The Gentleness Of Jesus

A SERMON DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, DECEMBER 14, 1873,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear His voice in
the streets. A bruised reed shall He not break, and smoking flax shall
He not quench, till He sends forth judgment unto victory. And in His
name shall the Gentiles trust." Matthew 12:19,20,21.

EVERY single fragment of Scripture is precious. Short texts culled here
and there, as subjects of meditation, are useful. At the same time the
practice of discoursing upon disconnected extracts may be carried too
far, and sometimes the meaning of a passage may be entirely lost by not
regarding its connection. The Bible ought to be treated in the reading
of it as any other book is treated, only with much more of reverential
regard. Suppose that Milton's "Paradise Lost" were used as a
textbook–and that its general mode of usage were to take separate
lines disconnected from the rest of the great poem–and consider them
as positive statements and suitable topics of meditation?

It would be a dangerous experiment! The great poet might well stir in
his grave at the proposal. There are grand lines in that matchless epic
which would bear the process, and glow like diamonds upon a regal brow,
but nobody would form any worthy idea of the glory of the "Paradise
Lost" by having it presented in portions, lines and selected passages.
Such a mode of study reminds me of the Grecian student, who, when he
had a house to sell, carried a brick about the streets to show what
kind of a house it was.

The Bible ought not to be torn limb from limb and its joints hung up
like meat in the shambles. Beyond all other books it will bear
dissection, for it is vital in every sentence and word. Since it is a
mosaic of priceless gems, you will be enriched even if you extract a
jewel here and there–but to behold its Divine beauty you must
contemplate the mosaic as a whole. No idea of the magnificent design of
the entire Scriptures can enter the human mind by reading it in
detached portions, especially if those separated passages are
interpreted without reference to the run of the writer's thoughts. Let
Scripture be read according to the rules of common sense and that will
necessitate our reading through a book and following its train of
thought.

Thus shall we be likely to arrive at the mind of the Holy Spirit. I say
this because I may have to disturb your idea of the meaning of a
passage of Scripture, this morning, for a short time, but you need not
be alarmed, for after I have disturbed, I shall, most probably, confirm
it. I shall pull down to build up again! The main force of our sermon
will be spent over the well-known words, "A bruised reed shall He not
break, and smoking flax shall He not quench, till He send forth
judgment unto victory." We have all our own opinion of the meaning of
this verse. We rejoice that the Lord Jesus will deal tenderly with the
weak and the gentle in heart, in Grace. And we are thankful that the
text appears to us to express that consoling Truth of God.

Now we admit that the verse does teach us that. Does it teach us that
directly and mainly? I think not. Read the connection and judge for
yourselves. The Pharisees endeavored to discover faults in the Lord
Jesus, but they could find nothing against Him except in reference to
His disregard of their notions of the Sabbath. They blamed the
disciples for plucking ears of corn on the Sabbath and the Lord,
Himself, for performing a miracle of healing on that day. Our Lord met
them boldly and so utterly routed them that one almost pities them,
while rejoicing over their ignominious defeat! They were beaten
outright and covered with shame. Our Lord overwhelmed them with five
arguments, any one of which completely swept the ground from under
their feet.

As, for instance, that question, "What man shall there be among you,
that shall have one sheep, and if it falls into a pit on the Sabbath,
will he not lay hold on it, and lift it out? How much, then, is a man
better than a sheep?" Our Lord's victory was complete and tended very
much to weaken their authority. But He did not push His advantage so as
to overturn the sway of these religious teachers–they were before Him
as lamps so nearly blown out that nothing but a

smoldering smoke remained. He did not proceed to quench them. In
argument He had proved their folly and had crumpled them up till they
were like so many bruised bulrushes–but there He paused.

He did not pursue the conflict further, but retired to Galilee, into
the lone places and rural districts of the country, and preached the
Gospel. Lest a popular controversy and public tumult should arise,
every time He worked a miracle He bade the healed one conceal the fact
in order that it might be fulfilled, "A bruised reed shall He not
break, and smoking flax shall He not quench, till He sends forth
judgment unto victory." And here let me ask, Do not the last words of
this passage imply that the smoking flax will be quenched and the
bruised reeds will be broken when He shall "send forth judgment unto
victory"?

