Paul's Sermon Before Felix
A Sermon
(No. 171)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, January 10, 1858, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
"And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come,
Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time; when I have a
convenient season, I will call for thee."–Acts 24:25.
THE POWER OF THE GOSPEL appears in marvelous grandeur when we see its
hold upon hearts devoted to it, when subjected to trouble, persecution,
and sorrow. How mighty must that gospel be, which, when it gained an
entrance into the heart of Paul, could never be driven out of it! For
it he suffered the loss of all things, and as for them, he counted them
but dung, that he might win Christ. To spread the truth, he encountered
hardships, shipwrecks, perils on the land, and perils by sea; but none
of these things moved him, neither did he count his life dear unto him,
that he might win Christ and be found in him. Persecution followed
persecution; of the Jews was he beaten with rods; he was dragged from
one tribunal to another; scarce in any city did he find anything but
bonds and imprisonment awaiting him. Attacked in his own country–he is
accused at Jerusalem, and arraigned at Cesarea; he is taken from one
tribunal to another to be tried for his life. But mark how he always
maintains the prominent passion of his soul. Put him where you may, he
seems to be like John Bunyan, who says, "If you let me out of prison
to-day, I will preach the gospel again to-morrow, by the grace of God."
Nay, more than that, he preached it in prison, before his judges he
proclaimed it. Standing up before the Sanhedrim, he cries, "As touching
the resurrection of the dead I am called in question." When brought to
stand before Agrippa, he tells out his conversion, and so sweetly
speaks of the grace of God, that the king himself cries, "Almost thou
persuadest me to be a Christian;" and here in our text when he stands
before the Roman Procurator, to be tried for life or death, instead of
entering into a defence of himself, he reasons "of righteousness,
continence, and judgment to come," until his judge trembles, and he
that sits upon the throne takes the prisoner's place, while the
prisoner judges him, in anticipation of that time when the saints shall
judge the angels, as assessors with Christ Jesus. Why, once let a man
believe the gospel, and determine to spread it, and it makes him a
grand man. If he be a man destitute of power, intellect, and talent, it
makes him grandly earnest in his arduous desire to serve Christ, in the
little measure in which he can do it; but if he be a gifted man, it
sets his whole soul on fire, brings out all his powers, develops
everything that lies hidden, digs up every talent that had been buried
in its napkin, and spreads out all the gold and silver of man's
intellectual wealth, displaying it all to the honor of that Christ who
has bought it all with his blood.
We might stay a little while and dilate on this thought, and show you
how, in all ages, this has been the truth, that the power of the gospel
has been eminently proved in its influence over men's hearts, proving
the truth of that utterance of Paul, when he said, that neither
tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or
peril, or sword, shall separate them from the love of God, which is in
Jesus Christ their Lord. But instead of so doing, I invite you to
contemplate the text more closely. We have before us a picture
containing three characters: Felix and Drusilla, sitting side by side
upon the judgment-seat; Paul, the prisoner, brought in bound in chains,
to explain to Drusilla and Felix the doctrines of the Christian
religion, in order that he might either be acquitted or condemned to
die. You have a judge extremely willing to put the prisoner to death,
because he desired to please the Jews; you have, on the other hand, a
prisoner, unabashed, who comes before the judge, and without any
debate, begins to unfold the gospel, selecting a certain part of it,
described in our text as reasoning concerning "righteousness,
temperance, and judgment to come." The Judge trembles, dismisses the
prisoner in haste; and promises to attend to him at a convenient
season.
Note, first then, the appropriate sermon; secondly, the affected
audience–for the audience was certainly moved–"Felix trembled!" Note,
then, thirdly, the lamentable disappointment. Instead of attending to
the message, "Go thy way" was all that Paul had.
I. First, then, we have an APPROPRIATE SERMON. Just hear for a moment
or two the history of Felix. Felix was originally a slave; he was freed
by Claudius, and became one of the infamous favorites of the emperor.
