A Sermon
(No. 39-40)
Delivered on Tuesday Evening, September 4, 1855, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
In a field, King Edward's Road, Hackney.
"And I say unto you, That many shall come from the east and west, and
shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of
heaven. But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer
darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."–Matthew
8:11-12.
This is a land where plain speaking is allowed, and where the people
are willing to afford a fair hearing to any one who can tell them that
which is worth their attention. To-night I am quite certain of an
attentive audience, for I know you too well to suppose otherwise. This
field, as you are all aware, is private property; and I would just give
a suggestion to those who go out in the open air to preach–that it is
far better to get into a field, or a plot of unoccupied
building-ground, than to block up the roads and stop business; it is
moreover, far better to be somewhat under protection, so that we can at
once prevent disturbance.
To-night, I shall, I hope, encourage you to seek the road to heaven. I
shall also have to utter some very sharp things concerning the end of
the lost in the pit of hell. Upon both these subjects I will try and
speak, as God helps me. But, I beseech you, as you love your souls,
weigh right and wrong this night; see whether what I say be the truth
of God. If it be not, reject it utterly, and cast it away; but if it
is, at your peril disregard it; for, as you shall answer before God,
the great Judge of heaven and earth, it will go ill with you if the
words of his servant and of his Scripture be despised.
My text has two parts. The first is very agreeable to my mind, and
gives me pleasure; the second is terrible in the extreme; but, since
they are both the truth, they must be preached. The first part of my
text is, "I say unto you, that many shall come from the east and west,
and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom
of heaven." The sentence which I call the black, dark, and threatening
part is this: "But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into
outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."
I. Let us take the first part. Here is a most glorious promise. I will
read it again: "Many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit
down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven." I
like that text, because it tells me what heaven is, and gives me a
beautiful picture of it. It says, it is a place where I shall sit down
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob. O what a sweet thought that is for
the working man! He often wipes the hot sweat from his face, and he
wonders whether there is a land where he shall have to toil no longer.
He scarcely ever eats a mouthful of bread that is not moistened with
the sweat of his brow. Often he comes home weary, and flings himself
upon his couch, perhaps too tired to sleep. He says, "Oh! is there no
land where I can rest? Is there no place where I can sit, and for once
let these weary limbs be still? Is there no land where I can be quiet?
Yes, thou son of toil and labor,
"There is a happy land
Far, far away–"
where toil and labor are unknown. Beyond yon blue welkin there is a
city fair and bright, its walls are jasper, and its light is brighter
than the sun. There "the weary are at rest, and the wicked cease from
troubling." Immortal spirits are yonder, who never wipe sweat from
their brow, for "they sow not, neither do they reap;" they have not to
toil and labor.
"There, on a green and flowery mount,
Their weary souls shall sit;
And with transporting joys recount
The labors of their feet."
To my mind, one of the best views of heaven is, that it is a land of
rest–especially to the working man. Those who have not to work hard,
think they will love heaven as a place of service. That is very true.
But to the working man, to the man who toils with his brain or with his
hands, it must ever be a sweet thought that there is a land where we
shall rest. Soon, this voice will never be strained again; soon, these
lungs will never have to exert themselves beyond their power; soon,
this brain shall not be racked for thought; but I shall sit at the
banquet-table of God; yea, I shall recline on the bosom of Abraham, and
be at ease for ever. Oh! weary sons and daughters of Adam, you will not
have to drive the ploughshare into the unthankful soil in heaven, you
will not need to rise to daily toils before the sun hath risen, and
labor still when the sun hath long ago gone to his rest; but ye shall
be still, ye shall be quiet, ye shall rest yourselves, for all are rich
in heaven, all are happy there, all are peaceful. Toil, trouble,
travail, and labor, are words that cannot be spelled in heaven; they
have no such things there, for they always rest.
And mark the good company they sit with. They are to "sit down with
Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob." Some people think that in heaven we
shall know nobody. But our text declares here, that we "shall sit down
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob." Then I am sure that we shall be
aware that they are Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob. I have heard of a
good woman, who asked her husband, when she was dying, "My dear, do you
think you will know me when you and I get to heaven?" "Shall I know
you?" he said, "why, I have always known you while I have been here,
and do you think I shall be a greater fool when I get to heaven?" I
think it was a very good answer. If we have known one another here, we
shall know one another there. I have dear departed friends up there,
and it is always a sweet thought to me, that when I shall put my foot,
as I hope I may, upon the threshold of heaven, there will come my
sisters and brothers to clasp me by the hand and say, "Yes, thou loved
one, and thou art here." Dear relatives that have been separated, you
will meet again in heaven. One of you has lost a mother–she is gone
above; and if you follow the track of Jesus, you shall meet her there.
