God's Gentle Power
A Sermon
(No. 3498)
Published on Thursday, February 10th, 1916.
Delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At [6]the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
On Lord's-day Evening, September 10th, 1871.
"And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the
mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord
was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire, but the
Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. And
it was so. when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his
mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave. And
behold, there came a voice unto him, and said, What doest thou here,
Elijah?"–1 Kings 19:11-13.
ELIJAH was a man of like passions with ourselves. We all know that when
we have passed through any great excitement of high joy there almost
always comes following, a corresponding reaction and depression. Elijah
had gone to the top of Carmel and had pleaded his cause, and the rain
floods had come in answer to his prayer He had taken the prophets of
Baal, and had slain them, and gained a glorious victory for his God;
and so full of excitement was he that he girded his loins as though he
had been a young man, and ran before the chariot of Ahab, like the
royal footmen. It was almost inevitable that after an excitement so
high, and strong, that he should be desponding and depressed in
spirits, and we find that he was so depressed. If the like should ever
happen to any of you' my brethren and sisters, count it no strange
thing, nor suppose that some extraordinary trial hath happened unto
you. It is but a physical result from physical causes. The mind has
operated upon the body. It has strung the bow too tightly, and now,
unless the string be relaxed, there is a danger of its breaking
altogether. Now as Elias was a man of like passions with us, we may
conclude that the way in which God dealt with him is very much the way
in which he would deal with us. With a similar case, and the same
physician, we may look for the same treatment. As, therefore, the Lord
spake to Elijah not by earthquake, nor wind, nor fire, but by the still
small voice, so in all probability will he speak to us. It may be, it
is just possible it may be, that here to-night there is some worker for
God very much in the same condition as Elijah. You, my dear brother,
have been working for God in a neighbourhood where you have met with
little but opposition and disappointment, and you have almost resolved
that you will go away from the place. "The soil is hard," you say, "and
breaks the ploughshare. Shall oxen plough upon a rock?" 'Tis in vain
for you to continue your labour there, you. think, and you have come
here to-night still with this thought uppermost–that you have laboured
in vain, and spent your strength for nought. Hear you the word of the
Lord this night. He speaks not to you by any earthquake of judgment
with which he means to visit you, neither by any fiery word of severe
rebuke; but perhaps through me, this evening, he may speak with a still
small voice that shall just meet your case and send you back to your
labour. Brother, will you play the Jonahs Will you refuse to go to tile
great city–to Nineveh? Remember there are worse places than Nineveh.
He that goes out of the path that God marks for him may yet come to be
at the bottom of the sea with Jonah, with the weeds wrapped about his
head. You go at your own cost, remember, if you go away frown the post
of duty, however arduous. Don't attempt the risk. But thus saith the
Lord unto thee, "It may be thou hast not laboured in vain as thou hast
supposed." Elijah knew nothing of the seven thousand men that God had
in reserve. You don't know what converts God has given you. There are
scattered up and down the world–perhaps some precious ones who owe
their salvation instrumentally to you, and could they all stand before
you–you would blush with shame at the thought of leaving a
harvest–field that has really been so prolific, though not in your
sight. Go back again to thy work, for the Lord has blessed thee. Play
not the fool by deserting the post where he will give thee honour yet.
But then the voice told Elijah also that God would punish the people
who had treated him so ill; that he, would send Hazael with his sharp
sword and Jehu, yet to mow the ground a second time. And oh! thou true
servant of God, the Lord will not suffer thee to be rejected. If they
have rejected thee, they have rejected thy God also. If thou hast been
faithful to his truth, leave thou that matter to him–go thou back to
thy work. And one other word there was to Elijah. He was to go back to
anoint his successor. If Elijah flees, and if Elijah at length is taken
up to heaven, yet Elisha shall succeed him. Perhaps there may be a
brother here who is in the state I have described who does not know
what God has in store for him. You are to call into the Christian
ministry a brother that shall do greater than you have, you shall light
as greater candle shall your own. Oh! what joy Elijah must have had
when he felt there would be someone to take up his work! You have not,
my dear brother, yet called out for your master the man the Lord means
to call. What a happy man he must have been who was the means of the
conversion of Whitefield or Jonathan Edwards, or some great missionary
of the cross. You may be that, in that little village–in that back
slum. Go thou back then. What doest thou hero Elijah? What doest thou
here? With whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness? The
Master's voice speaks to thee. Go to thy closet, and get fresh strength
from on high, and then go back to thy difficulties–go back to thy
self-denials, go back to all thy service with a good heart and
true."Fear not thou worm Jacob; I will help thee, saith the Lord."