Of course in that capacity he pandered to his master's vices, and was
at all times prepared to indulge the Emperor in every lustful wish of
his abominable heart. Through this he became promoted, and ran through
the stages of Roman preferment, until he obtained the Governorship of
Judea. Whilst he was Governor there, he committed every act of
extortion which it was possible for him to commit, and went so far at
last, that the Emperor Nero was obliged to recall him, and he would
have been severely punished for his crimes, had it not been for the
influence of his brother Pallas, another freedman, with the Emperor,
through whom he obtained a release, after a sharp rebuke. The Roman
historian, Tacitus, says, "He exercised, in Judea, the imperial
functions with a mercenary soul." You may easily see, then, how
appropriate was the discourse, when the apostle Paul reasoned
concerning righteousness. Felix had been an unjust extortioner, and the
apostle purposely selected righteousness to be a topic of his
discourse. By the side of Felix sat Drusilla; in the verse preceding
our text she is called his wife. It is said she was a Jewess. This
Drusilla was a daughter of Herod Agrippa, the great–a woman noted in
that age for her superlative charms, and for her unbridled
voluptuousness. She had been once affianced to Antioch who, upon the
death of Herod, refused to marry her. She was afterward married to
Azizus, the king of the Amesenes, who, although a heathen, was so fond
of her, that he submitted to the most rigorous rites of the Jewish
religion in order to obtain her in marriage. His love was but
ill-requited, for in a little time she deserted him at the instigation
of Felix, and was, at the time of Paul's address, living as the wife of
the lascivious Felix. We may easily understand then, why the apostle
Paul, fixing his stern eye on Drusilla, reasoned concerning continence,
and publicly rebuked both Felix and Drusilla for the shameless lust in
which they were publicly living. And then you may imagine since there
was now a court sitting, and Felix himself was the judge, and Paul the
prisoner, how strikingly appropriate was the last theme–"judgment to
come."
I think, my brethren, it would not be very hard for us to imagine how
well the apostle handled this subject. I can conceive that Felix
expected to have a grand disquisition upon some recondite themes of the
gospel. Possibly he expected that the apostle Paul would reason
concerning the resurrection of the dead. He thought perhaps that
predestination, election, and free will would be the topics or the
apostles discourse. "Surely," thought he, "he will tell me those deep
and hidden matters in which the gospel of Jesus differs from Judaism."
Not so. In another place, on Mar's Hill, the apostle would speak of
resurrection; in another place he could speak of election, and declare
that God was the potter, and man was but the clay. This was not the
place for that; and this was not the time for such subjects; this was
the time for preaching the plain precepts of the gospel, and for
dealing sternly with a wicked man who sat in eminent power. Conceive
then, the pointed manner of his opening discourse–How he would address
Felix concerning righteousness. I can imagine how he would bring before
the mind of Felix, the widow who had been defrauded of inheritance, the
fatherless children, who, cast from affluence, were led to beg their
bread. I can suppose how he brought before the mind of that base man
the many bribes that he had taken, when he sat upon his judgment-seat.
He would recall to him the false decisions that he had given; he would
remind him how the Jews, as a nation had been oppressed–how by
taxation, they had been ground to the earth; he would bring before him
one scene after another, where avarice had overridden equity, boldly
and sternly depicting the exact character of the man; and then, at the
end, declaring that such men could have no inheritance in the kingdom
of God–bidding him repent of this his wickedness, that his sins might
be forgiven him. Then gently and delicately turning to the other
subject, I can imagine how he would fix his eyes upon Drusilla, and
remind her that she had lost everything for which a woman ought to
live, and solemnly bring the most powerful motives to bear upon her
lascivious heart; and then turning to Felix, would remind him that
adulterers, fornicators, and unclean persons, have no inheritance in
the kingdom of God–reminding him how the vices of a ruler would tend
to pollute a nation, and how the iniquities of the nation of the Jews
must, in a great measure, be laid to his charge. I can conceive how,
for a moment, Felix would bite his lips. Paul gave him no time for
anger and passion; for in a moment, in a fury of impassioned eloquence,
he introduced the "judgment to come." He made Felix think he saw the
great white throne, the books opened, and himself arraigned before his
judge: he made him hear the voices of the trumpet–the "Come ye
blessed"–the "Depart ye cursed." He petrified him, nailed him to his
seat, opened his ears, and made them listen, while with stern and
impassioned earnestness, though his hands were bound with chains, he
used the liberty of the gospel in upbraiding him. Well do I conceive
that then Felix began to tremble. He that had been base, and mean, and
perfidious, trembled like a coward slave, as he really was; and though
sitting on throne, he pictured himself already damned. What he next
would have done we can not tell, if the devil had not then suggested to
him that it was time to rise; for in hot haste he and Drusilla left the
throne. "Go thy way for this time; when I have convenient season, I
will call for thee."
