Delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for
ashes the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit
of heaviness, that they might be called trees of righteousness, the
planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified."–Isaiah 61:3.
WHEN SOLDIERS ARE ON THE MARCH, or advancing to the battle, military
men think it wise to let the trumpet sound, that the warriors may be
stimulated by the thrilling music. Many a weary soldier has tramped on
with new vigor when the band has struck up a lively march, or a
soul-moving tune. In the midst of our present Christian service, my
brethren, when I trust all of you have resolved to come to the help of
the Lord–to the help of the Lord against the mighty–we would bid the
silver trumpets of gospel promise sound aloud, that the hosts of God as
they march on in battle array may feel their pulses quickened and their
souls cheered. May times of revival be also seasons of refreshing. In
times of great toil and eminent service much extra refreshment may with
wisdom be dealt out. Harvest men require substantial meals amid their
exhausting toil; and, as I feel that the Lord of the harvest would not
have his laborers treated niggardly, I have to regale each of you with
a portion of bread, a good piece of flesh, and a flagon of wine.
Melchisedek met Abraham with bread and wine–not on some fine holiday
when he had been musing in the plains of Mamre, but when he returned
from the slaughter of the kings. After hard fighting comes sweet
refreshment, and any here who have striven diligently to serve the
Master, and have been pursuing their sacred calling even unto
faintness, will be entitled to come and sit down, and partake of the
nourishing bread and wine, which such a text as this prepares for all
the sons of the Father of the faithful. Elijah ate of bread brought by
angelic hands, for a forty days' journey was before him; such a trial
of strength may be ordained for brethren to whom this word shall come.
Precious promises are for poverty-stricken saints. The strong drink of
divine consolation is for the heavy of heart, as saith Solomon–"Let
him drink and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more." May
he who uttered the words which are now open before us speak them with
power to the heart of each one here present. They came from the lips of
Jesus; may they drop again into our hearts fresh from his mouth (that
well of comfort undefiled), and fall with all their ancient life-giving
power.
We will read our text again, and then meditate thereon. "To appoint
unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the
oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of
heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the
planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified."
Our first consideration will be, who gives this word? Secondly, to whom
doth he give it? Thirdly, what saith he in it? And, fourthly, what will
come of it?
I. First then, WHO GIVES THIS WORD? It is a word to mourners in Zion,
meant for their consolation. But who gives it? The answer is not far to
seek. It comes from him who said, "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon
me," "he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." Now, in a very
inferior and subordinate sense, Christian ministers have the Spirit of
God resting upon them, and they are sent to bind up the broken-hearted;
but they can only do so in the name of Jesus, and in strength given
from him. This word is not spoken by them, nor by prophets or apostles
either, but by the great Lord and Master of apostles and prophets, and
ministers, even by Jesus Christ himself. If he declares that he will
comfort us, then we may rest assured we shall be comforted! The stars
in his right hand may fail to penetrate the darkness, but the rising of
the Sun of Righteousness effectually scatters the gloom. If the
consolation of Israel himself comes forth for the uplifting of his
downcast people, then their doubts and fears may well fly apace, since
his presence is light and peace.
But, who is this anointed one who comes to comfort mourners? He is
described in the preface to the text as a preacher. "The Spirit of the
Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath appointed me to preach good
tidings unto the meek." Remember what kind of preacher Jesus was.
"Never man spake like this man." He was a son of consolation indeed. It
was said of him, "A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking
flax shall he not quench." He was gentleness itself: his speech did not
fall like a hail shower, it dropped like the rain, and distilled as the
dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb. He came down like the soft
vernal shower upon the new-mown grass, scattering refreshment and
revival wherever his words were heard. The widow at the gates of Nain
dried her eyes when he spake, and Jairus no longer mourned for his
child. Magdalene gave over weeping, and Thomas ceased from doubting,
when Jesus showed himself. Heavy hearts leaped for joy, and dim eyes
sparkled with delight at his bidding. Now, if such be the person who
declares he will comfort the broken-hearted, if he be such a preacher,
we may rest assured he will accomplish his work.
In addition to his being a preacher, he is described as a physician.
