Delivered on Lord's-day Morning, February 19th, 1871 by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"And when the king came in to see the guests, he saw there a man which
had not on a wedding garment: And he saith unto him, Friend, how camest
thou in hither not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless.
Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take
him away, and cast him into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and
gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen."–Matthew
22:11-14.
APPARENTLY the parable of the marriage feast would have been complete
without this addition, but there was infinite wisdom in appending this
sequel. This is seen practically in the experience of the church of
God. Those who are permitted to see large additions to the church will
find this parable of the wedding garment to be singularly appropriate
and timely. Whenever there is a revival and many are brought to Christ,
it seems inevitable that at the same time a proportion of unworthy
persons should enter the church. However diligent may be the oversight
there will be pretenders creeping in unawares who have no true part or
lot in the matter, and hence, when the preacher is most earnest for the
ingathering of souls to Christ, he needs to couple therewith a holy
jealousy, lest those who come forward to make a profession of faith
should be moved by carnal motives, and should not really have given
their hearts to God. We must use the net to draw in the many, but all
are not good fishes that are taken therein. On the threshing floor of
Zion the heap is not all pure wheat, the chaff is mingled with the
grain, and therefore the winnowing fan is wanted. God's furnace is in
Zion, and there is good need for it, for the gold is yet in the ore and
needs to be separated from the dross. Wood, hay, and stubble building
is quick work, but it is a waste of effort; we need continually to
examine our materials, and see that we use only gold, silver, and
precious stones. It is most needful in times of religious excitement,
to remind men that godliness does not consist in profession, but must
be proved by inward vitality and outward holiness. Everything will have
to be tested by a heart-searching God, and if, when he comes to search
us, we are found wanting, we shall be expelled even from the marriage
feast itself; for there is a way to hell from the very gates of heaven.
In a word, it is well for all to be reminded that the enemies of the
great King are not only outside the church, but they are even in it;
while a part refuse to come to the wedding of his Son, others press
into the banquet and are still his foes. May God grant that this
subject may have a heart-searching effect. May it be as the north wind
when it blows through the marrow of the bones. May it lead us to desire
to be searched and tried of God, whether we are truly in the faith, or
are reprobates in his esteem.
The parable may be discoursed upon under five heads. Here is an enemy
at the feast; here is the king at the feast; that king becomes the
judge at the feast; and hence the enemy becomes the criminal at the
feast; and swiftly is removed by the executioner at the feast.
I. We see in the text AN ENEMY AT THE FEAST.
He came into the banquet when he was bidden, but he came only in
appearance, he came not in heart. The banquet was intended for the
honour of the son, but this man meant not so; he was willing to eat the
good things, but he intended no respect to the prince. He did not, like
others, say, "I will not come, for I will not have this man to reign
over me"; but he said, "I will come, but it shall be in such a way that
the royal purpose shall not be served, but rather hindered. I shall be
present as an onlooker, but take no share in the ceremony; I will, on
the contrary, show that I have no care for the business in hand, except
so far as it serves my turn." The man came in full exercise of
self-will and self-love. He resolved to yield no homage, but to assert
his independent self-sovereignty. He would show the king even at his
table, where his bounties were so largely dispensed, that he was not
afraid to affront him. When he came to the door of the feast, he found
the guests all putting on the garment suitable for the marriage
banquet. As here, in our own country, at a funeral, each mourner is
expected to put on the articles of mourning which are provided, so at
the wedding feast each person was expected to wear the bridegroom's
favours, the garment which, as a badge, marked him as an attendant at
the wedding, and as one who rejoiced in it. While others cheerfully put
on this wedding dress the traitor would not; he resolved to defy the
rules of the palace, and to insult the king by appearing in his own
garments. He scorned to wear the livery of respectful joy, he preferred
to make himself conspicuous by his daring insolence. The badge was
intended to show that the wearer was a real participator in the joy of
the feast, and for that very reason he would not put it on. He did not
acknowledge the king nor the prince, nor care one atom about the
gladsome event. He had no objection to be there, to eat the dainties,
or recline upon the seats, and see the pomp and the show, but he was
only in it, and not of it; he was there in body, but not in spirit. Are
there not crowds of people whose union to the church is nothing better
than an insult to God? Custom sways them, and not sincere faith. They
have no regard to the great Head of the church or to the
heart-searching God. They treat church membership as a trifle, and have
no tenderness of heart touching the matter. They, in effect, say, "The
table of the Lord is contemptible." "Spots are they in our feasts,
feeding themselves without fear."
