The Portion Of The Ungodly

The Portion Of The Ungodly
A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 13, 1862, BY REV. C. H.
SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"Behold, they shall be as stubble. The fire shall burn them. They shall
not deliver themselves from the power of the flame: it shall not be a
coal to be warmed by, nor a fire to sit before."
Isaiah 47:14.
THIS text is part of a terrible description of God's judgment upon
Babylon and Chaldea. The Prophet had clearly written out the indictment
of the Lord against that tyrannical people, and having proved their
guilt he pronounces their sentence. He accused them of showing no mercy
to the inheritance of the Lord which, in His wrath, He had given into
their hands. He charges them with pride and boastfulness, for Chaldea
had said in her heart, "I am and there is none beside me." And Babylon
had boasted, "I shall be a lady forever. I shall see no sorrow."
He testifies against their over-boldness and presumption. For they were
given to pleasures and lived carelessly, expecting no ill. Thus said
the Prophet, speaking in the name of the Lord, "You have trusted in
your wickedness: you have said, None sees me. Your wisdom and your
knowledge, it has perverted you. And you have said in your heart, I am
and none else beside me." On account of these iniquities the
destruction of Chaldea and Babylon was to be sudden, terrible and
complete.
They were to be so utterly destroyed, that there should not be one
single comfortable rejection connected with their state. There should
be a fire to consume but none to warm at. The burning should not be as
when wood crackles in the flame, when glowing ashes or a charred log
may be left, but they should be as stubble, utterly consumed, without
vestige or remembrance. How to the very letter this has been fulfilled
let the modern discoveries of our great travelers tell.
We want no better evidence of the truthfulness and Divinity of
Scripture than that which is furnished by prophecies which have been
fulfilled in lands concerning which we had no knowledge until of late.
In the good Providence of God there have been dug out from mounds of
rubbish and heaps of decayed matter, slabs and stones, bearing in their
carvings and inscriptions, the most wonderful proofs what the Lord has
said and has fulfilled–what He has spoken has come to pass. O virgin
daughter of Babylon! You have been made to sit on the ground. There is
no throne–O daughter of the Chaldeans! You are no more tender and
delicate, but your nakedness is uncovered and your shame is seen. Sit
silently and get into darkness, O daughter of Chaldea, for you shall no
more be called the lady of kingdoms.
It is a truth beyond dispute, that God's justice is not partial. That
the description of the destruction which He awards to one class of
sinners is a most fair picture of what He will do with others, for God
has two or three ways of dealing with men in His justice. He has not
many different weights and measures, for these things are an
abomination unto the Lord. He lays righteousness to the line and
judgment to the plummet and He awards vengeance unto impenitent men by
an established and an invariable rule. So, then, the ruin of Chaldea is
to us, today, a representation and metaphorical description of the
destruction which shall surely come upon impenitent sinners in that day
when the Lord comes out of His place to judge His enemies and to rid
Himself of His adversaries.
It is with great trembling of heart that I come to this subject this
morning. I have preached to you, lo, these many months in this
Tabernacle and I have delighted most to lift up my Master's Cross and
to speak of the sufficiency of His blood and of the fullness and
freeness of His Divine Grace. But there are times when the Lord's hand
lies upon us, and we cannot refuse to speak of His terrible things in
judgment. I feel today somewhat like the Apostle when he said, "Knowing
therefore the terror of Lord, we persuade men . . . as though God did
beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's place, be you reconciled to
God."
We believe that the Lord would not have said so much about the terrible
things of His Law and justice in Scrip-ture–for He has said more about
them than any other subject, except the Cross–if it had not been that
there is a healthy use to be made of the vengeance which the Lord
executes upon the wicked. It will be both for the benefit of the
righteous and for the awakening of the ungodly, sometimes to thunder
out the sentence of the Lord. Be it, therefore, known unto you, O sons
of men, that Ebal and Gerizim still stand, both the blessing and the
curse–and either the one or the other must be yours.
To look at our text at first sight, the figures seem contradictory, for
the first metaphor is, "They shall be as stubble. The fire shall burn
them. They shall not deliver themselves from the power of the flame."
But the next figure is apparently opposite to it–"It shall not be a
coal to be warmed by, nor a fire to sit before." We shall first take
the first figure and then the second. And thirdly, we shall close by
endeavoring to dwell upon that important word with which the verse
begins, which is put there like a hand in the margin to draw our
attention to it, put there as a sort of signal hung out from Heaven to
tell us that there is something here upon which we ought to meditate
with attention–I mean the word "Behold"!