Methinks I see yet another coming to meet you at the door of Paradise;
and though the ties of natural affection may be in a measure
forgotten,–I may be allowed to use a figure–how blessed would she be
as she turned to God, and said, "Here am I, and the children that thou
hast given me." We shall recognize our friends:–husband, you will know
your wife again. Mother, you will know those dear babes of yours–you
marked their features when they lay panting and gasping for breath. You
know how ye hung over their graves when the cold sod was sprinkled over
them, and it was said, "Earth to earth. Dust to dust, and ashes to
ashes." But ye shall hear those loved voices again: ye shall hear those
sweet voices once more; ye shall yet know that those whom ye loved have
been loved by God. Would not that be a dreary heaven for us to inhabit,
where we should be alike unknowing and unknown? I would not care to go
to such a heaven as that. I believe that heaven is a fellowship of the
saints, and that we shall know one another there. I have often thought
I should love to see Isaiah; and, as soon as I get to heaven, methinks,
I would ask for him, because he spoke more of Jesus Christ than all the
rest. I am sure I should want to find out good George Whitefield–he
who so continually preached to the people, and wore himself out with a
more than seraphic zeal. O yes! We shall have choice company in heaven
when we get there. There will be no distinction of learned and
unlearned, clergy and laity, but we shall walk freely one among
another; we shall feel that we are brethren; we shall "sit down with
Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob." I have heard of a lady who was visited
by a minister on her deathbed, and she said to him, "I want to ask you
one question, now I am about to die." "Well," said the minister, "what
is it?" "Oh!" said she, in a very affected way, "I want to know if
there are two places in heaven, because I could not bear that Betsy in
the kitchen should be in heaven along with me, she is so unrefined?"
The minister turned round and said, "O! don't trouble yourself about
that, madam. There is no fear of that; for, until you get rid of you
accursed pride, you will never enter heaven at all." We must all get
rid of our pride. We must come down and stand on an equality in the
sight of God, and see in every man a brother, before we can hope to be
found in glory. Aye, we bless God, we thank him that there will be no
separate table for one and for another. The Jew and the Gentile will
sit down together. The great and the small shall feed in the same
pasture, and we shall "sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in
the kingdom of heaven."
But my text hath a yet greater depth of sweetness, for it says, that
"many shall come and shall sit down." Some narrow-minded bigots think
that heaven will be a very small place, where there will be a very few
people, who went to their chapel or their church. I confess, I have no
wish for a very small heaven, and love to read in the Scriptures that
there are many mansions in my Father's house. How often do I hear
people say, "Ah! straight is the gate and narrow is the way, and few
there be that find it. There will be very few in heaven; there will be
most lost." My friend, I differ from you. Do you think that Christ will
let the devil beat him? That he will let the devil have more in hell
than there will be in heaven? No; it is impossible. For then Satan
would laugh at Christ. There will be more in heaven than there are
among the lost. God says, that "there will be a number that no man can
number who will be saved;" but he never says, that there will be a
number that no man can number that will be lost. There will be a host
beyond all count who will get into heaven. What glad tidings for you
and for me! For, if there are so many to be saved, why should not I be
saved? Why should not you? Why should not yon man, over there in the
crowd, say, "cannot I be one among the multitude?" And may not that
poor woman there take heart, and say, "Well, if there were but
half-a-dozen saved, I might fear that I should not be one; but, since
many are to come, why should not I also be saved?" Cheer up,
disconsolate! Cheer up, son of mourning, child of sorrow, there is hope
for thee still! I can never know that any man is past God's grace.
There be a few that have sinned that sin that is unto death, and God
gives them up; but the vast host of mankind are yet within the reach of
sovereign mercy–"and many of them shall come from the east and from
the west, and shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven."
Look at my text again, and you will see where these people come from.
