Who Can Tell?

Who Can Tell?

A Sermon

(No. 275)

Delivered on Sabbath Morning, September 18th, 1859, by the

REV. C.H. SPURGEON

at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.

"Who can tell if God will turn and repent, and turn away from his
fierce anger, that we perish not?"–Jonah 3:9.

THIS WAS THE FORLORN HOPE of the Ninevites: "Who can tell if God will
turn and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger, that we perish
not?" The book of Jonah should be exceedingly comfortable to those who
are despairing because of the wickedness of their times. Nineveh was a
city as great in its wickedness as in its power. If any of us with
little faith had been bidden to go round about her, and "tell the
towers thereof, and mark well her bulwarks;" if we had been commanded
to go through her streets and behold her both in the blaze of the sun
and in the light of the moon as her inhabitants indulged in vice, we
should have said. "Alas! Alas! the city is wholly given into idolatry,
and it is girt about with a wall of sin, as stupendous as its wall of
stone." Suppose that the problem had been given to us to solve–how
shall this city be moved to repentance? How shall its vice be forsaken
and the God of Israel worshipped by all its inhabitants from the
highest to the lowest? If we had not been paralyzed with despair, which
is the most probable, we should, nevertheless, have sat down carefully
to consider our plans. We should have parcelled it out into missionary
districts; we should have needed at least several hundreds, it not
thousands, of able ministers; at once, expenses would have to be
incurred, and we should have considered ourselves bound to contemplate
the erection of innumerable structures in which the Word of God might
be preached. Our machinery would necessarily become cumbrous; we should
find that we, unless we had the full resources of an empire, could not
even begin the work. But what saith the Lord concerning this? Putting
aside the judgments of reason, and all the plans and schemes which
flesh and blood so naturally do follow, he raises up one man. By a
singular providence he qualifies that one man for his mission. He sends
him down into the very depths of the sea, where the weeds are wrapped
about him, he comes up from the great deep, and the awful descent has
steeled his soul and completely covered him with the armor of
courageous faith. Who need tremble at anything on shore who has passed
the bowels of a fish and yet survived? He comes into the city, his eyes
almost starting from their sockets with the recollection of the great
judgment which had passed over his head, and in stern inflexible
manner, with shrill monotonous voice, he begins to cry, "Yet forty days
and Nineveh shall be overthrown!" Is this, O God! is this thy way? Is
this the means with which thou wilt accomplish the great event? Wilt
thou make Nineveh repent at the bidding of one man? Shall yon sallow
man fresh from the sea–shall his voice be sufficient to stir this
great city? O God! if thou hadst come forth in thy fiery chariot, if
thou hadst spoken with thy thunder, if thou hadst shaken the earth with
thine earthquakes then might Nineveh feel, but surely this one man is
not sufficient for the deed. But as high as the heaven is above the
earth, so high are his ways above our ways, and his thoughts above our
thoughts. So skillful is he that with the weakest instrument he can
produce the mightiest workmanship. That one man begins his journey.
Already the inhabitants flock to listen to him. He proceeds–the crowd
multiplies. As he stands at the corner of the alleys, and the lanes,
every window is thrown up to listen, and the streets are thronged as he
walks along. Still on he goes till the whole city has begun to shake
with his terrible voice. And now the King himself bide him come into
his presence, and the fearless still propounds the threatening of God.
Then comes the effect. All Nineveh is wrapped in sackcloth; the cry of
man and beast go up in one terrible wailing to God. Jehovah is honored
and Nineveh repents. Ah! My brethren, we see in this rich grounds for
hope. What cannot God do? Think not that he needs to wait for us. He
can accomplish the greatest deeds by the meanest instrumentality. One
man, if he willed it, would be sufficient to stir this giant city. One
man, if God decreed it, might be the means of the conversion of a
nation, nay, a continent should shake beneath the tramping of one man.
There is no palace so high that this one man's voice should not reach
it, and there is no den of infamy so deep that his cry should not be
heard therein. All we need is that God should "make bare his arm," and
who can withstand his might. What though he grasp but the jaw-bone of
an ass yet is his arm mightier than Samson's, and not only would it be
heaps upon heaps, but city upon city, continent upon continent. With
the meanest instrument would God slay his thousands and overcome his
myriads. Oh church of God, never fear; remember the men that God has
given thee in the days of yore. Look back to Paul; remember Augustine;
think ye well of Luther, and of Calvin; talk ye of Whitfield, and of
Wesley, and remember these were but separate individual men, and yet
through them God did a work, the remembrance whereof still rolleth on
and shall never cease while this earth endures.

