Mourning at the Sight of the Crucified
A sermon
(No. 860)
Delivered on Lord's-day Morning, MARCH 14, 1869, by
C.H.SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the
things which were done, smote their breasts and returned."- Luke 23:48.
MANY in that crowd came together to behold the crucifixion of Jesus, in
a condition of the most furious malice. They had hounded the Savior as
dogs pursue a stag and at last, all mad with rage, they hemmed Him in
for death. Others, willing enough to spend an idle hour and to gaze
upon a sensational spectacle, swelled the mob until a vast assembly
congregated around the little hill upon which the three crosses were
raised. There unanimously, whether of malice or of wantonness, they all
joined in mockery of the Victim who hung upon the center Cross. Some
thrust out their tongue. Some wagged their heads. Others scoffed and
jeered–some taunted Him in words and others in signs–but all alike
exulted over the defenseless man who was given as a prey to their
teeth.
Earth never beheld a scene in which so much unrestrained derision and
expressive contempt were poured upon one man so unanimously and for so
long a time. It must have been hideous to the last degree to have seen
so many grinning faces and mocking eyes and to have heard so many cruel
words and scornful shouts. The spectacle was too detestable to be long
endured of Heaven. Suddenly the sun, shocked at the scene, veiled his
face and for three long hours the ribald crew sat shivering in midday
midnight.
Meanwhile the earth trembled beneath their feet. The rocks were split
and the temple, in superstitious defense of whose perpetuity they had
committed the murder of the Just, had its holy veil torn as though by
strong invisible hands. The news of this and the feeling of horror
produced by the darkness and the earth tremor caused a revulsion of
feelings. There were no more gibes and jests. No more thrusting out of
tongues and cruel mockeries–they went their way solitary and alone to
their homes, or in little silent groups, while each man after the
manner of Orientals when struck with sudden urge, smote upon his
breast.
Far different was the procession to the gates of Jerusalem from that
march of madness which had come out. Observe the power which God has
over human minds! See how He can tame the wildest and make the most
malicious and proud to cower down at His feet when He does but manifest
Himself in the wonders of Nature! How much more cowed and terrified
will they be when He makes bare His arm and comes forth in the
judgments of His wrath to deal with them according to their deeds! This
sudden and memorable change in so vast a multitude is the apt
representative of two other remarkable mental changes. How like it is
to the gracious transformation which a sight of the Cross has often
worked most blessedly in the hearts of men!
Many have come under the sound of the Gospel resolved to scoff, but
they have returned to pray. The most idle and even the basest motives
have brought men under the preaching, but when Jesus has been lifted
up, they have been savingly drawn to Him and as a consequence have
struck upon their breasts in repentance and gone their way to serve the
Savior whom they once blasphemed. Oh, the power, the melting,
conquering, transforming power of that dear Cross of Christ! My
Brethren, we have but to abide by the preaching of it. We have but
constantly to tell abroad the matchless story and we may expect to see
the most remarkable spiritual results!
We need despair of no man now that Jesus has died for sinners. With
such a hammer as the doctrine of the Cross, the most flinty heart will
be broken! And with such a fire as the sweet love of Christ, the most
mighty iceberg will be melted! We need never despair for the heathenish
or superstitious races of men. If we can but find occasion to bring the
doctrine of Christ Crucified into contact with their natures, it will
yet change them and Christ will be their king.
A second and most awful change is also foretold by the incident in our
text, namely, the effect which a sight of Christ enthroned will have
upon the proud and obstinate, who in this life rebelled against Him.
Here they fearlessly jested
concerning Him and insultingly demanded, "Who is the Lord, that we
should obey Him?" Here they boldly united in a conspiracy to break His
bands asunder and cast His cords from them. But when they wake up at
the blast of the trumpet and see the Great White Throne, which, like a
mirror, shall reflect their conduct upon them, what a change will be in
their minds!
Where now your quibs and your jests? Where now your malicious speeches
and your persecuting words? What? Is there not one among you who can
play the man and insult the Man of Nazareth to His face? No, not one!
Like cowardly dogs they slink away! The infidel's bragging tongue is
silent! The proud spirit of the atheist is broken–his blustering and
his carping are hushed forever! With shrieks of dismay and clamorous
cries of terror, they entreat the hills to cover them and the mountains
to conceal them from the face of that very Man whose Cross was once the
subject of their scorn! O take heed, you sinners, take heed, I pray you
and be you changed this day by Divine Grace, lest you be changed
by-and-by by terror, for the heart which will not be bent by the love
of Christ shall be broken by the terror of His name!