How will this be true if the passage refers to feeble saints? The first
meaning looks in quite another direction and points to the Lord's
enemies. Now is the season of His patience, but a day of His wrath is
on the way. He refrained from overthrowing His antagonists in the days
of His flesh, but in the time of His second coming He will break His
foes in pieces with a rod of iron! He will dash them in pieces like
potters' vessels. Now His voice is not heard in the streets, but soon
that voice shall be heard by all living and shall resound through the
abodes of the dead! Now He strives not for the mastery, but then shall
He go forth conquering and to conquer. Today is the time of patience,
gentleness and meekness– so with humble reverence let us meditate
thereon.

The subject of this morning will be the gentleness and long-suffering
of the Lord Jesus. Secondly, the outcome of it, "In His name shall the
Gentiles trust," because they find Him so meek and tender. And, lastly,
the termination of it, for though He is, at this present time, so
merciful that He does not break the bruised reed, yet there is a limit
set to it–"till He sends forth judgment unto victory."

I. THE SAVIOR'S FORBEARANCE. The passage wonderfully sets forth the
Redeemer's gentleness and we shall contemplate it, first, in His own
life on earth. What a quiet, unobtrusive life was that of Him whom they
called, "the carpenter's son"! True, it was wonderfully energetic.
There is a sense in which it must not only be admitted, but gloried in,
that our Lord did both strive and cry, for spiritually He fought
against sin even unto agony and blood. And with thrilling eloquence and
plenteous tears He did cry out against evil and warn men to escape.

He lifted up His voice like a trumpet and cried and spared not so that
His persuasive voice was heard in the streets and throughout all the
land His Gospel was made known. But the passage teaches us that while
others were contentious for power, or, clamorous for gain and eager for
notoriety, Jesus was not so. He raised no party, He fomented no strife,
He sought no honor, He courted no popularity. He left the arena of this
world's contests to others–His was another field of conflict. Born, as
He was, amidst the acclamations of the angels. Reverenced by strangers
from a distant land. Foretold by Seers and Prophets, one marvels that
He did not, even in early youth, shine forth as a "bright particular
star." But for 30 years He retires to the workshop of Joseph and is
there patiently occupied with "His father's business."

We catch a glimpse of Him in the Temple, but, as in a moment, He
vanishes, again, into obscurity. Had we been in His place, young men of
mettle and of warm blood, would we have waited 30 years and more? What
hand could have held us back from the battle? Like the war horse, we
would have champed the bit and pawed the ground, eager for conflict!
Jesus was meekly quiet, neither striving, nor crying, nor causing His
voice to be heard in the streets. When the time is come for Him to
appear in public, He goes quietly to the banks of the Jordan. John is
baptizing a multitude in the river–He does not press forward and claim
the Baptist's immediate attention, but He waits till all the people
have been baptized–and then He tells John that He desires to be
baptized by him.

The deed is done and the Holy Spirit descends upon Him in the river,
but He does not come up out of the Jordan at once to plunge into the
midst of conflict and preach a sermon with the fiery zeal of Peter on
the day of Pentecost. Neither does He, at once, go up to Jerusalem and
proclaim Himself the Anointed of the Lord. Instead, He is led of the
Spirit into the wilderness. His zeal was intense, but He had His spirit
well in hand and not a grain of self-seeking ever defiled His ardor.
The zeal of God's House had eaten Him up, yet He went quietly to the
wilderness, and afterwards to Cana and Capernaum and the more remote
spots by the sea.

He did not need excitement from the outside world to maintain the fires
of His zeal–there was an inexhaustible fount of fire within–therefore
He was ardent but not noisy, intense but not clamorous. His first
labors were very private–His Kingdom came not with observation. He did
not seek to entrap men into discipleship by arts which are commonly
employed. His first disciples were urged to follow Him by John, who
said, "Behold the Lamb of God, which

takes away the sin of the world." And then the disciples asked Him,
"Master, where do You dwell?" He gathered them one or two at a time. He
did not raise an excitement and lead hundreds captive to enthusiasm.
Instead of stirring the metropolitan city at once with His ministry, He
went away to Nazareth and Cana, little paltry towns away among a rustic
population.