I. With reference to the FIRST SENTENCE. You will see in reading it
over that one of the most striking thoughts which it conveys to the
mind is this, that the punishment of the wicked will be easily
inflicted. "They shall be as stubble." Nothing can be more easy to
kindle than stubble when it is fully dry. Strike the match and the
whole is on a blaze, for it bears within itself the materials of
conflagration. So shall it be with impenitent sinners. It shall not be
hard for God to visit them with vengeance, for they bear in their own
hearts the material of their punishment.
Oh, ungodly and impenitent Man, there is that in yourself today which,
left alone and permitted to ripen, will bring Hell upon you. We read in
Scripture of the worm that dies not–that worm may be bred in the
corruption of the sinner's lusts. We read of the fire that never shall
be quenched–that fire will find its fuel in the hearts of lost
spirits. We read of the pit that has no bottom–sin has dug a pit for
itself of fathomless depth. Sinner, the Lord needs not to forge huge
chains of iron, or build cells of darkness. He shall find in sinners
the means of their punishment. He needs not to make tormentors for
you–you shall be your own executioner.
From no bitter herbs need He distil your draught of woe–you yourself
shall mingle the cup which you shall drink. The racks of torture and
the whips of torment your own soul shall make. Hear me, Man, you have
in yourself the power of memory, and that power shall become a vehicle
of sorrow to you. Memory shall look back upon all your past sins and
each of these, though now they seem to you to be glossy as the scales
of the serpent, shall sting you and infuse into your veins a worse
poison than the viper ever knew. Your memory shall recall the pleasures
which you did once enjoy, but from which you are banished forever.
Your memory shall remind you of the warnings you did once receive and
of the loving invitations which sounded in your ears. When it is all
over with you, your memory shall be stronger than it is now. You shall
have abundant time to remember every circumstance of your ruin. And
your memory, enlarged and strengthened, shall bring up the record of
every neglected Sunday, of every secret sin, yes, of those forgotten
words of profanity, those secret iniquities which have been buried deep
by time, but which shall be disinterred by the hand of eternity.
Even now, at the very recollection of your sin, your cheek reddens with
shame. But when memory gets a voice that will be heard, then shall you,
indeed, become pale and your knees shall knock together with fear. The
voice which says, "Son, remember," is as terrible as the pouring out of
the vials of the wrath of Almighty God. You have, besides your memory,
a conscience–a conscience which you have strived to silence. But, even
drugged and gagged as it is, it sometimes makes you feel unhappy. When
conscience smote the heart of Judas, you remember, he went out and
hanged himself. But even the conscience of Judas was not so awake as
will be the understanding and judgment of the sinner when condemned
forever.
You will then find, Sinner, that you cannot mitigate the guilt of sin.
You will then see sin in its true colors. You will not then be so apt
at making excuses for it. The hand of truth shall rend all those rags
away. You will find, then, that conscience will not be trifled with as
it is now. Now you try to make it hold the scales with an unjust hand,
but then it will deliberately award you the due reward of your deeds.
O, Man! Your memory and your conscience shall be as two great
millstones grinding you to powder, or as two contending winds which
shall with their tempestuous strivings break you in pieces, as the
ships of Tarshish are broken by the north wind.
Then, added to your memory, and to your conscience, there shall come
your increased knowledge. You know enough now to leave you without
excuse–but then your knowledge shall increase so as to leave you
without pretense of apology. You shall then perceive the craft of the
Tempter who deluded you. You shall then see the blackness and the
filthiness of sin as you do not see it now. Then shall you understand
the greatness and the goodness of the God whom you have despised. You
shall then discern the glory of the Heaven which you have lost. You
shall then begin to get an idea of that eternity which shall roll over
your head forever. Your knowledge shall swell–your mind shall be
strengthened. You shall grow. You shall have time enough for
development.
And all this increased light shall be but an increase of pain to your
eyes, and all this increase of wisdom shall be but a fresh source of
misery for your impenitent spirit. Believe me, Man, I speak not thus
that I may agitate you merely for the sake of causing you pain. God
forbid I should do that. But oh, if I can but arouse you. If but some
thunder-clap may awake you before you have slept yourself into Hell, I
shall be but too happy, and you will not think my words too rough if
they are the means of bringing you to the knowledge of Christ and of
eternal life.
