Little Sins

Little Sins

A Sermon

(No. 248)

Delivered on Sabbath Morning, April 17th, 1859, by the

REV. C.H. SPURGEON

at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.

"Is it not a little one?"–Genesis 19:20.

THESE words we shall take for a motto, rather than a text in the
ordinary acceptation of that term. I shall not this morning attempt to
explain the connection. It was the utterance of Lot, when he pleaded
for the salvation of Zoar; but I shall take it altogether away from the
connection in which it stands, and make use of it in another fashion.
The great Father of Lies hath multitudes of devices by which he seeks
to ruin the souls of men. He uses false weights and false balances in
order to deceive them. Sometimes he uses false times, declaring at one
hour that it is too early to seek the Lord, and at another that it is
now too late. And he uses false quantities, for he will declare that
great sins are but little, and as for what he confesses to be little
sins, he makes them afterwards to be nothing at all–mere peccadilloes,
almost worthy of forgiveness in themselves. Many souls, I doubt not,
have been caught in this trap, and being snared thereby, have been
destroyed. They have ventured into sin where they thought the stream
was shallow, and, fatally deceived by its depth, they have been swept
away by the strength of the current to that cataract which is the ruin
of such vast multitudes of the souls of men.

It shall be my business this morning to answer this temptation, and try
to put a sword in your hands wherewith to resist the enemy when he
shall come upon you with this cry;– "Is it not a little one?" and
tempt you into sin because he leads you to imagine that there is but
very little harm in it. "Is it not a little one?"

With regard then to this temptation of Satan concerning the littleness
of sin, I would make this first answer, the best of men have always
been afraid of little sins. The holy martyrs of God have been ready to
endure the most terrible torments rather than step so much as one inch
aside from the road of truth and righteousness. Witness Daniel: when
the king's decree went forth that no man should worship God for such
and such a time, nevertheless he prayed three times a day as aforetime,
with his window open towards Jerusalem, not fearing the king's
commandment. Why could he not have retired into an inner chamber? Why
might he not have ceased from vocal prayer, and have kept his petitions
in his thought and in his heart? Would he not have been as well
accepted as when he kneeled as usual, with the window open, so that all
the world might see him? Ah! but Daniel judged that little as the
offence might seem, he would rather suffer death at the jaws of the
lion, than he would by that little offence provoke the anger of his
God, or lead men to blaspheme his holy name, because his servant had
been afraid to obey. Mark, too, the three holy children. They are asked
by king Nebuchadnezzar simply to bend the knee and worship the golden
image which he had set up. How slight the homage! One bend of the knee,
and all is done. One prostration, and they may go their way safely. Not
so. They will not worship the golden image which the king has set up.
They can burn for God, but they cannot turn from God. They can suffer,
but they will not sin; and though all the world might have excused them
with the plea of expediency, if they had performed that one little act
of idol worship, yet they will not do it, but would rather be exposed
to the fury of a furnace, seven times heated, than commit an offence
against the Most High. So also among the early Christians. You may have
read of that noble warrior for Christ, Martin Arethusa, the bishop. He
had led the people to pull down the idol temple in the city over which
he presided; and when the apostate emperor Julian came to power, he
commanded the people to rebuild the temple. They were bound to obey on
pain of death. But Arethusa all the while lifted up his voice against
the evil they were doing, until the wrath of the king fell upon him of
a sudden. He was, however, offered his life on condition that he would
subscribe so much as a single half penny towards the building of the
temple; nay, less than that, if he would cast one grain of incense into
the censer of the false god he might escape. But he would not do it. He
feared God, and he would not do the most tiny little sin to save his
life. They therefore exposed his body, and gave him up to the children
to prick him with knives; then they smeared him with honey, and he was
exposed to wasps and stung to death. But all the while the grain of
incense he would not give. He could give his body to wasps, and die in
the most terrible pains, but he could not, he would not, he dared not
sin against God. A noble example!

