A Sermon
(No. 16)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, March 25th, 1855, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At New Park Street Chapel, Southwark.
"For behold he prayeth"–Acts 9:11.
GOD has many methods of quenching persecution. He will not suffer his
church to be injured by its enemies, or overwhelmed by its foes; and he
is not short of means for turning aside the way of the wicked, or of
turning it upside down. In two ways he usually accomplishes his end;
sometimes by the confusion of the persecutor, and at others in a more
blessed manner, by his conversion. Sometimes, he confuses and confounds
his enemies; he makes the diviner mad; he lets the man who comes
against him be utterly destroyed, suffers him to drive on to his own
destruction, and then at last turns round in triumphant derision upon
the man who hoped to have said aha! aha! To the church of God. But at
other times, as in this case, he converts the persecutor. Thus, he
transforms the foe into a friend; he makes the man who was a warrior
against the gospel a soldier for it. Out of darkness he bringeth forth
light; out of the eater he getteth honey; yea, out of stony hearts he
raiseth up children unto Abraham. Such was the case with Saul. A more
furious bigot it is impossible to conceive. He had been bespattered
with the blood of Stephen, when they stoned him to death; so officious
was he in his cruelty, that the men left their clothes in the charge of
a young man named Saul. Living at Jerusalem, in the college of
Gamaliel, he constantly came in contact with the disciples of the Man
of Nazareth; he laughed at them, he reviled them as they passed along
the street; he procured enactments against them, and put them to death;
and now, as a crowning point, this were-wolf, having tasted blood,
becomes exceeding mad, determines to go to Damascus, that he may glut
himself with the gore of men and women; that he may bind the
Christians, and bring them to Jerusalem, there to suffer what he
considered to be a just punishment for their heresy, and departure from
their ancient religion. But oh, how marvelous was the power of God!
Jesus stays this man in his mad career; just as with his lance in rest
he was dashing against Christ. Christ met him, unhorsed him, threw him
on the ground, and questioned him, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou
me?" He then graciously removed his rebellious heart–gave him a new
heart and a right spirit–turned his aim and object–led him to
Damascus–laid him prostrate for three days and nights–spoke to
him–made mystic sounds go murmuring through his ears–set his whole
soul on fire; and when at last he started up from that three days'
trance, and began to pray, then it was that Jesus from heaven
descended, came in a vision to Ananias, and said, "Arise, and go into
the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas
for one called Saul, of Tarsus; for, behold, he prayeth."
First, our text was an announcement; "Behold, he prayeth." Secondly, it
was an argument; "For, behold, he prayeth." Then, to conclude, we will
try to make an application of our text to your hearts. Though
application is the work of God alone, we will trust that he will be
pleased to make that application while the word is preached this
morning.
I. First, here was AN ANNOUNCEMENT; "Go to the house of Saul of Tarsus;
for behold, he prayeth." Without any preface, let me say, that this was
the announcement of a fact which was noticed in heaven; which was
joyous to the angels; which was astonishing to Ananias, and which was a
novelty to Saul himself.
It was the announcement of a fact which was noticed in heaven. Poor
Saul had been led to cry for mercy, and the moment he began to pray,
God began to hear. Do you not notice, in reading the chapter, what
attention God paid to Saul? He knew the street where he lived; "Go to
the street that is called Straight." He knew the house where he
resided; "inquire at the house of Judas." He knew his name; it was
Saul. He knew the place where he came from; "Inquire for Saul of
Tarsus." And he knew that he had prayed. "Behold, he prayeth." Oh! It
is a glorious fact, that prayers are noticed in heaven. The poor
broken-hearted sinner, climbing up to his chamber, bends his knee, but
can only utter his wailing in the language of sighs and tears. Lo! That
groan has made all the harps of heaven thrill with music; that tear has
been caught by God, and put into the lachrymatory of heaven, to be
perpetually preserved. The supplicant, whose fears prevent his words,
will be well understood by the Most High. He may only shed one hasty
tear; but "prayer is the falling of a tear." Tears are the diamonds of
heaven; sighs are a part of the music of Jehovah's throne; for though
prayers be
"The simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;"
so are they likewise the
"Sublimest strains that reach The majesty on high."
Let me dilate on this thought a moment. Prayers are noticed in heaven.