Many a time the question has been asked: "What was the wedding
garment?" It is a question which need not be curiously pried into. So
many answers have been given that I conclude that if our Saviour had
intended any one specific thing he would have expressed himself more
plainly, so that we would have been able, without so much theological
disputing, to have understood what he meant. It seems to me that our
Lord intended much more than any one thing. The guests were bidden to
come to the wedding to show their respect to the king and prince; some
would not come at all, and so showed their sedition; this man came, and
when he heard the regulation, that a certain garment should be put on,
comely in appearance and suitable for the occasion, he determined that
he would not wear it. In this act of rebellion, he went as far in
opposition as they did who would not come at all, and he went a little
further, for in the very presence of the guests and of the king he
dared to declare his disloyalty and contempt. Alas, how many are
willing enough to receive gospel blessings, but they are still at
enmity with God and have no delight in the only Begotten Son. Such will
dare to use the forms of godliness, and yet their hearts are full of
rebellion against the Lord. The wedding garment represents anything
which is indispensable to a Christian, but which the unrenewed heart is
not willing to accept, anything which the Lord ordains to be a
necessary attendant of salvation, against which selfishness rebels.
Hence it may be said to be Christ's righteousness imputed to us, for
alas, many nominal Christians kick against the doctrine of
justification by the righteousness of the Saviour and set up their own
self-righteousness in opposition to it. To be found in Christ, not
having our own righteousness, which is of the law, but having the
righteousness which is of God by faith, is a very prominent badge of a
real servant of God, and to refuse it is to manifest opposition to the
glory of God, and to the name, person, and work of his exalted Son. But
we might with equal truth say that the wedding dress is a holy
character, the imparted righteousness which the Holy Spirit works in
us, and which is equally necessary as a proof of grace. If you question
such a statement, I would remind you of the dress which adorns the
saints in heaven. What is said of it? "They have washed their robes and
made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Their robes therefore were
such as once needed washing; and this could not be said in any sense of
the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ; that was always perfect and
spotless. It is clear then that the figure is sometimes applied to
saints in reference to their personal character. Holiness is always
present in those who are loyal guests of the great King, for "without
holiness no man shall see the Lord." Too many professors pacify
themselves with the idea that they possess imputed righteousness, while
they are indifferent to the sanctifying work of the Spirit. They refuse
to put on the garment of obedience, they reject the white linen which
is the righteousness of saints. They thus reveal their self-will, their
enmity to God, and their nonsubmission to his Son. Such men may talk
what they will about justification by faith, and salvation by grace,
but they are rebels at heart, they have not on the wedding dress any
more than the self-righteous, whom they so eagerly condemn. The fact
is, if we wish for the blessings of grace, we must in our hearts submit
to the rules of grace without picking and choosing. It is idle to
dispute whether the wedding garment is faith or love, as some have
done, for all the graces of the Spirit and blessings of the covenant go
together. No one ever had the imputed righteousness of Christ without
receiving at the same time a measure of the righteousness wrought in us
by the Holy Spirit. Justification by faith is not contrary to the
production of good works: God forbid. The faith by which we are
justified is the faith which produces holiness, and no one is justified
by faith which does not also sanctify him and deliver him from the love
of sin. All the essentials of the Christian character may be understood
as making up the great wedding garment. In one word, we put on Christ,
and he is "made of God unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification,
and redemption."
The wedding garment is simply mentioned here as being a test of loyalty
to those who came to the marriage feast, and as a mode by which
rebellion was avowed and loyalty made apparent. Here was a man then who
came into the gospel feast, and yet refused to comply with the command
which related to that feast. He willfully preferred self to God, his
heart was full of enmity and pride, he despised the gifts of grace, he
scorned the rule of love, he stood a defiant rebel even at the banquet
of mercy which his king had spread.
