "I know that my
Redeemer liveth, and when he shall stand in the latter day upon the
earth, though worms devour this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God."
Oh! make your selves ready, ye virgins! Behold the bridegroom cometh.
Arise and trim your lamps, and go ye out to meet him. He comes–he
comes–he comes; and when he comes, you shall well say of him as you
meet him with joy, "Thy name is called Wonderful. All hail! all hail!
all hail!"
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