They are to "come from the east and west." The Jews said that they
would all come from Palestine, every one of them, every man, woman, and
child; that there would not be one in heaven that was not a Jew. And
the Pharisees thought that, if they were not all Pharisees, they could
not be saved. But Jesus Christ said, there will be many that will come
from the east and from the west. There will be a multitude from that
far-off land of China, for God is doing a great work there, and we hope
that the gospel will yet be victorious in that land. There will be a
multitude from this western land of England, from the western country
beyond the sea in America, and from the south in Australia, and from
the north in Canada, Siberia, and Russia. From the uttermost parts of
the earth there shall come many to sit down in the kingdom of God. But
I do not think this text is to be understood so much geographically as
spiritually. When it says that they "shall come from the east and
west," I think it does not refer to nations particularly, but to
different kinds of people. Now, "the east and the west" signify those
who are the very farthest off from religion; yet many of them will be
saved and get to heaven. There is a class of persons who will always be
looked upon as hopeless. Many a time have I heard a man or woman say of
such a one, "He cannot be saved: he is too abandoned. What is he good
for? Ask him to go to a place of worship–he was drunk on Saturday
night. What would be the use of reasoning with him? There is no hope
for him. He is a hardened fellow. See what he has done these many
years. What good will it be to speak to him? Now, hear this, ye who
think your fellows worse than yourselves–ye who condemn others,
whereas ye are often just as guilty: Jesus Christ says, "many shall
come from the east and west." There will be many in heaven that were
drunkards once. I believe, among that blood-bought throng, there are
many who reeled in and out the tavern half their lifetime. But, by the
power of divine grace, they were able to dash the liquor-cup to the
ground. They renounced the riot of intoxication–fled away from it–and
served God. Yes! There will be many in heaven who were drunkards on
earth. There will be many harlots: some of the most abandoned will be
found there. You remember the story of Whitefield's once saying, that
there would be some in heaven who were "the devil's castaways;" some
that the devil would hardly think good enough for him, and yet whom
Christ would save. Lady Huntingdon once gently hinted that such
language was not quite proper. But, just at the time, there happened to
be heard a ring at the bell, and Whitefield went down-stairs.
Afterwards he came up and said, "Your ladyship, what do you think a
poor woman had to say to me just now? She was a sad profligate, and she
said, O, Mr. Whitefield, when you were preaching, you told us that
Christ would take in the devil's castaways, and I am one of them,'" and
that was the means of her salvation. Shall anybody ever check us from
preaching to the lowest of the low? I have been accused of getting all
the rabble of London around me. God bless the rabble! God save the
rabble! then, say I. But, suppose they are "the rabble," who need the
gospel more than they do? Who require to have Christ preached to them
more than they do? We have lots of those who preach to ladies and
gentlemen, and we want some one to preach to the rabble in these
degenerate days. Oh! here is comfort for me, for many of the rabble are
to come from the east and from the west. Oh! what would you think if
you were to see the difference between some that are in heaven and some
that shall be there? There might be found one whose hair hangs across
his eyes, his locks are matted, he looks horrible, his bloated eyes
start from his face, he grins almost like an idiot, he has drunk away
his very brain until life seems to have departed, so far as sense and
being are concerned; yet I would tell to you, "that man is capable of
salvation:–and in a few years I might say "look up yonder;" see you
that bright star? discern you that man with a crown of pure gold upon
his head? do you notice that being clad in robes of sapphire and in
garments of light? That is the self-same man who sat there a poor,
benighted, almost idiotic being; yet sovereign grace and mercy have
saved him! There are none, except those, as I have said before, who
have sinned the unpardonable sin, who are beyond God's mercy. Fetch me
out the worst, and still I would preach the gospel to them; fetch me
out the vilest, still I would preach to them, because I recollect my
Master said, "Go ye out into the highways and hedges, and compel them
to come in that my house may be filled." "Many shall come from the east
and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the
kingdom of heaven."