If Jesus upon the Cross does not save you, Christ on the Throne shall
damn you! If Christ dying is not your life, Christ living shall be your
death! If Christ on earth is not your Heaven, Christ coming from Heaven
shall be your Hell! O may God's Grace work a blessed turning of Grace
in each of us, that we may not be turned into Hell in the dread day of
reckoning!
We shall now draw nearer to the text and in the first place, analyze
the general mourning around the Cross. Secondly, we shall, if God shall
help us, endeavor to join in the sorrowful chorus. And then, before we
conclude, we shall remind you that at the foot of the Cross our sorrow
must be mingled with joy.
I. First, then, let us ANALYZE THE GENERAL MOURNING which this text
describes. "All the people that came together to that sight, beholding
the things which were done, smote their breasts and returned." They all
smote their breasts, but not all from the same cause. They were all
afraid, not all from the same reason. The outward manifestations were
alike in the whole mass, but the grades of difference in feeling were
as many as the minds in which they ruled. There were many, no doubt,
who were merely moved with a transient emotion.
They had seen the death agonies of a remarkable Man, and the attendant
wonders had persuaded them that He was something more than an ordinary
being, and therefore they were afraid. With a kind of indefinite fear,
grounded upon no very intelligent reasoning, they were alarmed because
God was angry and had closed the eye of day upon them and made the
rocks to split. Burdened with this indistinct fear, they went their way
trembling and humbled to their homes. But perhaps before the next
morning light had dawned they had forgotten it all and the next day
found them greedy for another bloody spectacle and ready to nail
another Christ to the cross, if there had been such another to be found
in the land.
Their beating of the breast was not a breaking of the heart. It was an
April shower, a dewdrop of the morning, a hoar-frost that dissolved
when the sun had risen. Like a shadow the emotion crossed their minds
and like a shadow it left no trace behind. How often, in the preaching
of the Cross, has this been the only result in tens of thousands! In
this house, where so many souls have been converted, many more have
shed tears which have been wiped away and the reason of their tears has
been forgotten. A handkerchief has dried up their emotions. Alas! Alas,
that while it may be difficult to move men with the story of the Cross
to weeping, it is even more difficult to make those emotions permanent.
"I have seen something amazing, this morning," said one who had
listened to a faithful and earnest preacher, "I have seen a whole
congregation in tears." "Alas!" said the preacher, "there is something
more amazing still, for the most of them will go their way to forget
that they ever shed a tear." Ah, my Hearers, shall it be always
so–always so? Then, O you impenitent, there shall come to your eyes a
tear which shall drip forever–a scalding drop which no mercy shall
ever wipe away–a thirst that shall never be abated! There shall come
to you a worm that shall never die and a fire that never shall be
quenched! By the love you bear your souls, I pray you escape from the
wrath to come!
Others among that great crowd exhibited emotion based upon more
thoughtful reflection. They saw that they had shared in the murder of
an innocent Person. "Alas," they said, "we see through it all now. That
Man was no offender. In all that we have ever heard or seen of Him, He
did good and only good! He always healed the sick, fed the hungry and
raised the dead. There is not a word of all His teaching that is really
contrary to the Law of God. He was a pure and holy Man. We have all
been duped. Those priests have egged us on to put to death One whom it
were a thousand mercies if we could restore to life again at once. Our
race has killed its Benefactor."
"Yes," says one, "I thrust out my tongue. I found it almost impossible
to restrain myself when everybody else was laughing and mocking at His
tortures. But I am afraid I have mocked at the innocent, and I tremble
lest the darkness which God has sent was His reprobation of my
wickedness in oppressing the innocent." Such feelings would abide, but
I can suppose that they might not bring men to sincere repentance–for
while they might feel sorry that they had oppressed the innocent–yet,
perceiving nothing more in Jesus than mere evil-treated virtue and
suffering manhood, the natural emotion might soon pass away and the
moral and spiritual result be of no great value.