His sin lay, first of all, in coming in there at all without the
wedding garment. If he did not mean to be of one heart with his fellow
guests and his lord, why did he come? If a man does not intend to yield
himself up to God's will, why does he profess to be of God's church? If
a man is not saved by the righteousness of Christ, why does he profess
to be a believer in Christ? If he will not be obedient to Christ's holy
will, why does he pretend to be follower of Christ? It is a grave
mistake for any person to imagine that he can be in the church of God
to his own advantage unless his heart is renewed, unless he means what
he declares, and sincerely loves the rule under which he professes to
put himself.
The intruder's sin was aggravated by the fact that after he had
unlawfully come into the feast he still continued there without the
wedding robe. He does not appear to have had any compunction, or to
have thought of amending his error. Only when the king came in and
said, "Take him away," had the insolent rebel any idea of removing. Had
he come in there, as I fear some of you have come into the church,
under a mistake, thinking that there was no need of the wedding dress,
when he looked around and saw all other persons wearing it, and
observed that it was the peculiar mark of a guest, he would have felt
uneasy and have gone to those who kept the royal wardrobe to get such a
robe for himself; and then his sin in the matter would not have been
laid to his charge. But he persisted in remaining where he was, and as
he was. O my dear hearers, if you have already perpetrated the sin of
union with the visible church of God without having the prerequisites,
without being indeed submissive to God in heart and desirous to honour
Christ, I entreat you, seek what is wanted, seek faith in God, seek a
new heart, seek holiness of life, seek to become a loyal subject of the
King, and be not content until you have these things, for the King will
soon come in: he gives you time as yet, may he also give you grace to
see to it that, being now where you ought never to have been, you may
yet make your position a right one by obtaining that which will justify
you in remaining where you are. The guest in his own clothes was a
speckled bird amongst that company, it was possible for him even then
to have become one of them; but he would not, he continued to defy the
King.
This persistence he retained though he probably knew the fate of those
who had refused to come. He knew that the king had sent forth his
armies and destroyed those wicked men who had molested his messengers,
and yet he dared to recline at his ease in the very teeth, and defying
the terrible power of the monarch. He made his brow as brass and
hardened his heart as adamant, and forced his way into a position where
his seditious spirit would be able to display itself conspicuously. He
said within his soul, "I care nothing for this marriage. I will make
sport of it; I will intrude myself into that feast and show my
contempt. I will take the provisions, but the son shall have no honour
from me, and the king shall not find me bend my will to his command."
Thus he had the audacity to disport himself as a willful rebel at the
feast of mercy. Are there any such among you here? The tendency will be
for those who are not so to begin to condemn themselves. I know already
one who has said, "I am that guest that had not on a wedding garment."
She is not that one, for she is not even a member of the church, and
therefore it cannot concern her; but many like her write bitter things
against themselves. Another will be saying, "I am that one," whereas,
if there be one that lives near to God and whose desire is to be like
Christ, and to be in all things conformed to the divine will, he is the
man. You who are most assuredly right will probably be suspicious that
you are not, and you who are insincere and have never submitted
yourselves to the will of God will probably say, "What does it matter?
I am doing as well as others, I give as much, I attend the means as
much, surely there can be no cause for concern In me." God grant that
you may feel anxiety and fear before the Lord.
II. We pass on to the next point–THE KING AT THE FEAST.
"The king came in to see the guests." What an honour and privilege this
was to the poor creatures whom his royal munificence had brought
together! Was it not indeed the chief point of the entire festival'?
One of our greatest joys is to sing–
The king himself comes near
And feasts his saints today!
What would church fellowship be if it had not the fellowship of God
with it? To sit with my dear brethren and rejoice in their love is
exceedingly delightful; but the best wine is fellowship with the
Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. The king did not provide the
banquet and leave his guests to eat by themselves, but he "came in,"
and into every gospel church gathered according to his command the King
will come. I am sure the most fervent desire of this church is that the
King may personally visit us. We trust he is with us, but we want him
yet more fully to reveal himself. Our cry is, "Come, great King, with
all thy glorious power, with thy Spirit and with thy glorious Son, and
manifest thyself to us as thou dost not unto the world."