"He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." Some hearts want more
than words. The choicest consolations that can be conveyed in human
speech will not reach their case; the wounds of their hearts are deep,
they are not flesh cuts, but horrible gashes which lay bare the bone,
and threaten ere long to kill unless they be skilfully closed. It is,
therefore, a great joy to know that the generous friend who, in the
text, promises to deal with the sorrowing, is fully competent to meet
the most frightful cases. Jehovah Rophi is the name of Jesus of
Nazareth; he is in his own person the Lord that healeth us. He is the
beloved physician of men's souls. "By his stripes we are healed."
Himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses, and he is able
now with a word to heal all our diseases, whatever they may be. Joy to
you, ye sons of mourning; congratulation to you, ye daughters of
despondency: he who comes to comfort you can not only preach with his
tongue, but he can bind up with his hand. "He healeth the broken in
heart, and bindeth up their wounds. He telleth the number of the stars;
he calleth them all by their names."
As if this were not enough, our gracious helper is next described as a
liberator. "He hath sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives, and
the opening of the prison to them that are bound." There were many
downcast persons in Israel in the olden times–persons who had become
bankrupt, and, therefore, had lost their estates, and had even sunk yet
further into debt, till they were obliged to sell their children into
slavery, and to become themselves bondsmen. Their yoke was very heavy,
and their trouble was very sore. But the fiftieth year came round, and
never was there heard music so sweet in all Judea's land, as when the
silver trumpet was taken down on the jubilee morn, and a loud shrill
blast was blown in every city, and hamlet, and village, in all Israel,
from Dan even to Beer-sheba. What meant that clarion sound? It meant
this: "Israelite, thou art free. If thou hast sold thyself, go forth
without money for the year of jubilee has come." Go back, go back, ye
who have lost your lands; seek out the old homestead, and the acres
from whence ye have been driven: they are yours again. Go back, and
plough, and sow, and reap once more, and sit each man under his vine
and his fig-tree, for all your heritages are restored. This made great
joy among all the tribes, but Jesus has come with a similar message.
He, too, publishes a jubilee for bankrupt and enslaved sinners. He
breaks the fetters of sin, and gives believers the freedom of the
truth. None can hold in captivity the souls whom Jesus declares to be
the Lord's free men.
Surely, if the Savior has power, as the text declares, to proclaim
liberty to the captive, and if he can break open prison doors, and set
free those convicted and condemned, he is just the one who can comfort
your soul and mine, though we be mourning in Zion. Let us rejoice at
his coming, and cry Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh in the name of
the Lord. Happy are we that we live in an age when Jesus breaks the
gates of brass and cuts the bars of iron in sunder.
As if this were not all and not enough, one other matter is mentioned
concerning our Lord, and he is pictured as being sent as the herald of
good tidings of all sorts to us the sons of men. Read the second verse:
"To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord." God has taken upon
himself human flesh. The infinite Jehovah came down from heaven and
became an infant, lived among us, and then died for us. Behold in the
person of the incarnate God the sure pledge of divine benevolence. "He
that spared not his own Son, but freely delivered him up for us all,
how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Beloved, the
very fact that a Savior came to the world should be a source of hope to
us, and when we think what a Savior he was, how he suffered, how he
finished the work that was given him to do, and what a salvation it is
which he has wrought out for us, we may well feel that the comfort of
mourners is work for which he is well suited, and which he can execute
most effectually. How beautiful upon Olivet and Calvary are the feet of
him that bringeth, in his person and his world "good tidings, that
publisheth peace, that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth
salvation." But I must not linger. I have spoken of you enough to lead
your thoughts to the blessed person who here declares that he will
comfort the mourner. May the Holy Ghost reveal him unto you in all the
power of his arm, the love of his heart, the virtue of his blood, the
prevalence of his plea, the majesty of his exaltation, and the glory of
his character.
II. Secondly, TO WHOM IS THIS WORD SPOKEN? It is spoken to those who
mourn in Zion. They are in Zion. They are the Lord's people, but they
mourn. To mourn is not always a mark of grace. Nature mourns. Fallen
human nature will have to mourn for ever, except grace shall change it.
But the mourning here meant is a mourning in Zion–a mourning of
gracious souls. Let me try and describe what kind of mourning it is. It
assumes various shapes. It begins in most hearts with lamentation over
past sin. I have broken God's just commandments, I have done evil
against my God, I have destroyed my soul; my heart feels this, and
bitterly mourns. It is one thing to say formally, "I am a miserable
sinner;" it is a very different thing to be one. To say it may be gross
hypocrisy, to feel it is a mark of grace. Oh that every one of us, if
we have never felt mourning for sin may feel it at this hour. May we
mourn to think that we have pierced the Savior, that we have
transgressed against a God so good, and a Redeemer so generous. Those
who mourn for the guilt of past sin, before long, reach a higher point.