Oh! I know what is the case with many of you. You think, "If I turn to
God, if I seek him, surely I am so inconsiderable a being, so guilty
and vile, that it cannot be imagined he would take any notice of me."
My friends, harbor no such heathenish ideas. Our God is no god who sits
in one perpetual dream; nor doth he clothe himself in such thick
darkness that he cannot see; he is not like Baal who heareth not. True,
he may not regard battles; he cares not for the pomp and pageantry of
kings; he listens not to the swell of martial music; he regards not the
triumph and the pride of man; but wherever there is a heart big with
sorrow, wherever there is an eye suffused with tears, wherever there is
a lip quivering with agony, wherever there is a deep groan, or a
penitential sigh, the ear of Jehovah is wide open; he marks it down in
the registry of his memory; he puts our prayers, like rose leaves,
between the pages of his book of remembrance, and when the volume is
opened at last there shall be a precious fragrance springing up
therefrom. Oh! Poor sinner, of the blackest and vilest character, thy
prayers are heard, and even now God hath said of thee, "Behold, he
prayeth." Where was it–in a barn? Where was it–in the closet? Was it
at thy bedside this morning, or in this hall? Art thou now glancing
thine eye to heaven? Speak, poor heart; did I hear thy lips just now
mutter out, "God have mercy upon me, a sinner?" I tell thee, sinner,
there is one thing which doth outstrip the telegraph. You know we can
now send a message and receive an answer in a few moments; but I read
of something in the Bible more swift than the electric fluid. "Before
they call I will answer, and while they are speaking I will hear." So,
then, poor sinner, thou art noticed; yea, thou art heard by him that
sitteth on the throne.
Again; this was the announcement of a fact joyous to heaven. Our text
is prefaced with "Behold," for doubtless, our Saviour himself regarded
it with joy. Once only do we read of a smile resting upon the
countenance of Jesus, when, lifting up his eye to heaven, he exclaimed,
"I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast
hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto
babes; even so, Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight." The
shepherd of our souls rejoices in the vision of his sheep securely
folded, he triumphs in spirit when he brings a wanderer home. I
conceive that when he spoke these words to Ananias, one of the smiles
of Paradise must have shone from his eyes. "Behold," I have won the
heart of my enemy, I have saved my persecutor, even now he is bending
the knee at my footstool, "behold, he prayeth." Jesus himself led the
song, rejoicing over the new convert with singing. Jesus Christ was
glad, and rejoiced more over that lost sheep than over ninety and nine
that went not astray. And angels rejoiced too. Why, when one of God's
elect is born, angels stand around his cradle. He grows up, and runs
into sin: angels follow him, tracking him all his way; they gaze with
sorrow upon his many wanderings; the fair Peri drops a tear whene'er
that loved one sins. Presently the man is brought under the sound of
the gospel. The angel says, "Behold, he begins to hear." He waits a
little while, the word sinks into his heart, a tear runs down his
cheek, and at last he cries from his inmost soul, "God have mercy upon
me!" See! The angel claps his wings, up he flies to heaven, and says,
"Brethren angels, list to me, Behold, he prayeth.'" Then they set
heaven's bells ringing; they have a jubilee in glory; again they shout
with gladsome voices, for verily I tell you, "there is joy in heaven
among the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." They watch us
till we pray, and when we pray, they say, "Behold, he prayeth."
Moreover, my dear friends, there may be other spirits in heaven that
rejoice, besides the angels. Those persons are our friends who have
gone before us. I have not many relations in heaven, but I have one
whom I dearly love, who, I doubt not, often prayed for me, for she
nursed me when I was a child and brought me up during part of my
infancy, and now she sits before the throne in glory–suddenly snatched
away. I fancy she looked upon her darling grandson, and as she saw him
in the ways of sin, and vice, and folly, she could not look with
sorrow, for there are no tears in the eyes of glorified ones; she could
not look with regret, because they cannot know such a feeling before
the throne of God; but ah! That moment when, by sovereign grace, I was
constrained to pray, when all alone I bent my knee and wrestled,
methinks I see her as she said, "Behold, he prayeth; behold, he
prayeth." Oh! I can picture her countenance. She seemed to have two
heavens for a moment, a double bliss, a heaven in me as well as in
herself–when she could say, "Behold, he prayeth." Ah! young man, there
is your mother walking the golden streets. She is looking down upon you
this hour. She nursed you; on her breast you lay when but a child, and
she consecrated you to Jesus Christ. From heaven, she has been watching
you with that intense anxiety which is compatible with happiness; this
morning she is looking upon you. What sayest thou, young man? Does
Christ by his Spirit say in thine heart, "Come unto me?" Dost thou drop
the tear of repentance? Methinks I see thy mother as she cries,
"Behold, he prayeth." Once more she bends before the throne of God and
says, "I thank thee, O thou ever gracious One, that he who was my child
on earth, has now become thy child in light."