Why, do you not know, Man, that your sin, itself, without anything
besides, will be enough to make you as stubble to the flame? What is
sin on earth? Is it not the mother of misery? Does a man ever do wrong
without smarting for it? And those sins which are committed by the
body, do they not entail, even on earth, their own punishment and doom?
Then if sin in the bud here is bitter, what will it be when it is
full-blown? Sin bears its punishment in its own heart! Besides, think
of your companions. Shut up fifty drunkards and profane men together
and would they not soon make a Hell for themselves without any
interposition of Divine power?
What will it be when they are bound up in bundles. When the tens of
thousands of those who obey not Christ shall find themselves in their
own place? Oh, they will be as the flesh in the seething-pot, as the
oil in the cauldron, as the fire wood in the flame, as the coals in the
fire. They shall be tormenting and be tormented–exciting one another
to worse sins and direr blasphemies, and so increasing in each other
the horror of the great darkness which results from separation from God
and enmity against Him. You shall find, Sinner, that God needs send no
devils to torment you–your sins shall be devils enough, your
companions in the pit shall be Fiends enough. Your memory, your
conscience and your knowledge, shall add such fuel to the flame that
you shall, indeed, be as stubble cast into the fire.
That is the first Truth of God clearly set forth in the text. But
secondly. And solemnly, there is also another very plainly taught,
namely, that this punishment shall be most searching and terrible. The
metaphor of fire is used in Scripture because it is that which, of all
things causes the most pain and is the most searching and trying. One
would suppose that death by fire must be one of the most painful that
can be endured, and the pangs of burning reach to the very inwards of
human life. The judgment of God is quick and powerful, it shall search
your inwards. It shall reach the secret parts of your belly. There
shall be no part of your frame or of your heart that shall be free from
its inroads.
As fire consumes and so reaches to the very essence of things, so shall
the wrath to come reach to the very essence and subsistence of the
soul. It shall be utter and overwhelming destruction which shall
totally consume everything like joy and hope. It shall be a penetrating
and a piercing of the very veins and the marrow of the man, and he
shall not be able to escape. In Scripture this wrath to come is
sometimes spoken of as the second death. Imagine a man dying, dying in
pangs and then rising again to die again and so continually dying and
yet living–expiring and yet breathing–perishing and yet existing.
Being dissolved but yet being still in the body. You have now before
you, then, the Biblical view of punishment–"the second death."–
"To linger in eternal death, Yet death forever fly."
O Soul, there are no words that human eloquence can ever find, however
dreadful, that can reach the thousandth part of this great argument! No
language that was ever uttered by the sternest Prophet, no dreadful
denunciations that ever flowed from the most burning lips, could ever
attain to the tremendous terror of the wrath to come. I know men say of
God's preachers that at times they speak too harshly. Sirs, we cannot
speak half harshly enough. We tell you again, even weeping, that our
poor feeble words cannot portray your danger!
We cannot ourselves even feel the danger as we would wish. But oh, if
our lips had language, if we could but speak as sometimes we feel, we
would move you till you should neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep, until
you had sought and found a refuge in the wounds of Christ. But we are
so dull, or else your hearts are so hard, that when we speak, we are
like men who throw stones against a wall, and the stones come back upon
us. Oh that instead we might be this morning like the man who drew the
bow at a venture, that the arrow may find a place in the joints of your
harness, where your heart may be wounded with the arrows of the King!
Thirdly, when we look at our text we see most evidently that this
destruction will be most inevitable, for the express words of the
Prophet are, "They shall not deliver themselves from the power of the
flame." There is hope now. There shall be no hope then. There is a new
and living way now. There shall be no way then. The gate of mercy is
open now. It shall be fast bolted forever then. There is a ladder which
reaches from earth to Heaven, but there is no ladder which reaches from
Hell to Heaven. There is a great gulf fixed so that they who would pass
from them to us cannot, neither could we go to them even if we should
wish to venture there–
"Fixed is their everlasting state, Could man repent, it is then too
late; Justice has closed mercy's door, And God's long-suffering is no
more."
It is inevitable, we say. How can they avoid it? Man, have you strength
to fight with the Most High? Can you defy the Eternal God to battle and
go forth in your weakness to meet the Lord God of Hosts? If so, then
might you hope to escape, but then you would be God yourself, and
Jehovah would be no God. But you are a puny man–a tooth-ache makes you
tremble. A little feather in the wind makes you shake. You are a dying
man. You have not power to keep yourself in life–your breath is in
your nostrils and wherein are you to be accounted of?