Hear me, then, brethren! What the apostle Paul did, every minister
ought to do. He selected a topic appropriate to his audience. It is
ours ever to do the same. But are there not to be found many ministers
who, if they addressed kings and princes, would pour out before them
the vilest adulation and flattery that ever came from mortal lips? Are
there not many who, when they are aware the great and mighty ones are
listening to them, trim their doctrine, cut the edges of their speech,
and endeavor in some way or other to make themselves pleasing to their
audience? Can there not be found many ministers who, if addressing an
Antinomian audience, would confine themselves strictly to
predestination and reprobation? and ministers who, if they addressed an
audience of philosophers, would just talk about morality but never
mention such words as the covenant of grace and salvation by blood? Are
there not some to be found, who think the highest object of the
minister is to attract the multitude and then to please them? O my God!
how solemnly ought each of us to bewail our sin, if we feel that we
have been guilty in this matter. What is it to have pleased men? Is
there aught in it that can make our head lie easy on the pillow of our
death? Is there aught in it that can give us boldness in the day of
judgment, or cause us happiness when we face thy tribunal, O Judge of
quick and dead? No, my brethren, we must always take our texts so that
we may bear upon our hearers with all our might. I hope I may never
preach before a congregation–I desire always to preach to you; nor do
I wish to exhibit powers of eloquence, nor would I even pretend to
exhibit any depth of learning. I would simply say, "Hear me, my fellow
men, for God doth send me unto you. There are some things that concern
you; I will tell you of them. You are dying; many of you when you die
must perish for ever; it is not for me to be amusing you with some deep
things that may instruct your intellect but do not enter your hearts;
it is for me to fit the arrow to the string and send it home–to
unsheathe the sword–be the scabbard never so glittering, to cast it
aside, and let the majesty of naked truth smite at your hearts; for in
the day of judgment aught beside personal home-speaking will be
consumed as wood, and hay, and stubble; but these shall abide, like the
gold and silver and precious stones that can not be consumed.
But some men will say, "Sir, ministers ought not to be personal."
Ministers ought to be personal, and they will never be true to their
Master till they are. I admire John Knox for going, Bible in hand, to
Queen Mary, and sternly upbraiding her. I admit I do not exactly love
the way in which he did it; but the thing itself I love. The woman had
been a sinner, and he told her so flat to her face. But now we poor
graven sons of nobodies have to stand and talk about generalities; we
are afraid to point you out and tell you of your sins personally. But,
blessed be God, from that fear I have been delivered long ago. There
walketh not a man on the surface of this earth whom I dare not reprove.
There are none of you, however connected with me by ties of profession
or in any other respect, that I would blush to speak personally to, as
to the things of the kingdom of God; and it is only by being bold,
courageous, and sending home the truth, that we shall at last be free
from the blood of our hearers. May God grant us the power of Paul, that
we may reason on appropriate subjects, and not select generalities,
when we ought to be pushing home truths to the consciences of our
hearers. After all, the apostle Paul needs no eulogy. The best eulogy
that could be passed on the apostle was the fact that "Felix trembled."
And that brings us to the second part of our subject.
