A Preacher from the Dead
A Sermon
(No. 143)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, July 26, 1857, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
"And he said unto him, if they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither
will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead.–Luke 16:31.
MAN is very loath to think ill of himself. The most of mankind are very
prone to indulge in apologies for sin. They say, "If we had lived in
better times we had been better men; if we had been born into this
world under happier auspices we should have been holier; and if we had
been placed in more excellent circumstances we should have been more
inclined to the right." The mass of men, when they seek the cause of
their sin, seek it anywhere but in the right place. They will not blame
their own nature for it; they will not find fault with their own
corrupt heart, but they will lay the blame anywhere else. Some of them
find fault with their peculiar position. "If," says one, "I had been
born rich, instead of being poor, I should not have been dishonest."
"Or if," says another, "I had been born in middle life, instead of
being rich, I should not have been exposed to such temptations to lust
and pride as I am now; but my very condition is so adverse to piety,
that I am compelled by the place I hold in society, to be anything but
what I ought to be." Others turn round and find fault with the whole of
society; they say that the whole organism of society is wrong; they
tell us that everything in government, everything that concerns the
state, everything which melts men into commonwealths, is all so bad
that they cannot be good while things are what they are. They must have
a revolution, they must upset everything; and then they think they
could be holy! Many on the other hand throw the blame on their
training. If they had not been so brought up by their parents, if they
had not been so exposed in their youth, they would not have been what
they are. It is their parent's fault; the sin lay at their father's or
their mother's door. Or it is their constitution. Hear them speak for
themselves, "If I had such a temper as so-and-so, what a good man I
would be! But with my headstrong disposition it is impossible. It is
all very well for you to talk to me but men have different turns of
mind, and my turn of mind is such that I could not by any means be a
serious character;" and so he throws the blame on his constitution.
Others go a deal farther, and throw the blame on the ministry. "If,"
say they, "at one time the minister had been more earnest in preaching,
I should have been a better man; if it had been my privilege to sit
under sounder doctrine and hear the Word more faithfully preached, I
should have been better." Or else they lay it at the door of professors
of religion, and say, "If the church were more consistent, if there
were no hypocrites and no formalists: then we should reform!" Ah! sirs,
you are putting the saddle on the wrong horse, you are laying the
burden on the wrong back; the blame is in your hearts, nowhere else. If
your hearts were renewed you would be better; but until that is done,
if society were remodelled to perfection, if ministers were angels, and
professors of religion were seraphs, you would be none the better; but
having less excuse for your sin, you would be doubly guilty, and perish
with a more terrible destruction. But yet men will always be having it,
that if things were different they would be different too, whereas, the
difference must be made in themselves, if they begin in the right
place.
Amongst other whims which have occured to the human mind, such an one
as that of my text may sometimes have arisen. "If," said the rich man
in hell, "if one should arise from the dead, if Lazarus should go from
heaven to preach, my hardened brethren would repent." And some have
been apt to say, "If my aged father, or some venerable patriarch could
rise from the dead and preach, we should all of us turn to God." That
is another way of casting the blame in the wrong quarter: we shall
endeavor, if we can, to refute such a supposition as that this morning,
and affirm most strenuously the doctrine of the text, that "If they
hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though
one rose from the dead." Let us proceed with this subject.