Mourners are not suffered long to tarry; grace takes their load of
guilt away. Their transgressions are covered. Do they leave off
mourning then? Oh, no, they mourn in another way. There is a sweet
mourning concerning my past sin which I would never wish to lose. It is
forgiven, every sin of mine is blotted out, and my soul, therefore,
with a sweet bitterness, would mourn over it more and more.
"My sins, my sins, my Savior!
How sad on thee they fall,
Seen through thy gentle patience
I tenfold feel them all.
I know they are forgiven;
But still their pain to me
Is all the grief and anguish
They laid, my Lord, on thee."
This is a kind of mourning which may accompany us even to heaven's
gates, and we might almost regret to have to part with such a friend
even there.
"Lord, let me weep, for nought but sin,
And after none but thee.
And then I would–oh that I might–
A constant weeper be."
True hearts, however, mourn not only for their past transgressions, but
they also sorrow over their present imperfections. If you are what you
should be, dear friend, I am quite certain you see a great deal in
yourself to grieve over. You cannot live as you would live. Whenever I
meet with a person who feels that he is perfect, I conceive at once
that he has not yet attained even a remote conception of what true
perfection must be. The savage of Australia is satisfied with his
weapons of war so long as he has never seen a rifle or heard of a
cannon: to him his hovel is a model of architecture, for he has never
heard of a cathedral or a palace. I have no doubt that a barn-door fowl
would be quite surprised at the complaint which an eagle might make
about its inability to mount as high as it desires to do. The fowl is
perfect–perfect up to the condition of its barn-door,
barley-scratching life, it knows nothing higher than its roosting
place, and so it concludes itself absolutely perfect and fit for all
that is desirable in flight. But oh, could it know where the thunders
dwell, and sail above the clouds where the callow lightnings wait the
bidding of the Lord, then would the creature feel something of the
aspirations and the griefs which torment the heart of the royal bird.
Men know not what God is, nor the infinity of his perfections, nor the
majesty of his purity, else, when highest would they cry, "Higher,
higher, higher," and mourn because they have not yet attained, and need
still to mount as on eagle's wings. Brethren, I speak for you all when
I say, there is not a day in which our service satisfies us, not a deed
we have ever performed that contents us. We see our spots, and would
fain wash them out with tears if we could, though we bless God they are
removed by the precious blood of Jesus. Those are among the blessed who
mourn because they cannot live a perfect life as they desire. To mourn
after more holiness is a sign of holiness, to mourn after greater
conformity to the image of Christ proves that we are already in a
measure conformed thereunto; to sigh after more complete subordination
of our entire life to the will of God is a mourning for which Jesus
Christ will bring rich comfort.
The Christian mourner laments, also, because he cannot be more
continually in communion with God. He knows the sweetness of fellowship
with the Father and with the Son. He cannot bear to have it broken. If
but the thinnest cloud pass between him and the sun of God's love, he
is distressed directly, for he is sensitive lest he should lose the
delights of communion. A native of sunny Italy deplores the absence of
heaven's bright blue, when made to dwell in this land of the fleecy
clouds; and he who has dwelt in unclouded fellowship with the Lord
bemoans his hard lot, if even for awhile he beholds not that face which
is as the sun shining in its strength. Love cannot endure absence, much
less, coldness. True grace finds its life in fellowship, and pines if
it be denied it.
The real Christian mourns, again, because he cannot be more useful. He
wishes he were like a pillar of fire and light, so that he might
evermore by day and by night enlighten the ignorant, and inspire the
dull and laggard. He wishes not so much for more talent as for more
grace to make use of the talent which he has. He would fain bring in a
great rental to the owner of the vineyard who has placed him as a
husbandman among the vines. He longs to bring up priceless pearls from
the deep seas of sin, wherewith to adorn the diadem of his Lord and
king. He sighs because thorns and thistles will spring up where he
looked for a hundred-fold harvest: this makes him groan out, "Who hath
believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?"
