The Form and Spirit of Religion
A Sermon
(No. 186)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, April 4, 1858, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
"Let us fetch the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of Shiloh unto
us, that, when it cometh among us, it may save us out of the hand of
our enemies."–1 Samuel 4:3.
THESE MEN made a great mistake: what they wanted was the Lord in their
midst; whereas they imagined that the symbol of God's presence, the ark
of the covenant, would be amply sufficient to bestow upon them the
assistance which they required in the day of battle. As is man, such
must his religion be. Now, man is a compound being. To speak correctly,
man is a spiritual being: he hath within him a soul, a substance far
beyond the bounds of matter. But man is also made up of a body as well
as a soul. He is not pure spirit; his spirit is incarnate in flesh and
blood. Now, such is our religion. The religion of God is, as to its
vitality, purely spiritual–always so; but since man is made of flesh
as well as of spirit, it seemed necessary that his religion should have
something of the outward, external, and material, in which to embody
the spiritual, or else man would not have been able to lay hold upon
it. This was especially the case under the old dispensation. The
religion of the Jew is really a heavenly and spiritual thing; a thing
of thought, a thing that concerns the mind and spirit; but the Jew was
untaught; he was but a babe, unable to understand spiritual things
unless he saw them pictured out to him, or, (to repeat what I have just
said) unless he saw them embodied in some outward type and symbol: and
therefore God was pleased to give the Jew a great number of ceremonies,
which were to his religion what the body is to man's soul. The Jewish
religion taught the doctrine of the atonement, but the Jew could not
understand it, and therefore God gave him a lamb to be slain every
morning and every evening, and he gave him a goat over which the sins
of the people were to be confessed, and which was to be driven into the
depths of the wilderness, to show the great doctrine of a substitute
and atonement through him. The Jewish religion teaches, as one of its
prominent doctrines, the unity of the Godhead; but the Jew was ever apt
to forget that there was but one God; and God, to teach him that, would
have but one temple, and but one altar upon which the sacrifice might
rightly be offered. So that the idea of the one God was (as I have
already said) made incarnate in the fact that there was but one temple,
but one altar, and but one great high priest. And mark, this is true of
our religion–Christianity: not true to so full an extent as of
Judaism–for the religion of the Jew had a gross and heavy body–but
our religion has a body transparent, and having but little of
materialism in it. If you ask me what I would call the materialism of
our religion, the embodiment of the spiritual part of that in which we
trust and hope, I would point, first of all, to the two ordinances of
the Lord, Baptism and the Lord's Supper. I would point you next to the
services of God's house, to the Sabbath day, to the outward ritual of
our worship: I would point you to our solemn song, to our sacred
service of prayer; and I would point you also–and I think I am right
in so doing–to the form of sound words, which we ever desire to hold
fast and firm, as containing that creed which it is necessary for men
to believe if they would hold the truth as it is in Jesus. Our
religion, then, has an outward form even to this day; for the Apostle
Paul, when he spoke of professing Christians, spoke of some who had "a
form of godliness, but denied the power thereof." So that it is still
true, though I confess not to the same extent as it was in the days of
Moses, that religion must have a body, that the spiritual thing may
come out palpably before our vision, and that we may see it.
Now, three points this morning inferred from our narrative. The first
point is this–that the outward form of religion is to be carefully and
reverently observed. But my second and most important head is this–you
will notice that the very men who have the least of the spirit of
religion are the most superstitiously observant of the form of it; just
as you find the people here, who did not care for God, had a very
superstitious regard for that chest called the ark of the covenant. And
then, my third point will be, that those who trust in the outward form
of religion, apart from the spirit of it, are fearfully deceived, and
the result of their deception must be of the most fatal character. The
first point I feel is necessary, lest I should lead any to despise the
form of religion, while endeavoring to insist upon the absolute
necessity of attending in the first place to the spirit of it.