Suppose a preacher should come from another world to preach to us, we
must naturally suppose that he came from heaven. Even the rich man did
not ask that he or any of his compeers in torment might go out of hell
to preach. Spirits that are lost and given up to unutterable
wickedness, could not visit this earth; and if they did they could not
preach the truth, nor lead us on the road to heaven which they had not
trodden themselves. The advent of a damned spirit upon earth would be a
curse, a blight, a withering blast, we need not suppose that such a
thing ever did or could occur. The preacher from another world, if such
could come, must come from heaven. He must be a Lazarus who had lain in
Abraham's bosom, a pure, perfect, and holy being. Now, imagine for a
moment that such an one had descended upon earth; suppose that we heard
to-morrow a sudden piece of news–that a venerable spirit, who had been
a long time buried, had on a sudden burst his cerements, lifted up his
coffin-lid, and was now preaching the word of life. Oh! what a rush
there would be to hear him preach! What place in this wide world would
be large enough to hold his massive congregations! How would you rush
to listen to him! How many thousands of portraits would be published of
him, representing him in the dread winding-sheet of death, or as an
angel fresh from heaven. Oh! how would this city be stirred: and not
this city only, but this whole land! Nations far remote would soon hear
the news; and every ship would be freighted with passengers, bringing
men and women to hear this wondrous preacher and traveler who had
returned from the bourne unknown. And how would you listen? And how
solemnly would you gaze at that unearthly spectre! And how would your
ears be attent to his every word! His faintest syllable would be caught
and published everywhere throughout the world–the utterances of a man
who had been dead and was alive again. And we are very apt to suppose,
that if such a thing should happen, there would be numberless
conversions, for surely the congregations thus attracted would be
immensely blest. Many hardened sinners would be led to repent; hundreds
of halters would be made to decide, and great good would be done. Ah!
stop, though the first part of the fairy dream should occur, yet would
not the last. If some one should rise from the dead, yet would sinners
no more repent through his preaching than through the preaching of any
other. God might bless such preaching to salvation, if he pleased; but
in itself there would be no more power in the preaching of the sheeted
dead, or of the glorified spirit, than there is in the preaching of
feeble man to-day. "Though one should rise from the dead, they would
not repent."
But yet, many men would suppose that advantages would arise from the
resurrection of a saint, who could testify to what he had seen and
heard. Now, the advantages, I suppose, could only be three. Some would
say there would be advantage in the strength of evidence which such a
man could give to the truth of Scripture; for you would say, "If a man
did actually come from the pearly-gated city of Jerusalem, the home of
the blest, then there would be no more dispute about the truth of
revelation. That would be settled." Some would suppose that he could
tell us more than Moses and the prophets had told us, and that there
would be an advantage in the instruction which he could confer, as well
as in the evidence which he would bear. And, thirdly, there may be some
who suppose that it would be an advantage gained in the manner in which
such an one would speak, "For surely," say they, "he would speak with
great eloquence, with a far mightier power, and with a deeper feeling
than any common preacher who had never beheld the solemnities of
another world." Now, these three points one after another, and we think
we will settle them.
I. First, it is thought that if one did come from the dead to preach,
there would be A CONFIRMATION OF THE TRUTH OF THE GOSPEL, and a
testimony borne at which jeering infidelity would stand aghast in
silence. Stop, we will see about that. We do not think so. We believe
that the resurrection of one dead man to-day, to come into this hall
and preach, would be no confirmation of the gospel to any person here
present who does not believe it already.
If, my friends, the testimony of one man who had been raised from the
dead were of any value for the confirming of the gospel; would not God
have used it before now? This shall be my first argument. It is
undoubtedly true that some have risen from the dead. We find accounts
in Holy Scripture of some men who by the power of Christ Jesus, or
through the instrumentality of prophets, were raised from the dead; but
ye will note this memorable fact, that they never any of them spoke one
word which is recorded, by way of telling us what they saw while they
were dead. I shall not enter into any discussion as to whether their
souls slept during the time of their death, or whether they were in
heaven or not. That would be a discussion without profit, only
gendering disputes, which could yield no fruit. I only say, it is
memorable that there is not a record of any one of them having given
any description of what they saw while they were dead. Oh, what secrets
might he have told out, who had laid in his grave four days! Do ye not
suppose that his sisters questioned him? Do ye not think that they
asked him what he saw–whether he had stood before the burning throne
of God, and been judged for the things done in his body, and whether he
had entered into rest? But, however they may have asked, it is certain
he gave no answer, for had he given an answer we should have known it
now; tradition would have cherished the record. And do ye remember,
when Paul once preached a long sermon, even until midnight, there was a
young man in the third loft named Eutychus, who fell asleep, and fell
down, and was taken up dead? Paul came down and prayed, and Eutychus
was restored to life. But did Eutychus get up and preach after he had
come from the dead? No; the thought never seems to have struck a single
person in the assembly. Paul went on with his sermon, and they sat and
listened to him, and did not care one fig about what Eutychus had seen;
for Eutychus had nothing more to tell them than Paul had. Of all the
number of those who by divine might have been brought again from the
shades of death, I repeat the assertion, we have not one secret told;
we have not one mystery unravelled by them all. Now, God knoweth best;
we will not compare our surmises to divine decision. If God decided
that resurrection men should be silent, it was best it should be; their
testimony would have been of little worth or help to us, or else it
would have been borne.