How frequently have we seen in our hearers that same description of
emotion! They have regretted that Christ should be put to death. They
have felt like that old king of France, who said, "I wish I had been
there with 10,000 of my soldiers–I would have cut their throats sooner
than they should have touched Him." But those very feelings have been
evidence that they did not feel their share in the guilt as they ought
to have done and that to them the Cross of Jesus was no more a saving
spectacle than the death of a common martyr. Dear Hearers, beware of
making the Cross to be a commonplace thing with you! Look beyond the
sufferings of the innocent Manhood of Jesus and see upon the Cross the
atoning Sacrifice of Christ, or else you look to the Cross in vain.
No doubt there were a few in the crowd who smote upon their breasts
because they felt, "We have put to death a Prophet of God. As of old
our nation slew Isaiah and put to death others of the Master's
servants, so today they have nailed to the Cross one of the last of the
Prophets and His blood will be upon us and upon our children." Perhaps
some of them said, "This man claimed to be Messiah and the miracles
which attended His death prove that He was so. His life betokens it and
His death declares it. What will become of our nation if we have slain
the Prince of Peace? How will God visit us if we have put His Prophet
to death!"
Such mourning was in advance of other forms. It showed a deeper thought
and a clearer knowledge and it may have been an admirable preparation
for the later hearing of the Gospel–but it would not of itself suffice
as evidence of Grace. I shall be glad if my hearers in this house today
are persuaded by the Character of Christ that He must have been a
Prophet sent of God and that He was the Messiah promised of old. And I
shall be gratified if they, therefore, lament the shameful cruelties
which He received from our apostate race. Such emotions of compunction
and pity are most commendable and under God's blessing they may prove
to be the furrows of your heart in which the Gospel may take root. He
who thus was cruelly put to death was God over all blessed forever, the
world's Redeemer and the Savior of such as put their trust in Him! May
you accept Him today as your Deliverer and so be saved, for if not, the
most virtuous regrets concerning His death–however much they may
indicate your enlightenment–will not manifest your true conversion.
In the motley company who all went home striking their breasts, let us
hope that there were some who said, "Certainly this was the Son of
God," and mourned to think He should have suffered for their
transgressions and been put to grief for their iniquities. Those who
came to that point were saved! Blessed were the eyes that looked upon
the slaughtered Lamb in such a way as that and happy were the hearts
that then and there were broken because He was bruised and put to grief
for their sakes. Beloved, aspire to this! May God's Grace bring you to
see in Jesus Christ no other than God made flesh, hanging upon the
Cross in agony to die, the Just for the unjust, that we may be saved!
O come and repose your trust in Him and then strike upon your breasts
at the thought that such a Victim should have been necessary for your
redemption! Then may you cease to strike your breasts and begin to clap
your hands for very joy–for they who thus bewail a Savior may rejoice
in Him–for He is theirs and they are His!
II. We shall now ask you To JOIN IN THE LAMENTATION, each man according
to his sincerity of heart, beholding the Cross and striking upon his
breast. We will by faith put ourselves at the foot of the little knoll
of Calvary. There we see in the center, between two thieves, the Son of
God made flesh, nailed by His hands and feet and dying in an anguish
which words cannot portray. Look well, I pray you. Look steadfastly and
devoutly, gazing through your tears. 'Tis He who was worshipped of
angels who is now dying for the sons of men!
Sit down and watch the death of Death's Destroyer! I shall ask you
first to strike your breasts, as you remember that you see in Him your
own sins. How great He is! That crown of thorns is on the head once
crowned with all the royalties of Heaven and earth! He who dies there
is no common man! King of kings and Lord of lords is He who hangs on
yonder Cross. Then see the greatness of your sins which required so
vast a Sacrifice. They must be infinite sins to require an infinite
Person to lay down His life in order to their removal. You can never
compass or comprehend the greatness of
your Lord in His essential Character and dignity. Neither shall you
ever be able to understand the blackness and heinousness of the sin
which demanded His life as an Atonement.
Brothers and Sisters, strike your breast and say, "God be merciful to
me, the greatest of sinners, for I am such." Look well into the face of
Jesus and see how vile they have made Him! They have stained those
cheeks with spit! They have lashed those shoulders with a felon's
scourge! They have put Him to the death which was only awarded to the
meanest Roman slave! They have hung Him up between Heaven and earth as
though He were fit for neither! They have stripped Him naked and left
Him not a rag to cover Him!