I. In the first place then, THE FORM OF RELIGION IS TO BE REVERENTLY
OBSERVED. This ark of the covenant was with the Jew the most sacred
instrument of his religion. There were many other things which he held
holy: but this ark always stood in the most holy place, and it was
rendered doubly sacred, because, between the outstretched wings of
those cherubic figures that rested upon the mercy-seat, there was
usually to be seen a bright light, called the Shekinah, which
manifested that Jehovah, the God of Israel, who dwelt between the
cherubims, was there. And, indeed, they had great reason in the days of
Samuel to reverence this ark, for you will recollect that when Moses
went to war with the Midianites, a great slaughter of that people was
occasioned by the fact that Eleazar, the high priest, with a silver
trumpet, stood in the forefront of the battle, bearing in his hands the
holy instruments of the law–that is , the ark; and it was by the
presence of this ark that the victory was achieved. It was by this ark,
too, that the river Jordan was dried up. When the tribes came to it,
there was no ford, but the priests put the staves of the ark upon their
shoulders, and they marched with solemn pace down to the waters' edge,
and before the presence of the ark the waters receded, so that the
people went through dry-shod. And when then had landed in the promised
country, you remember it was by this ark that the walls of Jericho fell
flat to the ground; for the priests, blowing the trumpets and carrying
the ark, went before, when they compassed the city seven days, and at
last, by the power of the ark, or rather by the power of that God who
dwelt within the ark, the walls of Jericho fell flat down, and every
man went straight up to the slaughter. These people, therefore, thought
if they could once get the ark, it would be all right, and they would
be sure to triumph; and, while I shall have in the second head, to
insist upon it that they were wrong in superstitiously imputing
strength to the poor chest, yet the ark was to be reverently observed,
for it was the outward symbol of a high spiritual truth, and it was
never to be treated with any indignity.
It is quite certain, in the first place, that the form of religion must
never be altered. You remember that this ark was made by Moses,
according to the pattern that God had given him in the mount. Now, the
outward forms of our religion, if they be correct, are made by God. His
two great ordinances of Baptism and the Lord's Supper are sent for us
from on high. I dare not alter either of them. I should think it is a
high sin and treason against heaven, if, believing that baptism
signifieth immersion, and immersion only, I should pretend to
administer it by sprinkling; or, believing that baptism appertaineth to
believers only, I should consider myself a criminal in the sight of God
if I should give it to any but those who believe. Even so with the
Lord's Supper. Believing that it consists of bread and wine, I hold it
to be highly blasphemous in the Church of Rome to withhold the cup from
the people; and knowing that this ordinance was intended for the Lord's
people only, I consider it an act of high treason against the Majesty
of Heaven, when any are admitted to the Lord's Supper who have not made
a profession of their faith and of their repentance, and who do not
declare themselves to be the true children of God. And with regard to
the doctrines of the Gospel, no alteration must be allowed here. I know
that forms of doctrine are very little, compared with the spirit and
the heart; but still we must not alter even the form of it. It has
often been said, that we ought not to have a strict religion. I believe
that is just the very thing we ought to have: a religion that is of
such a cast that it does not know how to alter; a religion that comes
from the Infallible Head of the Church, that is, Jesus Christ our Lord,
and which to the latest time is to be like the Law and the
Prophets–not on jot or tittle of it must fail while the earth
endureth. The men who think that we may alter this and alter that, and
still maintain the spirit of religion, have some truth on their side;
but let them remember, that while the spirit of religion may be
maintained in the midst of many errors, yet every error tends to weaken
our spirituality. And, beside that, have no right to consider the
effect upon ourselves merely. Whatever form of religion God has
ordained, it is ours to practise without the slightest alteration; and
to alter any one of the ordinances of God is an act of dire
profanation; however reasonable that alteration may seem to be, it is
treason against high heaven, and is not to be permitted in the Church
of Christ. "Hold fast the form of sound words," said Paul, "which thou
hast heard of me;" or, as I remember to have said before, while the
form of religion is not power, yet unless the form be carefully
observed, it is not easy to maintain the power. It is like an egg-shell
enclosing the egg; there is no life in the shell, but you must take
care you do not crack it, or else you may destroy the life within. The
ordinances and doctrines of our faith are only the shell of
religion–they are not the life; but we must take care that we do not
hurt so much as the outward shell, for if we do, we may endanger the
life within; though that may manage to live, it must be weakened by any
injury done to the outward form thereof.