Now, brethren, if men have been able to perceive so much of sin in
little transgressions, that they would bear inconceivable tortures
rather than commit them, must there not be something dreadful after all
in the thing of which Satan says, "Is it not a little one?" Men, with
their eyes well opened by divine grace, have seen a whole hell
slumbering in the most minute sin. Gifted with a microscopic power,
their eyes have seen a world of iniquity hidden in a single act, or
thought, or imagination of sin; and hence they have avoided it with
horror,– have passed by and would have nought to do with it. But if
the straight road to heaven be through flames, through floods, through
death itself, they had sooner go through all these torments than turn
one inch aside to tread an easy and an erroneous path. I say this
should help us when Satan tempts us to commit little sins,–this should
help us to the answer, "No, Satan, if God's people think it great, they
know better than thou dost. Thou art a deceiver; they are true. I must
shun all sin, even though thou sayest it is but little." It may be
further answered, in reply to this temptation of Satan with regard to
little sins, thus:– "Little sins lead to great ones. Satan! thou
biddest me commit a small iniquity. I know thee whom thou art, thou
unholy one! Thou desirest me to put in the thin end of the wedge. Thou
knowest when that is once inserted thou canst drive it home, and split
my soul in twain. Nay, stand back! Little though the temptation be, I
dread thee, for thy little temptation leads to something greater, and
thy small sin makes way for something worse."

We all see in nature how easily we may prove this,–that little things
lead to greater things. If it be desired to bridge a gulf, it is often
the custom to shoot an arrow, and cross it with a line almost as thin
as film. That line passes over and a string is drawn after it, and
after that some small rope, and after that a cable, and after that the
swinging suspension bridge, that makes a way for thousands. So it is
oft times with Satan. It is but a thought that he would shoot across
the mind. That thought shall carry a desire; that desire a look; that
look a touch; that touch a deed; that deed a habit; and that habit
something worse, until the man, from little beginnings, shall be
swamped and drowned in iniquity. Little things, we say, lead on to
something worse. And thus it has always been. A spark is dropped by
some unwary traveller amidst the dry grass of the prairie. It is but a
spark; "Is it not a little one?" A child's foot may tread it out; one
drop from the rain-cloud may quench it. But ah! what sets the prairie
in a blaze? what bids the rolling waves of flame drive before them all
the beasts of the field? what is it that consumes the forest, locking
it in its fiery arms? what is it that burns down the habitation of man,
or robs the reaper of his harvest? It is this solitary spark,–the one
spark–the breeder of the flames. So is it with little sins. Keep them
back Oh Satan! They be sparks, but the very fire of hell is only a
growth from them. The spark is the mother of conflagration, and though
it be a little one I can have nought to do with it. Satan always begins
with us as he did with Achan. He showed Achan, first of all, a goodly
Babylonish garment, and a wedge of gold. Achan looked at it: was it not
a little thing to do,–to look? Achan touched it: was not that a little
thing? How slight a sin–to touch the forbidden thing! He takes it, and
carries it away to his tent, and–here is worse,– he hides it. And at
length he must die for the awful crime. Oh! take heed of those small
beginnings of sin. Beginnings of sin are like the letting out of water:
first, there is an ooze; then a drip; then a slender stream; then a
vein of water; and then, at last, a flood: and a rampart is swept
before it, a continent is drowned. Take heed of small beginnings, for
they lead to worse. There was never a man yet that came to the gallows
but confessed that he began with small thefts;–the stealing of a book
at school–the pilfering, afterwards, from his master's till leading to
the joining of the gang of robbers,–the joining of the gang of robbers
leading to worse crimes and, at last, the deed was done, the murder was
committed, which brought him to an ignominious death. Little sins often
act as burglars do;– burglars sometimes take with them a little child;
they put the little child into a window that is too small for them to
enter, and then he goes and opens the door to let in the thieves. So do
little sins act. They are but little ones, but they creep in, and they
open the door for great ones. A traitor inside the camp may be but a
dwarf, and may go and open the gates of the city and let in a whole
army. Dread sin; though it be never so small, dread it. You cannot see
all that is in it. It is the mother of ten thousand mischiefs. The
mother of mischief, they say, is as small as a midge's egg; and
certainly, the smallest sin has ten thousand mischiefs sleeping within
its bowels.

St. Augustine gives a picture of how far men will go when they once
begin to sin. There was a man who in argument declared that the devil
made flies; "Well," said the man with whom he was arguing, "If the
devil made flies, then it is but little more to say the devil made
worms!" "Well" said the other, "I believe it." " Well" said the man, "
If the devil made worms, how do you know but what he made small birds?"
"Well," said the other, " It is likely he did!" "Well," resumed the man
with whom he was arguing, "But if he made small birds, why may he not
have made big ones? And if he made big birds, why may he not have made
man? And if he made man, why may he have not made the world?" "You
see," says St. Augustine, "By one admission, by once permitting the
devil to be thought the creator of a fly, the man came to believe that
the devil was the Creator." Just get one small error into your minds,
get one small evil into your thoughts, commit one small act of sin in
your life, permit these things to be dandled, and fondled, favoured,
petted, and treated with respect, and you cannot tell whereunto they
may grow. They are small in their infancy: they will be giants when
they come to their full growth. Thou little knowest how near thy soul
may be to destruction, when thou wantonly indulgest in the smallest act
of sin!