With this by way of preface, I shall now somewhat turn aside from the
narrative, to address myself to those who are trembling on account of
sin and who are in the same position as the men of Nineveh, and like
them anxiously desiring mercy.

I shall notice briefly this morning three things. First, the miserable
plight in which the men of Nineveh found themselves; secondly, the
scanty reasons which they had for hope; and then, thirdly, I shall
observe that we have stronger reasons to compel us to pray, and more
comfortable arguments to urge us to trust.

I. First then, I shall consider the men of Nineveh, as representing
many here present, as to THE DOLEFUL PLIGHT IN VICE THEY FOUND
THEMSELVES. The men of Nineveh were like those in the days of Noah.
They were married and given in marriage: they ate and they drank: they
builded and they planted. The whole world was their granary, and the
kingdoms of the earth their hunting ground. They were rich and mighty
above all people, for God had greatly increased their prosperity; and
they had become the greatest nation upon the face of the earth. Locked
in security they fell into great and abominable sins. Their vices
probably rivalled those of Sodom. If they were not worse even than the
Eastern cities of the present day, they were abominable beyond
description. How suddenly were they however startled from their
security and convinced of their sin? The preaching of that one strange
man had brought them from the height of their splendor to the depths of
sorrow. Now was their boasting cut off; the sound of their mirth had
ceased; and they began to weep and lament. What was their miserable
plight? I take it, it consisted in three discoveries; they now
discovered their great sin; then again, the shortness of their time,
and in the next place, the terrible character of their destruction.
Would that ye would discover the like ye careless sinners, ye that
slumber in Zion, ye that fear not God, neither turn from your evil
ways. Would I say that in the first place, some prophet-voice would
stir you to remember your sins, for are they not many and exceeding
great? Let each man among us look to his life, and who is there here
that need not blush? Some of us have been moral. We have by the
training of our youth and by the restraints of grace been kept from the
immoralities of others, but even we are compelled to lay our mouths in
the dust. While looking into our heart, we discover it to be a nest of
unclean birds, full of all manner of evil and loathsome things. We have
been as visions in our hearts as the worst of men have been in their
acts. But there are too many who cannot even plead that they have been
moral, though this would be but a poor excuse for the want of love to
God. Look, men and brethren, look to your lives; who among us hath been
free from murmuring against God? Who is he that hath loved his neighbor
as himself? Who is it that has never been angry without a cause? Who
has never cursed God in his heart, even if he hath not done so with his
lips? Who among us have always scrupulously kept our eye from lust and
our heart from covetousness? Have we not all sinned? If our iniquities
could now be revealed; if on every man's brow were written his sin,
which of you would not put his hand upon his forehead to hide his
iniquity from his fellows? It will be of essential service to many of
you if you will read over your lives. Turn, I beseech you, to the pages
of your memory, and let the black, blotted, misspelled pages now be
read again. Think not that the preacher understands how to flatter his
congregation. It has become fashionable in these times to look upon our
hearers as all being good and excellent–would not this be a lie and a
falsehood before Almighty God? Are there not here those that can
indulge secretly in vices which we must not mention? Are there not
those who do that to their fellows in trade which they would despise in
others? What! are none of you covetous? Do none of you over-reach or
defraud your neighbors? Do none of ye practice the common frauds and
tricks in trade? Are none of ye liars, and none deceivers, none
slanderers who bear false witness against your neighbors? Am I so happy
as to have a spotless congregation here? I cannot flatter myself that
such can be the truth. No, our iniquities are great and our sins are
hideous. Oh, that we were all ready to confess, each man for himself,
the iniquities which we have done! Surely, if the Spirit of God shall
but shine into our hearts and show us the evil of our ways, we shall
find ourselves in a sorrowful condition indeed, and shall be ready to
cry out before God, oven as Nineveh did of old.