And as the form must not be altered, so it must not be despised. These
Philistines despised the ark. They took it and set it in their idol
temple, and the result was that their idol god, Dagon, was broken in
pieces. They then sent it through their cities, and they were smitten
with emerods. And then, being afraid to put it within walls, they set
it in the open country, and they were invaded with mice, so that
everything was eaten up. God would not have any dishonour put even upon
the outward form of his religion; he would have men reverently take
care that they did no dishonour even to his ark; it might be nothing
but gopher-wood, but because, between the wings of those cherubim God
had dwelt, the ark was to be held sacred, and God would not have it
dishonoured. Take care, ye that despise God, lest ye despise his
outward ordinances. To laugh at the Sabbath, to despise the ordinances
of God's House, to neglect the means of grace, to call the outward form
of religion a vain thing–all this is highly offensive in the sight of
God. He will have us remember that while the form is not the life, yet
the form is to be respected for the sake of the life which it contains;
the body is to be venerated for the sake of the inward soul; and as I
would have no man maim my body, even though in maiming it he might not
be able to wound my soul, so God would have no man maim the outward
parts of religion, although it is true no man can touch the real
vitality of it.
Yet one more remark, and that a very solemn one. As the outward form is
neither to be altered nor despised, so neither is it to be intruded
upon by unworthy persons. You remember that this ark of the covenant,
after it was brought back from the land of the Philistines, was set in
the field of Joshua the Bethshemite, and the Bethshemites took off the
lid, and looked into the ark of the Lord, and, for this, the Lord
"smote of that people fifty-thousand and three-score and ten men; and
the people lamented because the Lord had smitten many of the people
with a great slaughter." These Bethshemites had no intention whatever
of dishonouring the ark. They had a vain curiosity to look within, and
the sight of those marvellous tables of stone struck them with death;
for the law, when it is not covered by the mercy-seat, is death to any
man, and it was death to them. Now, you will easily remember how very
solemn a penalty is attached to any man's intruding into the outward
form of religion when he is not called to do so. Let me quote this
awful passage: "He" (speaking of the Lord's Supper) "that eateth and
drinketh unworthily eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not
discerning the Lord's body." How frightful an announcement is that! A
curse is pronounced upon the man who dares to touch even the outward
form of religion, unless he hath the power of it; and we know there is
nothing which excites God's holy anger more swiftly than a man's
attending to the ordinances of his house and making an outward
profession of being in Christ, while he has no part nor lot in the
matter. Oh, take heed. The outward ordinances of Christ are not the
vitality of religion, but nevertheless they are so solemnly important,
that we must neither alter nor despise them, nor rush into them without
being invited; for if we do so, the curse of God must light upon us for
having despised the holy thing of the Most High God of Israel.
And now, before I close this first head, let me remark, that the
outward things of God are to be diligently cared for and loved. We have
in our reading had two instances of that. There was holy Eli: he knew
very well that the ark of God was not God; he understood that it was
but the outward sign of the inward and spiritual; yet when the ark of
God was taken, mark the poor old man's trouble: his heart broke, and
then he fell down and broke his neck. Then there was that nameless
woman. Her husband was the priest who attended to this very ark, but he
was a man whose character I cannot describe better than by saying that
he was a son of Belial. It is hard for a woman to believe religion if
she has a minister for a husband who is profane and wicked. This
woman's husband not only committed wrongs against God, but against her.