Another argument may be used to respond to this temptation of the
devil. He says, "Is it not a little one?" "Yes," we reply, "But little
sins multiply very fast." Like all other little things, there is a
marvellous power of multiplication in little sins. As for murder, it is
a masterly sin; but we do not often hear of it compared with the
multitude of minor sins. The smaller the guilt, the more frequent it
becomes. The elephant hath but a small progeny and multiplieth slowly.
But the aphis hath thousands springing from it within an hour. It is
even so with little sins: they multiply rapidly, beyond all
thought–one becomes the mother of multitudes. And, mark this, little
sins are as mighty for mischief in their multitude, as if they were
greater sins. Have you ever read the story of the locusts when they
sweep through a land? I was reading but yesterday of a missionary who
called all the people together when he heard that the locusts where
coming up the valley; and kindling huge fires, they hoped to drive off
the living stream. The locusts were but small; but it seemed as if the
whole of the blazing fires were quenched–they marched over the dead
and burning bodies of their comrades, and on they went, one living
stream. Before them everything was green, like the garden of Eden;
behind them everything was dry and desert. The vines were barked, the
trees had lost every leaf, and stretched their naked arms to the sky,
as if winter had rent away their foliage. There was not then so much as
a single blade of grass, or sprig upon the tree, that even a goat might
have eaten. The locusts had done all this, and left utter devastation
in their track. Why this? The locust is but a little thing! Ay, but in
their number how mighty they become! Dread then a little sin, for it
will be sure to multiply. It is not one, it is many of these little
sins. The plague of lice, or the plague of flies in Egypt, was perhaps
the most terrible that the Egyptians ever felt. Take care of those
little insect sins which may be your destruction. Surely if you are led
to feel them, and to groan under them, and to pray to God for
deliverance from them, it may be said that in your preservation is the
finger of God. But let these sins alone, let them increase and
multiply, and your misery is near at hand. Listen not then to the evil
voice of Satan when he cries, "Is it not a little one?"

Years ago there was not a single thistle in the whole of Australia.
Some Scotchman who very much admired thistles–rather more than I
do–thought it was a pity that a great island like Australia should be
without that marvellous and glorious symbol of his great nation. He,
therefore, collected a packet of thistle-seeds, and sent it over to one
of his friends in Australia. Well, when it was landed, the officers
might have said, "Oh, let it in; is it not a little one?' Here is but a
handful of thistle-down, oh, let it come in; it will be but sown in a
garden–the Scotch will grow it in their gardens; they think it a fine
flower, no doubt,–let them have it, it is but meant for their
amusement." Ah, yes, it was but a little one; but now whole districts
of country are covered with it, and it has become the farmer's pest and
plague. It was a little one; but, all the worse for that, it multiplied
and grew. If it had been a great evil, all men would have set to work
to crush it. This little evil is not to be eradicated, and of that
country it may be said till doomsday,– "Thorns and thistles shall it
bring forth." Happy would it have been if the ship that brought that
seed had been wrecked. No boon is it to those of our countrymen there
on the other side of the earth, but a vast curse. Take heed of the
thistle-seed; little sins are like it. Take care they are not admitted
into your heart. Endeavour to shun them as soon as Satan presents them.
Go, seek by the grace of God and his Holy Spirit to keep them away; for
if not, these little sins will multiply so fast, that they will be your
ruin and destruction.