II. "FELIX TREMBLED." Yes, the poor prisoner, having nought wherewith
to assist him in the delivery of the truth but having everything to his
disadvantage–the chain, the prison dress, the character of one that
had stirred up sedition in a nation–this poor prisoner, with believing
hand, laid hold on the sword of truth, and with this he did divide in
sunder the joints and marrow. He did beard the lion in his den. Even
now I see him look the governor sternly in the face, attack him in his
heart, drive him from his excuses, push the word home at the point of
the bayonet of truth, drive him from every refuge of lies, and make him
tremble! O marvellous power of a preached gospel! O mighty truth that
God is with the ministry, when the kings of the earth that take counsel
together are yet dismayed by it. Who is he that doth not see here
something more than human eloquence, when prisoner becomes the judge
and the prince upon the throne becomes the criminal? "Felix trembled."
Have I not some here who have experienced the same feelings as Felix?
Some plain-spoken minister has told you something that was rather too
plain for you. At first you were angry; on second thoughts, and as the
man moved on in his discourse, you became chagrined that you gave him
the opportunity of thus exposing you, as you imagined. A better thought
struck you and you saw at once that the man could have no intention
personally to insult you; and then your feelings changed. Thunderbolt
after thunderbolt fell from his lips; he seemed a very Jupiter Tonans
sitting upon his throne, casting lightnings from his lips. Ye began to
tremble. "Verily here is a man that has told me all things that ever I
did; is not this man sent from Christ?" Ah! and thus you have borne
your witness to the truth of the gospel. Though you have not felt its
power to your salvation, yet you have been an unwilling witness that
the gospel has been true; for you have felt its power when it made your
knees knock together, and your eyes run down with tears.
But what is it that makes men tremble under the sound of the Gospel?
Some say it is their conscience. Yes, and doubtless it is in some
sense. The poet said, "Conscience makes cowards of us all;" and
certainly, when the minister's exposition is faithful and pertinent to
our own case, conscience, if it be not thoroughly seared and dead, will
make the blush mantle on our cheeks. But I take it that conscience of
itself is so thoroughly corrupt, together with all the other powers of
manhood, that it would never even make a man go so far as trembling, if
there were not something at work upon the conscience, besides being
left to its own natural force. My brethren, I believe that what some
people call natural conviction is, after all, the work of the Spirit.
Some very profound divines are so fond of the doctrine that the Holy
Spirit always works efficaciously, that they think that the Spirit
never can work a transitory emotion in a man's soul; they impute such
things to conscience. And if they see a man like Felix trembling, they
say tis all natural conscience! Now, do they not see that they are in
this touching on another doctrine equally dear to them–the doctrine of
total depravity?–for if men be totally depraved by nature, then as
trembling is a good thing, they are not capable even of that without
some influence of the Holy Spirit. The fact is, my hearers, the Holy
Spirit works in two ways. In some men's hearts he works with
restraining Grace only, and the restraining Grace, though it will not
save them, is enough to keep them from breaking out into the open and
corrupt vices in which some men indulge who are totally left by the
restraints of the Spirit. Now, there was in Felix some little portion
of this restraining Grace; and when the Apostle laid the Gospel open to
him, this restraining Grace quickened the conscience, and compelled
Felix to tremble. Mark you, this Grace man may resist and does resist;
for albeit that the Holy Spirit is Omnipotent and never can be resisted
when he works Omnipotently, yet as a strong man may sometimes not put
out all his strength, but work with his finger, for instance, so that
he may permit even a gnat or an ant to overcome him, even so the Holy
Spirit sometimes works but temporarily and but for good and excellent
purposes, which he always accomplishes; but he allows men to quench and
resist his influences, so that salvation is not so much as approached
thereby. God the Holy Spirit may work in men some good desires and
feelings, and yet have no design of saving them. But mark, none of
these feelings are things that accompany sure salvation, for if so,
they would be continued. But he does not work Omnipotently to save,
except in the persons of his own elect, whom he assuredly bringeth to
himself. I believe, then, that the trembling of Felix is to be
accounted for by the restraining grace of the Spirit quickening his
conscience and making him tremble.