See here, then, O Believer, the shame of your sins! What a shameful
thing your sins must have been. What a disgraceful and abominable
thing, if Christ must be made such a shame for you! O be ashamed of
yourself, to think your Lord should thus be scorned and made nothing of
for you! See how they aggravate His sorrows! It was not enough to
crucify Him–they must insult Him! Nor that enough, they must mock His
prayers and turn His dying cries into themes for jest while they offer
Him vinegar to drink. See, Beloved, how aggravated were your sins and
mine!
Come, my Brothers and Sisters, let us all strike upon our breasts and
say, "Oh, how our sins have piled up their guiltiness! It was not
merely that we broke the Law, but we sinned against light and
knowledge. We sinned against rebukes and warnings. As His griefs are
aggravated, even so are our sins!" Look still into His dear face and
see the lines of anguish which indicate the deeper inward sorrow which
far transcends mere bodily pain and suffering. God, His Father, has
forsaken Him! God has made Him a curse for us.
Then what must the curse of God have been against us? What must our
sins have deserved? If when sin was only imputed to Christ and laid
upon Him for awhile, His father turned His head away and made His Son
cry out, "Lama Sabacthani!" Oh, what an accursed thing our sin must be
and what a curse would have come upon us! What thunderbolts, what coals
of fire, what indignation and wrath from the Most High must have been
our portion had not Jesus interposed! If Jehovah did not spare His Son,
how little would He have spared guilty, worthless men if He had dealt
with us after our sins and rewarded us according to our iniquities!
As we still sit down and look at Jesus, we remember that His death was
voluntary–He need not have died unless He had so willed. Here, then,
is another striking feature of our sin, for our sin was voluntary, too.
We did not sin as of compulsion, but we deliberately chose the evil
way. O Sinner, let both of us sit down together and tell the Lord that
we have no justification, or extenuation, or excuse to offer–we have
sinned willfully against light and knowledge, against love and mercy.
Let us strike upon our breasts, as we see Jesus willingly suffer and
confess that we have willingly offended against the just and righteous
Laws of a most good and gracious God.
I could gladly keep you looking into those five wounds and studying
that marred face and counting every purple drop that flowed from hands
and feet and side, but time would fail us. Only that one wound–let it
abide with you– strike your breast because you see in Christ your sin.
Looking again–changing, as it were, our standpoint, but still keeping
our eye upon that same, dear Crucified One, let us see there the
neglected and despised remedy for our sin. If sin itself, in its first
condition, as rebellion, brings no tears to our eyes, it certainly
ought, in its second manifestation, as ingratitude.
The sin of rebellion is vile. But the sin of slighting the Savior is
viler still. He that hangs on the Cross in groans and griefs
unutterable, is He whom some of you have never thought of–whom you do
not love, to whom you never pray–in whom you place no confidence and
whom you never serve. I will not accuse you. I will ask those dear
wounds to do it, sweetly and tenderly. I will rather accuse myself,
for, alas! Alas, there was a time when I heard of Him as with a deaf
ear! There was a time when I was told of Him and understood the love He
bore to sinners and yet my heart was like a stone within me and would
not be moved! I stopped my ears and would not be charmed, even with
such a master fascination as the disinterested love of Jesus!
I think if I had been spared to live the life of an ungodly man for 30,
40, or 50 years and had been converted at last, I should never have
been able to blame myself sufficiently for rejecting Jesus during all
those years. Why, even those of us who were converted in our youth and
almost in our childhood cannot help blaming ourselves to think that so
dear a Friend who had done so much for us, was so long slighted by us!
Who could have done more for us than He, since He gave Himself for our
sins? Ah, how we did wrong Him while we withheld our hearts from Him! O
Sinners, how can you
keep the doors of your hearts shut against the Friend of Sinners? How
can we close the door against Him who cries, "My head is wet with dew
and My locks with the drops of the night: open to Me, my Beloved, open
to Me"?
I am persuaded there are some here who are His elect–you were chosen
by Him from before the foundation of the world and you shall be with
Him in Heaven one day to sing His praises and yet, at this moment,
though you hear His name, you do not love Him. And though you are told
of what He did, you do not trust Him. What? Shall that iron bar always
fast close the gate of your heart? Shall that door be always bolted? O
Spirit of the living God, win an entrance for the blessed Christ this
morning! If anything can do it, surely it must be a sight of the
Crucified Christ–that matchless spectacle shall make a heart of stone
relent and melt–subdued by Jesus' love! O may the Holy Spirit work
this gracious melting, and He shall have all the honor!