Arise, thou worm, and thresh the mountain, for "I will make thee a new
sharp threshing instrument having teeth." I have delivered the message.
It is to somebody, I know not to whom, in this place.
But now the drift, the great aim of the sermon at this time is to speak
to the unconverted. With them I dealt also this morning. I feel
persuaded God will bless it. Now, this evening, let us have another
word with them. We will read the text again. "Behold, the Lord passed
by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces
the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after
the wind an earthquake. but the Lord was not in the earthquake: and
after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and
after the fire a still small voice." Our first observation is that:–
I. POWERFUL MEANS MAY ALTOGETHER FAIL TO IMPRESS SOME MINDS
Let us think a while. Terrible judgments appear as if they must convert
sinners; yet there may be those here, and there certainly are those in
many places who have passed through a whole series of judgments, and
are rather hardened than softened by them. You may have been, dear
friend in a storm of sin; you may have been just barely washed upon a
rock, and escaped as with the skin of your teeth. You have also passed
through a time of cholera. You have been in a city smitten with the
plague. You have lived in a house where others have sickened and died;
and at those times you did pause a little, and you made some good
resolutions, but they all ended in smoke; and here you are still, a
proof that God is not in the earthquake, nor yet in the wind, nor yet
in the fire. It may be you have suffered a great deal of personal
sickness. Do I not know some here present who have been laid very low
with fever–who have been the subjects of very frightful accidents, and
brought to the borders of the grave? These things were loud voices to
you, but you did not hear them. They were God's terrors, sent to fetch
you to himself, but they failed to do it. You remained just where you
were, perhaps worse instead of better; for when the sun shines on wax,
it melts it, but if it shines on clay, it hardens it; and so God's
judgments have had just that effect on you. You are hardened, instead
of softened by them. Men are not converted by judgments. They may
submit themselves in a false way, but power and displays of terror do
not win the heart.
Again, we naturally expect that men will be converted during the times
of earnest religious excitement. Some are brought in; but there are
certain persons who do not seem to be affected by revivals. When others
bow like the corn that waveth in the wind, they stand stiff and firm,
and are altogether untouched. It is a solemn thing when a season of
grace is not a season of grace to us. When we lie, like Gideon's
fleece, all dry, while all around us is wet with the dew of heaven, yet
with some it is just so–gracious excitements and spiritual revivals do
not touch them. The Lord is not in the wind, and the Lord is not in the
earthquake, and the Lord is not in the fire-at least to them. The same
is the case with powerful sermons. I do not mean by this "eloquent
sermons," so called. "Eloquent sermons" usually seem to me to be the
least eloquent things in the world; for eloquence means speaking from
the heart; and I cannot believe that the fine periods we sometimes hear
read ever spring anywhere but from the head. But I mean when a sermon
is full of gospel truth, when it is pertinently put, when it is
pathetically urged, when the heart of the preacher is warmed, and his
eyes o'erflow with tears; when you see a congregation melted, you say
to yourself, "Surely that must touch so-and-so's heart." And then there
comes a passage in the sermon that seems so touching that the very
rocks might weep, and the stones might break; but oh! when it is all
over it is all over, and it is forgotten too; and to many a hearer the
Lord is not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire. And so
it is also in the dealing out of the judgments of God in the ministry.
It is the duty of the Christian pastor, if he would make full proof of
his ministry, to warn men of the results of sin–to tell them that
there is a judgment–that for every idle word they speak they will have
to account. We ought continually to declare that for every
transgression there shall be a recompense of reward. But ah! dear
hearer, though we have read books and heard sermons that were full of
the terrors of the Lord, which we thought surely would move men, yet
there are men who care nothing whatever about the wrath to come, nor
the fire that is kindled for the wicked, nor the dreadful terrors of
Divine Justice. The Lord is not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor
in the fire, so far as they are concerned. The means that appear to be
powerful are powerless to them; and when you think they will surely
turn and repent, they harden their necks and go on in their sin. This,
abundant facts could prove.
