Grieving the Holy Spirit
A Sermon
(No. 278)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, October 9th, 1859, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
"And grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the
day of redemption."–Ephesians 4:30.
THERE IS SOMETHING very touching in this admonition, "Grieve not the
Holy Spirit of God." It does not say, "Do not make him angry." A more
delicate and tender term is used–"Grieve him not." There are some men
of so hard a character, that to make another angry does not give them
much pain; and indeed, there are many of us who are scarcely to be
moved by the information that another is angry with us; but where is
the heart so hard, that it is not moved when we know that we have
caused others grief?–for grief is a sweet combination of anger and of
love. It is anger, but all the gall is taken from it. Love sweetens the
anger, and turns the edge of it, not against the person, but against
the offense. We all know how we use the two terms in contra-distinction
the one to the other. When I commit any offense, some friend who hath
but little patience, suddenly snaps asunder his forbearance and is
angry with me. The same offense is observed by a loving father, and he
is grieved. There is anger in his bosom, but he is angry and he sins
not, for he is angry against my sin; and yet there is love to
neutralize and modify the anger towards me. Instead of wishing me ill
as the punishment of my sin, he looks upon my sin itself as being the
ill. He grieves to think that I am already injured, from the fact that
I have sinned. I say this is a heavenly compound, more precious than
all the ointment of the merchants. There may be the bitterness of
myrrh, but there is all the sweetness of frankincense in this sweet
term "to grieve." I am certain, my hearers, I do not flatter you when I
declare, that I am sure that the most of you would grieve, if you
thought you were grieving anyone else. You, perhaps, would not care
much if you had made any one angry without a cause; but to grieve him,
even though it were without a cause and without intention, would
nevertheless cause you distress of heart, and you would not rest until
this grief had subsided, till you had made some explanation or apology,
and had done your best to allay the smart and take away the grief. When
we see anger in another, we at once begin to feel hostility. Anger
begets anger; but grief begets pity, and pity is next akin to love; and
are love those whom we have caused to grieve. Now, is not this a very
sweet expression–"Grieve not the Holy Spirit?" Of course, the language
is be to understood as speaking after the manner of men. The Holy
Spirit of God knoweth no passion or suffering, but nevertheless, his
emotion is here described in human language as being that of grief. And
is it not, I say a tender and touching thing, that the Holy Spirit
should direct his servant Paul to say to us "Grieve not the Holy
Spirit," do not excite his loving anger, do not vex him, do not cause
him to mourn? He is a dove; do not cause him to mourn, because you have
treated him harshly and ungratefully. Now, the purport of my sermon,
this morning, will be to exhort you not to grieve the Spirit; but I
shall divide it thus:–first, I shall discourse upon the love of the
Spirit; secondly, upon the seal of the Spirit; and then, thirdly, upon
the grieving of the Spirit.
I. The few words I have to say UPON THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT will all be
pressing forward to my great mark, stirring you up not to grieve the
Spirit; for when we are persuaded that another loves us, we find at
once a very potent reason why we should not grieve him. The love of the
Spirit!–how shall I tell it forth? Surely it needs a songster to sing
it, for love is only to be spoken of in words of song. The love of the
Spirit!–let me tell you of his early love to us. He loved us without
beginning. In the eternal covenant of grace, as I told you last
Sabbath, he was one of the high contracting parties in the divine
contract, whereby we are saved. All that can be said of the love of the
Father, of the love of the Son, may be said of the love of the
Spirit–it is eternal, it is infinite, it is sovereign, it is
everlasting, it is a love which cannot be dissolved, which cannot be
decreased, a love which cannot be removed Tom those who are the objects
of it. Permit me, however, to refer you to his acts, rather than his
attributes. Let me tell you of the love of the Spirit to you and to me.