Still keeping you at the foot of the Cross, dear Friends, every
Believer here may well strike upon his breast this morning as he thinks
of who it was that smarted so upon the Cross. Who was it? It was He who
loved us before the world was made! It was He who is this day the
Bridegroom of our souls, our Best-Beloved. He who has taken us into the
banqueting house and waved His banner of love over us. It is He who has
made us one with Himself, and has vowed to present us to His Father
without spot. It is He, our Husband, our Ishi, who has called us His
Hephzibah because His soul delights in us. It is He who suffered thus
for us.
Suffering does not always excite the same degree of pity. You must know
something of the individual before the innermost depths of the soul are
stirred, and so it happens to us that the higher the character and the
more able we are to appreciate it, the closer the relation and the more
fondly we reciprocate the love–the more deeply does suffering strike
the soul. You are coming to His Table, some of you, today, and you will
partake of bread–I pray you remember that it represents the quivering
flesh that was filled with pain on Calvary! You will sip of that
cup–then be sure to remember that it betokens to you the blood of One
who loves you better than you could be loved by mother, or by husband,
or by friend!
sit down and strike your breasts that He should grieve! That heaven's
Sun should be eclipsed! That Heaven's Lily should be spotted with blood
and Heaven's Rose should be whitened with a deadly pallor! Lament that
Perfection should be accused, Innocence struck and Love murdered–and
that Christ, the happy and the holy, the ever blessed, who had been for
ages the delight of angels–should now become the sorrowful, the
acquaintance of grief, the bleeding and the dying! Smite upon your
breasts, Believers and go your way! Beloved in the Lord, if such grief
as this should be kindled in you, it will be well to pursue the subject
and to reflect upon how unbelieving and how cruel we have been to Jesus
since the day that we have known Him.
What? Does He bleed for me and have I doubted Him? Is He the Son of God
and have I suspected His fidelity? Have I stood at the foot of the
Cross unmoved? Have I spoken of my dying Lord in a cold, indifferent
spirit? Have I ever preached Christ Crucified with a dry eye and a
heart unmoved? Do I bow my knee in private prayer and are my thoughts
wandering when they ought to be bound hand and foot to His dear
bleeding self? Am I accustomed to turn over the pages of the
Evangelists which record my Master's wondrous Sacrifice and have I
never stained those pages with my tears? Have I never paused spellbound
over the sacred sentence which recorded this miracle of miracles, this
marvel of marvels?
Oh, shame upon you, hard Heart! Well may I strike you! May God strike
you with the hammer of His Spirit and break you to shivers! O you stony
Heart, you granite Soul, you flinty spirit–well may I strike the
breast which harbors you, to think that I should be so doltish in the
presence of love so amazing, so Divine! Brethren, you may strike upon
your breasts as you look at the Cross and mourn that you should have
done so little for your Lord. I think if anybody could have sketched my
future life in the day of my conversion and have said, "You will be
dull and cold in spiritual things and you will exhibit but little
earnestness and little gratitude!" I should have said, like Hazael, "Is
your servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?"
1 suppose I read your hearts when I say that the most of you are
disappointed with your own conduct as compared with your too-flattering
prophecies of yourselves! What? Am I really pardoned? Am I in very deed
washed in that warm stream which gushed from the riven side of Jesus,
and yet am I not wholly consecrated to Christ? What? In my body do I
bear the marks of the Lord Jesus and can I live almost without a
thought of Him? Am I plucked like a brand from the burning and have I
small care to win others from the wrath to come? Has Jesus stooped to
win me and do I not labor to
win others for Him? Was He all in earnest about me and am I only half
in earnest about Him? Dare I waste a minute, dare I trifle away an
hour? Have I an evening to spend in vain gossip and idle frivolities?
O my Heart, well may I strike you, that at the sight of the death of
the dear Lover of my soul, I should not be fired by the highest zeal
and be impelled by the most ardent love to a perfect consecration of
every power of my nature, every affection of my spirit, every faculty
of my whole man! This mournful strain might be pursued to far greater
lengths. We might follow up our confessions, still striking, still
accusing, still regretting, still bewailing. We might continue upon the
bass notes evermore and yet might we not express sufficient contrition
for the shameful manner in which we have treated our blessed Friend. We
might say with one of our hymn writers–
"Lord, let me weep for nothing but sin,
And after none but You.
And then I would–O that I might
A constant weeper be!"