Certain is it, then, that by your own power you will not be able to
escape out of the power of the flame. And can you escape by your wit?
Why, you have not wit enough now to fly to Christ! You have not wisdom
enough now to look to Him. Where, then, could you find the wisdom that
could invent another plan of salvation? The way of salvation by Christ
is the only one that even God's wisdom has revealed to us. No! Fool,
you can never find another, nor in Hell will you ever have the comfort
of the hope of another–for there shall you understand that no other
foundation can man lay than that which is laid–Jesus Christ the
Righteous.
Or do you think to escape from God by hiding from His Presence? Ah,
where will you go? Could you seek the heart of the mountains? God is
there, for He, by His strength, sets them fast. If you could dive into
the depths of the sea to seek its deep cavernous recesses, even there
would He reach you, for His hand dug the channels of the ocean and the
strength of the sea is His, also. Would you try to escape behind the
clouds of darkness?–
"Darkness and light in this agree; Great God, they're both alike to
You; Your eyes can reach Your foes as soon Through midnight shades as
blazing noon."
Or would you hope to fly beyond the range of the known universe? Man,
He is there, for He fills all things. And as it was said of the world
in the days of the Caesars–that it was only one great prison for the
offender, so that go where he might, Caesar would track him–so shall
you find the universe, even could you escape from your prison, to be
but one great den where the Eternal Eye should see you and the Eternal
Hand should reach you. No, there is no escape, there is no deliverance,
there is no means of avoiding sin's penalty when life is over. It is
"Escape from the wrath to come" today. But then escape shall be a thing
unknown.
These three Truths of God stand clearly enough in our text–that the
punishment of the wicked will be easily inflicted, that it will be most
dreadful in its character, and that it will be most inevitable. Do I
speak to any here who say they do not believe it? Well, Sir, I might
only say this much to you–you profess to be a Christian nominally, do
you not? And you, you say, live in a Christian land. Now, if so, if you
do really believe this Book to be the Word of God, then what can you
say in denial of a future judgment? You must believe in the wrath to
come and in the general judgment.
If not, turn Turk–say so at once–turn infidel. Or something of that
kind. But never again pretend to be called a Christian and live in a
Christian land, and to be one of a Christian people. Never profess
that, while you object to that which is one of the fundamental Truths
of Revelation–one of these great things about which there can be no
dispute among those who receive this Book as being a Revelation from
God. But, you will tell me again that you think I speak too harshly of
it. O Sirs, not half so harshly as Isaiah! Not half so plaintively as
Jeremiah or Ezekiel, nor in such telling words as did my blessed
Master!
The Lord Jesus, though the most loving of spirits, was the most stern
of preachers. In His sermons, while there is everything that could melt
and woo, there is no lack of the great and terrible thunderbolt, and
the sounding forth of wrath to come and the judgment which must await
the impenitent. But again, you will say to me, why do you speak like
that?
Why not dwell upon more pleasant themes? Because, as the Lord, my God,
lives, before whom I stand, I wish to be free of the blood of all men.
What is it to win your applause today? Or, what is it to gain your
censure? Think you, Sirs, that the breath of your applause is that on
which we live? Fancy you that your opinion of our ministry is anything
to us? No, not if God has sent us. If we are but what you may think us
to be–impostors to please you–then, indeed, we should eschew all such
subjects as these. We should be silent upon the hard sayings and only
prophesy smooth things. If we cared for popularity and such like, we
should put these doctrines behind and cry, "Peace, peace and sew
pillows to your armholes." But, as God has sent us and as we know we
must give an account of our ministry, we tell you that if you perish,
it shall not be for want of warning.
And if you must go down to Hell, it shall be with your eyes open. If
you will have your sins, you shall know that you must have the
punishment with them. And if you will reject Christ, and if you will
despise Him, it shall be with this fact before you–that you did it
willfully–knowing what you did, knowing that those who do such things
shall not escape the just vengeance of God. Oh, may God but convince
you by the spirit of His Truth and the solemn realities of the judgment
and the wrath to come, and we shall need no excuse and no apology. But
you would rather think us to be false traitors to your souls if we did
not boldly speak on these matters.