Moreover, like his Lord, he mourns for others. He mourns in Zion
because of the deadness of the Christian church, its divisions, its
errors, its carelessness towards the souls of sinners. He cries with
Jeremiah, "How is the gold become dim! How is the much fine gold
changed!" But, he mourns most of all for the unconverted. He sees their
state of alienation from God, and knowing the danger of it, his heart
shrinks within him, as with prophetic glance he sees what their end
will be: when "there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." His heart
breaks for the sins and sorrows of others, and, like his Savior, he
could weep over the cities that reject divine love; he could say like
Moses that he was almost willing to have his name blotted out of the
Book of Life if others might be saved: he feels such sorrow and
heaviness of heart for his kinsmen according to the flesh who are
strangers to Christ, that he has no rest in his death concerning them.
Dear brethren, he that is quickened by the new life obtains an enlarged
heritage of mourning; but, let it not be forgotten, he wins tenfold
more joy as well; and, meanwhile, such weeping is in itself
sweet–tears not too briny, and griefs not too bitter; such griefs we
would wish to feel as long as we live, especially if the Lord Jesus
alternates them with the fulfilling of that most excellent promise, to
which I now direct you.
III. What is that, then, in the third place, WHICH IS SPOKEN in the
text to those that mourn? I would draw particular attention to the
words here, "To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them
beauty for ashes." Come, mourning souls, who mourn in the way
described, come ye gladly hither: there is comfort appointed for you,
and there is also comfort given to you. It is the prerogative of King
Jesus both to appoint and to give. How cheering is the thought that as
our griefs are appointed, so also are our consolations. God has
allotted a portion to every one of his mourners, even as Joseph
allotted a mess to each of his brethren at the feast. You shall have
your due share at the table of grace, and if you are a little one, and
have double sorrows, you shall have a double portion of comfort. "To
appoint unto them." This is a word full of strong consolation; for if
God appoints me a portion, who can deprive me of it? If he appoints my
comfort, who dare stand in the way? If he appoints it, it is mine by
right. But then, to make the appointment secure, he adds the word "To
give." The Holy One of Israel in the midst of Zion gives as well as
appoints. The rich comforts of the gospel are conferred by the Holy
Spirit, at the command of Jesus Christ, upon every true mourner in the
time when he needs them; they are given to each spiritual mourner in
the time when he would faint for lack of them. He can effectually give
the comfort appointed for each particular case. All I can do is to
speak of the comfort for God's mourners. I can neither allot it, nor
yet distribute it; but our Lord can do both. My prayer is that he may
do so at this moment; that every holy mourner may have a time of sweet
rejoicing while siting at the Master's feet in a waiting posture. Did
you never feel, while cast down, on a sudden lifted up, when some
precious promise has come home to your soul? This is the happy
experience of all the saints.
"Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings:
It is the Lord who rises
With healing in his wings.
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again,
A season of clear shining
To cheer it, after rain."
Our ever gracious and almighty Lord knows how to comfort his children,
and be assured he will not leave them comfortless. He who bids his
ministers again and again attend to this duty, and says, "Comfort ye,
comfort ye my people," will not himself neglect to give them
consolation. If you are very heavy, there is the more room for the
display of his grace in you, by making you very joyful in his ways. Do
not despair; do not say, "I have fallen too low, my harp has been so
long upon the willows that it has forgotten Zion's joyful tunes." Oh,
no, you shall lay your fingers amongst the old accustomed strings, and
the art of making melody shall come back to you, and your heart shall
once more be glad. He appoints and he gives–the two words put together
afford double hope to us–he appoints and he gives comfort to his
mourners.