But what shall be said of some of you who never tremble? Thou hast come
hither this morning with thy brazen face, and with thine impudent and
arrogant heart. Thou hast been mouthing high heaven with thy
blasphemies; and now thou standest all unmoved and unabashed in the
house of God. Though a Baxter should rise from the dead, and with
moving sighs and tears should preach the Gospel, you would laugh and
scoff; though Boanerges with a tongue of thunder should come and preach
to you, you would turn up your lip and find some fault with his
oratory, and his words would never reach your heart. O ungodly
generation! how hath God given you up, and how hath hell bewitched you?
O race of evil doers! children that are corrupters! how are ye seared.
My soul reads with prophetic glance the handwriting on the wall! You
are condemned already; you are past hope, "trees plucked up by the
roots, twice dead." For in the fact that ye tremble not, there is proof
not only of your death but of your positive corruption. Ye shall die as
ye are, without hope, without trust or refuge; for he that hath lost
feeling hath lost hope; he that is past conscience, God the Holy Spirit
hath given up, and he will no more strive with him for ever.
III. And now, passing rapidly over this point of the trembling
audience, we come in the next place to the LAMENTABLE DISAPPPOINTMENT
which Paul experienced, when he saw Felix rise in haste, and dismiss
him from his presence. "It is wonderful," said a good man once to a
minister, "it is wonderful to see a whole congregation moved to tears
by the preaching of the Word." "Yes," said that minister, "it is
wonderful; but I know a wonder ten times greater than that: the wonder
is, that those people should so soon wipe away their tears and forget
what they have heard. Tis wonderful that Felix trembled before Paul;
tis more wonderful that Felix should say, "Go thy way." "Tis strange,
tis passing strange," that when the word touches the conscience, even
then sin hath such power over men, that the truth can be repulsed and
driven out of the heart. Felix, unhappy Felix! why is it that thou dost
rise from thy judgment-seat? Is it that thou hast much business to do?
Stop, Felix; let Paul speak to thee a minute longer. Thou hast
business: but hast thou no business for thy soul? Stop, unhappy man!
Art thou about again to be extortionate, again to make thy personal
riches greater! Oh! stop: canst thou not spare another minute for thy
poor soul? It is to live for ever: hast thou naught laid up for it–no
hope in heaven, no blood of Christ, no pardon of sin, no sanctifying
Spirit, no imputed righteousness? Ah! man there will be a time when the
business that seems so important to thee will prove to have been but a
day-dream, a poor substitute for the solid realities thou hast
forgotten. Dost thou reply, "Nay, the king has sent me an urgent
commission; I must attend to Caesar." Ah! Felix, but thou hast a
greater monarch than Caesar: there is one who is Emperor of heaven and
Lord of earth; canst thou spare no time to attend to his commands?
Before his presence Caesar is but a worm. Man! wilt thou obey the one,
and wilt thou despise the other? Ah! no; I know what thou durst not
say. Felix, thou art turning aside again to indulge in thy lascivious
pleasures. Go, and Drusilla with thee! But stop! Darest thou do that,
with that last word ringing in thy ears, "Judgment to come." What! wilt
thou repeat that wanton dalliance that hath damned thee already, and
wilt thou go again to imbrue thy hands in lust, and doubly damn thy
spirit, after warnings heard and felt? O man! I could weep o'er thee,
to think that as the bullock goeth to the slaughter, and as the lamb
licks the knife, so dost thou go back to the sin that destroys thee,
and to the lust that ruins thee. You, too, many of you, have often been
impressed under the ministry. I know what you have said on the Monday
morning, after deep searchings of heart on the Sabbath: you have said,
"I must attend to business, I must see after the things of this world."
Ah! you will say that one day, when hell shall laugh you in the face
for your folly. Think of men that are dying every day saying, "We must
live," and forgetting that they must die. O poor soul! to be caring
about that house, thy body, and neglecting the tenant within! Another
replies, "I must have a little more pleasure." Pleasure dost thou call
it? What! can there be pleasure in turning suicide to thine own
soul–pleasure in defying thy Maker, trampling on his laws, despising
his grace? If this be pleasure, tis a pleasure over which angels might
weep. What, man, wilt thou count this pleasure when thou comest to die?