Added to this however the Ninevites had information as to the shortness
of their days. "Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown." How
fixed and definite the date! Six weeks shall scarcely run their round,"
says the Prophet, "ere ye must die, and perish miserably." To an hour
was the time described, "yet forty days." How would the Ninevites count
the days with terror, and watch each rising and setting sun as if these
were the black milestones upon their dreary road to death! "Ah," saith
one, "but ye will not tell us that our days are only forty." Nay, men
and brethren I am no prophet. I cannot tell how many your days may be,
but this one thing I can say, it is possible that there are some here
who have not forty days to live! There may be some among you who have
not so long a respite as even Nineveh itself. Suppose now I should be
able to take you to that great city. If I could have shown you its
massive ramparts and its stupendous fortresses; if like Jonah I could
point to them and say, "In forty days this city will be an overthrown,"
which would require the greatest stretch of credulity to believe this
prophecy or that which follows, "In forty days your body shall crumble
back to dust?" Which I say would require the greatest stretch of faith?
whether is the easier of these twain, to send you to death, or to
uproot a city? What art thou, man, but a heap of animated dust? A worm
may destroy thee, a grain of sand may be sufficient to take away thy
life. Feeble is the thread of life, a spider's web is a cable compared
therewith. It is but a dream, a child's whisper may break it, and we
may awake in another world. "Forty days!" surely that was a long and
distant period compared with what may be the date of your death. I have
been long enough preaching in this place to look back now on many who
have gone from this spot to the place appointed to all firing. Many,
many are the faces which this day I miss as I look along your ranks and
cast my eye around this gallery. There are not a few who I remember to
have passed from the land of the living and to have gone to another
world–and some how suddenly, how rapidly! I have been startled at it
often myself. I have seen some here on the Sabbath, and by the Tuesday
or by the Thursday the message has come, "On what day can you bury
such-and-such a one?" "Bury her!" "Yes sir, bury her, she is gone;" and
I have said, "How strange it seems that she should be dead who so
lately was living in our midst!"