One might desire to become a Niobe and realize the desire of Jeremy, "O
that my head were waters." Even the holy extravagance of George Herbert
does not surprise us, for we would even sing with him the song of
GRIEF–
"Oh, who will give me tears?
Come, all you springs,
Dwell in my head and eyes!
Come, clouds and rain!
My grief has need of all
The watery things
That nature has produced.
Let every vein
Suck up a river to supply my eyes, My weary weeping eyes, too dry for
me, Unless they get new conduits, new supplies To bear them out and
with my state agree. What are two shallow fords, two little spouts Of a
less world? The greater is but small. A narrow cupboard for my griefs
and doubts, Which need provision in the midst of all. Verses, you are
too fine a thing, too wise, For my rough sorrows. Cease! Be dumb and
mute. Give up your feet and running to my eyes, And keep your measures
for some lover's lute, Whose grief allo ws him music and a rhyme For
mine excludes both measure, tune and time, Alas, my God!"
III. Having, perhaps, said enough on this point–enough if God blesses
it–too much if without His blessing–let
me invite you, in the third place, to remember that AT CALVARY,
DOLOROUS NOTES ARE NOT THE ONLY
SUITABLE MUSIC. We admired our poet when, in the hymn which we have
just sung, he appears to question with himself which would be the most
fitting tune for Golgotha. "It is finished"–shall we raise songs of
sorrow or of praise? Mourn to see the Savior die, or proclaim His
victory?–
"If of Calvary we tell,
How can songs of triumph swell!
If of man redeemed from woe,
How shall notes of mourning flow?" He shows that since our sin pierced
the side of Jesus, there is cause for unlimited lamentation, but since
the blood which flowed from the wound has cleansed our sin, there is
ground for unbounded thanksgiving! And, therefore, the poet, after
having balanced the matter in a few verses, concludes with–
" 'It is finished,'let us raise Songs of thankfulness and praise."
After all, you and I are not in the same condition as the multitude who
had surrounded Calvary–for at that time our Lord was still dead–now
He is risen, indeed! There were yet three days from that Thursday
evening (for there is much reason to believe that our Lord was not
crucified on Friday), in which Jesus must dwell in the regions of the
dead. Our Lord, therefore, so far as human eyes could see Him, was a
proper object of pity and mourning and not of thanksgiving.
But now, Beloved, He ever lives and gloriously reigns! No grave
confines that blessed body! He saw no corruption, for the moment when
the third day dawned, He could no longer be held with the bonds of
death, but He manifested Himself alive unto His disciples! He tarried
in this world for 40 days. Some of His time was spent with those who
knew Him in the flesh. Perhaps a larger part of it was passed with
those saints who came out of their graves after His Resurrection, but
certain it is that He is gone up, as the first-fruit from the dead. He
is gone up to the right hand of God, even the Father!
Do not bewail those wounds–they are lustrous with supernal splendor!
Do not lament His death–He lives no more to die! Do not mourn that
shame and spitting–
"The head that once was crowned with thorns, Is crowned with glory
now."
Look up and thank God that death has no more dominion over Him. He ever
lives to make intercession for us and He shall shortly come with
angelic bands surrounding Him to judge the quick and the dead. The
argument for joy overshadows the reason for sorrow! Like as a woman
when the child is born remembers no more her anguish, for joy that a
child is born into the world, so, in the thought of the risen Savior
who has taken possession of His crown, we will forget the lamentation
of the Cross and the sorrows of the broken heart of Calvary.
Moreover, hear the shrill voice of the high sounding cymbals and let
your hearts rejoice within you, for in His death our Redeemer conquered
all the hosts of Hell. They came against Him furiously, yes, they came
against Him to eat up His flesh, but they stumbled and fell. They
compassed Him about, yes, they compassed Him about like bees, but in
the name of the Lord did the Champion destroy them! Against the whole
multitude of sins and all the battalions of the Pit, the Savior stood,
a solitary soldier fighting against innumerable bands but He has slain
them all! "Bruised is the dragon's head." Jesus has led captivity
captive! He conquered when He fell! And let the notes of victory drown
forever the cries of sorrow!