Above all, wilt thou count this pleasure when thou dost stand before
thy Maker's bar at last? It is a strange delusion that causes thee to
believe a lie. There is no pleasure in that which brings wrath upon thy
soul, even to the uttermost.
But the usual reply is, "There is time enough yet." The young man says,
"Let me alone till I grow old." And you old men, what do you say? I can
suppose that the youth looks forward to life, and expects to find a
future time more convenient. But there are some of you o'er whose heads
seventy winters have blown. When do you hope to find a convenient
season? You are within a few days' march of the tomb: if you do but
open your poor dull eyes, you may see death but a slight distance in
advance. The young may die; the old must! To sleep in youth is to sleep
in a siege; to sleep in old age is to slumber during the attack. What!
man, wilt thou that art so near thy Maker's bar still put him off with
a "Go thy way?" What! procrastinate now, when the knife is at thy
throat–when the worm is at the heart of the tree, and the branches
have begun to wither–when the grinders fail even now, because they are
few, and they that look out of the windows are darkened? The sere and
yellow leaf has come upon thee, and thou art still unready for thy
doom! O man! of all fools, a fool with a gray head is the worst fool
anywhere. With one foot in the grave, and another foot on a sandy
foundation, how shall I depict you, but by saying to you, as God said
to the rich man, "Thou fool! a few more nights and thy soul shall be
required of thee;" and then where art thou?
But still the common cry is, "There is time enough." Even the worldly
moralist said, "Time enough is always little enough." Time enough, man!
What for? Surely you have spent time enough in sin: the time past may
"suffice you to have wrought the will of the Gentiles." What! time
enough to serve a God that laid down his life for you? No! eternity
will not be too long to utter his praise, and therefore it can not be
too long to love him here, and serve him the few remaining days that
you are to live on earth. But stop! I will reason with you. Come,
Felix! thou shalt not go away this morning till my whole soul hath
poured itself out over thee, not until I have cast mine arms round
thee, and tried to stop thee this time from turning from the face of
him that bids thee live. Thou sayest, "Another time." How knowest thou
that thou wilt ever feel again as thou feelest now? This morning,
perhaps, a voice is saying in thine heart, "Prepare to meet thy God."
To-morrow that voice will be hushed. The gayeties of the ball-room and
the theater will put out that voice that warns thee now, and perhaps
thou wilt never hear it again. Men all have their warnings, and all men
who perish have had a last warning. Perhaps this is your last warning.
You are told to-day, that except ye repent, ye must perish, except ye
put your trust in Christ, ye must be cast away forever. Perhaps no
honest lip will again warn you; perhaps no tearful eye will ever look
on you affectionately again; God to-day is pulling the reins tight to
check you from your lust; perhaps, if to-day you spurn the bit, and
rush madly on, he will throw the reins upon your back, saying, "Let him
alone;" and then it is a dark steeplechase between earth and hell, and
you will run it in mad confusion, never thinking of a hell till you
find yourself past warning, past repentance, past faith, past hope.
But again: how knowest thou, if thou shouldst ever have these feelings
again, God will accept thee then? "To-day," he says, "to-day, if ye
will hear his voice, harden not your hearts." This hour his love
weepeth over you, and his bowels yearn for you. To-day he says, "Come,
let us reason together; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be
as wool; and though they be red like crimson, they shall be whiter than
snow." Do you to-day turn a deaf ear to trim? Do you to-day forego his
invitation and despise his warning? Take heed! You may one day need
what now you despise, and you may then cry to him, but he will not hear
you; you may then pray to him, but he will shut out your prayer, and
his only answer will be, "I called!" "I called, and you refused. You
stood against that pillar under the gallery; I called and you refused!