Oh how early was that love which he manifested towards us, even in our
childhood! My brethren, we can well remember how the Spirit was wont to
strive with us. We went astray from the womb speaking lies, but how
early did the Spirit of God stir up our conscience, and solemnly
correct us on account of our youthful sins. How frequently since then
has the Spirit wooed us! How often under the ministry has he compelled
our hearts to melt, and the tear has run down our cheeks, and he has
sweetly whispered in our ear, "My son, give me thy heart; go to thy
chamber, shut thy door about thee, confess thy sins, and seek a
Saviour's love and blood." Oh,–but let us blush to tell it–how often
have we done despite to him! When we were in a state of unregeneracy,
how we were wont to resist him! We quenched the Spirit; he strove with
us but we strove against him. But blessed be his dear name, and let him
have everlasting songs for it, he would not let us go! We would not be
saved, but he would save us. We sought to thrust ourselves into the
fire, but he sought to pluck us from the burning. We would dash
ourselves from the precipice, but he wrestled with us and held us fast;
he would not let us destroy our souls. Oh, how we ill-treated him, how
we did set at nought his counsel! How did we scorn and scoff him; how
did we despise the ordinance which would lead us to Christ! How did we
violate that holy cord which was gently drawing us to Jesus and his
cross! I am sure, my brethen, at the recollections of the persevering
struggles of the Spirit with you, you must be stirred up to love him.
How often did he restrain you from sin, when you were about to plunge
headlong into a course of vice! How often did he constrain you to good,
when you would have neglected it! You, perhaps, would not have been in
the way at all, and the Lord would not have met you, if it had not been
for that sweet Spirit, who would not let you become a blasphemer, who
would not suffer you to forsake the house of God, and would not permit
you to become a regular attendant at the haunts of vice, but checked
you, and held you in, as it were, with bit and bridle. Though you were
like a bullock, unaccustomed to the yoke, yet he would not let you have
your way. Though you struggled against him, yet he would not throw the
reins upon your necks, but he said, "I will have him, I will have him
against his will; I will change his heart, I will not let him go till I
have made him a trophy of my mighty power to save." And then think my
brethren of the love of the Spirit after that–
"Dost mind the time, the spot of land,
Where Jesus did thee meet?
Where he first took thee by the hand,
Thy bridegroom's love–how sweet!"
Ah, then, in that blest hour, to memory dear, was it not the Holy
Spirit who guided you to Jesus? Do you remember the love of the Spirit,
when, after having quickened you, he took you aside, and showed you
Jesus on the tree? Who was it that opened our blind eye to see a dying
Saviour? Who was it that opened your deaf ear to hear the voice of
pardoning love? Who opened your clasped and palsied hand to receive the
tokens of a Saviour's grace Who was it that brake your hard heart and
made a way for the Saviour to enter and dwell therein? Oh! it was that
precious Spirit that self-same Spirit, to whom you had done so much
despite, whom in the days of your flesh you had resisted! What a mercy
it was that he did not say, "I will swear in my wrath that they shall
not enter into my rest, for they have vexed me, and I will take my
everlasting flight from them;" or thus, "Ephraim is joined unto idols,
I will let him alone!" And since that time, my brethren, how sweetly
has the Spirit proved his love to you and to me. It is not only in his
first strivings, and then his divine quickenings; but in all the
sequel, how much have we owed to his instruction. We have been dull
scholars with the word before us, plain and simple, so that he that
reads may read, and he that reads may understand, yet how small a
portion of his Word has our memory retained, how little progress have
we made in the school of God's grace! We are but learners yet,
unstable, weak, and apt to slide, but what a blessed instructor we have
had! Has he not led us into many a truth, and taken of the things of
Christ and applied them unto us? Oh! When I think how stupid I have
been, I wonder that he has not given me up. When I think what a dolt I
have been, when he would have taught me the things of the kingdom of
God, I marvel that he should have had such patience with me. Is it a
wonder that Jesus should become a babe? Is it not an equal wonder that
the Spirit of the living God, should become a teacher of babes? It is a
marvel that Jesus should lie in a manger; is it not an equal marvel
that the Holy Spirit should become an usher in the sacred school, to
teach fools, and make them wise? It was condescension that brought the
Saviour to the cross, but is it not equal condescension that brings the
mighty Spirit of grace down to dwell with stubborn unruly, wild asses'
colts, to teach them the mystery of the kingdom, and make them know the
wonders of a Saviour's love?