There is one more word I must notice before I have done with this sweet
portion–that is the word "shall." Oh! I love God's "shalls" and
"wills." There is nothing comparable to them. Let a man say "shall,"
what is it good for? "I will," says man, and he never performs; "I
shall," says he, and he breaks his promise. But it is never so with
God's "shalls." If he says "shall," it shall be; when he says "will,"
it will be. Now he has said here, "many shall come." The devil says
"they shall not come;" but "they shall come." Their sins say "you can't
come;" God says "you shall come." You, yourselves, say, "you won't
come;" God says "you shall come." Yes! There are some here who are
laughing at salvation, who can scoff at Christ and mock at the gospel;
but I tell you some of you shall come yet. "What!" you say, "can God
make me become a Christian?" I tell you yes, for herein rests the power
of the gospel. It does not ask you consent; but it gets it. It does not
say, Will you have it? But it makes you willing in the day of God's
power. Not against your will, but it makes you willing. It shows you
its value, and then you fall in love with it; and straightway you run
after it and have it. Many people have said, "we will not have anything
to do with religion." yet they have been converted. I have heard of a
man who once went to chapel to hear the singing, and as soon as the
minister began to preach, he put his fingers in his ears and would not
listen. But by-and-by some tiny insect settled on his face, so that he
was obliged to take one finger out of his ears to brush it away. Just
then the minister said, "he that hath ears to hear let him hear." The
man listened; and God met with him at that moment to his soul's
conversion. He went out a new man, a changed character. He who came in
to laugh retired to pray; he who came in to mock went out to bend his
knee in penitence; he who entered to spend an idle hour went home to
spend an hour in devotion with his God. The sinner became a saint; the
profligate became a penitent. Who know that there may not be some like
that here? The gospel wants not your consent, it gets it. It knocks the
enmity out of your heart. You say, "I do not want to be saved;" Christ
says you shall be. He makes your will turn round, and then you cry,
"Lord, save, or I perish." "Ah," might Heaven exclaim, "I knew I would
make you say that;" and then he rejoices over you because he has
changed your will and made you willing in the day of his power. If
Jesus Christ were to stand on the platform to-night, what would many
people do with him? "O!" say some, "we would make him a King." I do not
believe it. They would crucify him again, if they had the opportunity.
If he were to come and say, "Here I am, I love you, will you be saved
by me?" not one of you would consent if you were left to your will. If
he should look upon you with those eyes, before whose power the lion
would have crouched; if he spoke with that voice which poured forth a
cataract of eloquence like a stream of nectar rolling down from the
cliffs above, not a single person would come to be his disciple. No; it
wants the power of the Spirit to make men come to Jesus Christ. He
himself said, "No man can come to me except the Father who hath sent me
draw him." Ah! we want that; and here we have it. They shall come! They
shall come! Ye may laugh, ye may despise us; but Jesus Christ shall not
die for nothing. If some of you reject him, there are some that will
not. It there are some that are not saved, others shall be. Christ
shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the
Lord shall prosper in his hands. Some think that Christ died, and yet,
that some for whom he died will be lost. I never could understand that
doctrine. If Jesus, my surety, bore my griefs and carried my sorrows, I
believe myself to be as secure as the angels in heaven. God cannot ask
payment twice. If Christ paid my debt, shall I have to pay it again?
No.
"Free from sin I walk at large
The Saviour's blood's my full discharge;
At his dear feet content I lay,
A sinner saved, and homage pay."
They shall come! They shall come! And naught in heaven, nor on earth,
nor in hell, can stop them from coming.
And now, thou chief of sinners, list one moment, while I call thee to
Jesus. There is one person here to-night, who thinks himself the worst
soul that ever lived. There is one who says to himself, "I do not
deserve to be called to Christ, I am sure!" Soul! I call thee! thou
lost, most wretched outcast, this night, by authority given me of God,
I call thee to come to my Saviour. Some time ago, when I went into the
County Court to see what they were doing, I heard a man's name called
out, and immediately the man said, "Make way! make way! They call me!"
And up he came. Now, I call the chief of sinners to-night, and let him
say, "Make way! make way, doubts! make way, fears! make way, sins!
Christ calls me! And if Christ calls me, that is enough!"
"I'll to his gracious feet approach
Whose sceptre mercy gives.
Perhaps he may command me, "Touch!"
And then the suppliant lives."
"I can but perish if I go;
I am resolved to try,
For if I stay away, I know
I must for ever die."
"But, should I die with mercies sought,
When I the king have tried,
That were to die, (delightful thought!)
As sinner never died."
Go and try my Saviour! Go and try my Saviour! If he cast you away after
you have sought him, tell in the pit that Christ would not hear you.