He was a filthy and unclean person, who polluted the very courts of the
Lord's house with his fornications; and yet she had such faith in her
God, that she knew how to love the religion which her husband, by his
awful character, brought into disrepute. She knew how to distinguish
between the man and his duty, between the priest and the priesthood,
between the officer and the office. I do wonder at her. I am sure there
is nothing that staggers our faith like seeing a minister walking
inconsistently; but this man was the chief minister, and her own
husband, living in known sin, and a sin which came home to her, because
he sinned against her. I am sure it was wonderful that she believed at
all; but so strong was her faith and attachment to her religion, that
though, like Eli, she knew that the ark was not God, that the form was
not the inward thing, yet the form itself was so precious to her, that
the pangs of child-birth were hurried on prematurely and in the midst
of her pain, this still was uppermost–that the ark of the Lord was
taken. It was in vain to cheer her with the news that her child was
born; it was an idle tale to her, and she rejoiced not in it. She lay
in a swoon; but at last, opening her eyes, and remembering that her
husband was dead, and that therefore, according to Jewish usage, it was
her duty to give the child a name, she faintly opened her lips before
she died, and said, "Call his name Inglorious (Ichabod) for the glory
is departed;" and then she added this reason for it: she did not say,
"because my husband is dead," though she loved him; she did not say,
"because my father-in-law, Eli, is dead" or "because my nation has been
defeated," but she added that all-significant reason, "because the ark
of the Lord was taken;" and she died. Oh, I would to God that we all
loved God's house, and loved the ways of God, and the ordinances of God
as much as she did. While we attach no superstitious importance to the
outward ceremony, I wish we thought as much of holy things, because of
the Holy One of Israel. as did Eli, and this nameless, but noble woman.
Thus I have preached upon the first head, and no ceremonialist here, I
am sure, can differ from me, for they must all say it is true. Even the
Puseyite will confess that this is just what he believes–that
ceremonies ought to be carefully observed. But I shall not agree with
Mr. Puseyite in the second head.
II. Now, it is a notorious fact, that THE VERY MEN WHO HAVE THE LEAST
IDEA OF WHAT SPIRITUAL RELIGION IS, ARE THE MEN WHO PAY THE MOST
SUPERSTITIOUS ATTENTION TO OUTWARD FORMS. We refer you again to this
instance. These people would neither repent, nor pray, nor seek God and
his prophets; yet they sought out this ark and trusted in it with
superstitious veneration. Now, in every country where there had been
any religion at all that is true, the great fact has come out very
plainly, that the people who don't know anything about true religion,
have always been the most careful about the forms. Do you want to know
the man who used to swallow widows' houses, and devour the patrimonies
of the fatherless? Do you want to know the hypocrites, the deceivers,
in the days of Christ? Why, they were the Pharisees, who "for a show
made long prayers;" they were the men who gave alms to the poor in the
corners of the street–the men that tithed the anise, and the mint, and
the cummin, and forgot the weightier matters of the law, such as
justice and righteousness. If you wanted to find the seducer, the
unjust judge, the liar, the perjured man, in the days of Christ, you
had only to ask for the man who had fasted thrice in the week, and gave
tithes of all he possessed. These Pharisees would do any wicked action,
and never stick at it; yet if in drinking wine a small gnat should have
fallen in and been swallowed with it, they would have considered
themselves defiled, because their law did not allow them to eat a
creature from which the blood had not been withdrawn. Thus they
strained at the gnat, thus getting the reputation of being very
religious, and swallowed the camel, hump and all. You smile; but what
they did in their day is done now. You know the Romanists; did you ever
know one of them who would not think it to be a very high offence
against the Majesty of Heaven, if he were to eat any meat on Good
Friday? Do you know anyone of them who did not think it necessary to
keep Lent with strict punctilious observance? Notice how carefully they
go to their places of worship on the Sabbath morning, how diligently
they observe that sacred rite of crossing their foreheads with holy
water. How necessary is it, that the holy water and everything else of
the same kind, should be tenderly cared for. And do not the same