Furthermore, my brethren, forget not how much we owe to the Spirit's
consolation, how much has he manifested his love to you in cherishing
you in all your sicknesses, assisting you in all your labors; and
comforting you in all your distresses. He has been a blessed comforter
to me I can testify; when every other comfort failed, when the promise
itself seemed empty, when the ministry was void of power, it is then
the Holy Spirit has proved a rich comfort unto my soul, and filled my
poor heart with peace and joy in believing. How many times would your
heart have broken if the Spirit had not bound it up! How often has he
who is your teacher become also your physician, has closed the wounds
of your poor bleeding spirit, and has bound up those wounds with the
court plaister of the promise, and so has stanched the bleeding, and
has given you back your spiritual health once more. It does seem to
rise a marvel that the Holy Ghost should become a comforter, for
comforting is, to many minds, but an inferior work in the church,
though really it is not so. To teach, to preach, to command with
authority, how many are willing to do this because this is honorable
work; but to sit down and bear with the infirmities of the creature, to
enter into all the stratagems of unbelief, to find the soul a way of
peace in the midst of seas of trouble this is compassion like a God,
that the How Spirit should stoop from heaven to become a comforter of
disconsolate spirits. What! must he himself bring the cordial? must he
wait upon his sick child and stand by his bed? must he make his bed for
him in his afflictions must he carry him in his infirmity? must he
breathe continually into him his very breath? Doth the Holy Spirit
become a waiting servant of the church? Doth he become a lamp to
enlighten? and doth he become a staff on which we may lean? This, I
say, should move us to love the Holy Spirit, for we have in all this
abundant proofs of his love to us.
Stay not here, beloved, there are larger fields yet beyond, now that we
are speaking of the love of the Spirit. Remember how much he loves us
when he helpeth our infirmities. Nay, not only doth he help our
infirmities, but when we know not what to pray for as we ought he
teacheth us how to pray, and when "we ourselves groan within
ourselves," then the Spirit himself maketh intersession for us with
groanings which cannot be uttered–groans as we should groan, but more
audibly, so that our prayer, which else would have been silent, reaches
the ears of Christ, and is then presented before his Father's face. To
help our infirmities is a mighty instance of love. When God overcomes
infirmity altogether, or removes it, there is something very noble, and
grand, and sublime in the deed; when he permits the infirmity to remain
and yet works with the infirmity, this is tender compassion indeed.
When the Saviour heals the lame man you see his Godhead, but when he
walketh with the lame man, limping though his gait may be; when he
sitteth with the beggar, when he talketh with the publican, when he
carryeth the babe in his bosom, then this helping of infirmities is a
manifestation of love almost unequalled. Save Christ's bearing our
infirmities upon the tree and our sins in his own body, I know of no
greater or more tender instance of divine love than when it is written,
"Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities." Oh how much you owe
to the Spirit when you have been on your knees in prayer! You know, my
brethren, what it is to be dull and lifeless there; to groan for a
word, and yet you cannot find it; to wish for a word, and yet the very
wish is languid; to long to have desires, and yet all the desire you
have is a desire that you may be able to desire. Oh, have you not
sometimes, when your desires have been kindled longed to get a grip at
the promise by the hand of faith? "Oh," you have said, "if I could but
plead the promise, all my necessities would be removed, and all my
sorrows would be allayed;" but, alas, the promise was beyond your
reach. If you touched it with the tip of your finger, you could not
grasp it as you desired, you could not plead it, and therefore you came
away without the blessing. But when the Spirit has helped our
infirmities how have we prayed! Why, there have been times when you and
I have so grasped the knocker of the gate of mercy, and have let it
fall with such tremendous force, that it seemed as if the very gate
itself did shake and totter; there have been seasons when we have laid
hold upon the angel, have overcome heaven by prayer, have declared we
would not let Jehovah himself go except he should bless us. We have,
and we say it without blasphemy, moved the arm that moves the world. We
have brought down upon us the eyes that look upon the universe. All
this we have done, not by our own strength, but by the might and by the
power of the Spirit, and seeing he has so sweetly enabled us, though we
have so often forgotten to thank him; seeing that he has so graciously
assisted us though we have often taken all the glory to ourselves
instead of airing it to him, must we not admire his love, and must it
not be a fearful sin indeed to grieve the Holy Spirit by whom we are
sealed?
Another token of the Spirit's love remains, namely, his indwelling in
the saints. We sing in one of our hymns,–
"Dost thou not dwell in all the saints?"