II. But our text now changes its figure and therefore we, still keeping
to the same subject, change our mode of address. "Thus says the Lord,
It shall not be a coal to be warmed by, nor a fire to sit before." By
which is meant that there shall be nothing in Hell that can give the
sinner a moment's comfort. Nothing. Let me picture him there. The text
says, "Behold," as though it were a thing to be seen with the eyes, and
to be heard with the ears. Behold you, then, for a moment, a spirit
cast away from God and receiving the due reward of its deeds. That
spirit, we say, has not a coal to warm itself, nor a single thing that
can yield it a ray of joy.
The soul lifts its eye to Heaven. There are the glorified spirits
before the Throne of God–but the sight of Heaven affords no comfort to
the lost in Hell, for they say, "See what glory we have lost! What
transcendent joys we have missed! What bliss we renounced–that we
might have the mirth of an hour and the misery of eternity!" And as
they look up, they shall see some of their old companions there. Some
who were once sinners like themselves, but who have sought for mercy
through the precious blood and having washed their robes in it, stand
before the Throne of God.
And then the lost ones shall wring their hands and curse the day in
which they were born, that they should have rejected the mercy which
they heard proclaimed in their hearing, while others were saved. And
this shall tend to make the contrast of their condition appear the more
dreadful. And then they will see there the poor tried saints of the
Lord whom they were likely to mock at and they will say, "Ah, there is
the man whom we despised. He reigns, and we suffer– Lazarus, the
beggar that lay at our gate full of sores and was licked of the dogs,
is there in Abraham's bosom–and we are tormented in this flame."
Soul, the thought of Heaven shall fan the flames of Hell. The sense of
the glory of the righteous shall depress the spirit with a double woe.
And at the thought of what you have lost, there shall ever be in your
ears a sound, "How are you fallen, O you son of the morning! How are
you cast down from Heaven and brought into the depths of Hell"! Nor
when the spirit turns its eye around upon Hell itself shall it see any
reason for comfort there. I know there are some who say, "Well, if I am
lost, there will be many more that will be." Ah, but the multitude of
the damned will be no consolation to the damned.
The more there are, the more wretched shall they be. For maybe, O
Reprobate, as you shall cast your eye around, you will meet the eyes of
the woman whom you did lead astray and she will curse you to your face.
Perhaps, Drunkard, as you are in your musings, you will see the lad
whom you first took to the ale-house and taught to be a beast like
yourself! Knaves, there shall you meet your partners in your trade!
There shall the ungodly see eyes which shall look upon them glaring
like eyes of fire, which they can never avoid–the eyes of those whom
they duped and deceived and misled.
Most horrible of all must be the position of the professed minister of
Christ who did not preach the Gospel, or who never cared for the souls
of men. Oh, if such a lot should ever be mine! Think of the million
eyes of those in Hell, every one of them darting flames of fire at the
false preacher who did not care for their souls! Better to be a devil
than to be a preacher who was untrue to his Master. Better to sink to
Hell as a prostitute, or as a thief, than to go to perdition as a
clergyman or a minister who has not preached the Word of God with all
his might! There shall be no comfort in the company that they find
there–neither Heaven nor Hell shall yield them a coal to be warmed by.
Nor, indeed, will they be able to find any comfort in themselves, nor
in their thoughts. Now, we sometimes find men who get comfort to
themselves out of the doctrines of God's Gospel. I have known a man
come up to this House of Prayer and under some soul-searching sermon,
he has been alarmed. He has gone home and sat with his finger upon his
brow in thought, for a little season, and said, "You almost persuaded
me to be a Christian." His heart seemed ready to break, but at last he
has risen up and said, "If I am to be damned, I shall be damned, and if
I am to be saved I shall be saved," and he has made the doctrine of
predestination a coverlet in which he might wrap himself and sleep
comfortably.
Souls, you shall not be able to do that then. In the world to come, no
doctrine will be able to yield you a moment's comfort. Instead of it,
your thoughts shall be a case of knives, cutting and piercing your
souls, and every Truth of God you have ever known, yes, and every
falsehood that you have once believed, shall be spikes upon the bed
where you seek to find some peace. Indeed, there is never any real joy
to the sinner even here, when his mind is awake, and certainly there
will be none hereafter. Why, the greatest torture to which you could
put some men would be to make them think. How do some of our men live?
They drink hard and go to bed drunk.