But again, I think it will strike our minds at once, that if this very
day a man should rise from his tomb, and come here to affirm the truth
of the gospel, the infidel world would be no more near believing than
it is now. Here comes Mr. Infidel Critic. He denies the evidences of
the Bible; evidences which so clearly prove its authenticity, that we
are obliged to believe him to be either blasphemous or senseless, in
that he does so, and we leave him his choice between the two. But he
dares to deny the truth of Holy Scripture, and will have it that all
the miracles whereby it is attested are untrue and false. Do you think
that one who had risen from the dead would persuade such a man as that
to believe? What? when God's whole creation having been ransacked by
the hand of science, has only testified to the truth of
revelation–when the whole history of buried cities and departed
nations has but preached out the truth that the Bible was true–when
every strip of land in the far-off East has been an exposition and a
confirmation of the prophecies of Scripture; if men are yet
unconvinced, do ye suppose that one dead man rising from the tomb would
convince them? No; I see the critical blasphemer already armed for his
prey. Hark to him; "I am not quite sure that you ever were dead, sir,
you profess to be risen from the dead; I do not believe you. You say
you have been dead, and have gone to heaven; my dear man you were in a
trance. You must bring proof from the parish register that you were
dead." The proof is brought that he was dead. "Well, now you must prove
that you were buried." It is proved that he was buried, and it is
proved that some sexton in old times, did take up his dry bones and
cast his dust in the air." That is very good now I walls you to prove
that you are the identical man that was buried." "Well I am, I know I
am; I tell you as an honest man I have been to heaven, and I have come
back again." "Well then," says the infidel, "it is not consistent with
reason; it is ridiculous to suppose that a man who was dead and buried
could ever come to life again, and so I don't believe you, I tell you
so straight to your face." That is how men would answer him; and
instead of having only the sin of denying many miracles men would have
to add to it the guilt of denying another but they would not be so much
as a tithe of an inch nearer to conviction; and certainly, if the
wonder were done in some far-off land, and only reported to the rest of
the world, I can suppose that the whole infidel world would exclaim,
"Simple childish tales and such traditions have been current elsewhere;
but we are sensible men, we do not believe them." Although a churchyard
should start into life, and stand up before the infidel who denies the
truth of Christianity; I declare I do not believe there would be enough
evidence in all the churchyards in the world to convince him.
Infidelity would still cry for something more. It is like the
horse-leech; it crieth, "Give, give!" Prove a point to an infidel, and
he wants it proved again; let it be as clear as noon day to him from
the testimony of many witnesses, yet doth he not believe it. In fact,
he doth believe it; but he pretendeth not to do so, and is an infidel
in spite of himself. But certainly the dead man's rising would be
little worth for the conviction of such men.
But remember, my dear friends, that the most numerous class of
unbelievers are a set of people who never think at all. There are a
great number of people in this land that eat and drink, and everything
else except think at least, they think enough to take their shop
shutters down of a morning, and put them up at night; they think enough
to know a little about the rising of the funds, or the rate per cent.
of interest, or something like how articles are selling or the price of
bread; but their brains seem to be given them for nothing at all,
except to meditate upon bread and cheese. To them religion is a matter
of very small concern. They dare say the Bible is very true, they dare
say religion is all right; but it does not often trouble them much.