He went about healing the sick and teaching, calling John, James,
Peter, Andrew and Matthew, but not making very great headway, as we
say–spending a whole day talking with a woman at a well–perfectly
satisfied to be doing what violent spirits would call commonplace
mission work. When He comes up to the feast at Jerusalem to preach, He
stands there and declares the Word of God, but when He is opposed He
disappears and is back, again, in His retirement in Galilee, still
pursuing His lowly work of love. Our Lord came among us in meek and
lowly guise–and so He continued among us. You shall not find Christ
pushing His way among the politicians, crying, "I claim leadership
among the sons of men."

He never marches at the head of an admiring mob to assert His supremacy
by their aid and alarm His foes by terror of their numbers. But He
gently glides through the world, seen by His light rather than heard by
His sound. He was content to shun fame and avoid applause. He
frequently forbade the grateful patients whom He had healed to mention
His name or publish the cure. His modesty and love of quiet shrank from
notoriety. It was abundantly true of Him, He did not strive nor cry,
neither did any man hear His voice in the streets. A bruised reed He
did not break and a smoking flax He did not quench.

The meaning of what I have said is this–Jesus never became a party
leader. He was no place-hunter or demagogue. There arose many in His
day who claimed to be great ones and drew many people after them by the
pretence that they were the promised deliverers. And by-and-by their
clamors created strife, for the troops of the Romans were after them,
and tumult and bloodshed were the lamentable sequel. Never did our Lord
bid His servants fight, for His kingdom was of another order. When, for
once in His life, He rode in state as a king through the streets of
Jerusalem, the shouting was only that of children who said, "Hosanna"
in the temple, and of a willing, peaceful company of disciples, whose
only weapons were palm branches and boughs of the trees.

For a war horse to ride, He chose the lowly ass. As compared with those
who clamored for place and power, He was like a dumb man all His days,
though able to have awed or charmed the multitude to do His bidding. He
loved the lonely mountain better than the throng of the crowd. He could
not help being popular–such a speaker as He was must attract His
thousands, for, "Never man spoke like this Man." And such a
miracle-worker as He was, how could it be but that the people would
follow to witness His wonders and eat of His loaves and fishes? And
such a generous spirit–so noble and so free-hearted–it was little
marvel that the people would have made Him a king, but He tore Himself
away. They sought Him and found Him not.

He came to endure, not to enjoy–to be despised, not to be crowned. How
often did He escape the congratulating crowds! He took a boat and
passed over to the other side. Rough waters were more to His mind than
hot-brained mobs of transient admirers who could be bought by bread and
fish! His design was not to be the idol of the populace, but to break
their idols and lead their hearts back to God. Therefore He did not
strive nor cry, nor run in the world's race, nor battle in her wars. As
He shunned popularity, so He made no use of the carnal forces which lay
ready at His hands. No doubt the priests and scribes were sometimes
afraid to oppose Him for fear of the people–but they had no need to
fear that He would shelter behind the populace.

He asked neither the rich nor the strong nor the many to protect Him,
but felt quite secure till His hour was come. He spoke openly before
them, unguarded by His friends and with neither weapon nor armor of
defense. He never appealed to human passions, or egged on the people
against the tyrants of the hour. No sentence of His can be construed
into a desire to meet force by force. One of His followers, who loved
Him much, said, "Let us call fire from Heaven upon these Samaritans."
But Jesus said, "You know not what spirit you are of."

In the garden of Gethsemane He might have summoned legions of angels to
the rescue, but He agonized alone. Not a single seraph came from the
Throne of Heaven to drive away the Son of Perdition, or the
bloodthirsty priests. No destroying angel smote the men who spat in His
face. No devouring flame burned up those who scourged Him. The force of
His life was the Omnipotence of gentle goodness. He did not lay the
weight of His little finger upon the minds of men to compel them to
involuntary subjection. His conquests were such as led men in willing
captivity. Only think of what He

might have done! Only think of what you and I would have done if we had
been in His position, having such a work to do and such opponents!