We ask a question which can have but one answer. He does dwell in the
heart of all God's redeemed and blood-washed people. And what a
condescension is this, that he whom the heaven of heavens cannot
contain, dwells in thy breast my brother. That breast often covered
with rags, may be a breast often agitated with anxious care and
thought, a breast too often defiled with sin, and yet he dwells there.
The little narrow heart of man the Holy Spirit hath made his palace.
Though it is but a cottage, a very hovel, and all unholy and unclean
yet doth the Holy Spirit condescend to make the heart of his people his
continual abode. Oh my friends, when I think how often you and I have
let the devil in, I wonder the Spirit has not withdrawn from us. The
final perseverance of the saints, is one of the greatest miracles on
record; in fact, it is the sum total of miracles. The perseverance of a
saint for a single day, is a multitude of miracles of mercy. When you
consider that the Spirit is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, and
yet he dwells in the heart where sin often intrudes, a heart out of
which comes blasphemies, and murders, and all manner of evil thoughts
and concupiscence, what if sometimes he is grieved, and retires and
leaves us to ourselves for a season? It is a marvel that he is there at
all, for he must be daily grieved with these evil guests, these false
traitors, these base intruders who thrust themselves into that little
temple which he has honored with his presence, the temple of the heart
of man. I am afraid, dear friends, we are too much in the habit of
talking of the love of Jesus, without thinking of the love of the Holy
Spirit. Now I would not wish to exalt one person of the Trinity above
another, but I do feel this, that because Jesus Christ was a man, bone
of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, and therefore there was something
tangible in him that can be seen with the eyes, and handled with the
hands, therefore we more readily think of him, and fix our love on him,
than we do upon the Spirit. But why should it be? Let us love Jesus
with all our hearts, and let us love the Holy Spirit too. Let us have
songs for him, gratitude for him. We do not forget Christ's cross, let
us not forget the Spirit's operations. We do not forget what Jesus has
done for us, let us always remember what the Spirit does in us. Why you
talk of the love, and grace, and tenderness, and faithfulness of
Christ, why do you not say the like of the Spirit? Was ever love like
his, that he should visit us? Was ever mercy like his, that he should
bear with our ill manners, though constantly repeated by us? Was ever
faithfulness like his, that multitudes of sins cannot drive him away?
Was ever power like his, that overcometh all our iniquities, and yet
leads us safely on, though hosts of foes within and without would rob
us of our Christian life?
"Oh, the love of the Spirit I sing
By whom is redemption applied."
And unto his name be glory for ever and ever.
II. This brings me to the second point. Here we have another reason why
we should not grieve the Spirit. IT IS BY THE HOLY SPIRIT WE ARE
SEALED. "BY whom we are sealed unto the day of redemption." I shall be
very brief here. The Spirit himself is expressed as the seal, even as
he himself is directly said to be the pledge of our inheritance. The
sealing, I think, has a three-fold meaning. It is a sealing of
attestation or confirmation. I want to know whether I am truly a child
of God. The Spirit itself also beareth witness with my spirit that I am
born of God. I have the writings, the title-deeds of the inheritance
that is to come–I want to know whether those are valid, whether they
are true, or whether they are mere counterfeits written out by that old
scribe of hell, Master Presumption and Carnal Security. How am I to
know? I look for the seal. After that we have believed on the Son of
God, the Father seals us as his children, by the gift of the Holy
Ghost. "Now he which hath anointed us is God, who also hath sealed us,
and given the earnest of the Spirit in our hearse." No faith is genuine
which does not bear the seal of the Spirit. No love, no hope can ever
save us, except it be sealed with the Spirit of God, for whatever hath
not his seal upon it is spurious. Faith that is unsealed may be a
poison, it may be presumption; but faith that is sealed by the Spirit
is true, real, genuine faith. Never be content, my dear hearers, unless
you are sealed, unless you are sure, by the inward witness and
testimony of the Holy Ghost, that you have been begotten again unto a
lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. It is
possible for a man to know infallibly that he is secure of heaven. He
may not only hope so, but he may know it beyond a doubt, and he may
know it thus,–by being able with the eye of faith to see the seal, the
broad stamp of the Holy Spirit set upon his own character and
experience. It is a seal of attestation.