They suppose they are Christians; for were they not christened when
they were babies? They must be Christians–at least they suppose so,
but they never sit down to enquire what religion is. They sometimes go
to church and chapel and elsewhere; but it does not signify much to
them. One minister may contradict another, but they do not know; they
dare say they are both right. One minister may fall foul of another in
almost every doctrine; it does not signify, and they pass over religion
with the queer idea–"God Almighty will not ask us where we went to, I
dare say." They do not exercise their judgments at all. Thinking is
such hard work for them that they never trouble themselves at all about
it. Now, if a man were to rise from the dead to-morrow these people
would never be startled. Yes; yes, they would go and see him once, just
as they go and see any other curiosity, the living skeleton, or Tom
Thumb; they would talk about him a good deal, and say, "There's a man
risen from the dead," and possibly some winter's evening they might
read one of his sermons; but they would never give themselves trouble
to think whether his testimony was worth anything or not. No, they are
such blocks they never could be stirred; and if the ghost were to come
to any of their houses the most they would feel would be, they were in
a fearful fright; but as to what he said, that would never exercise
their leaden brains, and never stir their stony senses. Though one
should rise from the dead, the great mass of these people never would
be affected.
And, besides my friends, if men will not believe the witness of God, it
is impossible that they should believe the witness of man. If the voice
of God from the top of Sinai and his voice by Moses in the book of the
Law, if his voice by the divers prophets in the Old Testament, and
especially his own word by his own Son, who hath brought immortality to
light by the gospel, cannot convince men, then there is nothing in the
world that can of itself accomplish the work. No, if God speak once,
but man regardeth him not, we need not wonder that we have to preach
many a time without being regarded; and we should not harbour the
thought that some men who had risen from the dead would have a greater
power to convince than the words of God. If this Bible be not enough to
convert you, apart from the Spirit? (and certainly it is not) then
there is nothing in the world that can, apart from his influence; and
if the revelation which God has given of his Son Jesus Christ in this
blessed book, If the Holy Scripture be not in the hands of God enough
to bring you to the faith of Christ, then, though an angel from heaven,
then, though the saints from glory, then, though God himself should
descend on earth to preach to you, you would go on unwed and unblest.
"If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be
persuaded, though one rose from the dead." That is the first point.
II. It is imagined, however, that if one of "the spirits of the just
made perfect" would come to earth, even if he did not produce a most
satisfactory testimony to the minds of sceptics, he would yet be able
to give abundant information concerning the kingdom of heaven.
"Surely," some would say, "if Lazarus had come from the bosom of
Abraham, he could have unfolded a tale that would have made our hair
stand upright, while he talked of the torments of the rich man; surely,
if he had looked from the gates of bliss, he might have told us about
the worm that dieth not and the fire that never can be quenched: some
horrible details, some thrilling words of horror and of terror he might
have uttered, which would have unfolded to us more of the future state
of the lost than we know now." "And," says the bright-eyed believer,
"if he had come on earth he might have told us of the saints'
everlasting rest: he might have pictured to us that glorious city which
hath the Lord God for its eternal light, the streets whereof are of
gold, and its gates of pearl. Oh! how sweetly would he have descanted
upon the bosom of Christ, and the felicity of the blest. He had been
'Up where eternal ages roll;
Where solid pleasures never die,
And fruits immortal feast the soul.'
Surely he would have brought down with him some handfuls of the
clusters of Eshcol; he would have been able to tell us some celestial
secrets, which would have cheered our hearts, and nerved us to run the
heavenly race, and put a cheerful courage on." Stop, that is a dream
too. A spirit of the just descending from heaven could tell us no more
that would be of any use to us than we know already. What more could
that spirit from heaven tell us of the pains of hell than we do already
know? Is not the Bible explicit enough? Did not the lips of Christ
dreadfully portray the lake of fire? Did he not, even he who went over
men, did he not in awful language tell us that God would say at last,
"Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and
his angels?" Do you need more thrilling words than these? "The worm
that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched." Do you need more
terrible warnings than these,–"The wicked shall be cast into hell,
with all the nations that forget God?" Do you want more awful warnings
than this–"Who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?" What!
do you want a fuller declaration than the words of God. "Tophet is
prepared of old; the pile thereof is fire and much wood; the breath of
the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle it?" You cannot want
more than Scripture gives of that. Even that you try to run away and
escape from; you say the book is too horrible, and tells you too much
of damnation and hell. Sirs, if you think there is too much there, and
therefore reject it, would you stand for an instant to listen to one
who should tell you more? No; ye do not wish to know more, nor would it
be of any use to you if you did. Do you need more details concerning
the judgment, that day of wrath to which each of us is drawing nigh?