But, if there is one in heaven who has more joy than another over the
conversion of a sinner, it is a minister, one of God's true ministers.
O, my hearers, ye little think how God's true ministers do love your
souls. Perhaps ye think it is easy work to stand here and preach to
you. God knows, if that were all, it were easy work; but when we think
that when we speak to you, your salvation or damnation, in some
measure, depends upon what we say–when we reflect that if we are
unfaithful watchmen, your blood will God require at our hands–O, good
God! When I reflect that I have preached to thousands in my lifetime,
many thousands and have perhaps said many things I ought not to have
said, it startles me, it makes me shake and tremble. Luther said he
could face his enemies, but could not go up his pulpit stairs without
his knees knocking together. Preaching is not child's play; it is not a
thing to be done without labor and anxiety; it is solemn work; it is
awful work, if you view it in its relation to eternity. Ah! How God's
minister prays for you! If you might have listened under the eaves of
his chamber window, you would have heard him groaning every Sunday
night over his sermons because he had not spoken with more effect; you
would have heard him pleading with God, "Who hath believed our report?
To whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?" Ah, when he observes you from
his rest in heaven–when he sees you praying, how will he clap his
hands and say, "Behold the child thou hast given me! Behold, he prays."
I am sure when we see one brought to know the Lord, we feel very much
like one who has saved a fellow-creature from being drowned. There is a
poor man in the flood; he is going down, he is sinking, he must be
drowned; but I spring in, grasp him firmly, lift him on the shore, and
lay him on the ground; the physician comes; he looks at him, he puts
his hand upon him, and says, "I am afraid he is dead." We apply all the
means in our power, we do what we can to restore life. I feel that I
have been that man's deliverer, and oh, how I stoop down and put my ear
beside his mouth! At last I say, "He breathes! He breathes!" What
pleasure there is in that thought! He breathes; there is life still. So
when we find a man praying, we shout–he breathes; he is not dead, he
is alive; for while a man prays he is not dead in trespasses and sins,
but is brought to life, is quickened by the power of the Spirit.
"Behold, he prayeth." This was joyful news in heaven, as well as being
noticed by God.
Then, in the next place, this was an event most astonishing to men.
Ananias lifted up both his hands in amazement. "O my Lord, I should
have thought anybody would pray but that man! Is it possible?" I do not
know how it is with other ministers, but sometimes I look upon
such-and-such individuals in the congregation, and I say, "Well, they
are very hopeful; I think I shall have them. I trust there is a work
going on, and hope soon to hear them tell what the Lord has done for
their souls." Soon, perhaps, I see nothing of them, and miss them
altogether; but instead thereof, my good Master sends me one of whom I
had no hope–an outcast, a drunkard, a reprobate, to the praise of the
glory of his grace. Then I lift up my hands in astonishment, thinking
"I should have thought of anybody rather than you." I remember a
circumstance which occurred a little while ago. There was a poor man
about sixty years old; he had been a rough sailor, one of the worst men
in the village; it was his custom to drink, and he seemed to be
delighted when he was cursing and swearing. He came into the chapel,
however, one Sabbath day, when one nearly related to me was preaching
from the text concerning Jesus weeping over Jerusalem. And the poor man
thought, "What! did Jesus Christ ever weep over such a wretch as I am?"
He thought he was too bad for Christ to care for him. At last he came
to the minister, and said, "Sir, sixty years have I been sailing under
the standard of the devil; it is time I should have a new owner; I want
to scuttle the old ship and sink her altogether! then I shall have a
new one, and I shall sail under the colors of Prince Immanuel." Ever
since that moment that man has been a praying character, walking before
God in all sincerity. Yet, he was the very last man you would have
thought of. Somehow God does choose the last men; he does not care for
the diamond, but he picks up the pebble-stones, for he is able, out of
"stones, to raise up children unto Abraham." God is more wise than the
chemist: he not only refines gold, but he transmutes base metal into
precious jewels; he takes the filthiest and the vilest, and fashions
them into glorious beings, makes them saints, whereas they have been
sinners, and sanctifies them, whereas they have been unholy.