persons in their own countries keep their theatres open on the Sabbath
day? Do you not find the very men, who are so solemnly observant of
their religion in the morning, forgetting it all in the evening;
thinking no more of the Sabbath, which they call holy, than if it were
any other day, but making it more a day of merriment than any day of
the week? Look again at our Church of England; God be thanked that
there are so many true Evangelical men in the midst of it; but there
are certain sections there to whom my remarks will apply. Do you want
to know the men who know nothing at all about the new birth, who do not
know what it is to be justified by faith, who have not a spark of
religion? Do you know where to find them? They are the men that never
said their creed without turning their heads the right way, that never
said the name of Jesus without bowing their heads most reverently; they
are the men who always take care that the church should be builded so
as to be a goodly edifice, in order that the parishioners going there
may see the glory of God in the glory of his house; they are the people
who mark every red letter day, who take care that every rubric is
attended to, who think that holly on Christmas is a most heavenly
thing, and a few flowers upon the altar almost equal to the Lily of the
Valley and the Rose of Sharon. These are the gentlemen who could no
more preach without a cassock than they could live without a head. Of
course they have not any religion at all, and because the inner life is
clean gone, evaporated, dissipated, they have to be so extremely
particular that they observe the outward form of it. I know many
Evangelical Churchmen (and they are generally precise enough) that
would break through every form. I could point you out this morning some
two or three clergymen of the Church of England who are heretical
enough to be sitting here and listening to the words of one who is a
Dissenter, and of course a Schismatic, but who would no more think of
calling me a Schismatic than they would think of flying, and would give
me the right hand of fellowship with all their hearts. I believe that
many of them would forget the rubrics if they could, and, if it were in
their power, would cut their catechism all to pieces, and turn half of
their church prayer-book out of doors. And these are the men that have
most religion; they care least about the form but they have most of the
grace within; they have more true religion, more evangelism, more of
the grace of God in their hearts, than fifty of their Puseyite
brethren.
But let me come to Dissenters, for we are just as bad. I must deal with
all alike. We have among us a certain class of people, a sort of
dissenting Puseyites, Where the Puseyite thinks it necessary to keep
Good Friday and Easter Sunday, these good brethren take as much care to
keep holy day the wrong way, as the others the right way. They think it
would be a grievous sin to go to chapel on Good Friday, and they are
solemnly in earnest that they should never break the law of the church
not to observe holy days. To them it is a very sacred thing that they
should always be found in their chapel twice on the Sunday; they think
it highly necessary that they should have their children baptized, or
that they should be baptized themselves, and that they should take the
Lord's Supper. That is all well and good; but alas! we must confess it,
there are some among us who, if they are orthodox in their opinions and
precise in their outward practice, are quite content to be utterly
destitute of the power of religion. I must deal faithfully with all. I
know in all our dissenting denominations there are to be found many
self-righteous persons, who have not any religion at all, but who are
the most precise people in all the world to stick up for the outward
form of it. Do you not know some old member of the church here and
there? Well, you say, if anybody in the church is a hypocrite, I should
say old So-and-so is one. If you were to propose any alteration in
anything, oh! how these gentlemen would bristle up; how they would draw
their swords. They! they love every nail in the chapel door, they would
not have a different colour for the pulpit for the world. They will
have everything strictly observed. Their whole salvation seems to
depend upon the rightness of the form. Oh no, not they; they could not
think of altering may of the forms of their church. You know it is
quite as easy for a man to trust in ceremonials, when the are severely
simple, as for a man to rely upon them with they are gorgeous and
superb. A man may as much trust in the simple ordinance of immersion