Once again; little sins, after all, if you look at them in another
aspect, are great. A little sin involves a great principle. Suppose
that to-morrow the Austrians should send a body of men into Sardinia.
If they only send a dozen it would be equal to a declaration of war. It
may be said, "Is it not a little one?–a very small band of soldiers
that we have sent?" "Yes," it would be replied, "but it is the
principle of the thing. You cannot be allowed with impunity to send
your soldiers across the border. War must be proclaimed, because you
have violated the frontier, and invaded the land." It is not necessary
to send a hundred thousand troops into a country to break a treaty. It
is true the breach of the treaty may appear to be small; but if the
slightest breach be allowed, the principle is gone. There is very much
more in principle than men imagine. In a sin against God, it is not so
much the thing itself as the principle of the thing at which God looks;
and the principle of obedience is as much broken, as much dishonoured
by a little sin as by a great sin. O man! the Creator hath made thee to
obey him. Thou breakest his law; thou sayst it is but a little breach.
Still it is a breach. The law is broken. Thou art disobedient. His
wrath abideth on thee. The principle of obedience is compromised in thy
smallest transgression, and, therefore, is it great. Besides, I don't
know whether the things Christian men call little sins are not, after
all, greater than what they call great sins, in some respects. If you
have a friend, and he does you a displeasure for the sake of ten
thousand pounds, you say, "Well, he had a very great temptation. It is
true he has committed a great fault, but still he has wronged me to
some purpose." But suppose your friend should vex and grieve your mind
for the sake of a farthing; what would you think of that? "This is
wanton," you would say. "This man has done it out of sheer malevolence
toward me." Now, if Adam had been denied by his Maker the whole of
Paradise, and had been put into a stony desert, I do not think that,
had he taken all Paradise to himself, there would have been more sin in
that act, than when placed in the midst of the garden, he simply stole
one fruit from the forbidden tree. The transgression involved a great
principle, because he did it wantonly. He had so little to gain, he had
so much to lose when he dishonored God. It has been said, that to sin
without temptation is to sin like the devil, for the devil was not
tempted when he sinned; and to sin with but little temptation is to sin
like the devil. When there is great temptation offered, I do not say
there is any excuse, but when there is none, where the deed is but
little, bringing but little pleasure, and involving but a small
consequence, there is a wantonness about the sin which makes it greater
in moral obliquity, than many other iniquities that men commit. Ay, you
cry out against a great felon, when he is discovered; see of how much
he robbed men; see how he wronged the widow and robbed the fatherless!
I know it. God forbid that I should make any excuse for him; but that
man had a name to maintain. He had thousands of temptations before him
to get immensely rich. He thought he never should be discovered. He had
a family to keep. He had got involved in expensive habits, and there
are many things to be said for his extenuation. But you, if you indulge
in some slight sin which brings you no pleasure, which involves no
important interests, by which you have nothing to get, I say you sin
wantonly. You have committed an act which has in it the very virus and
bitterness of wilful obstinate, designing disobedience, because there
is not even the extenuation, or excuse, or apology, that you should
gain something thereby. Little sins are, after all, tremendous sins,
viewed in the light of God's law. Looked upon as involving a breach of
that inviolable standard of right, and considered as having been
committed wantonly, I say they are great, and I know not that those
sins men conceive to be gross and great, are greater and grosser in
reality than these.

Thus I have given you several arguments with which to answer that
temptation, "Is it not a little one?"

Now I am about to speak to the child of God only, and I say to him,
"Brother if Satan tempts thee to say, Is it not a little one?'" reply
to him, "Ah, Satan but little though it be, it may mar my fellowship
with Christ. Sin cannot destroy but it will annoy; it cannot ruin my
soul, but it will soon ruin my peace. Thou sayest it is a little one,
Satan, but my Saviour had to die for it, or otherwise I should have
been shut out from heaven. That little one' may be like a little thorn
in my flesh, to prick my heart and wound my soul. I cannot, I dare not
indulge in this little sin, for I have been greatly forgiven, and I
must greatly love. A little sin in others would be a great sin for
me–' How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God.'"