Are we not told that the king "shall sit on the throne of his glory,
and before him shall be gathered all people; and he shall divide them
the one from the other, as the shepherd divideth the sheep from the
goats." Suppose there were one here who had seen the solemn preparation
for the great assize–one who had stood where the throne is to be
planted, and had marked the future with a more piercing eye than ours.
Yet of what avail would it be to us? Could he tell us more than Holy
Writ hath told us now–at least, any which would be more profitable?
Perhaps he knows no more than we. And one thing I am sure of, he would
not tell us more about the rule of judgment than we know now. Spirit
that hath returned from another world, tell me, how are men judged? Why
are they condemned? Why are they saved? I hear him say, "Men are
condemned because of sin. Read the ten commandments of Moses, and you
will find the ten great condemnations whereby men are for ever cue
off." I knew that before, bright Spirit; thou hast told me nothing!
"No," says he, "and nothing can I tell." "Because I was hungry, and ye
gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink; I was sick,
and ye visited me not; I was in prison, and ye came not unto me;
therefore, inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of the least of these my
brethren, ye did it not to me. Depart, ye cursed!" "Why, Spirit, was
that the word of the King?" "It was," says he, "I have read that, too,
thou hast told me no more." If you do not know the difference between
right and wrong from reading the Scripture, you would not know it if a
spirit should tell you; if you do not know the road to hell and the
road to heaven from the Bible itself, you would never know it at all.
No book could be more clear, no revelation more distinct, no testimony
more plain. And since without the agency of the Spirit, these
testimonies are insufficient for salvation, it follows that no further
declaration would avail. Salvation is ascribed wholly to God, and man's
ruin only to man. What more could a spirit tell us, than–a distinct
declaration of the two great truths.–"O Israel, thou hast destroyed
thyself; but in me is thine help found!"
Beloved, we do solemnly say again, that Holy Scripture is so perfect,
so complete, that it cannot want the supplement of any declaration
concerning a future state. All that you ought to know concerning the
future you may know from Holy Scripture. It is not right to say with
Young–
"My hopes and fears start up alarmed,
And o'er life's narrow verge look down,
On what? A bottomless abyss,
A dread eternity."
It is not right to say that, as if it were all we know. Blessed be God,
the saint does not look down upon a bottomless abyss; he looks up to
the celestial "city that hath foundations, whose builder and maker is
God." Nor do even the wicked look down upon an unknown abyss; for to
them it is clearly revealed. Though "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,"
the tortures of the lost yet hath Holy Scripture sufficiently told us
of them to make it a well-mapped road; so that when they meet with
death, and hell, and terror, it shall be no new thing; for they heard
of it before, and it was distinctly revealed to them. Nothing more
could we know that would be of any use. Tattlers, idle curiosity
people, and such like, would be mightily delighted with such a man. Ah!
what a precious preacher he would be to them, if they could get him all
the way from heaven, and get him to tell all its secrets out! Oh! how
would they love him–how would they delight in him! "For," say they "he
knows a great deal more than anybody else; he knows a great deal more
than the Bible tells us; he knows a great many little details, and it
is wonderful to hear him explain them!" But there the matter would end.
It would be merely the gratification of curiosity; there would be no
conferring of blessing; for if to know more of the future state would
be a blessing for us, God would not withhold it; there can be no more
told us.-If what you know would not persuade you, "Neither would you be
persuaded though one rose from the dead."