and the breaking of bread, as another may trust in the high mass and in
the prayers of priests. We man have Rome in Dissent, and Rome in the
Church of England, and Rome anywhere; for wherever there is a trust in
ceremonies, there is the essence of Popery, there is anti-Christ and
the man of sin. Oh! take heed of this any of you who have been relying
upon your ceremonies. This is just the truth, that the more zeal for
ceremonies, generally the less power of vital godliness within. But
now, how is it that the man who would not eat anything but salt-fish on
Good Friday, cheats his neighbour on Saturday? How is it that the man
who never would by any means go to anything but an orthodox
sixteen-ounces-to-the-pound Baptist Chapel, can be found committing
acts of injustice in his daily business, and perhaps more filthy deeds
still? I will tell you, the man feels he must have some righteousness
or other, and when he knows himself to be a good-for-nothing rascal, he
feels he has not got a moral righteousness, and therefore he tries to
get a ceremonial one. Mark the man that drinks and swears, that commits
all kinds of iniquity, and you will very often find him (I have known
such cases) the most superstitiously reverent man that can be found. He
would not go inside a place of worship without taking off his hat
immediately. He will curse and swear outside, perhaps, and it never
pricks his conscience; but to walk up the aisle of a church with his
hat on–oh! how frightful. He feels, if he did so, he would be lost for
ever. He would not forget to tithe the mint, anise, and cummin, but all
the while the weightier matters of the law are left totally unregarded.
Another reason is, because a religion of ceremonies is so much easier
than true religion. To say Ava Maria and Pater Nosters is easy enough;
you may soon get it over, and it does not check the conscience much. To
go to chapel twice on the Sunday–there is nothing very hard in that.
It is not half so hard as turning to the Lord with full purpose of
heart. It is not half so hard as breaking off one's sin by
righteousness, and putting one's trust in Christ Jesus alone.
Therefore, because the thing is so easy, people like it better. Again
it is so complimentary. When the Romanist beasts his back, and flogs
his flesh, why is it that he likes that better than the simple gospel,
"Believe and live?" Why, because it just flatters his pride. He thinks
he is beating the devil out of himself, but he is in reality beating
him in–the devil of pride is coming in. He whispers, "Ah! you are a
good man to have flogged yourself like that! you will carry yourself to
heaven by the merit of your wounds and bruises." Poor human nature
always like that. In fact, the more exacting a religion is, the better
people like it. The more religion ties you up, and binds you, if it
does not touch the heart, the better people like to carry it out.
Hindooism has its great hold upon the people, because they can get a
great stock of merit by walking with spikes in their shoes; or rolling
themselves many thousands of miles, or drinking the filthy waters of
the Ganges, or offering themselves to die. All these things please
human nature. "Believe and live" is too humbling; to trust alone in
Christ casts down man's high looks; therefore man says, "Away with it!"
and he turns to anything rather than to Christ.
Besides, there is another reason. Men always like the religion of
ceremonies, because it does not need the giving up of their favourite
sins. "Why", says a man, "if all that is needed for me to be saved, is
to have the Sacrament given me by the priest when I come to die, what a
delightful religion that is! I can drink, swear, and do just as I like.
I have nothing to do but to get greased at last with holy oil, and off
I go to heaven with all my sins about me." Says another, "We can have
all our gaieties and frivolities, all the pomp of life and the pride of
flesh; all that we need is to get confirmed; then, afterwards,
sometimes to go to church, take a handsomely bound prayer-book and
Bible, be very attentive and observant, and the bishop will no doubt
set us all right." This just suits many men, because there is no
trouble about it. They can keep on with their gaieties and with their
sins, and yet they believe they can go to heaven with them. Men do not
like that old-fashioned gospel which tells them that sin and the sinner
must part, or else they must be damned. They do not like to be told
that without holiness no man shall see the Lord, and that old-fashioned
text, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God,"
will never be palatable to human nature. Human nature does not mind
what you tell it to do, so long as you do not tell it what to believe.