Forty days I add is a long lease compared with that which you have any
reason to conclude that God has bestowed on you. But what if it were
forty years, how short a time even then. If ye will but look with the
eye of wisdom, how rapidly our years revolve. Are you not startled even
now to see the sear leaf in your path? It was but yesterday that the
fresh green buds were seen. It seemeth but a month ago since first we
saw the wheat starting up from the ground, and lo the harvest is over
and gone and many of the birds have disappeared and the tints of autumn
are succeeding the verdure of summer. Years seem but months now and
months but days, and days pass so rapidly that they flit like shadows
before us. O! men and women, if we could but measure life it is but a
span, and in a time how short, how brief every one of us must appear
before his God. The shortness of time should help to arouse us, and
then, let me add the third thing which startled the Ninevites was this,
the terrible character of the judgment. Doubtless one part of the
effect of Jonah's preaching may be traced to the singular vagueness of
his prophecy. He says, "Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be
overthrown." By whom, he does not tell us. How he does not deign to
reveal. It is to be overthrown, that is all. Whether some mighty nation
should invade it, or whether an earthquake should swallow it up quick,
or whether by plague or pestilence the whole city should be emptied, or
whether an intestine quarrel should cut off the population, he says
not. The very vagueness and indistinctness of a prophecy adds to its
terror, just as men can never bring their minds to think of spectres in
the plain daylight, but always conjure up such things in hours of shade
and gloom. The gloominess of the message made men tremble. And oh! ye
that are not reconciled to God, men without religion, without hope and
without God in the world, how terrible is the judgment that shall come
upon you! It is not for me to attempt to describe it. Scripture only
speaks of the life to come in indistinct terms. Terrible are they in
their vagueness. Jesus saith, "These shall go away into outer darkness,
where there is weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth," and anon
he speaks of torment as a place "where the worm dieth not, and the fire
is not quenched." and then he describes it as "a bottomless pit," and
as "a fire" that "never shall be quenched." Ah! my brethren, we know
but little of the wrath of God which shall certainly come upon the
wicked, but we know enough to let us understand that it is too terrible
for human ear to hear. If hell had been fully described to us in this
time-state, this life itself would have been but the vestibule of
eternal torment. I question whether any eyes could bear to read such a
description as God might have given. Both our ears would have tingled,
and our hearts would melt like water, at the sound thereof. Oh! sinner,
it is enough for me to say to you this day, "Except ye repent, ye must
perish with a terrible overthrow. God, even God himself, shall draw his
sword and bathe it in your blood. He shall drive you from his presence
amidst the thunders of his wrath and the lightnings of his vengeance.
He shall smite you with his omnipotence, and shall spend himself in
punishing you, and your torment shall be without end, and the smoke
thereof shall go up for ever and ever. I speak not this day to you that
are unbelievers in the word: with you I will have nothing to do this
morning; but to you who are believers in the revelation of the
Bible–who profess to be nominal Christians, with you I have to deal.
Oh sirs, if ye believe this book, if ye are impenitent, how tremendous
is the doom which awaits you; how fatal shall death be to you, and how
terrible the last dread day of judgment! And all this is coming on
apace. The chariot wheels of God's justice have axles which are hot
with speed, the black coursers are covered with foam as on they drive.
Perhaps, as here I stand and speak alas, too coldly on things which
should make any man boil over with enthusiasm–perhaps death may even
now be fitting his arrow to the string, and you may be his victim, and
this sermon may be closed, as Paul's sermon was, with some one's
falling dead like Eutychus, in the window in his sleep. God grant it
may not be so, but nevertheless there is cause enough for each one of
us to tremble and to bow before the God of Israel. Thus have I spoken
on the first point: O Holy Spirit, bless the word!

These Ninevites however took heart and hope. They said, "Let us
proclaim a fast, let man and beast cry mightily unto God, for who can
tell but he may turn from his fierce anger that we perish not."

II. Now the second point was, THE SLENDER GROUND WHICH THE NINEVITES
HAD FOR HOPE. And now regard attentively, for I long this morning for
you all in the bowels of Christ, that ye also with a far better hope
may be enabled to imitate the example of the men of Nineveh. You will
notice that in Jonah's message, there was no proclamation of mercy
made. It was one short sentence of doom. Twas like the great bell of
St. Sepulchre's Church tolling out the hour of the execution of a
criminal. There was not so much as a note of mercy. Twas the trumpet of
the Judge, but not the silver trump of Jubilee. No mercy glanced from
Jonah's eye, no pity was in his heart. He was sent with a thundering
commission and he dealt it out in a thundering fashion. "Yet forty days
and Nineveh shall be Overthrown." I think I see the king of Nineveh
sitting down with his nobles at a council of state, and one of them
would say, "We have little hope of mercy, for if you will observe Jonah
never offered us any. How terribly he spoke. There was not so much as a
tear in his eye. I am persuaded that Jonah's God is very just and
severe. He will by no means spare us; we shall be cut off." But the
king's answer to his councillor was, "Who can tell? you only think so,
but you cannot say it, let us yet hope, for "Who can tell." My dear
hearers, tis no Jonah that addresses you. My language to-day shall be
rather that of Isaiah, "Come now, and let us reason together, saith the
Lord: though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow;
though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Oh cannot you
say with Nineveh's king, "Who can tell?" Will not you go home to your
chamber and pray, for "Who can tell?" Will you not go to the Bible and
search for a promise, for "Who can tell?" Will you not go to the cross
and trust in the flowing blood, for "Who can tell?" You may be forgiven
yet, accepted yet, and one day yet sing God's praises before the throne
above. Another thing which would cut off the hope of the Ninevites very
much was this, that they knew nothing of God except, it may he, some
dreadful legends they had heard of his terrible acts. One of the
councillors of the king deeply learned would say, "O king, live for
ever! The God of Jonah is a terrible God. Hast thou not heard what he
did in Egypt; how he destroyed Pharaoh and his chariots of old in the
Red Sea? And hast thou not heard what he did to Sennacherib when he cut
him off and his hosts? Hast thou never heard the thunder of his power,
and the might of his terrible acts? Surely he will have no mercy on
us." But the king answered–"Who can tell?" Thou dost not know. It is
but a surmise. "Who can tell?" But oh, my hearers, we are on a vantage
ground here, for you know that God is merciful. Many and many a time
have we assured you from the lips of God himself, through this written
word, that he delighteth in mercy. You have his promise for it, nay,
you have his oath for it. Jehovah lifts his hand to heaven, and swears
by himself. "As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death
of him that dieth; but had rather that he should turn unto me and
live." Come, then sinner, for "who can tell;" he is a merciful God. Do
what Benhadad did of old, when he and his army had been routed, and he
alone was left with a few of his nobles. He said: "Let us put ropes on
our necks, and go unto the king of Israel, for we have heard that the
kings of Israel are merciful kings." Do you the like with Jesus. You
have heard that he is merciful and full of compassion. Come to him now;
trust in his blood, and "who can tell;" this day your sins may be
blotted out? "Who can tell?" This day you may be washed in the blood of
Christ, and made white as Adam in Paradise. "Who can tell?" This day
the Lord may make your heart leap with joy, while he whispers–"Thou
art mine, and I am thine." "Who can tell?" Drowning men catch at
straws–this is no straw–this is a solid rock: lay hold on it and be
saved. "Who can tell?"