III. Yet some say, SURELY, IF THERE WERE NO GAIN IN MATTER, YET THERE
WOULD BE A GAIN IN MANNER. Oh, if such a spirit had descended from the
spheres, how would he preach! What eloquence celestial would flow from
his lips! How majestically would he word his speech! How mightily would
he move his hearers! What marvellous words would he utter! What
sentences that might start us from our feet, and make us quiver with
their thrilling influence. There would be no dulness in such a
preacher; it would be no fatigue to hear him; there would be no want of
affection in him, and surely no want of earnestness; we might well be
pleased to hear him every day, and never weary with his wondrous
speech. Such a preacher earth hath never heard. Oh, if he would but
come! How would we listen!"–Stay! that too is a dream. I do believe
that Lazarus from Abraham's bosom would not be so good a preacher as a
man who has not died, but whose lips have been touched with a live coal
from off the altar. Instead of his being better, I cannot see that he
would be quite so good. Could a spirit from the other world speak to
you more solemnly than Moses and the prophets have spoken? Or could
they speak more solemnly than you have heard the word spoken to you at
divers times already? O sirs, some of you have heard sermons that have
been as solemn as death and as serious as the grave. I can recall to
some of your memories seasons when you have sat beneath the sound of
the word, wondering and trembling all the while. It seemed as if the
minister had taken to himself bow and arrows, and were making your
conscience the butt at which his shafts were levelled. You have not
known where you were, you have been so grievously frighted and smitten
with terror that your knees did knock together, and your eyes ran with
tears. What more do you want than that? If that solemn preaching of
some mighty preacher whom God had inspired for the time–if that did
not save you, what can save you, apart from the influence of the
Spirit? And oh! you have heard more solemn preaching than that. You had
a little daughter once; that child of yours had been to the
Sabbath-school; it came home, and was sick unto death you watched it by
night and day, and the fever grew upon it; and you saw that it must
die. You have not forgotten yet how your little daughter Mary preached
you a sermon that was solemn indeed: just before she departed she took
your hand in her little hand, and she said, "Father, I am going to
heaven; will you follow me?" That was a solemn sermon to you. What more
could sheeted dead have said? Ye have not forgotten yet, how when your
father lay a dying–(a holy man of God he had been in his day, and
served his Master well)–you with your brothers and sisters stood
around the bed, and he addressed you one by one. Woman! you have not
forgotten yet, despite all your sin and wickedness since then, how he
looked you in the face and said, "My daughter, twere better for thee
that thou hadst never been born than that thou shouldst be a despiser
of Christ and a neglecter of his salvation." And you have not forgotten
how he looked when with solemn tears in his eyes he addressed you and
said, "My children, I charge you by death and by eternity, I charge
you, if you love your own souls, despise not the gospel of Christ;
forsake your follies, and turn unto God and live." What preacher do you
want better than that? What voice more solemn than the voice of that of
your own parent upon the confines of eternity? And you have not yet
quite clean escaped from the influence of another solemn scene. You had
a friend, a so-called friend; he was a traitor, one who lived in sin
and rebelled against God with a high hand and an outstretched arm. You
remember his death-bed, when he lay near to death terrors got hold of
him; the flames of hell began to get their grip of him, before he had
clean departed. You have not yet forgotten his shrieks, his screams,
you have not yet quite got from your vision in your dreams that hand
through which the finger nails were almost pierced in agony, and that
face, contorted with direful twitchings of dismay. You have not clear
escaped yet from that horrid yell with which the spirit entered the
realm of darkness and forsook the land of the living. What more of a
preacher do you want? Have you heard this preaching, and yet have you
not repented? Then verily, if after all this you are hardened, neither
would you be persuaded though one rose from the dead.
Ah! but you say, you want some one to preach to you more feelingly.
Then, Sir, you cannot have him in the preacher you desire. A spirit
from heaven could not be a feeling preacher.-It would be impossible for
Lazarus, who had been in Abraham's bosom, to preach to you with
emotion. As a perfect being of course he must be supremely happy.