In the next place, it is a sealing of appropriation. When men put their
mark upon an article, it is to show that it is their own. The farmer
brands his tools that they may not be stolen. They are his. The
shepherd marks his sheep that they may be recognized as belonging to
his flock. The king himself puts his broad arrow upon everything that
is his property. So the Holy Spirit puts the broad arm of God upon the
hearts of all his people. He seals us. "Thou shalt be mine," saith the
Lord, "in the day when I make up my jewels." And then the Spirit puts
God's seal upon us to signify that we are God's reserved
inheritance–his peculiar people, the portion in which his soul
delighteth.
But, again, by sealing is meant preservation. Men seal up that which
they wish to have preserved, and when a document is sealed it becomes
valid henceforth. Now, it is by the Spirit of God that the Christian is
sealed, that he is kept, he is preserved, sealed unto the day of
redemption–sealed until Christ comes fully to redeem the bodies of his
saints by raising them from the death, and fully to redeem the world by
purging it from sin, and making it a kingdom unto himself in
righteousness. We shall hold on our way, we shall be saved. The chosen
seed cannot be lost they must be brought home at last, but how? By the
sealing of the Spirit. Apart from that they perish, they are undone.
When the last general fire shall blaze out, everything that has not the
seal of the Spirit on it, shall be burned up. But the men upon whose
forehead is the seal shall be preserved. They shall be safe "amid the
wreck of matter and the crash of worlds." Their spirits, mounting above
the flames shall dwell with Christ eternally, and with that same seal
in their forehead upon Mount Zion, they shall sing the everlasting song
of gratitude and praise. I say this is the second reason why we should
love the Spirit and why we should not grieve him.
III. I come now to the third part of my discourse, namely, THE GRIEVING
OF THE SPIRIT, How may we grieve him,–what will be the sad result of
grieving him–if we have grieved him, how may we bring him back again?
How may we grieve the Spirit? I am now, mark you, speaking of those who
love the Lord Jesus Christ. The Spirit of God is in your bears, and it
is very, very easy indeed to grieve him, Sin is as easy as it is
wicked. You may grieve him by impure thoughts. He cannot bear sin. If
you indulge in lascivious expressions, or if even you allow imagination
to coat upon any lascivious act, or if your heart goes after
covetousness, if you set your heart upon anything that is evil, the
Spirit of God will be grieved, for thus I hear him speaking of himself.
"I love this man, I want to have his heart, and yet be is entertaining
these filthy lusts. His thoughts, instead of running after me, and
after Christ, and after the Father, are running after the temptations
that are in the world through lust." And then his Spirit is grieved. He
sorrows in his soul because he knows what sorrow these things must
bring to our souls. We grieve him yet more if we indulge in outward
acts of sin. Then is he sometimes so grieved that he takes his flight
for a season, for the dove will not dwell in our hearts if we take
loathsome carrion in there. A cleanly being is the dove, and we must
not strew the place which the dove frequents with filth and mire, if we
do he will fly elsewhere. If we commit sin if we openly bring disgrace
upon our religion, if we tempt others to go into iniquity by our evil
example, it is not long before the Holy Spirit will begin to grieve.
Again, if we neglect prayer, if our closet door is cob-webbed, if we
forget to read the Scriptures, if the leaves of our Bible are almost
stuck together by neglect, if we never seek to do any good in the
world, if we live merely for ourselves and not to Christ, then the Holy
Spirit will be grieved, for thus he saith, "They have forsaken me, they
have left the fountain of waters, they have hewn unto themselves broken
cisterns." I think I now see the Spirit of God grieving, when you are
sitting down to read a novel and there is your Bible unread. Perhaps
you take down some book of travels, and you forget that you have got a
more precious book of travels in the Acts of the Apostles, and in the
story of your blessed Lord and Master. You have no time for prayer, but
the Spirit sees you very active about worldly things, and having many
hours to spare for relaxation and amusement. And then he is grieved
because he sees that you love worldly things better than you love him.
His spirit is grieved within him; take care that he does not go away
from you, for it will be a pitiful thing for you if he leaves you to
yourself. Again, ingratitude tends to grieve him. Nothing cut a man to
the heart more than after having done his utmost for another, he turns
round and repays him with ingratitude or insult. If we do not want to
be thanked, at least we do love to know that there is thankfulness in
the heart upon which we have conferred a boon, and when the Holy Spirit
looks into our soul and sees little love to Christ, no gratitude to him
for all he has done for us, then is he grieved.