But once again, the people of Nineveh lacked another encouragement
which you and I have. They had never heard of the cross. Jonah's
preaching was very powerful, but there was no Christ in it. There was
nothing about the Messiah that was to come–no talking of the sprinkled
blood–no mention of a great sin-atoning sacrifice–and therefore the
men who were in the council of the king, might have said–"Surely we
have never heard that any satisfaction has been offered to the injured
justice of God. How therefore can he be just and yet the justifier of
the ungodly? "Ah," said the king, "who can tell?" and on that slender
"who can tell?" they ventured to cry for mercy; but oh, sinner thou art
answered this day, that "God hath spared not his own Son, but freely
delivered him up for us all, that whosoever believeth on him might not
perish, but have everlasting life. For God so loved the world that he
sent forth his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him might
not perish, but might be saved. For there is now no condemnation to
them that are in Christ Jesus." Come sinner, come to the cross, for God
can be just, and yet the justifier of the ungodly. I say, this should
make thee ask–"Who can tell?" He may wash me clean, he may accept me,
and I may yet be able to sing with the loudest of all the voices of his
children–

"I the chief of sinners am,

But Jesus died for me."

And now shall I tell you what I think was the hope which the poor king
of Nineveh really had? I have set before you his discouragements, and
now I will set before you his encouragements. They were very slender,
but still they seemed to have been sufficient. Perhaps the king said in
his heart, or he might have said to his councillors–"Sirs, there is
one thing which ye cannot deny, we are come to the worst, and if we
repent and cry for mercy, at least that cry will not be to our
disadvantage. We shall be none the worse off even if we are not heard."

Now sometimes I have known a trembling sinner take comfort even from
that. The words of our hymn suggest the full idea.

"I can but perish if I go,

I am resolved to try;

For if I stay away I know,

I must for ever die."

If you seek not Christ; if you repent not of sin; if you put not your
trust in him, perish you must. That is certain. If you go, and are
rejected, at least you are none the worse off. Try it, and you shall
find out that you are much the better, for you shall not be rejected.
Remember the cage of the three lepers at the gate of Samaria. They were
sitting there without food to eat, and at last the pangs of hunger were
strong upon them. One of them said to his fellows, "Let us go now to
the host of the Syrians. If they kill us we shall but die; if they save
us alive, we shall live, but if we stay here, perish we must. So, as
there was nothing to lose, and there might be something to gain, they
risked it. Oh, sinner, would to God the Lord would teach thee as much
wisdom as this. Go to him just as thou art, and say, "Lord, sink or
swim, I take thy cross to be my only trust. If thou wilt not save me,
if I perish in the stream, yet will I perish clinging to the rock of my
salvation, for no other trust and no other hope have I." Oh that you
may be led to do even this, and ye shall not be disappointed.