Imagine this morning a supremely happy being preaching to you, about
repentance and the wrath of God. Do you not see him? there is a placid
smile ever upon his brow; the light of heaven gilds his face, he is
talking about the torments of hell, it was the place for sighs and
groans; but he cannot sigh, his face is just as placid as ever. He is
specking of the torments of the wicked, it was the time for tears; he
cannot weep; that were incompatible with blessedness. The man is
preaching of dreadful things with a smile upon his face; there is
summer on his brow, and winter on his lips–heaven in his eyes, and
hell in his mouth. You could not bear such a preacher; he would seem to
mock you. Ay, it needs a man to preach a man like yourselves, who is
capable of feeling. There wants one who, when he preaches of Christ,
smiles on his hearers with love–who, when he tells of terror, quails
in his own spirit whilst he utters the wrath of God. The great power of
preaching, next to the power of God's Spirit, lies in the preacher's
feeling it. We shall never do much good in preaching unless we feel
what we utter. "Knowing the terrors of the Lord we persuade men." Now a
glorified spirit from heaven could not feel these things; he could show
but little emotion. True, he could speak of the glories of heaven; and
how would his face grow brighter, and brighter, and brighter, as he
told the wonders of that upper world! But when he came to cry "Flee
from the wrath to come," the voice would sound as sweet when he spoke
of death and judgment, as when he spoke of glory; and that would make
sad discord, the sound not answering to the sense–the modulations of
his voice being unfit to express the idea upon the mind. Such a
preacher could not be a powerful preacher, even though he came again
from the dead.
And one thing we may say, he could not preach more closely home to you
than you have had the truth preached to you. I shall not say that you
have had preaching put very close to you from the pulpit. I have
striven to be very personal sometimes: I have not shunned to point some
of you out in the congregation, and given you a word of rebuke, such as
you could not mistake nor if I knew that any of you were indulging in
sin would I spare you. I bless God that I am not afraid to be a
personal preacher, and to shoot the arrow at each separate man when he
needs it. But, nevertheless, I cannot preach home to you as I would. Ye
are all thinking your neighbor is intended, when it is yourself. But
you have had a personal preacher once. There was a great preacher
called at your house one day; his name was Cholera and Death. A
terrible preacher he! With grim words and hard accent he came and laid
his hand upon your wife; and then he put his other hand on you, and you
grew cold and well-nigh stiff: You remember how he preached to you
then. He made your conscience ring again and again; he would not let
you lie still; he cried aloud concerning your sin and your iniquity; he
brought all your past life to light, and set all your evil conduct in
review. From your childhood even up till then he led you through all
your wanderings: and then he took the whip of the law, and began to
plough your back with furrows. He affrighted you with "the wrath to
come." You sent for the minister; you bade him pray; you thought you
prayed yourself; and after all that, that preacher went away, and he
had come on a fruitless errand; no good had been done to you; you had
been a little startled and a little stirred, but you are to-day what
you were then, unsaved and unconverted. Then, sir, you would not be
converted, though one rose from the dead. You have been wrecked at sea;
you have been cast into the jaws of the grave by fever; you have been
nearly smitten to death by accident; and yet, with all this personal
preaching, and with Mr. Conscience thundering in your ears, you are
to-day unconverted. Then learn this truth, that no outward means in the
world can ever bring you to the footstool of divine grace and make you
a Christian, if Moses and the prophets have failed. All that can be
done now is this: God the Spirit must bless the word to you otherwise
conscience cannot awaken you, reason cannot awaken you, powerful
appeals cannot awaken you persuasion cannot bring you to Christ.
Nothing will ever do it except God the Holy Spirit. Oh! do you feel
that you are drawn this morning? Does some sweet hand draw you to
Christ, and does some blessed voice say, "Come to Jesus, sinner; there
is hope for thee." Then that IS God's Spirit. Bless him for it! He is
drawing thee by the bands of love and the cords of a man. But oh, if
thou be undrawn and left to thyself, thou wilt surely die. Brethren and
sisters in the faith, let us lift up our prayers to God for sinners,
that they may be drawn to Christ–that they may be led to come, all
guilty and burdened, and look to Jesus to be lightened, and that they
may be persuaded, by the coming power of the Spirit, to take Christ to
be their "all-in-all," knowing that they themselves are nothing at
all." O God the Holy Spirit bless these words, for Jesus Christ's sake.
Amen and Amen.