Have you ever felt, when you have seen the sin of this world, as if you
wanted to put it down and stamp it out by force? Your indignation has
been stirred within you and you have said, "I cannot bear it." When I
stood in Rome and saw the idolatries of that city and its swarms of
priests, I could not help exclaiming, "How is it that the eternal
thunderbolts lie still? Had I one hour of the Lord's power I would
sweep away the whole of this filth with the bosom of destruction." But
Christ, with these same thunderbolts in His hands, never used them at
all. He had no curses for His foes. No blows for His enemies. The only
time He did use the semblance of violence was when He took the scourge
of small cords and chased the buyers and sellers out of His Father's
House, a deed in which the awe inspired by His Presence appears to have
been the principal instrument employed.

Such was His gentleness that when He might have shaken the earth and
rocked the thrones of tyrants–and made every idol god totter from its
bloodstained throne–He put forth no such physical power–but still
stood with melting heart and tearful eyes inviting sinners to come to
Him. He used no lash but His love, no battleaxe and weapon of war but
His Grace. Has it ever struck you that it was strange He should have
stopped in Palestine, a little, miserable strip of country, almost too
insignificant to be noticed on the map? Why did He confine Himself to
Israel? Why sojourn in the remotest parts of the land?

Why did He not at once go down to Greece and there, at Athens, meet the
philosophers and convince them of His superiority? They must, before
long, have admitted that there was majesty about His teaching and have
acknowledged Him as the wisest of men. Why not march to Rome and face
proud Caesar–and if He must die–die in some conspicuous place where
all the world would ring with it? Ah, no, He courted no notoriety. We
are always saying, "Let us push and get to the front," but when the
world's march is in the wrong way, the true leader is behind! Jesus
made no desperate attempts to reach leadership. He relied upon the
power of His Spirit and the force of love.

The power of the Truth of God would, He knew, penetrate in quietness
the prepared heart. He knew that the Gospel, like fire, could burn its
way without noise of drum or sound of trumpet. He was satisfied to pick
out His few fishermen and His other disciples in whom His Grace would
be placed like a sacred deposit–and let the work go on like the silent
growing of the corn in the ground which springs up, man knows not how.
I leave the question of His whole life, for I do not think it is
necessary to say more to make you see how exactly the Prophet has
pictured Him here.

Now, secondly, the same has been true with regard to the spread of the
Gospel. The passage does not refer merely to Christ, Personally, but to
Christ's entire work. And it is still true of Him, "He shall not
strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear His voice in the streets."
No violence has been employed in the spread of the Gospel. No carnal
weapon has been lifted to promote Messiah's reign. He does not strive
nor cry. When Mohamed would spread his religion, he bade his disciples
arm themselves and then go and cry aloud in every street, and offer to
men the alternative to become believers in the prophet, or to die.
Mohamed's was a mighty voice, which spoke with the edge of the
scimitar. He delighted to quench the smoking flax and break the bruised
reed–but the religion of Jesus has advanced upon quite a different
plan.

Other forces, more mighty, but not so visible, have been employed to
promote the sway of Jesus. Never has He invoked the secular arm–He has
left that to Antichrist and the seed thereof. No demand has been made
by Him upon human governments to patronize or enforce Christianity. On
the contrary, wherever governments have patronized Christianity at all,
they have either killed it, or else the infinite mercy of God, alone,
has preserved it from extinction. Jesus would not have the unbeliever
fined, or imprisoned, or cut off from the rights of citizenship. He
would not allow any one of His disciples to lift a finger to harm the
vilest blasphemer, or touch one hair of an atheist's head. He would
have men won to Himself by no sword but that of the Spirit–and bound
to Him by no bands but those of love.

Never, never, in the Church of God has a true conversion been worked by
the use of carnal means–the Lord will not so approve of the power of
the flesh. You do not find the Lord calling in the pomp and prestige of
worldly men to promote His kingdom, or see Him arguing with
philosophers that they might sanction His teaching. I know that
Christian ministers do this and I am sorry they do. I see them taking
their places in the Hall of Science to debate with the men of boastful
wisdom. They claim to have achieved great mental victories there and I
will not question their claim, but spiritual triumphs I fear they will
never win in this way.