Besides, the king would add, "It is true that Jonah did not say that
God would have mercy, but then he did not say he would not." There was
a cry from Jonah's lip, "Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be
overthrown" but he did not say, "God will not have any mercy at all."
So the king said, "Who can tell, then?" if any could have told him,
Jonah would. Was he not a fierce looking man; if there had been any
thunders in store, would he not have dealt them out in his terrible
fury of prophecy? "Surely," said the king, if he stopped there, and did
not add, "I will have no mercy, this is a happy token. Who can tell? If
Jonah did not tell, we cannot."

And now, sinner, I would thou wouldst catch hold on this. But thou hast
something stronger and firmer still, for there is mercy proclaimed to
thee this day. God is not willing that any should perish, but that all
should come to repentance. These are his own words and he himself
expressly invites you to come to him. He says "Whosoever will, let him
come, and take of the water of life freely;" and he gives you his word
for it–"Him that cometh unto me I will in nowise cast out." Salvation
is free as the air we breathe to every convinced sinner. If thou
knowest this day thy need of Christ, take him, he is thine. He is a
fountain open for the thirsty. All the preparation thou needest is
simply a burning thirst. Then come and drink, and none can say thee
nay.

"From the Mount of Calvary,

Where the Saviour deigned to die,

What transporting sounds I hear,

Bursting on my ravished ear!–

Love's redeeming work is done,

Come and welcome, sinner, come!"

Well, then, if thou art invited, "Who can tell?" Come, come and try,
for "Who can tell?"

Yet, I think, the greatest confidence which the king of Nineveh would
have would be derived from the following suggestion. "Oh," said he, "if
God had meant to destroy us without giving us an opportunity of pardon,
he would not have sent Jonah forty days beforehand. He would have given
us no time at all. He would simply have given a blow and a word, but
the blow would have been first. He would have overthrown the city in
his wrath without a single message. What did he to Sodom? He sent no
messenger there. The sun rose and the fire descended from God's
terrible right hand. Not so Nineveh; it had its warning. And now,
sinner, turn thou this to good account. Thou hast had many a warning.
Thou art this day warned, nay, more thou art affectionately invited to
come to Christ. The voice from the cross is speaking, and each
trickling drop of blood crieth, "Amen."

"Come and welcome, sinner, come!"

Now, if the Lord were unwilling to forgive, would he have sent his
servants to warn and to invite? If there were not bowels of mercy with
him, would he not have said, "Let them alone, they are joined unto
idols, let them perish?" It is no small prophecy of God's good
intentions to a man when God sends to him a faithful minister. Oh, my
hearers, I cannot speak to you with eloquence. I cannot address you
with the fervid words of such an one as Whitfield, but this I can say,
and God is my witness, I have not shunned to declare the whole counsel
of God, whether man would hear, or whether he will forbear. If ye
perish, it is not because I have kept back any part of that which I
have received of God, who hath sent me. I have broken through the
trammels of creed and system that I might free my head of the blood of
all men. I have not been content to run in the track of an old and
narrow creed, if I felt that it kept me from earnestly pleading with
you, and warning you to flee from the wrath to come. I have endangered
many a friendship, and brought upon my self no little shame, because I
must and will, in this matter, deal earnestly with your souls. Tis no
child's play to preach. It shall be no child's play to give an account
of preaching at the last great tremendous day. You are warned; in God's
name I conjure you, ere the gates of mercy are shut upon you–ere life
shall end: now, now bethink yourselves. Now may the Spirit of God bring
you to your knees, now drive you to prayer, now lead you to faith in
the sprinkled blood of the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of
the world. Sinner, remember! if thou perish thou destroyest thyself.
Behold, God willeth not thy death, but he bids thee come now. Nay! he
doth, as it were, pray thee to return. He says, "Return, ye backsliding
children of men." "Oh Israel, return unto me." He says again, "Come,
now, let us reason together; though your sins be as scarlet they shall
be as wool; though they be red like crimson they shall be white as
snow." Would that I could draw you! Oh that I had chains on my lips
that should bind you in golden fetters to the cross of Christ. Come,
sinner, for "who can tell?" Nay, I change the sentence. "I can
tell"–if ye turn, he will turn unto you. Come ye to him, and he will
accept you, for he is a God ready to forgive, and now, this day, he is
ready to cast your sins into the depths of the sea, and remember them
no more for ever.