The conversion of Saul was a strange thing; but, beloved, was it
stranger than that you and I should have been Christians? Let me ask
you if anybody had told you, a few years ago, that you would belong to
a church and be numbered with the children of God what would you have
said? "Stuff and nonsense! I am not one of your canting Methodists; I
am not going to have any religion; I love to think and do as I like."
Did not you and I say so? And how on earth did we get here? When we
look at the change that has passed over us, it appears like a dream.
God has left many in our families who were better than we were, and why
has he chosen us? Oh! Is it not strange? Might we not lift up our hands
in astonishment, as Ananias did, and say, "Behold, behold, behold: it
is a miracle on earth, a wonder in heaven?"
The last thing I have to say here, is this–this fact was a novelty to
Saul himself. "Behold he prayeth." What is there novel in that? Saul
used to go up to the temple twice a day, at the hour of prayer. If you
could have accompanied him, you would have heard him speak beautifully,
in words like these: "Lord, I thank thee I am not as other men are; I
am not an extortioner, nor a publican; I fast twice in the week, and
give tithes of all I possess;" and so on. Oh! You might have found him
pouring out a fine oration before the throne of God. And yet it saith,
"Behold, he prayeth." What! Had he never prayed before? No, never. All
he had ever done before went for nothing; it was not prayer. I have
heard of an old gentleman, who was taught when a child to pray, "Pray
God bless my father and mother," and he kept on praying the same thing
for seventy years, when his parents were both dead. After that it
pleased God, in his infinite mercy, to touch his heart, and he was led
to see that notwithstanding his constancy to his forms, he had not been
praying at all; he often said his prayers, but never prayed. So it was
with Saul. He had pronounced his magniloquent orations, but they were
all good-for-nothing. He had prayed his long prayers for a pretense; it
had all been a failure. Now comes a true petition, and it is said,
"Behold, he prayeth." Do you see that man trying to obtain a hearing
from his Maker? How he stands! He speaks Latin and blank verse before
the Almighty's throne; but God sits in calm indifference, paying no
attention. Then the man tries a different style; procures a book, and
bending his knee again, prays in a delightful form the best old prayer
that could ever be put together; but the Most High disregards his empty
formalities. At last the poor creature throws the book away, forgets
his blank verse, and says, "O Lord, hear, for Christ's sake." "Hear
him," says God, "I have heard him." There is the mercy thou hast
sought. One hearty prayer is better than ten thousand forms. One prayer
coming from the soul is better than a myriad cold readings. As for
prayers that spring from the mouth and head only, God abhors them; he
loves those that come deep from the heart. Perhaps I should be impudent
if I were to say that there are hundreds here this morning who never
prayed once in their lives. There are some of you who never did. There
is one young man over there, who told his parents when he left them,
that he should always go through his form of prayer every morning and
night. But he is ashamed, and he has left it off. Well, young man, what
will you do when you come to die? Will you have "the watchword at the
gates of death?" Will you "enter heaven by prayer?" No, you will not;
you will be driven from his presence, and be cast away.
II. Secondly, we have here AN ARGUMENT. "For, behold he prayeth." It
was an argument, first of all, for Ananias' safety. Poor Ananias was
afraid to go to Saul; he thought it was very much like stepping into a
lion's den. "If I go to his house," he thought, "the moment he sees me,
he will take me to Jerusalem at once, for I am one of Christ's
disciples; I dare not go." God says, "Behold, he prayeth." "Well," says
Ananias, "that is enough for me. If he is a praying man, he will not
hurt me; if he is a man of real devotion, I am safe." Be sure you may
always trust a praying man. I do not know how it is, but even ungodly
men always pay a reverence to a sincere Christian. A master likes to
have a praying servant after all; if he does not regard religion
himself, he likes to have a pious servant, and he will trust him rather
than any other. True, there are some of your professedly praying people
that have not a bit of prayer in them. But whenever you find a really
praying man, trust him with untold gold; for if he really prays, you
need not be afraid of him. He who communes with God in secret, may be
trusted in public. I always feel safe with a man who is a visitor at
the mercy-seat. I have heard an anecdote of two gentlemen traveling
together, somewhere in Switzerland. Presently they came into the midst
of the forests; and you know the gloomy tales the people tell about the
inns there, how dangerous it is to lodge in them. One of them, an
infidel, said to the other, who was a Christian, "I don't like stopping
here at all; it is very dangerous indeed." "Well," said the other, "let
us try." So they went into a house; but it looked so suspicious that
neither of them liked it; and they thought they would prefer being at
home in England. Presently the landlord said, "Gentlemen, I always read
and pray with my family before going to bed; will you allow me to do so
to-night?" "Yes," they said, "with the greatest pleasure." When they
went up-stairs, the infidel said, "I am not at all afraid now." "Why?"