But the next observation shall be that sometimes a much gentler force
effects what could not otherwise have been achieved. Many have been
converted to God by the still small voice whom no wind, though it rose
to a hurricane, no earthquake, though it rent the world to its centre,
and no fire, though it licked up the forests, could ever move. A gentle
word has done it. Sometimes that still small voice has come to us by
apparently very, very inadequate means. It is astonishing what little
things God will use when he pleases to do so. He wanted to soften the
heart of that rough prophet Jonah, and he sent a worm and a gourd, and
they did it. He would bring Peter to repentance, and he bade a cock to
crow. It was a strange preacher, but it was as good as a dean of a
cathedral to the Apostle. Means may seem to be absolutely ridiculous,
yet God maketh use of the things that are not, as though they were. I
remember to have heard the story of a man, a blasphemer, profane, an
atheist, who was converted singularly by a sinful action of his. He had
written on a piece of paper, "God is nowhere," and bade his child read
it, for he would make his child an atheist too. And the child spelt it,
"God is n-o-w h-e-r-e-God is now here." It was a truth, instead of a
lie, and the arrow pierced the man's own heart. I remember one who had
lived a life of gross iniquity who stepped into Exeter Hall and found
Christ there. It was not my sermon, however, that God blessed: it was
only this. I read the hymn, "Jesus, lover of my soul." Just those words
touched his heart. "Jesus, lover of my soul," he said to himself. "Did
Jesus love my soul? Then how is it that I could have lived as I have
done?"; and that word broke him down. God works great results by little
things. A little hymn learnt at the Sunday School is sung at home by a
little prattler, and the heart of the father is softened by it. One
little sentence uttered by a friendly visitor reaches a mother's
conscience and impresses her heart. Ay, and God can use the quiet of
the evening, or the stillness of the night, or a flash of lightning, or
a peal of thunder, or a dewdrop, or a little flower–he can use
anything he wills to bring his banished. home. Often cloth the Spirit
speak thus with a still small voice.
But, brethren, beloved, the Holy Ghost also speaks to men without any
means at all. With no outward agency whatever, the still small voice
will come. Oh! how I wish it would come to-night to some sitting here
listening to the preacher! I wish you could forget–forget the
congregation, and forget everything except yourself and your God. We
have known persons who have been walking in the fields, thoughtless and
careless. All around has been still, and they have suddenly thought,
and thought is often the avenue to prayer. We have known some passing
through a country churchyard, and though no text upon the tomb how
touched them, yet the very sight of those green hillocks has been a
sermon to them. Aye, and men have walked through orchards, and the
leaves have said to them, "We all do fade as a leaf." Or sitting in
their chamber, or lying on their bed wakeful, the old times have come
over again. The man that lives to be an old sinner recollects the
little prayer he said at his mother's knee. The soldier that has been
at battle recollects the teaching of the Sunday School, though he has
passed now his fiftieth year; and he says, "I wish I could blot out all
that which lies between my mother's kiss and this hour. It has been a
dark, dark season." Only the thought has done it. God's Spirit did but
touch the secret spring, and the soul was moved aright. The still small
voice has done it. Oh! how satisfied I should be if the Lord would not
give me a single soul in this place by my preaching, if he would but do
it himself! What matters it so long as they are saved? He does put
honour upon his preached word, and he brings in the most of men
thereby; but so long as they are brought in, and he gets glory, what
will it signify as to the means he uses? May he still speak to you by
his still small voice. I commend to him in my earnest prayer some of
you who are very familiar with my voice, and to whom it is as useless
as familiar. You will never be brought to Christ by me. God will never
give me your souls I fear. For these many years have I laboured for
them, and they have not been given me. Well, good Master, call them by
some other means, only bring then; and grant that this very night,
conscience may be aroused by thoughts which thou thyself shalt suggest,
and they may come to thee.
You see, then, the first two points, that the most powerful means will
often fail, and that the least means may be successful. Ay, and the
Holy Ghost may work without means altogether. And now once again:–
II. WHEN GOD SPEAKS TO MEN, HIS VOICE IS ALWAYS LINKED WITH PERSONAL
ADDRESS.