When the king came into the banqueting chamber he saw the guests, and
they also saw him. It was a mutual revelation. Ever sweet is this to
the saints, that their God looks upon them; his look brings no terror
to our minds when we are loyal and loving. "Thou God seest me" is sweet
music. We desire to abide for ever beneath the divine inspection, for
it is an inspection of unbounded love. He sees our faults, it is to
remove them; he notes our imperfections, it is to cleanse them away.
Behold me, O great King, and lift up thine eyes upon me, accepting me
in the Beloved. What joy it is to us who are saved in Christ Jesus that
we also can see him! "Through a glass darkly," I grant you we behold
him, for as yet we are not fit to behold the full splendour of his
Godhead! but yet how sweetly doth he reveal himself to our souls and
unveil his eternal love. Then it is that the feast is most fully a
banquet of wine, when the banner of love waves over us, and the king's
voice fills us with unspeakable delight.
"The king came in to see his guests." This, I say, was the crowning
point of the entire banquet. Observe that he came in after they were in
their places. They did not see him before they had entered his halls.
When an inferior entertains a superior he always advances to the door
to meet him and waits until he comes. If her Majesty the Queen were
entertained by one of her nobles, he would be in waiting, and at the
threshold would meet her; but when a superior entertains an inferior
the inferior may take his seat at the table, and when all is ready the
noble host will come in. It is so in the banquet of mercy. You and I
see nothing of God, by way of communion with him, until first we have
been brought in by the message of mercy to the marriage-feast of the
gospel; for, indeed, until then a sight of God would strike us with
terror–
"Till God in human flesh I see,
My thoughts no comfort find;
The holy, just, and sacred Three
Are terrors to my mind;
But when Immanuel's face appear,
My hope, my joy, begins;
His name forbids my slavish fear,
His grace removes my sins."
When I get to the banquet of mercy, then it is that I can dare to look
at the King of kings, but not until then. What a joyous sight, a vision
of the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory as
he appears in the gospel, feasting us upon his fatlings. An incarnate
God makes God visible to us and makes us happy in the sight. "How canst
thou see my face and live?" was the old question, but, behold, it is
answered this day. At the marriage union of Christ with his people we
see the face of the King in his beauty, and our souls not only live,
but we have life more abundantly.
Observe, dear brethren, that the King has special times for this. He is
not always in the festal chamber; to our sorrow we sometimes miss the
King's presence at his table. We have the ordinances always, but we do
not always enjoy the God of ordinances. The means of grace are abiding,
but the grace of the means will come and go according to the sovereign
good pleasure of our God. The King has his times of coming in. These
are glad times to his people, but they are trying times to the mass of
professors. When are these times? So far as unworthy guests are
concerned, the times of God's visitation are those seasons when
character is manifested. All times and periods do not reveal character.
A lion may lie all day asleep, you may scarce know but what it is tame;
but when the night brings the time for it to go forth to its prey, then
it howls, and displays its ferocity. And so an ungodly man may lie down
in the church of God with the lambs of the flock, and nothing may lead
you to suspect his true character, but when the time comes for him to
make profit by sin, or to get pleasure by sin, or to escape from
persecution by sin, then you find out what he is. These providences are
the King's coming in to scrutinize the guests. Changes in the
conditions of the church, changes in the condition of the individual,
all sorts of providential events go to make up the great sieve by which
the wheat and the chaff are separated.