You may tell it to observe this, that, and the other, and the man will
do it, and thank you , and the harder it is, the better he will like
you; but once tell him, "Jesus Christ came into the world to save
sinners. Believe on him and thou shalt be saved," his pride is all up
at once; he cannot endure it, and he hates the man that preaches it to
him, and drives the very thought of the gospel from his soul.
III. And now, in the last place, it is mine to warn you that TO TRUST
IN CEREMONIES IS A MOST DECEITFUL THING, AND WILL END IN THE MOST
TERIFFIC CONSEQUENCES. When these people had got the ark into the camp,
they shouted for joy , because they thought themselves quite safe; but,
alas, they met with a greater defeat than before. Only four thousand
men had been killed in the first battle, but in the second, thirty
thousand footmen of Israel fell down dead. How vain are the hopes that
men build upon their good works, and ceremonial observances! How
frightful is that delusion which teaches for the gospel a thing which
is not "the gospel," nor "another gospel;" but it is a thing that would
pervert the gospel of Christ. My hearer, let me ask thee solemnly, what
is thy ground of hope? Dost thou rely on baptism? O man, how foolish
art thou! What can a few drops of water, put upon an infant's forehead,
do? Some lying hypocrites tell us that children are regenerated by
drops of water. What kind of regeneration is that? We have seen people
hanged that were regenerated in this fashion. There have been men that
have lived all their lives whoremongers, adulterers, thieves, and
murderers, who have been regenerated in their baptism by that kind of
regeneration. Oh, be not deceived by a regeneration so absurd, so
palpable even to flesh and blood, as one of the lying wonders that have
come from hell itself. But mayhap thou sayest, "Sir, I rely upon my
baptism, in after life." Ah, my friends, what can washing in water do?
As the Lord liveth, if thou trusteth in baptism thou trusteth in a
thing that will fail thee at last. For what is washing in water, unless
it is preceded by faith and repentance? We baptize you, not in order to
wash away your sins, but because we believe they are washed away
beforehand; and if we did not think you believed so, we would not admit
you to participation in that ordinance. But if you will pervert this to
your own destruction, by trusting in it, take heed; you are warned this
morning. For as "circumcision availeth nothing, nor uncircumcision, but
a new creature," so baptism availeth nothing.
I may have some here who are saying within themselves, "Well, if I do
not go to heaven, nobody will, for I have been brought up to my church
as regularly as possible; I was regularly confirmed; my godfathers and
godmothers stood for me in my childhood, and all after the right
fashion. I have come here, it is true, but it is about the first
offence I ever committed, coming into this Schismatic conventicle; if
it please God to forgive, I will never do so again. I always go to
church, and I have no doubt that by taking the Sacrament and saying my
prayers I shall go to heaven." Ah! you are awfully deceived, for unless
you are born again you must come back to the old standard after
all–unless you are in blessed union with the Lamb, unless you have
found repentance for sin, unless you have true living faith in the Lord
Jesus, you may keep all these things, you may observe every jot and
tittle, but the gates of heaven must be shut in your face, and "depart
from me, I never knew you," must be your doom, even though you reply,
"Thou hast eaten and drunk in our streets, and we have listened to thy
voice." No, my friends, be ye Presbyterians, Episcopalians, or
Dissenters, it matters not, ye have your ceremonies; and there are some
among us that rely upon them. This one truth cuts at the root of us
all. If this be our hope, it is a foul delusion. We just have faith in
Jesus, we must have the new heart and the right spirit; no outward
forms can make us clean. The leprosy lies deep within; and unless there
be an inward work, no outward work can ever satisfy God, and give us an
entrance into Paradise.
But before I close, there is one thing I want you to notice, and that
is, that this ark not only could not give victory to Israel, but it
could not preserve the lives of the priests themselves who carried it.