Is it a little one, Satan? But a little stone in the shoe will make a
traveller limp. A little thorn may breed a fester. A little cloud may
hide the sun. A cloud of the size of a man's hand may bring a deluge of
rain. Avaunt Satan! I can have nought to do with thee; for since I know
that Jesus bled for little sins, I cannot wound his heart by indulging
in them afresh. A little sin, Satan! Hath not my Master said, "Take us
the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines have
tender grapes." Lo! these little things do mischief to my tender heart.
These little sins burrow in my soul, and soon make it to become a very
den and hole of the wild beasts that Jesus hates, soon drive him away
from my spirit so that he will hold no comfortable fellowship and
communion with me. A great sin cannot destroy a Christian, but a little
sin can make him miserable. Jesus will not walk with his people unless
they drive out every known sin. He says, "If ye keep my commandments ye
shall abide in my love, even as I have kept my Father's commandments
and abide in his love." There are very many Christians in the world
that do not see their Saviour's face by the month together, and seem to
be quite content without his company. I understand you not, nor do I
wish to know how it is, that you can reconcile your souls to the
absence of your Lord. A loving wife, without her husband for months and
years, seems to me to be sorely tried. Surely it must be an affliction
for a tender child to be separated from his father. We know that in our
childhood it was always so, and we looked forward to our return home
with joy. And art thou a child of God, yet happy without seeing thy
Father's face? What! thou the spouse of Christ, and yet content without
his company! Surely, surely, surely, thou hast fallen into a sad state.
Thou must have gone astray, if such be thy experience, for the true
chaste spouse of Christ mourns like a dove without her mate, when he
has left her. Ask, then, the question, what has driven Christ from you?
He hides his face behind the wall of your sins. That wall may be built
up of little pebbles, as easily as of great stones. The sea is made of
drops, the rocks are made of grains; and ah! surely the sea which
divides thee from Christ may be filled with the drops of thy little
sins; and the rock which is to wreck thy barque, may have been made by
daily working of the coral insects of thy little sins. Therefore, take
heed thereunto; for if thou wouldst live with Christ, and walk with
Christ, and see Christ, and have fellowship with Christ, take heed, I
pray thee, of the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines have
tender grapes.

And now, leaving the child of God thus awhile, I turn myself to address
others of you who have some thought with regard to your souls, but who
could not yet be ranked among those that fear God with a true heart. To
you, I know, Satan often offers this temptation– "Is it not a little
one?" May God help you to answer him whenever he thus attacks you. "Is
it not a little one?" And so, young man, the devil has tempted thee to
commit the first petty theft. "Is it not a little one?" And so he has
bidden thee, young man, for the first time in thy life to spend the day
of rest in foolish pleasure. It was but a little one, he said, and thou
hast taken him at his word, and thou hast committed it. It was but a
little one, and so you have told a lie. It was but a little one, and
you have gone into the assembly of the frivolous and mixed in the
society of scorners. It was but a little one, there could not be much
hurt in it, it could not do much mischief to your soul. Ah! stop
awhile. Dost thou know that a little sin, if wantonly indulged, will
prevent thy salvation? "The foundation of God standeth sure having this
seal, the Lord knoweth them that are his, and let every one that nameth
the name of Christ depart from iniquity." Christ will reveal salvation
from all his sins to the man who hates all his sins; but if thou
keepest one sin to thyself, thou shalt never have mercy at his hands.
If thou wilt forsake all thy ways, and turn with full purpose of heart
to Christ, the biggest sin thou hast ever committed shall not destroy
thy soul; but if a little sin be harboured, thy prayers will be
unheard, thy sighs disregarded, and thy earnest cries shall return into
thy bosom without a blessing. You have been in prayer lately, you have
been seeking Christ, you have been praying with all your might that God
would meet with you. Now months have rolled over your head, you are not
yet saved, not yet have you received the comfortable assurance of your
pardon. Young man, is it not likely that some little known sin is still
harboured in your heart? Mark, then, God will never be at one with thee
till thou and thy sins are twain. Part with thy sins, or else part with
all hope, though thou hide but so much as a grain of sin back from God.
He will not, he cannot have any mercy on thee. Come to him just as thou
art, but renounce thy sins. Ask him to set thee free from every lust,
from every false way, from every evil thing, or else, mark thee, thou
shalt never find grace and favour at his hands. The greatest sin in the
world, repented of, shall be forgiven, but the least unrepented sin
shall sink thy soul lower than the lowest hell. Mark then, again,
sinner, thou who indulgest in little sins sometimes. These little sins
show that thou art yet in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of
iniquity. Rowland Hill tells a curious tale of one of his hearers who
sometimes visited the theatre. He was a member of the church. So going
to see him, he said, I understand Mr. So-and-so, you are very fond of
frequenting the theatre. No, sir, he said, that's false. I go now and
then just for a great treat, still I don't go because I like it; it is
not a habit of mine. Well, said Rowland Hill, suppose some one should
say to me, Mr. Hill, I understand you eat carrion, and I should say,
no, no, I don't eat carrion. It is true, I now and then have a piece of
stinking carrion for a great treat. Why, he would say, you have
convicted yourself, it shows that you like it better than most people,
because you save it up for a special treat. Other men only take it as
common daily food, but you keep it by way of a treat. It shows the
deceitfulness of your heart, and manifests that you still love the ways
and wages of sin.