A great and most solemn coming in of the King to see the guests is,
when having looked over the church, unknown to us, he decides that such
and such a hypocrite has had space enough for repentance and time
enough for mischief, and must now be summoned to the dread tribunal by
death. The time when the King comes in to see his guests is not the
last judgment, for that is the coming of the Son and not of the Father,
and if it were intended in the parable, we would read that the prince
came in to see his guests. We are led to view the King himself as
continually judging professors and detecting the rebels who place
themselves among the saints; by this judgment of God men are taken away
from the church in their transgressions, bound hand and foot, and cast
into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
I do not know, my dear brethren, when God may be visiting this church,
and taking away the men that are rebels in our midst, but I do know
that when professors die it is not certain that all of them sleep in
Jesus; but some of them are rooted up, like tares from among the wheat,
and are bound up in bundles to burn. The division is going on
constantly. The King's presence is known to believers in the joy which
they feel, but it is made known to hypocrites by his cutting them off
and appointing them their portion in eternal woe.
If, however, there is any one time when we may be quite sure that the
King comes in to see the guests, it is after large ingatherings from
the world, for notice here, when the servants had gathered in guests in
large numbers, it was then that the king came in. Now it will be after
the time of revival which we are feeling just now, when I hope a great
many will be added to the church, that the Lord will search and sift
us. If there has been no visitation of the church before for purposes
of love or judgment–for they go together–we shall be quite sure to
have such a visit from the great Lord himself at this time.
III. Solemnly think of THE JUDGE AT THE FEAST.
To all the rest at the festival he was the king, the beloved monarch,
the munificent donor of a splendid banquet, and all eyes feasted as
they looked at him: it was joy enough to behold the king in his beauty,
and to see his Son with all his royal jewels on, attired for the
wedding feast; but he was a judge to the hypocritical intruder. The day
of comfort to his saints is also the day of vengeance of our God. He
who comes to comfort all that mourn comes at the same time to smite the
rebellious with a rod of iron.
The judge begins, as you perceive, by seeing, "He saw there a man."
What eyes are those of Omniscience! The parable represents but one such
man as present, yet the All-seeing King saw him at once, he fixed his
flaming eyes on that one. I suppose it was a greater crowd than this,
but the king fixed his eyes on the solitary offender at once. Does the
parable speak of only one because we may expect to find only one
hypocrite in a church? Alas! there have been many such at the wedding
feast, but one only is mentioned to show us that if there were but one,
God would find him out; and, being many, the sinners in Zion may be the
more sure that they will not escape. It is possible that none of the
guests may have noticed the man's garments; the parable makes no remark
upon any expostulations made to him by others; perhaps they were all so
taken up with the sight of the king, and so glad to be at the feast
themselves, that they had no heart to make remarks upon others. But
this is certain, that the king detected at once the absence of what was
requisite to the marriage feast. It was not the presence of anything
offensive, but the absence of something which was requisite. He did not
say to the unworthy guest, "Thou hast rags upon thee," or "thou art
filthy." or "thou hast an unwashed face"; he enquired solely into the
absence of the peculiar badge which denoted a loving guest. God will
judge, and does continually judge his church upon this question, the
absence of what is absolutely necessary to being a Christian, the
absence of honouring the Son, and obeying the Father. O soul, if thou
art a professor of religion, and yet dost not love Jesus, and dost not
fear the great King of kings, thou lackest the wedding robe, and what
dost thou here? The King will see at once that thou lackest it. Thy
morality, thy generosity, thy high sounding prayers, ay, and even thine
eloquent discoursings, these cannot conceal from him the fact that thy
heart is not with him. The one thing needful is to accept loyally the
Lord as King.
The king next began to deal with the rebel. Note how he spoke with him.
He took him on his own ground. It was too high a day for the king to
use rough speech; the man pretended to be a friend, and he addressed
him as such, but though the word I doubt not was uttered softly, it
must have stung him if he had any feeling left. Judas exemplified in
his own person this character. When he gave the Saviour the traitor's
kiss, our Lord addressed him as "friend." He pretended to be a friend.
A friend, indeed, to insult his king at his own table, and to select
for the insult the delicate occasion of the prince's marriage to which
he had been hospitably invited! This was infamous! Friend indeed! Where
will you find enemies if such shall be called friends? The king put it
to him, "How camest thou in hither?" What business hast thou here? What
could have induced thee so maliciously to defy me? To smite me in my
tenderest point, and mock my guests, and trample on my son? Didst thou
intend such daring insolence? "How camest thou in hither? In hither?