They have answered one set of arguments, and another set has been
invented the next day! The task is endless. To answer the allegations
of infidelity is as fruitless as to reason with the waves of the sea,
so far as soul-saving is concerned. This is not the way of quickening,
converting and sanctifying the souls of men. Not as a book of science
will you triumph, O Bible, though your every Word is Wisdom itself! Not
as a great philosopher will You conquer, O Man of Nazareth, though You
are, indeed, the possessor of all knowledge! But as the Savior of men
and the Son of God shall Your kingdom come! The power which Christ uses
for the spread of His kingdom is exercised in conversion and is as
different as possible from compulsion or clamor.

Conversion is the mysterious work of the Spirit upon the soul. That
great change could not be produced by the fear of imprisonment, the
authority of Law, the charms of bribery, the clamor of excitement, or
the glitter of eloquence. Men have pretended to conversion because they
hoped that a religious profession would benefit their trade or raise
their social position, but from such conversions may God deliver us!
Men have been startled into thoughtfulness by the excitement which
arises out of Christian zeal–but any real spiritual benefit they may
have received has come to them from another source–for the Lord is not
in the wind, or the tempest, but in the still small voice. That which
is worked by noise will subside when quiet reigns–as the bubble dies
with the wave which bore it.

Hearts are won to Jesus by the silent conviction which irresistibly
subdues the conscience to a sense of guilt and by the love which is
displayed in the Redeemer's becoming the great substitutionary
Sacrifice for us, that our sins might be removed. In this way
conversions are worked, not by displays of human zeal, wisdom, or
force. "Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord."
Nor, Beloved, has Christ caused His Gospel to spread by any
manifestation of the terrors of His Deity. Oh, if today this guilty
land of ours were bruised beneath the feet of a destroying angel, or
we, ourselves, were made to sit in darkness that might be felt or found
our chambers filled with frogs and loathsome insects, and our fields
devastated by devouring locusts–then we dream that our countrymen
would be struck down in terror at the power of Jesus–but such is not
His mode of warfare!

Plagues are more suited for the armory of the Law than for the hospital
of the Gospel. He might, if He pleased, send down upon the worshippers
of false gods such terrible judgments that they would cry to the rocks
to hide them and to the hills to cover them. While they are bowing
before their demon gods, He might cause the earth to open and swallow
them up. Or He could smite every priest at this hour with the leprosy,
and richly would they deserve the doom! At this hour every deceiver of
the people might suddenly be torn in pieces and appointed his portion
with the tormentors–and Divine justice would exonerate the deed.

But the Son of Man does not so determine. With wonderful patience He
sits still and bears the insults of succeeding generations. Were He not
Almighty, He could not so restrain Himself. He allows men, still, to
chant hymns to gods of wood and stone. He still allows priests to
insult Him by pretending to manufacture the flesh and blood of His
Humanity! He allows this blinded nation to follow its wicked priests
and to forsake Himself, the only Priest. And all this He does while His
saints are crying daily, "O Lord, how long?" and the souls under the
altar are day and night petitioning for justice. He pauses in pity,
waiting to be gracious–not willing that any should perish–unwilling
to destroy.

This smoking flax of heathendom, abominable as it is in His nostrils,
He will not yet quench. And those broken reeds of ritualistic
confidence on which men rely, He will not as yet break, for He is
magnifying His patience and long-suffering. By-and-by He will "send
forth judgment unto victory" and men shall see that the patient Lamb is
also the mighty Lion of the Tribe of Judah! And He who was Omnipotent
to bear offenses will also be Omnipotent to recompense His foes–and to
ease Him of His adversaries!

We will now note another illustration of the same Truth of God. We have
observed His life and the spread of the Gospel. Now note that the same
Truth appears in the experience of every unconverted man. I may be
addressing one who has denied the existence of God. Wonder, O Man, that
you still live, since you deny the existence of your Maker! You are to
Him no better than smoking flax or a bruised reed, but despite your
insolence, He neither quenches nor crushes you! You enjoy the bounties
of Providence. You are permitted to inhale the air which afterwards you
send forth in blasphemy! Is it not a marvel that you are not destroyed?