Look at the text. What says the still small voice? "What doest thou
here Elijah?" There was the man named. It was no general statement
about prophets who proved faithless, or about believers who grew
doubtful, or about men of courage that played the coward. Oh! no; it
was, "What doest thou here, Elijah?" It is a mark of God's Spirit that
when he speaks to men he speaks to them personally. Just take a case or
two. You remember Jesus Christ going through Jericho, preaching as he
went. He meant to call that rich publican who had climbed the tree. In
what way did the effectual voice of grace do it? He says, "Zaccheus" It
was not a general observation about people up in trees that were to
come down; but "Zaccheus"–that is the man. "Zaccheus, make haste and
come down, for to-day I must abide in thy house." The personal call did
it. And Mary, when she did not know her Master, and was in the garden,
and thought he was the gardener–what was it that opened her eyes to
know her Lord, and made her say, "Rabboni"? It was no word else except
that he said unto her, "Mary." The tone in which he said it, and the
name–the old familiar name, Mary–that did the work. And when the
Saviour meant to break Simon Peter's heart, and yet to assure him that
he was forgiven, how did he speak to him? Three times he said to him,
"Simon, son of Jonas. Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" This is how
God speaks to men. And when out of the open heavens Jesus spake to the
maddened persecutor who was on the road to Damascus, but whom he meant
to make his elect apostle to the Gentiles, how did he speak but thus?
"Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick
against the pricks." Now here I cannot speak except to the crowd and
the congregation, and though one labours hard to make a description apt
and plain, and to fit the cap to all wearers' heads, yet men slip
through in the crowd; they will not take it to themselves, nor can we
make them. But when the Holy Ghost speaks with the still small voice,
it is always, "Thou art the man. Thou art the man. Thou art the sinner
condemned. Thou art the sinner invited to mercy. Thou art the sinner
that shall be received by grace." Believe thou, and thou shalt be
saved, for he loves thee and gave himself for thee. May the Lord send
us such personal work as this. I know every Christian here, if he could
state his experience, would tell you that the word never came with
power to his soul until it came right to him as though he were the only
sinner, and the gospel were meant for him above all others. Oh! for an
arrow from the great archer's bow to go right into you, that, like a
stag that is smitten by the archer, you might retire into the glades of
the forest, to weep alone and die alone, unless the hand that sent in
the dart shall gently draw it out and heal the wound that it has made!
Oh! for this personal conviction!–conviction of sin, of righteousness,
and of judgment laid home to each man's heart. It must be so, or you
cannot be saved. But now another truth is suggested by the text. It is
this, that:–
III. WHEN GOD'S STILL SMALL VOICE SPEAKS TO MEN PERSONALLY, THE SUBJECT
IS THEMSELVES AND THEIR ACTIONS.
"What doest thou here, Elijah?" This was the voice of God. May the same
voice come to-night to some here about their actions. Let me take the
text and use it to you. What are you doing? What doest thou? What have
you been doing? You are getting on in life. What have you done?
Mischief I fear. What good have you done? You were made to glorify God,
that was the end for which you were created. Have you glorified him?
You have been fed by him, clothed by him. Have you made him any return?
What have you done? No good–much evil. What are you doing now? Sitting
here and listening. Ay, but how are you treating the Word? Are you
receiving it? Do you hear the voice of mercy, and do you reject it, or
will you accept it? What are you going to do? What are you going to do
to-night when you get out of this place? How will the last hours of the
precious Sabbath be spent? And to-morrow, and the next day–what are
you planning? Is there anything holy in it, anything noble in it,
anything that will be glorifying to God? Do you never take stock?
Spiritual trader, do you never take stock? Mariner upon the sea of
life, cost thou never consult thy chart? Dost thou never heave the
lead, or take thy bearings? Art thou so mad as to sail on in the fog,
and not care what becomes of so goodly a vessel as thy soul? Oh! pause.