said the Christian. "Because our host has prayed." "Oh!" said the
other, "then it seems, after all, you think something of religion;
because a man prays, you can go to sleep in his house." And it was
marvelous how both of them did sleep. Sweet dreams they had, for they
felt that where the house had been roofed by prayer, and walled with
devotion, there could not be found a man living that would commit an
injury to them. This, then, was an argument to Ananias, that he might
go with safety to Saul's house.
But more than this. Here was an argument for Paul's sincerity. Secret
prayer is one of the best tests of sincere religion. If Jesus had said
to Ananias, "Behold, he preacheth," Ananias would have said, "that he
may do, and yet be a deceiver." If he had said, "He has gone to a
meeting of the church," Ananias would have said, "He may enter there as
a wolf in sheep's clothing." But when he said, "Behold, he prays," that
was argument enough. A young person comes and tells me about what he
has felt and what he has been doing. At last I say, "kneel down and
pray." "I would much rather not." "Never mind, you shall." Down he
falls on his knees, he has hardly a word to say; he begins groaning and
crying, and there he stays on his knees till at last he stammers out,
"Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner; I am the greatest of sinners; have
mercy upon me!" Then I am a little more satisfied, and I say, "I did
not mind all your talk, I wanted your prayers." But oh! If I could
trace him home; if I could see him go and pray alone, then I should
feel sure; for he who prays in private is a real Christian. The mere
reading of a book of daily devotion will not prove you a child of God;
if you pray in private, then you have a sincere religion; a little
religion, if sincere, is better than mountains of pretense. Home piety
is the best piety. Praying will make you leave off sinning, or sinning
will make you leave off praying. Prayer in the heart proves the reality
of conversion. A man may be sincere, but sincerely wrong. Paul was
sincerely right. "Behold, he prayeth," was the best argument that his
religion was right. If any one should ask me for an epitome of the
Christian religion, I should say it is in that one word–"prayer." If I
should be asked, "What will take in the whole Christian experience?" I
should answer, "prayer." A man must have been convinced of sin before
he could pray; he must have had some hope that there was mercy for him
before he could pray. In fact, all the Christian virtues are locked up
in that word, prayer. Do but tell me you are a man of prayer, and I
will reply at once, "Sir, I have no doubt of the reality, as well as
the sincerity, of your religion."
But one more thought, and I will leave this subject. It was a proof of
this man's election, for you read directly afterwards, "Behold, he is a
chosen vessel." I often find people troubling themselves about the
doctrine of election. Every now and then I get a letter from somebody
or other taking me to task for preaching election. All the answer I can
give is, "There it is in the Bible; go and ask my Master why he put it
there. I cannot help it. I am only a serving man, and I tell you the
message from above. If I were a footman, I should not alter my master's
message at the door. I happen to be an ambassador of heaven, and I dare
not alter the message I have received. If it is wrong, send up to
head-quarters. There it is, and I cannot alter it." This much let me
say in explanation. Some say, "How can I discover whether I am God's
elect? I am afraid I am not God's elect." Do you pray? If it can be
said, "Behold, he prayeth," it can also be said, Behold, he is a chosen
vessel." Have you faith? If so, you are elect. Those are the marks of
election. If you have none of these, you have no grounds for concluding
that you belong to the peculiar people of God. Have you a desire to
believe? Have you a wish to love Christ? Have you the millionth part of
a desire to come to Christ? And is it a practical desire? Does it lead
you to offer earnest, tearful supplication? If so, never be afraid of
non-election; for whoever prays with sincerity, is ordained of God
before the foundation of the world, that he should be holy and without
blame before Christ in love.