Ah, my friends, those men that say little sins have no vice in them
whatever, they do but give indications of their own character; they
show which way the stream runs. A straw may let you know which way the
wind blows, or even a floating feather; and so may some little sin be
an indication of the prevailing tendency of the heart. My hearer, if
thou lovest sin, though it be but a little one, thy heart is not right
in the sight of God. Thou art still a stranger to divine grace. The
wrath of God abideth on thee. Thou art a lost soul unless God change
thy heart.

And yet, another remark here. Sinner, thou sayest it is but a little
one. But dost thou know that God will damn thee for thy little sins?
Look angry now, and say the minister is harsh. But wilt thou look angry
at thy God in the day when he shalt condemn thee for ever? If there
were a good man in a prison to-day and you did not go to see him, would
you think that a great sin? Certainly not, you say, I should not think
of doing such a thing. If you saw a man hungry and you did not feed
him, would you think that a great sin? No, you say, I should not.
Nevertheless, these are the very things for which men are sent to hell.
What said the Judge? "I was hungry and ye gave me no meat, thirsty and
ye gave me no drink, I was sick and in prison and ye visited me not.
Forasmuch as ye have not done this unto the least of these, my
brethren, ye have not done it unto me." Now, if these things, which we
only consider to be little sins, actually send myriads to hell, ought
we not to stop and tremble ere we talk lightly of sin, since little
sins may be our eternal destroyers. Ah, man, the pit of hell is digged
for little sins. An eternity of woe is prepared for what men call
little sins. It is not alone the murderer, the drunkard, the
whoremonger, that shall be sent to hell. The wicked, it is true, shall
be sent there, but the little sinner with all the nations that forget
God shall have his portion there also. Tremble, therefore, on account
of little sins.

When I was a little lad, I one day read at family prayer the chapter in
the Revelations concerning the "bottomless pit." Stopping in the midst
of it, I said to my grandfather, "Grandfather, what does this
mean–'the bottomless pit?'" He said, "Go on child, go on." So I read
that chapter, but I took great care to read it the next morning also.
Stopping again I said, "Bottomless pit, what does this mean?" "Go on,"
he said, "Go on." Well it came the next morning, and so on for a
fortnight; there was nothing to be read by me of a morning but this
same chapter, for explained it should be if I read it a month. And I
can remember the horror of my mind when he told me what the idea was.
There is a deep pit, and the soul is falling down,–oh how fast it is
falling! There! the last ray of light at the top has disappeared, and
it falls on–on–on, and so it goes on falling–on–on–on–for a
thousand years! "Is it not getting near the bottom yet? won't it stop?"
No, no–the cry is, on–on– on, "I have been falling a million years,
is it not near the bottom yet?" No, you are no nearer the bottom yet:
it is the "bottomless pit;" it is on–on–on, and so the soul goes on
falling, perpetually, into a deeper depth still, falling for ever into
the "bottomless pit"–on –on–on, into the pit that has no bottom! Woe
without termination, without hope of it's coming to a conclusion. The
same dreadful idea is contained in those words, "The wrath to come."
Mark, hell is always "the wrath to come." If a man has been in hell a
thousand years, it is still "to come." As to what you have suffered in
the past it is as nothing, in the dread account, for still the wrath is
"to come." And when the world has grown grey with age, and the fires of
the sun are quenched in darkness, it is still "the wrath to come." And
when other worlds have sprung up, and have turned into their palsied
age, it is still "the wrath to come." And when your soul, burnt through
and through with anguish, sighs at last to be annihilated, even then
this awful thunder shall be heard, "the wrath to come–to come–to
come." Oh, what an idea! I know not how to utter it! And yet for little
sins, remember you incur "the wrath to come." Oh, if I am to be damned,
I would be damned for something; but to be delivered up to the
executioner and sent into "the wrath to come" for little sins which do
not even make me famous as a rebel, this is to be damned indeed. Oh
that ye would arise, that ye would flee from the wrath to come, that ye
would forsake the little sins, and fly to the great cross of Christ to
have little sins blotted out, and little offences washed away. For
oh,–again I warn you,–if ye die with little sins unforgiven, with
little sins unrepented of, there shall be no little hell; the great
wrath of the great king is ever to come, in a pit without a bottom, in
a hell the fire of which never shall be quenched, and the worm of which
ne'er shall die. Oh, "the wrath to come! the wrath to come!" It is
enough to make one's heart ache to think of it. God help you to flee
from it. May you escape from it now, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.