Observe, in the text, the change Christ promises to work for his
mourners. First, here is beauty given for ashes. In the Hebrew there is
a ring in the words which cannot be conveyed in the English. The ashes
that men put upon their head in the East in the time of sorrow made a
grim tiara for the brow of the mourner; the Lord promises to put all
these ashes away, and to substitute for them a glorious head dress–a
diadem of beauty. Or, if we run away from the word, and take the inner
sense, we may look at it thus:–mourning makes the face wan and
emaciated, and so takes away the beauty; but Jesus promises that he
will so come and reveal joy to the sorrowing soul, that the face shall
fill up again: the eyes that were dull and cloudy shall sparkle again,
and the countenance, yea, and the whole person shall be once more
radiant with the beauty which sorrow had so grievously marred. I thank
God I have sometimes seen this change take place in precious saints who
have been cast down in soul. There has even seemed to be a visible
beauty put upon them when they have found peace in Jesus Christ, and
this beauty is far more lovely and striking, because it is evidently a
beauty of the mind, a spiritual lustre, far superior to the surface
comeliness of the flesh. When the Lord shines full upon his servants'
faces, he makes them fair as the moon, when at her full she reflects
the light of the sun. A gracious and unchanging God sheds on his people
a gracious and unfading loveliness. O mourning soul, thou hast made
thine eyes red with weeping, and thy cheeks are marred with furrows,
down which the scalding tears have burned their way; but the Lord that
healeth thee, the Lord Almighty who wipeth all tears from human eyes,
shall visit thee yet; and, if thou now believes "in Jesus, he shall
visit thee now, and chase these cloudy griefs away, and thy face shall
be bright and clear again, fair as the morning, and sparkling as the
dew. Thou shalt rejoice in the God of thy salvation, even in God, thy
exceeding joy. Is not this a dainty promise for mourning souls?
Then, it is added, "He will give the oil of joy for mourning." Here we
have first beauty, and then unction. The Orientals used rich perfumed
oils on their persons–used them largely and lavishly in times of great
joy. Now, the Holy Spirit comes upon those who believe in Jesus, and
gives them an anointing of perfume, most precious, more sweet and
costly than the herd of Araby. An unction, such as royalty has never
received, sheds its costly moisture over all the redeemed when the
Spirit of the Lord rests upon them. "We have an unction from the Holy
One," saith the apostle. "Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup
runneth over." Oh, how favored are those who have the Spirit of God
upon them! You remember that the oil which was poured on Aaron's head
went down to the skirts of his garment, so that the same oil was on his
skirts that had been on his head. It is the same Spirit that rests on
the believer as that which rests on Jesus Christ, and he that is joined
unto Christ is one Spirit. What favor is here! instead of mourning, the
Christian shall receive the Holy Spirit, the Comforter who shall take
of the things of Christ, and reveal them unto him, and make him not
merely glad, but honored and esteemed.
Then, it is added, to give still greater fullness to the cheering
promise, that the Lord will give "the garment of praise for the spirit
of heaviness." The man is first made beautiful, next he has the
anointing, then afterwards he is arrayed in robes of splendor. What
garments these are! Surely Solomon in all his glory wore not such right
royal apparel. "The garment of praise." what a dress is this! Speak of
wrought gold, or fine linen, or needlework of divers colors, or
taffeta, or damasks, or gorgeous silks most rich and rare which come
from far off lands–where is anything compared with "the garment of
praise?" When a man wraps himself about, as it were, with psalmody, and
lives for ever a chorister, singing not with equal voice, but with the
same earnest heart as they do who day and night keep up the never
ending hymn before the throne of the infinite! As, what a life is his,
what a man is he! O mourner, this is to be your portion; take it now;
Jesus Christ will cover you, even at this hour, with the garment of
praise; so grateful shall you be for sins forgiven, for infirmity
overcome, for watchfulness bestowed, for the church revived, for
sinners saved, that you shall undergo the greatest conceivable change,
and the sordid garments of your woe shall be put aside for the
brilliant array of delight. It shall not be the spirit of praise for
the spirit of heaviness, though that were a fair exchange, but as your
heaviness you tried to keep to yourself, so your praise you shall not
keep to yourself, it shall be a garment to you, external and visible,
as well as inward and profound. Wherever you are it shall be displayed
to others, and they shall see and take knowledge of you that God has
done great things for you whereof you are glad. I wish I had power to
speak fitly on such a theme as this; but, surely, it needs him upon
whom the Spirit rested without measure to proclaim this joyful promise
to the mourners in Zion.
We must close, by noticing what will be the result of this appointment,
and text concludes, by saying, "That they might be called trees of
righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified."
We learn, here, that those mourning souls who are cast down, and have
put ashes on their heads, shall, when Jesus Christ in infinite mercy
comes to them, be made like trees–like "oaks;" the original is, like
"oaks of righteousness," that is, they shall become strong, firmly
rooted, covered with verdure; they shall be like a well-watered tree
for pleasantness and delight. Thou sayest, "I am a dry tree, a sere
branch, I am a cast off, fruitless bough; Oh that I were visited of God
and saved! I mourn because I cannot be what I would." Mourner, thou
shalt be all thou wouldst be, and much more if Jesus visits thee.