I stretched out my hands, as if I would bring you to my bosom, and no
man regarded me. You were there in the gallery; you listened, but it
was as though you heard not; therefore"–and oh! the dreadful
conclusion!–"I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your
fear cometh." Stay! those are not my words, they are God's words. Turn
ye to the book of Proverbs, and find them there. It were a harsh thing
for me to say of God; but God says it of himself, and God is true,
though every man be a liar; and if he be true, how know ye that he may
not despise your prayer one day, shut out your cry, and banish you
forever?
But again: how do you know that you shall live to be warned again? Said
a minister once, when I gently hinted to him that he had not preached
the gospel that morning, "No, I did not mean to preach to sinners in
the morning; but I will preach to them in the evening." "Ah!" said I,
"but what if some of your congregation of the morning should be in hell
before the evening." So may I say to you. You have promised to go to a
friend's house to-day, you think you can not break that promise; you
wish you could. You wish you could go home and fall on your knees and
pray; but no, you can not, because your promise binds you. You will
have a convenient season one of these days! And so God Almighty is to
wait man's convenience! How do you know you will live till that
convenience comes? A little too much heat or too much cold within the
brain–a little too fast flowing of the blood, or a little too slow
circulation thereof–some little turning of the fluids of the body in a
wrong direction, and you are dead!
"Dangers stand thick through all the ground,
To bear you to the tomb,
And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home."
Oh! why will you then dare to procrastinate, and say, "time enough
yet?" Will your soul ever be saved by your saying "Time enough yet?"
Archbishop Tillotson well says, "A man might say I resolve to eat, but
the resolve to eat would never feed his body. A man might say, I am
resolved to drink, but the resolve to drink would never slake his
thirst." And you may say, "I am resolved by-and-by to seek God;" but
your resolve will not save you. It is not the forgetful hearer but the
doer of the word that shall be blessed therein. Oh that ye might now
say–To-day, my God, to-day I confess my sin; to-day I ask thee to
manifest thy grace; to-day receive my guilty soul, and show me a
Saviours blood; to-day I renounce my follies, my vices, and my sins,
constrained by Sovereign Grace; to-day I cast away my good works as my
ground of trust; to-day I cry,
"Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling!"
Oh! happy minister who shall have such an audience!–happier than Paul,
if he should know that his congregation had said this! Come, O Holy
Spirit, and draw unwilling hearts, and make them bow before the scepter
of sovereign grace.
Preaching, you see, takes away my voice. Ah! it is not that. It is not
the preaching, but the sighing over your souls that is the hard work. I
could preach forever: I could stand here day and night to tell my
Master's love, and warn poor souls; but tis the after-thought that will
follow me when I descend these pulpit steps, that many of you, my
hearers, will neglect this warning. You will go; you will walk into the
street; you will joke; you will laugh. My Master says, "Son of man,
hast thou heard what the children of Israel say concerning thee?
Behold, thou art as one that playeth a tune upon an instrument; they
make merry with thee, and they go their ways." Yes, but that were
little. To be laughed at is no great hardship to me. I can delight in
scoffs and jeers; caricatures, lampoons, and slanders, are my glory; of
these things I boast, yea, in these I will rejoice. But that you should
turn from your own mercy, this is my sorrow. Spit on me, but oh!
repent! Laugh at me: but oh I believe in my Master! Make my body as the
dirt of the streets, if you will: but damn not your own souls! Oh! do
not despise your own mercies. Put not away from you the gospel of
Christ. There are many other ways of playing fool beside that. Carry
coals in your bosom: knock your head against a wall: but do not damn
your souls for the mere sake of being a fool, for fools laugh at. Oh!
be in earned upon an earnest subject. If there be no hereafter, live as
you like; if there be no heaven, if there be no hell, laugh at me! But
if these things be true, and you believe them, I charge you, as I shall
face you at the judgment bar of the Lord Jesus in the day of
judgment–I charge you, by your own immortal welfare, lay these things
to heart. Prepare to meet your God, O sons of Israel! And the Lord help
you in this thing; for Jesus' sake. Amen.
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