But that you shall never be allowed to do. It would dishonor the mercy
of the covenant for God to cast away one penitent sinner; and it never
shall be while it is written, "Many shall come from the east and west,
and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom
of heaven."
II. The second part of my text is heart-breaking. I could preach with
great delight to myself from the first part; but here is a dreary task
to my soul, because there are gloomy words here. But, as I have told
you, what is written in the Bible must be preached, whether it be
gloomy or cheerful. There are some ministers who never mention anything
about hell. I heard of a minister who once said to his congregation,
"If you do not love the Lord Jesus Christ, you will be sent to that
place which it is not polite to mention." He ought not to have been
allowed to preach again, I am sure, if he could not use plain words.
Now, if I saw that house on fire over there, do you think I would stand
and say, "I believe the operation of combustion is proceeding yonder?"
No; I would call out, "Fire! fire! and then everybody would know what I
meant. So, if the Bible says, "The children of the kingdom shall be
cast out into outer darkness," am I to stand here and mince the matter
at all? God forbid! We must speak the truth as it is written. It is a
terrible truth, for it says, "the children of the kingdom shall be cast
out!" Now, who are those children? I will tell you. "The children of
the kingdom" are those people who are noted for the externals of piety,
but who have nothing of the internals of it. People whom you will see
with their Bibles and Hymn Books marching off to chapel as religiously
as possible, or going to church as devoutly and demurely as they can,
looking as sombre and serious as parish beadles, and fancying that they
are quite sure to be saved, though their hearts are not in the matter;
nothing but their bodies. These are the persons who are "the children
of the kingdom." They have no grace, no life, no Christ, and they shall
be cast into outer darkness.
Again, these people are the children of pious fathers and mothers.
There is nothing touches a man's heart, mark you, like talking about
his mother. I have heard of a swearing sailor, whom nobody could
manage, not even the police, who was always making some disturbance
wherever he went. Once he went into a place of worship, and no one
could keep him still; but a gentleman went up and said to him, "Jack,
you had a mother once." With that the tears ran down his cheeks. He
said, "Ha! bless you, sir, I had; and I brought her gray hairs with
sorrow to the grave, and a pretty fellow I am to be here to-night." He
then sat down, quite sobered and subdued by the very mention of his
mother. Ah, and there are some of you, "children of the kingdom," who
can remember your mothers. Your mother took you on her knee and taught
you early to pray; your father tutored you in the ways of godliness.
And yet you are here to-night, without grace in you heart–without hope
of heaven. You are going downwards towards hell as fast as your feet
can carry you. There are some of you who have broken your poor mother's
heart. Oh! if I could tell you what she has suffered for you when you
have at night been indulging in you sin. Do you know what your guilt
will be, ye "children of the kingdom," if ye perish after a pious
mother's prayers and tears have fallen upon you? I can conceive of no
one entering hell with a worse grace than the man who goes there with
drops of his mother's tears on his head, and with his father's prayers
following him at his heels. Some of you will inevitably endure this
doom; some of you, young men and women, shall wake up one day and find
yourselves in utter darkness, while your parents shall be up there in
heaven, looking down upon you with upbraiding eyes, seeming to say,
"What! after all we did for you, all we said, are ye come to this?"
"Children of the kingdom!" do not think that a pious mother can save
you. Do not think, because your father was a member of such-and-such a
church, that his godliness will save you. I can suppose some one
standing at heaven's gate, and demanding, "Let me in! Let me in!" What
for? "Because my mother is in there." Your mother had nothing to do
with you. If she was holy, she was holy for herself; if she was evil,
she was evil for herself. "But my grandfather prayed for me!" That is
no use: did you pray for yourself? "No, I did not." Then grandfather's
prayers, and grandmother's prayers, and father's and mother's prayers
may be piled on the top of one another till they reach the stars, but
they never can make a ladder for you to go to heaven by. You must seek
God for yourself; or rather, God must seek you. You must have vital
experience of godliness in you heart, or else you are lost, even though
all your friends were in heaven. That was a dreadful dream which a
pious mother once had, and told to her children. She thought the
judgment day was come. The great books were opened. They all stood
before God. And Jesus Christ said, "Separate the chaff from the wheat;
put the goats on the left hand, and the sheep on the right. The mother
dreamed that she and her children were standing just in the middle of
the great assembly. And the angel came, and said, "I must take the
mother, she is a sheep: she must go to the right hand. The children are
goats: they must go on the left." She thought as she went, her children
clutched her, and said, "Mother, can we part? Must we be separated?"