Again, the Holy Spirit is exceedingly grieved by our unbelief. When we
distrust the promise he bath given and applied, when we doubt the power
or the affection of our blessed Lord. then the Spirit saith within
himself–"They doubt my fidelity, they distrust my power, they say
Jesus is not able to save unto the uttermost, thus again is the Spirit
grieved. Oh, I wish the Spirit had an advocate here this morning, that
could speak in better terms than I can. I have a theme that overmasters
me, I seem to grieve for him; but I cannot make you grieve, nor tell
out the grief I feel. In my own soul I keep saying, "Oh, this is just
what you have done–you have grieved him." Let me make a full and frank
confession even before you all. I know that too often, I as well as you
have grieved the Holy Spirit. Much within us has made that sacred dove
to mourn, and my marvel is, that he has not taken his flight from us
and left us utterly to ourselves.
Now suppose the Holy Spirit is grieved, what is the effect produced
upon us? When the Spirit is grieved first, he bears with us. He is
grieved again and again, and again and again, and still he bears with
it all. But at last, his grief becomes so excessive, that he says, "I
will suspend my operations; I will begone; I will leave life behind me,
but my own actual presence I will take away. And when the Spirit of God
goes away from the soul and suspends all his operations what a
miserable state we are in. He suspends his instructions; we read the
word, we cannot understand it; we go to our commentaries, they cannot
tell us the meaning; we fall on our knees and ask to be taught, but we
get no answer, we learn nothing. He suspends his comfort; we used to
dance, like David before the ark, and now we sit like Job in the
ash-pit, and scrape our ulcers with a potsherd. There was a time when
his candle shone round about us, but now he is gone; he has left us in
the blackness of darkness. Now, he takes from us all spiritual power.
Once we could do all things; now we can do nothing. We could slay the
Philistines, and lay them heaps upon heaps, but now Delilah can deceive
us, and our eyes are put out and we are made to grind in the mill. We
go preaching, and there is no pleasure in preaching, and no good
follows it. We go to our tract distributing, and our Sunday-school, we
might almost as well be at home. There is the machinery there, but
there is no love. There is the intention to do good, or perhaps not
even that, but alas! there is no power to accomplish the intention. The
Lord has withdrawn himself, his light, his joy, his comfort, his
spiritual power, all are gone. And then all our graces flag. Our graces
are much like the flower called the Hydrangia, when it has plenty of
water it blooms, but as soon as moisture fails, the leaves drop down at
once. And so when the Spirit goes away, faith shuts up its flowers; no
perfume is exhaled. Then the fruit of our love begins to rot and drops
from the tree; then the sweet buds of our hope become frostbitten, and
they die. Oh, what a sad thing it is to lose the Spirit. Have you
never, my brethren, been on your knees and have been conscious that the
Spirit of God was not with you, and what awful work it has been to
groan, and cry, and sigh, and yet go away again, and no light to shine
upon the promises, not so much as a ray of light through the chink of
the dungeon. All forsaken, forgotten, and forlorn, you are almost
driven to despair. You sing with Cowper:–
"What peaceful hours I once enjoyed,
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void,
The world can never fill.
Return, thou sacred dove, return,
Sweet messenger of rest,
I hate the sins that made thee mourn,
And drove thee from my breast.
The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from its throne,
And worship only thee."