This is a fatal blow to all who trust in the forms of religion. What
would the Romanist think, if I should tell him that his outward forms
can never save him; and how would he grind his teeth if I were to tell
him, as I do, that the outward forms can never save his priest, for his
priest and he must be lost together unless they have some better trust
than this! But we have even in Protestant churches too much
priestcraft. People say, "Well, if the Gospel does not save me, I am
confident of the salvation of my minister." Rest assured that he that
serveth at God's altar is no more secure from destruction, unless he
hath a living faith in Christ, than you yourselves. Hophni and Phinehas
are slain, and so must every priest be if he relies on ceremonies
himself or teaches others to do so. I cannot imagine a more frightful
death-bed than that of a man who has been a priest–I mean a man who
has taught others to trust in ceremonies. When he is buried, it will be
said of him that he died in sure and certain hope of a blessed
resurrection; but oh! the moment after death, when he opens his eyes to
see his delusion! while he was on earth he was fool enough to think
that drops of water could save him, that a piece of bread and a cup of
wine could renew his heart, and save his soul, but when he gets into
another world he will lose this folly, and then will the thought flash
upon him, like a lightning flash, writhing his soul with misery–Ah! I
am destitute of the one thing needful; I had no love to Christ, I never
had that repentance which needed not to be repented of; I never fled to
Jesus, and now I know that that hymn is true–
"Not all the outward forms on earth,
Nor rites that God has given,
Nor will of man, nor blood, nor birth,
Can raise the soul to heaven."
Oh! how frightful then afterwards to meet his parishioners, to see
those to whom he had preached, and to be howled at through the pit by
men whom he was the instrument of destroying, by telling them to trust
in a rotten foundation. Let me free myself from any such fear as that.
As the Lord my God liveth before whom I stand this day–man, woman, my
brother, my sister, in the race of Adam, if thou reliest on anything
short of the blood of Jesus Christ, thou trustest in a lie; and if thy
salvation ends in anything short of a thorough change of heart, if it
makes thee anything less than a new creature in Christ Jesus, the bed
is shorter than a man can stretch himself upon it, thou hast a religion
which is not equal to the necessities of thy case, and when thou
needest it most, it will reel beneath thy feet and leave thee without a
standing place whereon to rest, overwhelmed with dismay and overcome by
dispair.
Now, before I send you away, let me make this last remark. I hear one
say, "Sir, I renounce all trust in good works and ceremonies. Tell me
how can I be saved?" The way is simply this. Our sins deserve
punishment; God must and will punish sin; Jesus Christ came into this
world and was punished in the room, place, and stead of all that
believe on him. Your business, then, this morning is to make this
inquiry, Do I want a Saviour? Do I feel that I want him? And my
business, if you answer that question aright is to say, Believe on the
Lord Jesus Christ with all thy heart, and thou shalt be saved.
Al! there is one in heaven to-day, I firmly believe, who was always a
worshipper in this place, and at New Park Street–a young man who was
led here to listen to the gospel, and was converted to God; and last
Sabbath morning was caught away to heaven in the burning house at
Bloomsbury–one of those young men who was taken out of the ruins, one
who had been brought to a knowledge of the truth here. It is stated in
some of the papers, that his mother was far from a religious woman, and
was somewhat given to drink; he had to struggle with some temptation
and opposition, but he was enabled to hold on his way, and then, in
such an hour as he thought not, the Son of Man came for him, and caught
him to himself in the midst of flames and crashing timbers and the
uprising of smoke. Oh! I may have one here, that, ere another Sabbath
morning comes, may be launched into eternity, if not by the same
deplorable process, yet in as hasty a manner; and as my soul rejoices
over that young man, to think that God should have honoured me in
bringing him to Christ before he took him up to heaven, I must lament
that there are any of you in a peril so frightful, as to be living
without God, without Christ, without a hope of heaven; to have death
hanging over you, and yet not to tremble at it. Oh! this morning I
beseech you, close with Christ. "Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye
perish from the way, while his wrath is kindled but a little: for
blessed are all they that put their trust in him."
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