Breathe the prayer to him now; look to him, trust him. He can change
thee from a withered tree that seems twice dead into a tree standing by
the rivers of water, whose leaf is unwithering, and whose fruit ripens
in its season. Only have confidence in an anointed Savior, rely upon
him who came not here to destroy but to bless, and thou shalt yet
through faith become a tree of righteousness, the planting of the Lord,
that he may be glorified.
But, the very pith of the text lies in a little word to which you must
look. "Ye shall be called trees of righteousness." Now, there are many
mourning saints who are trees of righteousness, but nobody calls them
so, they are so desponding that they give a doubtful idea to others.
Observers ask, "Is this a Christian?" And those who watch and observe
them are not at all struck with their Christian character. Indeed, I
may be speaking to some here who are true believers in Jesus, but they
are all their lifetime subject to bondage; they hardly know themselves
whether they are saved, and, therefore, they cannot expect that others
should be very much impressed by their godly character and fruitful
conversation. But, O mourners! if Jesus visits you, and gives you the
oil of joy, men shall call you "trees of righteousness," they shall see
grace in you, they shall not be able to help owning it, it shall be so
distinct in the happiness of your life, that they shall be compelled to
see it. I know some Christian people who, wherever they go, are
attractive advertisements of the gospel. Nobody could be with them for
a half an hour without saying, "Whence do they gain this calm, this
peace, this tranquility, this holy delight and joy?" Many have been
attracted to the cross of Christ by the holy pleasantness and cheerful
conversation of those whom Christ has visited with the abundance of his
love. I wish we were all such. I would not discourage a mourner; no,
but encourage him to seek after the garments of praise; nevertheless, I
must say that it is a very wretched thing for so many professors to go
about the world grumbling at what they have and at what they have not,
murmuring at the dispensations of providence, and at the labors of
their brethren. They are more like wild crab-trees than the Lords
fruit-trees. Well may people say, "If these are Christians, God save us
from such Christianity." But, when a man is contented–more than that,
when he is happy under all circumstances, when "his spirit doth rejoice
in God his Savior" in deep distress, when he can sing in the fires of
affliction, when he can rejoice on the bed of sickness, when his shout
of triumph grows louder as his conflict waxes more and more severe, and
when he can utter the sweetest song of victory in his departing
moments, then all who see such people call them trees of righteousness,
they confess that they are the people of God.
Note, still, the result of all this goes further, "They shall he called
trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord," that is to say,
where there is joy imparted, and unction given from the Holy Spirit,
instead of despondency, men will say, "It is God's work, it is a tree
that God has planted, it could not grow like that if anybody else had
planted it; this man is a man of God's making, his joy is a joy of
God's giving." I feel sure that in the case of some of us we were under
such sadness of heart before conversion, through a sense of sin, that
when we did find peace, everybody noticed the change there was in us,
and they said one to another, "Who has made this man so happy, for he
was just now most heady and depressed?" And, when we told them where we
lost our burden, they said, "Ah, there is something, in religion after
all." "Then said they among the heathen the Lord hath done great things
for them." Remember poor Christian in Pilgrim's Progress. Mark what
heavy sighs he heaved, what tears fell from his eyes, what a wretched
man he was when he wrung his hands, and said, "The city wherein I dwell
is to be burned up with fire from heaven, and I shall be consumed in
it, and, besides, I am myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth
hard upon me. Oh that I could get rid of it!" Do you remember John
Bunyan's description of how he got rid of the burden? He stood at the
foot of the cross, and there was a sepulcher hard by, and as he stood
and looked, and saw one hanging on the tree, suddenly the bands that
bound his burden cracked, and the load rolled right away into the
sepulcher, and when he looked for it, it could not be found. And what
did he do? Why, he gave three great leaps for joy, and sang,
"Bless'd cross! bless'd sepulcher! bless'd rather
be the man that there was put to shame for me."