III. And now, this shall bring me to the third point, namely, THE
URGING OF DIVERS REASONS WHY WE SHOULD IMITATE THE NINEVITES IN
REPENTANCE.

It was an old and a horrible custom of past governments, when a man was
executed for murder, to allow him to be hung in chains, so that as
often as any one passed by the gibbet they might learn, as was thought,
the severity of justice. I fear, however, that they more frequently
learned the brutality and barbarism of the age. Now, as these were hung
in chains as warnings, I would translate this horrible figure into one
that shall glitter with joy and delight. God, in order that you may
know his mercy, has been pleased to preserve instances thereof, that so
often as you look upon them you may be led to say, if such and such an
one was saved, why may not I? It is needless for me to refer you to Old
Testament and New Testament scriptures. You will remember well the
pardon given to David! Surely you have not forgotten the mercy which
God had on that chief of sinners, Manasseh! As for the New Testament
pardoned sinners, from the thief on the cross to Saul of Tarsus, the
chief of sinners, it sufficeth but to hint at them. And now this day
behold before your eyes in this place, sinners once like yourselves,
who have obtained mercy and are now forgiven. Amongst the thousands in
this hall there are not a few who (say some two years ago or less)
entered this place out of idle curiosity. I could describe some to you
who had never entered a place of worship for twenty or even thirty
years. Some of them had been habitual drunkards, their lives had been
the abodes of misery; some of them had been harlots, and led others
into sin, beside destroying their own bodies and their souls. Into this
place they crept, they came merely to listen to the preacher, of whom
many a strange thing had been said. Their attention was rivetted. An
arrow from the bow of God shot into their hearts and here they are this
day. Without boasting I say it, they are my joy and my crown of
rejoicing, and shall be such in the day of the appearing of our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ. If you, who have been like them, but are now
repenting of your sins, could hear their testimony as I have done, you
would never doubt of the mercy of God. If you could read the account
that I have preserved of some of them–sailors, who in every part of
the world have sinned–who have never touched upon land except to
commit fornication and wickedness–if I could tell you on the other
hand the dreadful iniquities into which some here have plunged in the
days of their flesh, you would say, "Surely he is a pardoning God, and
methinks that might entice you to come. Oh if there be any such here,
and there are many such here, I know, if you are sitting in this hall
to-day side by side with some trembling sinner, and you observe the
tear dropping from his eye, be not slow to tell him, "I am one of the
men that Mr. Spurgeon mentions." The Lord has saved thee, and be not
slow to take the hand of the penitent, and bid him come where you went,
and bid him look for mercy where you sought it and found it. And I may
say again, if I may speak for myself here to-day, if you knew my own
character as it was before conversion, you need none of you despair of
mercy. When I went to God confessing my sins to him, I felt myself to
be the vilest sinner out of hell. Others might have praised me, but I
had not a word to say on my own account. If the hottest flames of the
pit had been mine eternal portion it was not one whit more than I
deserved. But

"Tell it unto sinners tell,

I am, I am out of hell,"

And forgiven and accepted in Christ. Who then need despair? Who can
tell? Come sinner, come, and say this in thine heart, and go and cry
unto God in prayer, and lay hold on Christ by faith, saying, "Who can
tell?" The innumerable instances of past mercies should stir us up to
say, "Who can tell?"