Was there nowhere else to pour forth thy sedition, no other spot in
which to play the traitor? Needest thou come into my palace, and to my
table, and before my son on his wedding day to reveal thy enmity? Was
there a need to do this?" So may the Lord say to some of us. "Were
there no other ways to sin, but that you must profess to be my servant
when you were not so? Were there no other bowls that you could drink
from, that ye must profane the cups of my table? Was there no other
bread that you could put into your wicked mouths but the bread that
represents the body of my Son? Had you nowhere else to sin in that you
must needs sin in the church? Could you do nothing else to show your
spite but that you must make a lying profession of faith in my Son, who
bled upon the cross to redeem the sons of men? Could you assail me
nowhere else but through the wounds of my only-begotten Son? Could you
vex my Spirit by no other means than by pretending to be my friend, and
thrusting yourself in hither, while defiantly rejecting that which was
necessary to do me honour, and to do my Son honour, at the festival of
my grace?" I dare not dwell upon the topic. I give you the text; I pray
that your conscience may preach the sermon.
Notice however, one thing, and that is, that the king, when he thus
turned a judge, dealt with this man only about himself. "How camest
thou in hither?" Did I hear a whisper in some one's mind, "Well, if I
am unfit to be a church member, there are a great many others who are
in the same condemnation." What is that to you? See to thyself! When
the king came in to see the guests he did not say to this man, "How
came yonder persons here without the wedding garment?" His dealings
were personal with him alone: "How camest thou in hither, not having on
the wedding garment?" Professor, look to thyself, look to thyself. Let
thy charity begin at home. Cast out the beam from thine own eye, and
then mayst thou see clearly to cast out the mote that is in thy
brother's eye. He fixed on the one man, made him his entire audience,
and directed to him the solemn question, "Friend, how camest thou in
hither?" Ah, my dear hearers, as the pastor of this church it has been
a very great joy to me to see our numbers increased; many have been
added to us, and many have gone forth from us to form other churches;
my joy has been constant in God concerning this matter. Our beloved
brethren associated with me in office have done their best to keep any
of you back who have sought membership in whom we could see no fruits
corresponding. We have not used our office deceitfully; as in the sight
of God we have tried to be neither too severe nor too lax, but for all
that I cannot but know that there are some of you who are not
Christians though you bear the name. Like those of old, you say you are
Jews and are not, but do lie. I am not now speaking of any who have
fallen into sin and have suffered our rebuke, or have been separated
from us by excommunication and yet remain in the congregation; I mean
others of you whose lives are all that could be desired openly, and yet
there is a worm at the heart of your profession; you are not vitally
godly, you have a name to live, and you keep that name untarnished as
yet, but you are dead. Search ye yourselves; do not from this
tabernacle descend into hell; let your prayer be, "Gather not my soul
with sinners, nor my life with bloody men." I am as concerned about
myself as about you, that I should be found "accepted in the Beloved;"
lest after having preached to others I myself should be a castaway! Do
let it be a matter of solemn anxiety with each one. If you have never
come to Jesus, come now; if you have never sought holiness of life,
seek it now. If you have never had the wedding garment, it is yet
procurable; go ye to him who freely gives it, the Lord will not refuse
you; go to-day and he will accept you.
IV. He who was the unworthy guest is now THE CRIMINAL AT THE FEAST. The
king has now become a judge to him; the question has been personally
put to him, and he is speechless. Why is he silent? Surely it was
because he was convicted of open, undeniable disloyalty. No evidence
was required; he had come there on set purpose with malice aforethought
to display his disloyalty, and had done so in the presence of the King.