If those who knew the pilgrim in his wretchedness had met him on the
other side of that never-to-be-forgotten sepulcher, they would have
said, "Are you the same man?" If Christiana had met him that day, she
would have said, "My husband, are you the same? What a change has come
over you;" and, when she and the children marked the father's cheerful
conversation, they could have been compelled to say, "It is the Lord's
doing, and it is wondrous in our eyes." Oh live such a happy life that
you may compel the most wicked man to ask where you learned the art of
living. Let the stream of your life be so clear, so limpid, so cool, so
sparkling, so like the river of the water of life above, that men may
say, "Whence came this crystal rivulet? We will trace it to its
source," and so may they be led to the foot of that dear cross where
all your hopes began.
Another word remains, and when we have considered it, we will conclude.
That other word is this, "The planting of the Lord, that he might be
glorified." That is the end of it all, that is the great result we
drive at, and that is the object even of God himself, "that he might be
glorified." For when men see the cheerful Christian, and perceive that
this is God's work, then they own the power of God; not always,
perhaps, with their hearts as they should, but still they are obliged
to confess "this is the finger of God." Meanwhile, the saints,
comforted by your example, praise and bless God, and all the church
lifts up a song to the Most High. Come, my brethren and sisters, are
any of you down; are you almost beneath the enemy's foot? Here is a
word for you, "Rejoice not over me, O mine enemy, though I fall yet
shall I rise again." Are any of you in deep trouble–very deep trouble?
Another word then for you; "When thou passeth through the waters, I
will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow
thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned;
neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." Are you pressed with labors
and afflictions? "As thy days so shall thy strength be," "All things
work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the
called according to his purpose." Are you persecuted? Here is a note of
encouragement for you: "Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and
persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely,
for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward
in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you."
Whatever your circumstances are, "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again
I say rejoice." Think what Jesus has given you, your sins are pardoned
for his name sake, your heaven is made secure to you, and all that is
wanted to bring you there; you have grace in your hearts, and glory
awaits you; you have already grace within you, and greater grace shall
be granted you; you are renewed by the Spirit of Christ in your inner
man the good work is begun, and God will never leave it till he has
finished it; your names are in his book, nay, graven on the palms of
his hands; his love never changes, his power never diminishes, his
grace never fails, his truth is firm as the hills, and his faithfulness
is like the great mountains. Lean on the love of his heart, on the
might of his arm, on the merit of his blood, on the power of his plea,
and the indwelling of his Spirit. Take such promises as these for your
consolation, "Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble
knees. Say to them that are of a fearful heart, be strong, fear not."
"Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel; I will help thee,
saith the Lord, and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel." "For a small
moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee.
In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with
everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy
Redeemer. For this is as the waters of Noah unto me: for as I have
sworn that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth; so have
I sworn that I would not be wroth with thee, nor rebuke thee. For the
mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall
not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be
removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee." "My grace is
sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." "He
giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth
strength." "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the
everlasting arms: and he shall thrust out the enemy from before thee;
and shall say, destroy them." "I am God, I fail not, therefore ye sons
of Jacob are not consumed." One might continue for ever quoting these
precious passages, but may the Lord apply one or other of them to every
mourner's soul; and, especially if there be a mourning sinner here, may
he get a grip of that choice word, "Him that cometh to me I will in no
wise cast out;" or, that other grand sentence, "All manner of sin and
blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men;" or, that other, "The blood of
Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin:" or, that equally
encouraging word, "Come now, and let us reason together; though your
sins be as scarlet they shall be as wool, though they be red like
crimson they shall be as snow." The Lord bring us all into comfort and
joy by the way of the cross.
Peradventure, I speak to some for whom the promises of God have no
charm; let me, then, remind them that his threatenings are as sure as
his promises. He can bless, but he can also curse. Be appoints mourning
for those who laugh now with sinful merriment; he will give to his
enemies vengeance for all their rebellions. He has himself said, "And
it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there shall be
stink; and instead of a girdle a rent; and instead of well set hair
baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth; and
burning instead of beauty." Beware, then, ye that forget God, lest he
overthrow you in his hot displeasure. Seek ye the Savior now, lest the
acceptable year of the Lord be closed with a long winter of utter
despair.
"Ye who spurn his righteous sway,
Yet, oh yet, he spares your breath;
Yet his hand, averse to slay,
Balances the bolt of death.
Ere that dreadful bolt descends,
Haste before his feet to fall,
Kiss the scepter he extends,
And adore him, Lord of all.'"
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Isaiah 61.