What hast thou done? What art thou doing? What wilt thou do? Especially
what wilt thou do in the swellings of Jordan? Unsaved, what will you do
when the death-sweat stands upon your brow–when the cold beaded drops
are there, and the marrow is frozen, and the strong man gathers up his
feet in the bed for the last dread struggle–what will you do without a
Saviour? What will you do when the trumpet rings through heaven and
earth, and sea, and men live again, and you, with them, stand before
the judgment-seat, and amidst the rolling thunder the book is opened
and your sins stand there unforgiven? What will you do? What will you
do? Oh! that you may never be brought to this, but be brought to Christ
to-night! Do you notice how the word was put? It was not, "What are you
doing?" only, but "What doest thou–thou, Elijah?" And there are some
special persons whose sins receive an aggravation by the very fact that
they are what they are. I know thee–what thou west of old. What a
sweet child. How his mother loved him, and loved to hear him sing, and
pray, too, in his way. What happiness it was to the parents! Ah! they
fell asleep and died, and 'tis a mercy they did, else perhaps your
course would have brought them to the grave with grief. What doest
thou, child of many prayers and many tears? What doest thou? Still to
be an enemy to thy mother's God, and to blaspheme the name they father
loved. You have been hearers of the gospel, some of you almost ever
since you can recollect. Your mother carried you in her arms to God's
house, and sometimes conscience has pricked you, and the word has gone
through, and through, and through; but you have resisted it. What has
led you, I pray you, to remain still what you are? What infernal power
has helped you to steel your heart? In what fire has your soul been
annealed to make it hard as adamant stone? O soul, soul, sinful soul,
delaying, procrastinating soul! what doest thou in such a states after
so much love and mercy? And I might speak to some that promised fair
many times, and that have been almost persuaded to be Christians, and
yet still are out of God, and out of Christ, and on the borders of
destruction. What do you here? Perhaps there is someone who has come to
London lately, that in the country was an observer of religion,
apparently sincere, but oh! this wicked London! You have given up those
good habits; you–have got into bad company, and oh! I shall not tell
what you have done; but I hope you will confess it to God in your own
secrecy. But how dare you do it? How could you do its Oh! how could you
do it? How could you be a prodigal?–you, your fathers dearly beloved,
taught so well, with so much light, with such a tender conscience–how
could you sin? Why the very tramps of the street might be ashamed of
you, for they never knew much better. Those that go into foulest sin
might condemn you, for with their bad street training, educated perhaps
in the kennel, who wonders that they are what they are? But for you, it
is a wonder. The angel Lucifer, son of the morning, fell down to the
deeps of hell. You have fallen from the side of the pulpit, fallen from
a Christian parent's side, and almost from inside the Church of God,
and fallen into sin. Perhaps I speak to some that have belied their
baptism, have given up the profession that they made when they there
were buried with Christ, who have belied the sacramental table where
they once sat, and professed to eat his bread and drink of his cup, and
to be partakers of his body and of his blood. You have crucified the
Lord afresh, and put him to an open shame. "What doest thou here,
Elijah?" My, and you used to preach too; you used to preach to others,
and now what are you? You were once, as it were, a priest at the altar
of God, and now you are a priest at the altars of Baal. God have mercy
upon you, and may his still small voice now speak in your soul.
There was one point in the question which was asked, which was this:
"What doest thou here?" Each man, when he is called to search himself
by the Spirit of God, must recollect his surroundings. I thank God, my
brethren and my sisters, that you are hearers–not to commend you that
you may be Pharisees, because you happen to go to a place of worship. I
do, nevertheless, praise God that you are here. When the sick lay round
the Pool of Bethesda, there was some hope of their being healed. You
are favoured in being where Christ is preached; but what doest thou
here? Did you come to find a jest? Did you come to hear one who was
much talked of in your hearing? Did you come from curiosity? Did you
come from a worse motive? Well, never mind, but what are you doing now?