Ah! sad enough it is to have the Spirit drawn from us. But, my
brethren, I am about to say something with the utmost charity, which,
perhaps, may look severe, but, nevertheless, I must say it. The
churches of the present day are very much in the position of those who
have grieved the Spirit of God; for the Spirit deals with churches just
as it does with individuals. Of these late years how little has God
wrought in the midst of his churches. Throughout England, at least some
four or five years ago, an almost universal torpor had fallen upon the
visible body of Christ. There was a little action, but it was
spasmodic; there was no real vitality. Oh! how few sinners were brought
to Christ, how empty had our places of worship become; our
prayer-meetings were dwindling away to nothing, and our church meetings
were mere matters of farce. You know right well that this is the case
with many London churches to this day; and there be some that do not
mourn about it. They go up to their accustomed place, and the minister
prays, and the people either sleep with their eyes or else with their
hearts, and they go out, and there is never a soul saved. The pool of
baptism is seldom stirred; but the saddest part of all is this, the
churches are willing to have it so. They are not earnest to get a
revival of religion. We have been doing something, the church at large
has been doing something. I will not just now put my finger upon what
the sin is, but there has been something done which has driven the
Spirit of God from us. He is grieved, and he is gone. He is present
with us here, I thank his name, he is still visible in our midst. He
has not left us. Though we have been as unworthy as others, yet has he
given us a long outpouring of his presence. These five years or more,
we have had a revival which is not to be exceeded by any revival upon
the face of the earth. Without cries or shoutings, without fallings
down or swooning, steadily God adds to this church numbers upon
numbers, so that your minister's heart is ready to break with very joy
when he thinks how manifestly the Spirit of God is with us. But
brethren, we must not be content with this, we want to see the Spirit
poured out on all churches. Look at the great gatherings that there
were in St. Paul's, and Westminster Abbey, and Exeter Hall, and other
places, how was it that no good was done, or so very little? I have
watched with anxious eye, and I have never from that day forth heard
but of one conversion, and that in St. James' Hall, from all these
cervices. Strange it seems. The blessing may have come in larger
measure than we know, but not in so large a measure as we might have
expected, if the Spirit of God had been present with all the ministers.
Oh would that we may live to see greater things than we have ever seen
yet. Go home to your houses, humble yourselves before God, ye members
of Christ's church, and cry aloud that he will visit his church, and
that he would open the windows of heaven and pour out his grace upon
his thirsty hill of Zion, that nations may be born in a day, that
sinners may be saved by thousands–that Zion may travail and may bring
forth children. Oh! there are signs and tokens of a coming revival. We
have heard but lately of a good work among the Ragged School boys of
St. Giles's, and our soul has been glad on account of that; and the
news from Ireland comes to us like good tidings, not from a far
country, but from a sister province of the kingdom. Let us cry aloud to
the Holy Spirit, who is certainly grieved with his church, and let us
purge our churches of everything that is contrary to his Word and to
sound doctrine, and then the Spirit will return, and his power shall be
manifest.
And now, in conclusion, there may be some of you here who have lost the
visible presence of Christ with you; who have in fact so grieved the
Spirit that he has gone. It is a mercy for you to know that the Spirit
of God never leaves his people finally; he leaves them for
chastisement, but not for damnation. He sometimes leaves them that they
may get good by knowing their own weakness, but be will not leave them
finally to perish. Are you in a state of backsliding, declension, and
coldness? Hearken to me for a moment, and God bless the words. Brother,
stay not a moment in a condition so perilous; be not easy for a single
second in the absence of the Holy Ghost. I beseech you use every means
by which that Spirit may be brought back to you. Once more, let me tell
you distinctly what the means are. Search out for the sin that has
grieved the Spirit, give it up, slay that sin upon the spot; repent
with tears and sighs; continue in prayer, and never rest satisfied
until the Holy Ghost comes back to you. Frequent an earnest ministry,
get much with earnest saints, but above all, be much in prayer to God,
and let your daily cry be, "Return, return, O Holy Spirit return, and
dwell in my soul." Oh, I beseech you be not content till that prayer is
heard, for you have become weak as water, and faint and empty while the
Spirit has been away from you. Oh! it may be there are same here this
morning with whom the Spirit has been striving during the past week. Oh
yield to him, resist him not; grieve him not, but yield to him. Is he
saying to you now "Turn to Christ?" Listen to him, obey him, he moves
you. Oh I beseech you do not despise him. Have you resisted him many a
time, then take care you do not again, for there may come a last time
when the Spirit may say, "I will go unto my rest, I will not return
unto him, the ground is accursed, it shall be given up to barrenness."
Oh I hear the word of the gospel, ere ye separate, for the Spirit
speaketh effectually to you now in this short sentence–"Repent and be
converted everyone of you, that your sins may be blotted out when the
times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord," and hear
this solemn sentence, "He that believeth in the Lord Jesus and is
baptized, shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned."
May the Lord grant that we may not grieve the Holy Spirit. Amen.