III. Now for the APPLICATION. A word or two with you, my dear friends,
before I send you away this morning. I regret that I cannot better
enter into the subject; but my glorious Master requires of each of us
according to what we have, not according to what we have not. I am
deeply conscious that I fail in urging home the truth so solemnly as I
ought; Nevertheless, "my work is with God and my judgement with my
God," and the last day shall reveal that my error lay in judgment, but
not in sincere affection for souls.
First, allow me to address the children of God. Do you not see, my dear
brethren, that the best mark of our being sons of God is to be found in
our devotion? "Behold, he prayeth." Well, then, does it not follow, as
a natural consequence, that the more we are found in prayer the
brighter will our evidences be? Perhaps you have lost your evidence
this morning; you do not know whether you are a child of God or not; I
will tell you where you lost your confidence–you lost it in your
closet. I speak what I have felt. I have often gone back from
God–never so as to fall finally, I know, but I have often lost that
sweet savor of his love which I once enjoyed. I have had to cry,
"Those peaceful hours I once enjoyed,
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void,
The world can never fill."
I have gone up to God's house to preach, without either fire or energy;
I have read the Bible, and there has been no light upon it; I have
tried to have communion with God, but all has been a failure. Shall I
tell where that commenced! It commenced in my closet. I had ceased, in
a measure, to pray. Here I stand, and do confess my faults; I do
acknowledge that whenever I depart from God it is there it doth begin.
O Christians, would you be happy? Be much in prayer. Would ye be
victorious? Be much in prayer.
"Restraining prayer, we cease to fight,
Prayer makes the Christian's armor bright."
Mrs. Berry used to say, "I would not be hired out of my closet for a
thousand worlds." Mr. Jay said, "If the twelve apostles were living
near you, and you had access to them, if this intercourse drew you from
the closet, they would prove a real injury to your souls." Prayer is
the ship which bringeth home the richest freight. It is the soil which
yields the most abundant harvest. Brother, when you rise in the morning
your business so presses, that with a hurried word or two, down you go
into the world, and at night, jaded and tired, you give God the fag end
of the day. The consequence is, that you have no communion with him.
The reason we have not more true religion now, is because we have not
more prayer. Sirs, I have no opinion of the churches of the present day
that do not pray. I go from chapel to chapel in this metropolis and I
see pretty good congregations; but I go to their prayer-meetings on a
week evening, and I see a dozen persons. Can God bless us, can he pour
out his Spirit upon us, while such things as these exist? He could, but
it would not be according to the order of his dispensations, for he
says, "When Zion travails she brings forth children." Go to your
churches and chapels with this thought, that you want more prayer. Many
of you have no business here this morning. You ought to be in your own
places of worship. I do not want to steal away the people from other
chapels; there are enough to hear me without them. But though you have
sinned this morning, hear while you are here, as much to your profit as
possible. Go home and say to your minister, "Sir, we must have more
prayer." Urge the people to more prayer. Have a prayer-meeting, even if
you have it all to yourself; and if you are asked how many were
present, you can say, "Four." "Four! How so?" "Why, there was myself,
and God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost; and we have
had a rich and real communion together." We must have an outpouring of
real devotion, or else what is to become of many of our churches? O!
May God awaken us all, and stir us up to pray, for when we pray we
shall be victorious. I should like to take you this morning, as Samson
did the foxes, tie the firebrands of prayer to you, and send you in
among the shocks of corn till you burn the whole up. I should like to
make a conflagration by my words, and to set all the churches on fire,
till the whole has smoked like a sacrifice to God's throne. If you
pray, you have a proof that you are a Christian; the less you pray, the
less reason have you to believe your Christianity; and if you have
neglected to pray altogether, then you have ceased to breathe, and you
may be afraid that you never did breathe at all.