Are you willing to listen to God's voice? Will you now yield? He round
you now, as with the bands of a man, would cast the bands of his love,
who was given for you, and to his altar bind you fast. 'Tis but to
yield; and surely it must be hard to resist when it is divine mercy
that plies you, and eternal love that persuades you. "Come unto me,"
says Jesus; "come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I
will give you rest." Will you not come? "Whosoever will, let him come
and take the water of life freely. " Will you not come? Oh! that your
answer to the question, "What doest thou here? " might be to-night, " I
am doing this here; I am laying my sins on Jesus; I am confessing the
past; I am asking grace for the future; I am looking to the wounds of
him that was cleft as a rock is cleft that I may shelter in him; I am
saying, 'God be merciful to me a sinner."' Thy God be praised if such
is the case. But I must close with the last observation, and that is,
that:–
IV. WHERE THE LORD DOES SPEAK WITH A STILL SMALL VOICE TO MEN
PERSONALLY ABOUT THEIR CONDUCT AND THEIR SIN, IT IS ALWAYS EFFECTUAL.
You notice what Elijah did. He first wrapped his mantle about his
face–he became subdued and awe-stricken–full of reverence. Oh! it is
a great thing when a sinner is willing to wrap his face when he is
confounded, and say, "I cannot defend my course; I am guilty." We know
that if at our judgment-seat a man pleads guilty, he is punished; but
at the judgment-seat of the gospel whoever pleads guilty is forgiven.
Wrap your face. Oh! but you thought that you were better than most; you
went to church, and you went to the meeting-house, the chapel,
regularly, and were you not better than others? Ah! wrap your face.
Your church-goings and your chapel-goings have only increased your
responsibilities if you have rejected the Saviour. Take the mantle of
self humiliation, and wrap it about your face now. Say, with the leper,
"Unclean! Unclean!" Where you are in the Tabernacle, where you are,
never mind where you stand or sit, I commend to you the publican's
prayer. Say it now, and God help you, "God be merciful to me a sinner."
Did you say it from your heart? Go home. You shall go home to your
house justified, for he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.
But you must notice that while Elijah thus wrapped his face in
reverence, he stood still and listened. It was a still small voice, and
the prophet was attending. No other sound was heard but this, "What
doest thou here, Elijah?" But he stood. I doubt not that man of iron
stood and wept, and seemed to say in his soul, "Speak, Lord, for thy
servant heareth." "He that bath earn to hear, let him hear." Oh! be
very attentive to the voice of God s Spirit! If you have only a half of
a good thought, take care of it. It may be the beginning of another
one. Oh! if you have only just got a little leaning, thank God for it.
Remember Christ does not quench the smoking flax; don't quench it
yourself. "Quench not the Spirit." Oh! I have known times when I would
have given my whole life to have had one tear of repentance. Can you
repent now? Can you long after God now? Oh! cherish that longing! Yield
to the Spirit of God. Don't be like iron to the fire that needs to have
the blast-furnace on it before it will melt; but oh! be like wax to the
flame, like cork on the water that moves up and down with every
influence. God make you so. It wants a strong wind to shake the oak;
but the fern that grows under it waves its branches at every breath of
the zephyr. May you be just as sensitive as that. Bow before the
Spirit's influence. The Lord make you to do it for his name's sake.
And then, best of all and last of all, the prophet was not only
reverent, humble, and attentive, but he was obedient. God told him to
go and do this and that. He never questioned, but away he went and
executed the divine commission, and until the time when he was taken up
in the chariot of fire Elijah never quailed again. The still small
voice had made him twice a man, and steeled him once again to bear all
that he had to endure in his chequered life. He was obedient to the
heavenly vision. Will you be obedient to-night?" If ye be willing and
obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land." May God make you to be
obedient. But you say, "What is his command then? What is the work of
God-this great work that God commands? This is the one gospel precept,
"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved"; or take it
in the shape in which the Master put it, "He that believeth and is
baptized, shall be saved." To believe is to trust. To be baptized is to
be immersed into Christ–immersed in water upon profession of faith,
for so it is put, and I dare not give you half the gospel. So it is
put, "He that with his heart believeth, and with his mouth maketh
confession of him, shall be saved." Don't leave out any part of the
divine command. Be obedient to the whole of it. "Believe and be
baptized," or as the Apostle put it, " Repent, and be baptized, every
one of you." May God grant that you may be obedient to this. The great
command is, "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. "Trust in him–in his
substitutionary work for sinners. He bore their guilt, and was punished
in their stead, and whosoever trusts in what he did–in a word, trusts
in him, is saved. God grant you to do it. I leave it to his still small
voice to work this blessed result. Amen.
* Light for those who sit in darkness. Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit,
1,010.