Moreover, Brothers and Sisters, let it be remembered that men have been
saved! Let there stream before your gladdened eyes this morning the
innumerable company of the elect. Robed in white they come in long
procession–they come from distant lands, from every clime. They were
once scarlet with sin and black with iniquity–they are now all white
and pure, and without spot before the Throne forever. They are beyond
temptation, beatified and made like Jesus! And how? It was all through
Calvary. There was their sin put away! There was their everlasting
righteousness brought in and consummated! Let the hosts that are before
the Throne, as they wave their palms and touch their golden harps,
excite you to a joy like their own and let that celestial music hush
the gentler voices which mournfully exclaim–
"Alas, and did my Savior bleed? And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head For such a worm as I?"
Nor is that all. You yourself are saved! O Brother! This will always be
one of your greatest joys, that others are converted through your
instrumentality! This is occasion for much thanksgiving, but your
Savior's advice to you is, "Notwithstanding in this, rejoice not that
the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice because your names
are written in Heaven." You, a spirit meet to be cast away! You whose
portion must have been with devils–you are this day forgiven, adopted,
saved, on the road to Heaven! Oh, while you think that you are saved
from Hell, that you are lifted up to Glory, you cannot but rejoice that
your sin is put away from you through the death of Jesus Christ, your
Lord!
Lastly, there is one thing for which we ought always to remember with
joy, Christ's death, and that is that although the crucifixion of Jesus
was intended to be a blow at the honor and glory of our God–though in
the death of Christ the world did, so far as it was able, put God
Himself to death and so earn for itself that hideous title, "a deicidal
world," yet
never did God have such honor and glory as He obtained through the
sufferings of Jesus! Oh, they thought to scorn Him, but they lifted His
name on high!
They thought that God was dishonored when He was most glorified! The
image of the Invisible, had they not marred it? The express image of
the Father's Person, had they not defiled it? Ah, so they said! But He
that sits in the heavens may well laugh and have them in derision, for
what did they do?! They did but break the alabaster box and all the
blessed drops of infinite mercy streamed forth to perfume all worlds!
They did but rend the veil and then the Glory which had been hidden
between the cherubim shone forth upon all lands!
O Nature, adoring God with your ancient and priestly mountains,
extolling Him with your trees which clap their hands, and worshipping
with your seas which, in their fullness, roar out Jehovah's praise!
With all your tempests and flames of fire, your dragons and your deeps,
your snow and your hail–you cannot glorify God as Jesus glorified Him
when He became obedient unto death! O Heaven, with all your jubilant
angels, your ever-chanting cherubim and seraphim, your thrice holy
hymns, your streets of gold and endless harmonies–you cannot reveal
the Deity as Jesus Christ revealed it on the Cross!
O Hell, with all your infinite horrors and flames unquenchable and
pains and griefs and shrieks of tortured ghosts! Even you cannot reveal
the Justice of God as Christ revealed it in His riven heart upon the
bloody Cross! O earth and Heaven and Hell! O time and eternity, things
present and things to come, visible and invisible–you are dim mirrors
of the Godhead compared with the bleeding Lamb! O heart of God, I see
you nowhere as at Golgotha, where the Word Incarnate reveals the
justice and the love, the holiness and the tenderness of God in one
blaze of Glory! If any created mind would gladly see the Glory of God,
he need not gaze upon the starry skies, nor soar into the Heaven of
heavens! He has but to bow at the foot of the Cross and watch the
crimson streams which gush from Emmanuel's wounds!
If you would behold the Glory of God, you need not gaze between the
gates of pearls! You have but to look beyond the gates of Jerusalem and
see the Prince of Peace expire! If you would receive the most noble
conception that ever filled the human mind of the loving kindness and
the greatness and the pity, and yet the justice and the severity and
the wrath of God, you need not lift up your eyes, nor cast them down,
nor look to Paradise, nor gaze on Tophet–you have but to look into the
heart of Christ all crushed and broken and bruised and you have seen it
all!
Oh, the joy that springs from the fact that God has triumphed after
all! Death is not the victor! Evil is not master! There are not two
rival kingdoms, one governed by the God of good and the other by the
god of evil–no, evil is bound, chained and led captive! Its sinews are
cut, its head is broken! Its king is bound to the dread chariot of
Jehovah-Jesus, and as the white horses of triumph drag the Conqueror up
the everlasting hills in splendor of glory, the monsters of the Pit
cringe at His chariot wheels!
Therefore, Beloved, we close this discourse with this sentence of
humble yet joyful worship, "Glory be unto the Father and to the Son and
to the Holy Spirit: as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall
be, world without end. Amen."
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Luke23:27-56.