They wake up in the morning and they are very low and miserable. And
then they must have a little drink again to lift their spirits up and,
when they have lost their reason, they get happy. But if they would sit
down and think awhile over their present estate, they would kill
themselves. This is how many an one has been made a suicide. When they
have had a moment's sober thought, they have looked at themselves. And
if this on earth has brought men to the halter and to the knife, what
will it do in Hell when, forever, forever and forever, their thoughts
shall revolve, and revolve and revolve again upon sin and its
punishment, upon Divine Grace despised, upon mercy rejected–upon an
angry God and upon the all-devouring wrath which has come forth from
His Presence?
But again–the sinner shall certainly find no comfort in God. Mark you,
if the sinner could say there what he now says here, he would have
comfort in God. For now he says, "If God is to treat me thus in the
world to come, it will be unjust." Ah, you will not think so then, for
this shall be the sting of it all–"I deserve it. I deserve it. I
brought this on myself!" You may mutter now about the hardness of God,
and call Him a cruel taskmaster–but when your better sense gets the
upper hand, as it will do–then you will be compelled against your will
to acknowledge that He is not too severe. That He is not too hard with
you. Oh, if the lost spirits in Hell could but believe God to be
unjust, their pains would cease!
But it is the conviction that He is just, and that every pang and every
throe they have willfully brought upon themselves by despising Him and
running in a false way–it is that conviction which will be the Hell of
Hell. No, more, Sin-ner–when you are there, you will not be able to
say that God has broken a single promise that He ever made to you. If
there is a soul in Hell that could say, "I sought the Lord but He would
not be found of me"–if he could say–"I did trust Christ but He did
not save me." If he could say, "I did seek and pray, but He would not
hear"–if he could say, "I did humble myself and leave my sin. I did
come to Him and say, Jesus, Savior, pity me. Have mercy upon me through
your precious blood." If he could say that and then add, "And yet I was
not saved"–then that man would have no Hell, because he would always
have some excuse.
But there is not one among you that will ever have an excuse. If you
are lost, it will be because you did not pray. And if you perish, it
will be because you did not repent. And if you are cast away, it will
be because you would not believe in Christ. You shall find no comfort
in any broken promises. But those which are now the hope and joy of the
penitent, shall then be your dread and fear. Moreover, you sometimes
comfort yourselves with the thought that you cannot help it, that it
must be so, and therefore you are comforted in it. But you will get no
comfort in that thought in the world to come, for then you will clearly
perceive that your sin was willfully undertaken, that you did it to
please yourself, that you followed your own wayward, headstrong will,
instead of bowing to the will of God.
O! There is nothing in God, nothing in His promises, nothing in His
threats, nothing in His Word, which will at the Last Great Day yield a
coal for the sinner to be warmed by, or a fire by which he can sit
before. It will be black, black despair, and not a solitary ray of
light shall come from God to that soul.
But further, the sinner shall then find no comfort in the past. I know
he will look back upon his past joys but what will he say of them? He
will call himself ten-thousand fools to think that for such little
paltry joys as those, he should have lost eternal bliss. The drunkard
will doubtless remember his cups but it will be to call himself an
idiot to think for a little drink and the sweet excitement of his
palate for an hour, he should have damned himself to all eternity. Ah,
and the very thought of those enjoyments will act as a foil to set
forth the present state in which he is. He will have the sin without
the pleasure of it. The dregs but not the wine. The bitterness, the
worm-wood, and the gall, but not the froth upon the cup.
That he has had in time, but now he has to drink the bitterness to all
eternity. As he looks back, instead of comfort, O Sirs, what agony the
past will give him! Should I be so unhappy as to have in my
congregation this morning one man who shall at last perish, I do not
doubt that this present assembly will flash before his eyes. Ah, then
he will say, "I remember how the preacher spoke. Whatever he did not
say, he did warn me to flee from the wrath to come. However feebly he
put it, I ought not to have thought of that, but I should have
remembered the Truth and my interest in it."
Oh, by these tears which these eyes must shed and by the emotions which
this heart does feel for your soul's salvation, I plead with you–do
not remain in such a state that when you die you will have to say, "He
cared more for me than I cared for myself. He thought more of my
conversion than I ever thought of it, and he wished more to see me
brought to eternal life than I have ever done." Oh, let not the past
become so bitter as this! Young man, shall your mother's tears and your
father's prayers, when they sought to bring you to Christ, make a part
of the bitter remembrances of eternity? And you, my dear Hearers, who
sit here constantly, must these seats cry out against you? Must this
House of Prayer bear witness against you? Must I appear at the great
bar of God, and say "My Lord, it is just. I did warn them. They were
prayed for. They were wept over. They were wooed. As a mother loves her
children, so has my soul loved them"?