She then put her arms around them, and seemed to say, "My children, I
would, if possible, take you with me." But in a moment the angel
touched her; her cheeks were dried, and now, overcoming natural
affection, being rendered supernatural and sublime, resigned to God's
will, she said, "My children, I taught you well, I trained you up, and
you forsook the ways of God; and now all I have to say is, Amen to you
condemnation." Thereupon they were snatched away, and she saw them in
perpetual torment while she was in heaven. Young man, what will you
think, when the last day comes, to hear Christ say, "Depart, ye
cursed?" And there will be a voice just behind him, saying, Amen. And,
as you inquire whence came the voice, you will find it was your mother.
Or, young woman, when thou art cast away into utter darkness, what will
you think to hear a voice saying, Amen. And as you look, there sits
your father, his lips still moving with the solemn curse. Ah! "children
of the kingdom," the penitent reprobates will enter heaven, many of
them; publicans and sinners will get there; repenting drunkards and
swearers will be saved; but many of the "children of the kingdom" will
be cast out. Oh! to think that you who have been so well trained should
be lost, while many of the worse will be saved. It will be the hell of
hells for you to look up and see there "poor Jack," the drunkard, lying
in Abraham's bosom, while you, who have had a pious mother, are cast
into hell, simply because you would not believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ, but put his gospel from you, and lived and died without it!
That were the very sting of all, to see ourselves cast away, when the
chief of sinners finds salvation.
Now list to me a little while–I will not detain you long–whilst I
undertake the doleful task of telling you what is to become of these
"children of the kingdom." Jesus Christ says they are to be "cast into
utter darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth."
First, notice, they are to be cast out. They are not said to go; but,
when they come to heaven's gates, they are to be cast out. As soon as
hypocrites arrive at the gates of heaven, Justice will say, "There he
comes! there he comes! He spurned a father's prayers, and mocked a
mother's tears. He has forced his way downward against all the
advantages mercy has supplied. And now, there he comes. "Gabriel, take
the man." The angel, binding you hand and foot, holds you one single
moment over the mouth of the chasm. He bids you look down–down–down.
There is no bottom; and you hear coming up from the abyss, sullen
moans, and hollow groans, and screams of tortured ghosts. You quiver,
your bones melt like wax, and your marrow quakes within you. Where is
now thy might? and where thy boasting and bragging? Ye shriek and cry,
ye beg for mercy; but the angel, with one tremendous grasp, seizes you
fast, and then hurls you down, with the cry, "Away, away!" And down you
go to the pit that is bottomless, and roll for ever
downward–downward–downward–ne'er to find a resting-place for the
soles of your feet. Ye shall be cast out.
And where are you to be cast to? Ye are to be cast "into outer
darkness;" ye are to be put in the place where there will be no hope.
For, by "light," in Scripture, we understand "hope;" and you are to be
put "into outer darkness," where there is no light–no hope. Is there a
man here who has no hope? I cannot suppose such a person. One of you,
perhaps, says, "I am thirty pounds in debt, and shall be sold up
by-and-by; but I have a hope that I may get a loan, and so escape my
difficulty." Says another, "My business is ruined, but things may take
a turn yet–I have a hope." Says another, "I am in great distress, but
I hope that God will provide for me." Another says, "I am fifty pounds
in debt; I am sorry for it; but I will set these strong hands to work,
and do my best to get out of it." One of you thinks a friend is dying,
but you have a hope that, perhaps, the fever may take a turn–that he
may yet live. But, in hell, there is no hope. They have not even the
hope of dying–the hope of being annihilated. They are for ever–for
ever–for ever–lost! On every chain in hell, there is written "for
ever." In the fires, there blaze out the words, "for ever." Up above
their heads, they read "for ever." Their eyes are galled, and their
hearts are pained with the thought that it is "for ever." Oh! if I
could tell you to-night that hell would one day be burned out, and that
those who were lost might be saved, there would be a jubilee in hell at
the very thought of it. But it cannot be–it is "for ever" they are
"cast into utter darkness."