And then again let me remind you–Oh, ye that are now conscious of your
guilt, that your only hope for deliverance lies in the mercy of God.
When a man knows that he has only one hope left how tenaciously will he
cling to it. Some sick man has tried every system of medicine–he has
spent nearly all his wealth, and now he has come to the last stage. He
is trying the last system of medicine. If this remedy fail, die he
must. Do you not readily imagine that he would use this with the
greatest diligence, and be as obedient as possible to every command of
the physician? And now sinner, it is Christ or hell with thee this day.
If Christ save thee not, thou art a lost man. If the cross be not thy
salvation, the jaws of hell must soon close upon thee. Tis Christ or
nothing. Nay it is Christ or perdition! Lay hold on him then; clutch
him; he is thy last, thy only hope. Oh, fly to him: he his thine only
refuge. If thou wert pursued by some fierce beast of prey: if there
were but one tree on some vast plain, albeit, there were but a scanty
hope of escape by climbing it, with what speed would thy feet carry
thee to it. I see thee running and I come before thee and say, "Stop,
why in such haste?" You rush past me crying–"Sir, tis my only chance,
tis my only hope; I am devoured, I am rent in pieces if I find not
shelter there." It is your case today. Behold the roaring lion of the
pit, athirst for your blood, is after you. Away to the cross; cling to
it; there is hope; there is sure refuge. But apart from that thou art
worse than rent in pieces; thou art destroyed for ever and ever.

But for thy encouragement, let me tell thee one other thing, and then I
shall have done. Sinner, remember that while it will be a happy thing
for thee to be saved, it will be a glorious thing for God to save thee.
Men object not to do a thing which is expensive to them, if it bring
them in some honor. They will not stoop to do a thing which involves
shame and scorn; but if honor goeth with a thing then are they ready
enough to do it. Now soul, remember, if God shall save thee it will
honor him. Why, wilt thou not honor him if he will but blot out thy
sin? I thought when I was seeking mercy, if God would but save me there
was nothing I would not do for him. I would be cut in pieces rather
than deny him. I would serve him all my life, and he might do what he
would with me in heaven. And do you not sometimes feel that if God
would but save you, you would sing loudest of them all in heaven? Would
you not love him; creep to the foot of his throne, and cast your crown
before his feet, saying: "Lord, not unto me, not unto me, but unto thy
name be all the glory." God delighteth to save sinners, because this
puts jewels in his crown. He is glorified in his justice, but not as he
is in his mercy. He appears in silken robes with a golden crown upon
his head when he saves sinners. He wears an iron crown when he crushes
them. Judgment is his strange work; he does that with his left hand,
but his right-handed acts are those of mercy and of love. Hence he puts
the righteous always on the right hand that he may be ready to pardon
and ready to deliver. Oh, come then soul to Christ. Thou art not about
to ask a thing which God is unwilling to give, or that which will slur
his escutcheon, or blot his banner. Thou art asking for that which is
as glorious to God as it is beneficial to thyself. Come humble soul and
cry to Christ, and he will have mercy upon thee.

My only fear in conclusion is, that if any of you have received the
slightest impression this morning you will go home and forget it. May I
ask you now as a favor that if you have but got so much as a scar under
the preaching of the Word, go home alone if you can. Say but little if
you are obliged to walk with others, and go straight away to your
chamber, fall there on your knees, make a confession of your sin, cry
to God for mercy through the blood of Christ, and "Who can tell?" Who
can tell–this very day there shall be high holiday in heaven over
hundreds of sinners who in this Music Hall have first learned to
pray–who in this place have first been led to consider their ways and
turn to God. I hope our friends will all remain and no one move, while
I pray that that may be the case, and all of you that wish it may be
so, will solemnly say Amen after the few sentences of prayer I shall
utter:–

"Lord, save us this morning. We confess our sin; we ask for mercy
humbly through the blood of Christ. We pray thee do not deny us, but
let us all appear at thy right hand at last. Here reveal with power,
and let many be saved this morning for Jesus' sake." And the people
said AMEN.