Must it be so? God forbid! But it must, except you repent. "Except a
man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." And what remains
then, but that he must be driven from the Presence of God to the place
where hope can never come? God have mercy on you, for if He does not,
you shall find not a coal to warm you in the recollections of the past.
Then when that soul is lost, it certainly shall find no coal to warm
itself by in its condition in the present. Now, ungodly men get some
degree of comfort from the very ruin of their state. I mean this–some
of them are presumptuous. They say, "What do I care? I will defy all
this. Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice?" And this gives
some sort of comfort here. But you will not be able to face it out thus
in eternity. The most brazen among the ungodly crew shall then hide his
face for shame–like Belshazzar, his knees shall knock together and his
loins be loosed. Then shall the stouthearted fail, and the soul of the
mighty shall be bowed down.
Ignorance, too, gives many men comfort here. They do not know their
state and so they are at peace. But you will have no ignorance
then–you will know, even as you are known–so that this also shall be
taken away. Here also stupidity often gives men peace. They will not
feel. You may hammer them with the Law but they are not moved. You may
preach as though you would move a heart of stone, but they are not
moved. Ah, but hearts of stone shall be no more in Hell. They shall be
hearts of flesh to suffer, though not hearts of flesh to repent. Then
the stout heart shall be taken away and the proud spirit shall quail,
so that there shall be nothing in the present condition of the lost
that can yield them any comfort.
Nor will there be anything to comfort them in their future condition.
They may look on through the long vista of the eternal ages and never
see the shadow of a hope. Forever, forever, forever–wave after
wave–stream after stream of sorrow. Forever, forever, forever! Oh, it
would make holiday in Hell, if it could be proved that the pains were
not eternal! But it stands, "These shall go away into everlasting
punishment. Where their worm dies not and their fire is not quenched."
No hope! When a woman has no hope, we wonder not that she seeks the
cold river. When a man has no hope, we wonder not that he is taken to
the asylum as a lunatic. But when the soul has no hope, then it will be
death and madness combined forever, forever, forever!
III. And now our text bids us "BEHOLD." Therefore I pray you, Beloved,
turn not away your eyes from this meditation. Children of God, behold
it. It will make you grateful–
"Oh, were it not for Grace Divine, This case so dreadful had been
mine."
Does not the thought of the misery from which you have escaped make you
love your Savior? And oh, Christian, will it not make you love poor
sinners, too? Do you not feel as if you wanted to be doing something to
pluck them as brands from the burning? Knowing the terrors of the Lord,
do you not wish to be the saviors of men? Wake, you sleepers! Woe unto
you if you can think of these things and still be quiet! "Woe unto them
that are at ease in Zion," who can see men perish without doing
anything to rescue them! Woe unto you! Woe unto you! How can you be the
servants of God?
But especially, you that are unconverted, the text says, "Behold." It
is a gloomy subject for you to think upon, but better to think of it
now, than to think of it forever. Better to weep the tears of penitence
than the tears of despair, and better the pangs of conviction, than the
pangs of condemnation. Better for a little season to lose your mirth
and your merriment to get Heaven and eternal life, than it is to have
your joys now and then to be driven forever from the Presence of the
Lord.
I am about to close the sermon and you will go your way and there will
be some few blessed by the Holy Spirit, in whom God's Word will abide.
But oh, for the many of you, for the many of you, we do but preach in
vain. We do but speak to ears that are dull of hearing and to hearts
that will not feel. If I have told you what is false, reject it–laugh
at it! If I have tried to stir you up about a theme which does not
concern you, turn on your heels and go your way.
But oh, Sirs, if these things are real, if they are true, if there is
but a step between us and death, I entreat you, by the love you bear to
your own selves, if not by any care for God or Christ, to meditate upon
these things. And may God lead you out of self to Christ–away from
your sin to Him who is the great Sin-Bearer, that you may find in Him
eternal life. "Turn you, turn you, why will you die, O house of
Israel?" Why will you perish? Why will you go down to destruction? Why
will you make your bed in Hell, and dwell with everlasting burnings?
God turn you! May God turn you now, and by His Grace save you. And to
Him shall be the glory forever and ever! Amen.