But I want to get over this as quickly as I can; for who can bear to
talk thus to his fellow-creatures? What is it that the lost are doing?
They are "weeping and gnashing their teeth." Do you gnash you teeth
now? You would not do it except you were in pain and agony. Well, in
hell there is always gnashing of teeth. And do you know why? There is
one gnashing his teeth at his companion, and mutters, "I was led into
hell by you; you led me astray, you taught me to drink the first time."
And the other gnashes his teeth and says, "What if I did? You made me
worse than I should have been in after times." There is a child who
looks at her mother, and says, "Mother, you trained me up to vice." And
the mother gnashes her teeth again at the child, and says, "I have no
pity for you, for you excelled me in it, and led me into deeper sin."
Fathers gnash their teeth at their sons, and sons at their fathers.
And, methinks, if there are any who will have to gnash their teeth more
than others, it will be seducers, when they see those whom they have
led from the paths of virtue, and hear them saying, "Ah! we are glad
you are in hell with us, you deserve it, for you led us here." Have any
of you, to-night, upon your consciences the fact that you have led
others to the pit? O, may sovereign grace forgive you. "We have gone
astray like lost sheep," said David. Now a lost sheep never goes astray
alone, if it is one of a flock. I lately read of a sheep that leaped
over the parapet of a bridge, and was followed by every one of the
flock. So, if one man goes astray, he leads others with him. Some of
you will have to account for others' sins when you get to hell, as well
as your own. Oh, what "weeping and gnashing of teeth" there will be in
that pit!
Now shut the black book. Who wants to say any more about it? I have
warned you solemnly. I have told you of the wrath to come. The evening
darkens, and the sun is setting. Ah! and the evenings darken with some
of you. I can see gray-headed men here. Are your gray hairs a crown of
glory, or a fool's cap to you? Are you on the very verge of heaven, or
are you tottering on the brink of your grave, and sinking down to
perdition?
Let me warn you, gray-headed men; your evening is coming. O, poor,
tottering gray-head, wilt thou take the last step into the pit? Let a
young child step before thee, and beg thee to consider. There is thy
staff–it has nothing of earth to rest upon: and now, ere thou diest,
bethink thyself this night; let seventy years of sin start up; let the
ghosts of thy forgotten transgressions march before thine eyes. What
wilt thou do with seventy wasted years to answer for–with seventy
years of criminality to bring before God? God give thee grace this
night to repent and to put thy trust in Jesus.
And you, middle-aged men, are not safe; the evening lowers with you,
too; you may soon die. A few mornings ago, I was roused early from my
bed, by the request that I would hasten to see a dying man. I hurried
off with all speed to see the poor creature; but when I reached the
house, he was dead–a corpse. As I stood in the room I thought, "Ah!
that man little thought he should die so soon." There were his wife and
children, and friends–they little thought he would die; for he was
hale, strong, and hearty but a few days before. None of you have a
lease of your lives. If you have, where is it? Go and see if you have
it anywhere in your chest at home. No! ye may die to-morrow. Let me
therefore warn you by the mercy of God; let me speak to you as a
brother may speak; for I love you, you know I do, and would press the
matter home to your hearts. Oh, to be amongst the many who shall be
accepted in Christ–how blessed that will be! and God has said that
whosoever shall call on his name shall be saved: he casts out none that
come unto him through Christ.
And now, ye youths and maidens, one word with you. Perhaps you think
that religion is not for you. "Let us be happy," say you: "let us be
merry and joyous." How long, young man, how long? "Till I am
twenty-one." Are you sure that you will live till then? Let me tell you
one thing. If you do live till that time, if you have no heart for God
now, you will have none then. Men do not get better if left alone. It
is with them as with the garden: if you let it alone, and permit weeds
to grow, you will not expect to find it better in six months–but
worse. Ah! men talk as if they could repent when they like. It is the
work of God to give us repentance. Some even say, "I shall turn to God
on such-and-such a day. Ah! if you felt aright, you would say, "I must
run to God, and ask him to give me repentance now, lest I should die
before I have found Jesus Christ, my Saviour."