And now, my last word is to the ungodly. O, sirs! I could fain wish
myself anywhere but here; for if it be solemn work to address the
godly, how much more when I come to deal with you. We fear lest, on the
one hand, we should so speak to you as to make you trust in your own
strength; while, on the other hand, we tremble lest we should lull you
into the sleep of sloth and security. I believe most of us feel some
difficulty as to the most fit manner to preach to you–not that we
doubt but that the gospel is to be preached–but our desire is so to do
it, that we may win your souls. I feel like a watchman, who, while
guarding a city, is oppressed with sleep; how earnestly does he strive
to arouse himself, while infirmity would overcome him. The remembrance
of his responsibility bestirs him. His is no lack of will, but of
power; and so I hope all the watchmen of the Lord are anxious to be
faithful, while, at the same time, they know their imperfection. Truly,
the minister of Christ will feel like the old keeper of Eddystone
lighthouse; life was failing fast, but, summoning all his strength, he
crept round once more to trim the lights before he died. O may the Holy
Spirit enable us to keep the beacon-fire blazing, to warn you of the
rocks, shoals, and quicksands, which surround you, and may we ever
guide you to Jesus, and not to free-will or creature merit. If my
friends knew how anxiously I have sought divine direction in the
important matter of preaching to sinners, they would not feel as some
of them do, when they fancy I address them wrongly. I want to do as God
bids me, and if he tells me to speak to the dry bones and they shall
live, I must do it, even if it does not please others; otherwise I
should be condemned in my own conscience, and condemned of God. Now,
with all the solemnity that man can summon, let me say that a
prayerless soul is a Christless soul. As the Lord liveth, you who never
prayed are without God, without hope, and strangers from the
commonwealth of Israel. You who never know what a groan is, or a
falling tear, are destitute of vital godliness. Let me ask you, sirs,
whether you have ever thought in what an awful state you are? You are
far from God, and therefore God is angry with you; for "God is angry
with the wicked every day." O, sinner! Lift thine eyes and behold the
frowning countenance of God, for he is angry with you. And I beseech
you, as you love yourselves, just for one moment contemplate what will
become of you, if living as you are, ye should at last die without
prayer. Don't think that one prayer on your deathbed will save you.
Deathbed prayer is a deathbed farce generally, and passes for nothing;
it is a coin that will not ring in heaven, but is stamped by hypocrisy,
and made of base metal. Take heed sirs. Let me ask you, if you have
never prayed, what will you do? It were a good thing for you, if death
were an eternal sleep; but it is not. If you find yourself in hell, oh,
the racks and pains! But I will not harrow up your feelings by
attempting to describe them. May God grant you never may feel the
torments of the lost. Only conceive that poor wretch in the flames who
is saying, "O for one drop of water, to cool my parched tongue!" See
how his tongue hangs from between his blistered lips! How it excoriates
and burns the roof of his mouth, as if it were a firebrand. Behold him
crying for a drop of water. I will not picture the scene. Suffice it
for me to close up by saying, that the hell of hells will be to thee,
poor sinner, the thought that it is to be forever. Thou wilt look up
there on the throne of God, and it shall be written "forever!" When the
damned jingle the burning irons of their torments, they shall say
"forever!" When they howl, echo cries "forever!"
"Forever' is written on their racks,
'Forever' on their chains;
'Forever' burneth in the fire,
'Forever' ever reigns."
Doleful thought! "If I could but get out, then I should be happy. If
there were a hope of deliverance, then I might be peaceful; but I am
here forever!" Sirs, if ye would escape eternal torments, if ye would
be found amongst the numbers of the blessed, the road to heaven can
only be found by prayer–by prayer to Jesus, by prayer for the Spirit,
by supplication at his mercy seat. "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die,
O house of Israel? As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the
death of him that dieth, but had rather that he should turn unto me and
live." "The Lord is gracious and full of compassion." Let us go unto
him and say, "He shall heal our backslidings, he shall love us freely
and forgive us graciously, for his Son's name's sake." Oh! If I may but
win one soul to-day, I will go home contented. If I may but gain
twenty, then I will rejoice. The more I have, the more crowns I shall
wear. Wear! No, I will take them all at once, and cast them at Jesus'
feet, and say, "Not unto me, but unto thy name be all the glory,
forever."
"Prayer was appointed to convey
The blessings God designs to give;
Long as they live, should Christians pray,
For only while they pray, they live.
"And wilt thou still in silence lie,
When Christ stands waiting for thy prayer?
My soul, thou hast a friend on high,
Arise, and try thine interest there.
"Tis prayer supports the soul that's weak,
Though thought be broken, language lame;
Pray, if thou canst, or canst not speak,
And pray with faith in Jesus' name."