I do not think he represents at all a person who enters the church
through ignorance, with a sincere but ignorant intention, but he
pourtrays one who makes a profession without care to make it
true–willfully despising the Lord's commands. He is a man willing to
be saved by grace, and professing to be so, but refusing to acknowledge
his duty to God and his obligations to the Son. He was speechless; he
could not have chosen a worse place, nor a more impertinent method of
ventilating his disloyalty than that which he selected; there was
nothing he could say in self-defense. At that moment, when the King
looked him through and through, he saw the full horror of his position;
his loins were loosed, like Belshazzar of old when he saw the
handwriting on the wall; he saw now that his time to insult was over,
and the day of retribution had come. He was taken in the very fact, and
could not escape. He had been guilty of a superfluity of naughtiness,
of an unnecessary extravagance of wickedness in coming into the feast
to air his pride. He had committed a suicidal intrusion. He might have
kept himself away at any rate, and not have thrust himself into the
Judge's presence. He saw now that the cause of sedition was hopeless,
the King was there and he was in his power and none could rescue him.
Why did he not burst into tears? Why did he not confess the wrong? Why
did he not say, "My king, I have insulted thee, have pity upon me"? His
proud heart would not let him. Sin made him incapable of repentance.
There is a verse in one of Hart's hymns which runs thus–
"Fixed is their everlasting state:
Could they repent, tis now too late."
That is true enough, but it supposes an impossibility, and I think it
would have been far better to have said–
"Fixed is their everlasting state;
They can't repent, tis now too late."
Because the sinner goes on to sin he continues still to suffer; he will
not turn, he cannot turn. As the Ethiopian cannot change his skin, nor
the leopard his spots, so when sin has reached its height the man
cannot bend, or bow, or retrace his steps. Oh, if he could have
repented even then! But he could not; and the tears that came after the
king had pronounced the sentence where no tears of penitence, but only
of despairing pride. He stood speechless. It was not only that he had
no excuse, but he would not confess his wrong. Have I anyone here in
such a condition of heart, that while he has been sinning by making a
false profession, and knows it, yet he sullenly refuses to confess his
fault? Yield thee, man! Yield at once. Fall at the King's feet at once.
Even if you are not a hypocrite, if you have any suspicion that you
are, fall down and say, "My King, make me sincere; I submit myself to
thy will, and am ready to put on the wedding badge; if there is any
method by which I can honour thy Son, I cavil not at it; let me wear
his colours, and be known by all men to be truly a lover of the great
Prince."
But now, lastly, while he stood speechless in the king's presence, the
king gave place to THE EXECUTIONER, for he uttered these words, "Bind
him hand and foot." He was lawless, make him feel the law; he said, "I
am free, and I will do as I like," let him never be free again; bind
him, pinion him. Executioner, do your duty, prepare him for death.
Alas, there are some who are bound and pinioned even before the breath
is out of their bodies. In their dying hours false professors have
often found that they could not pray, and could not repent; like dying
Spira, that arch-hypocrite and apostate, they have been sensible of
misery, but not penitent, and no gospel promise has availed to comfort
them. Their hearts were seared, they were twice dead before they were
dead. Then came the sentence, "Take him away," which is sometimes
executed by the church in her excommunications–deceivers are taken
away from the gospel feast by just discipline; but which is more fully
carried out in the hour of death when the man's hope fails him. Ah,
sirs, what will ye do if ye have no true grace in your hearts when you
are taken away from the Lord's table, taken away from the baptism in
which you gloried, taken away from the doctrines of the gospel which
you understood so well by head, but which you did not know in your
heart. John Bunyan's description of the man dragged by seven devils,
bound with cords, comes up before my mind. "Bind him hand and foot and
take him away." How thankful I am that the servants who brought them in
are not the same who were commanded to take them away. The Douloi
brought them in, the diakonoi took them away, the King has a special
order of servants for the taking of deceivers away; his angels do that
in the hour of death–they execute his vengeance. He gives us ministers
a better office, he bids us be his heralds of mercy. Then the judge
said, "Cast him," fling him like a useless, worthless thing. That
wretch has dared pollute my marriage feast, cast him away, as men fling
weeds over the garden wall or shake off vipers into the fire. There is