Now, one word in conclusion. I have told you of heaven and hell; what
is the way, then, to escape from hell and to be found in heaven? I will
not tell you my old tale again to-night. I recollect when I told it you
before, a good friend in the crowd said, "Tell us something fresh, old
fellow." Now really, in preaching ten times a week, we cannot always
say things fresh. You have heard John Gough, and you know he tells his
tales over again. I have nothing but the old gospel. "He that believeth
and is baptized shall be saved." There is nothing here of works. It
does not say, "He who is a good man shall be saved," but "he who
believes and is baptized." Well, what is it to believe? It is to put
your trust entirely upon Jesus. Poor Peter once believed, and Jesus
Christ said to him, "Come on, Peter, walk to me on the water." Peter
went stepping along on the tops of the waves without sinking; but when
he looked at the waves, he began to tremble, and down he went. Now,
poor sinner, Christ says, "Come on; walk on your sins; come to me; and
if you do, he will give you power. If you believe on Christ, you will
be able to walk over your sins–to tread upon them and overcome them. I
can remember the time when my sins first stared me in the face. I
thought myself the most accursed of all men. I had not committed any
very great open transgressions against God; but I recollected that I
had been well trained and tutored, and I thought my sins were thus
greater than other people's. I cried to God to have mercy; and I feared
that he would not pardon me. Month after month, I cried to God, and he
did not hear me, and I knew not what it was to be saved. Sometimes I
was so weary of the world that I desired to die; but then I recollected
that there was a worse world after this, and that it would be an ill
matter to rush before my Maker unprepared. At times I wickedly thought
God a most heartless tyrant, because he did not answer my prayer; and
then, at others, I thought, "I deserve his displeasure; if he sends me
to hell, he will be just." But I remember the hour when I stepped into
a little place of worship, and saw a tall, thin man step into the
pulpit: I have never seen him from that day, and probably never shall,
till we meet in heaven. He opened the Bible and read, with a feeble
voice, "Look unto me, and be ye saved all the ends of the earth; for I
am God, and beside me there is none else." Ah, thought I, I am one of
the ends of the earth; and then turning round, and fixing his gaze on
me, as if he knew me, the minister said, "Look, look, look." Why, I
thought I had a great deal to do, but I found it was only to look. I
thought I had a garment to spin out for myself; but I found that if I
looked, Christ would give me a garment. Look, sinner, that is to be
saved. Look unto him, all ye ends of the earth, and be saved. That is
what the Jews did, when Moses held up the brazen serpent. He said,
"Look!" and they looked. The serpent might be twisting round them, and
they might be nearly dead; but they simply looked, and the moment they
looked, the serpent dropped off, and they were healed. Look to Jesus,
sinner. "None but Jesus can do helpless sinners good." There is a hymn
we often sing, but which I do not think is quite right. It says,
"Venture on him, venture wholly;
Let no other trust intrude."
Now, it is no venture to trust in Christ, not in the least; he who
trusts in Christ is quite secure. I recollect that, when dear John
Hyatt was dying, Matthew Wilks said to him, in his usual tone, "Well,
John, could you trust your soul in the hands of Jesus Christ now?"
"Yes," said he, "a million! a million souls!" I am sure that every
Christian that has ever trusted in Christ can say Amen to that. Trust
in him; he will never deceive you. My blessed Master will never cast
you away.
I cannot speak much longer, and I have only to thank you for your
kindness. I never saw so large a number so still and quiet. I do really
think, after all the hard things that have been said, that the English
people know who loves them, and that they will stand by the man who
stands by them. I thank every one of you; and above all, I beg you, if
there be reason or sense in what I have said, bethink yourselves of
what you are, and may the Blessed Spirit reveal to you your state! May
he show you that you are dead, that you are lost, ruined. May he make
you feel what a dreadful thing it would be to sink into hell! May he
point you to heaven! May he take you as the angel did of old, and put
his hand upon you, and say, "Flee! flee! flee! Look to the mountain;
look not behind thee; stay not in all the plain." And may we all meet
in heaven at last; and there we shall be happy for ever.
P.S. This sermon was watered by many prayers of the faithful in Zion.
The preacher did not intend it for publication, but seeing that it is
now in print, he will not apologize for its faulty composition or
rambling style; but instead thereof, he would beg the prayers of his
readers, that this feeble sermon may more exalt the honour of God, by
the salvation of many who shall read it. "The excellency of the power
is of God, and not of man."