none in heaven or earth thought more despicable, more fit to be thrown
away as rubbish and offal, than a man who had a Christian name, but had
not the essentials of the Christian nature. Cast him away. Where? "Into
outer darkness" far from the banquet hall where torches flame and lamps
are bright; drive him out into the cold, chilly midnight air. He has
once seen the light, it will be all the darker now for him when he is
driven into the dark. There is no darkness so dark as the darkness of
the man who once saw light. Cast him into outer darkness. What will he
do there? We are not told what would be done to him, it was not
needful; we learn elsewhere as much as could be revealed to us, but we
are told what he did, for "there shall be weeping," not the gush of
tears which gives relief but the everlasting dropping of scalding tears
which create fresh sorrow and enlarge their own source. The outcast
shed no tears of regret, but of sullen disappointment, because he could
not after all dishonour the king, and had even served to illustrate the
royal justice and power, and so had brought glory to the king whom he
hated in soul. Then came the "gnashing of teeth," caused by wrath and
envy because he could do no more mischief. No sorrow is equal to that
of a malicious spirit, that having attempted a daring deed of atrocious
wickedness, has been defeated and has contributed to the triumph of the
good and excellent. The misery of hell is not a misery which God
arbitrarily creates, it is the necessary result of sin, it is sin
itself come to ripeness. Here you see the picture of the man who was
insolent enough to come into the church without being a Christian, and
now for ever he gnashes with his teeth against that glorious Majesty of
heaven which it will never be in his power to injure, but which it will
always be in his heart to hate; and this will be his hell–that he
hates God, this his darkness–that he cannot see beauty in God, and
this the outerness of the darkness–that he cannot enter into God's
will. "Depart ye cursed," is only love repelling that which is not
lovely, it is only justice giving to man what his fallen nature craved
after. "Get away from me, ye did not honour me; when ye did come to me
it was with your lips only. Go where your hearts were; depart from me,
you cursed." Oh, may God grant that not one here may come under the
lash of this terrible parable, but may we be found of the Lord in peace
in the day of his appearing. You see, then, how the Lord sifts us.
First we are sifted by the preaching of the gospel, and many will not
come–there is one heap of chaff: next, by the judgment of God in his
church, and others are found wanting–there is another heap of chaff.
Ah, when this is done, and the two great sieves are used, shall we be
found among the wheat?
Do you say, "the sermon has nothing to do with me, I never made a
profession, I shall go home easy enough." Come hither friend, I must
not let you go. There is a vagabond brought before the magistrate
accused of theft, he says he is perfectly innocent, but he is convicted
and has to suffer for it; after him comes a bragging fellow, who says,
"I do not make any profession of being honest, I rob anybody I can, and
I mean to do so, I do not pretend to keep the law." Why, methinks the
magistrate would say, "I condemned the one who did at least pretend to
something decent, but to you I give double punishment, you are
evidently incorrigible, and your case needs no consideration." You who
do not say you are Christians, who confess you are not, you avow
yourselves the enemies of Christ; get no comfort therefore out of this
parable I pray you, but yield yourselves to the Saviour, and believe in
him, for he that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Epistle of Jude.
The attention of all our friends is earnestly directed to the SERIES OF
SPECIAL SERVICES AT THE TABERNACLE. In order that London friends may
unite with us we publish the meetings week by week, and at the same
time our country friends can join with us in spirit:–
Lord's-day, February 26th.–Sermon to the Sabbath School and young
people generally. By C.H.S., at 3 p.m.
Monday, February 27th.–Prayer-meeting for females only, at six. Young
people's prayer-meeting at the same time. At seven, Elders and Deacons
will deliver addresses to the unconverted at the usual prayer-meeting.
Tuesday, February 28th.–Great meeting of butcher's men, invited by Mr.
Henry Varley. Addresses in the Tabernacle at 7. (Tickets.) C.H.S. to
preside.
Wednesday, March 1st.–Prayer-meetings at the houses of our friends,
according to the list, which will be issued. May the prayers of all the
households be heard in heaven.
Thursday, March 2nd.–Mothers' prayer-meeting at six. Meeting for
persons under concern of soul at half-past eight, after the lecture.
Fathers' prayer-meeting at 8:30.
Friday, March 3rd.–Meeting of our young friends above fifteen, and yet
unsaved. Tea at six. (Tickets to be had of the Elders.)