Perhaps you have become openly profane as well as a secret doubter. You
have insulted God to His face and dared Him to destroy your body and
your soul. Why did He not, at once, accept your profane challenge? Why?
Because He is too great to be in haste to quench such a smoking flax as
you are–too kind to deal hastily with you! Justice will close

her accounts with you by-and-by, but for the present the Lord lets such
a bruised reed as you are, alone. Crush you? Yes, that He could! One
word from Him, one look from His eyes and you would lie a corpse–and
your putrid carcass would need to be hidden away in the dust.

He spares you, not in indifference but in wonderful patience. He will
not quench nor crush you. The Socinian says that Christ is not the Son
of God and so robs Him of His greatest glory. But Jesus does not smite
him. Hard and cruel things are said against the Lord and His great
Sacrifice, but He hurls no flames of fire upon the synagogues of the
heretics. He suffers men to live in ease and comfort, even to old age,
though every day they have insulted His Majesty and rebelled against
His Throne. Nothing provokes Jesus more than injuries done to His
people. There was a time when He saw Saul persecuting His Church and He
chided him from Heaven.

His eyes flashed fire upon the Apostle and he fell to the ground–but
even then mercy had moved the Savior, and not fury. "Saul, Saul, why do
you persecute Me? It is hard for you to kick against the pricks," was a
reproof such as only the gentle Jesus could have given! But, oh, how is
it that He endures to see His people despised, rejected, slandered? How
could the Lord Jesus sit still while the Papists were murdering the
Vaudois in the valleys of the Alps? How could He be still on St.
Bartholomew's Eve while the alarm was sounding and His own dear sheep
were being slaughtered? How could He be quiet when Smithfield was black
with the ashes of His saints?

In His forbearance we find the answer. His long-suffering is intended
for the salvation of men, and it is amazing! I put it to any here,
present, who have been provoking Christ for years–could you have borne
with your fellow creatures as Christ has borne with you? You,
especially, who hear the Gospel from day to day and yet put off
obedience to its commands and indulge in private sins, and partake in
evil lusts, in defiance of your conscience and the rebukes of the
Spirit of God–I ask you, do you not wonder how Jesus bears with you?

Why, I know men who, if but half a word is spoken to provoke them, will
fall to blows! And I know very few who would quietly bear six or seven
provocations–but yet here is the Lord Jesus Christ able to destroy
you, His adversary– and yet, for the space of 30, 40, 50, perhaps 60
or 70 years, still does His patience wait. Oh, the mercy of the Lord!
The mercy of the Lord!! He will not break the bruised reed nor quench
the smoking flax! One more remark should be made here. Our present view
of the text proves beyond all question His compassion to those who are
weak and feeble, but are of a right spirit. We generally understand the
passage to mean that wherever there is a spark of Grace, Christ will
not quench it, and wherever there is any brokenness of heart, Christ
will not destroy it.

Now, observe, that instead of denying that this is the meaning of the
passage, while I do assert that it is not the first meaning, I have
helped you to see how forcibly this Truth of God may be inferred from
the text. For if Christ would not quench those Pharisees and Sadducees
who were so obnoxious. If He does not put down cruel kings and great
potentates. And if He bears with infidels and skeptics, and with
persecutors and profane persons–how much more will He deal gently with
those who are truly seeking Him, but whose spiritual life is feeble–so
that they are comparable to bruised reeds and smoking flax?

Instead of setting aside, we have rather confirmed and brought into
clearer light the meaning which is usually given to the text. O poor
Heart, are you seeking Jesus? Is it a poor, trembling search as yet?
Are you afraid that He will reject you? Have you begun to pray, but
does that prayer seem too feeble to enter the gates of Heaven? Be of
good courage! He who has patience with His proudest foe will not be
hard and censorious to a trembling penitent! It cannot be that He who
is too tender to destroy the howling beast which snarls at Him, should
be so severe as to slay the lamb which pines at His feet! Weak and
trembling One, be of good courage!

As for you who are converted to Him and can say that all your hope is
placed in Him, it may be you are depressed because you do not grow in
Grace as you would wish to do. And there are times when your anxiety to
be right leads you to make rigid self-examination–and then you are
grieved because there does not appear to be more Grace in you than fire
in a dying candlewick–nor more true life in you than there is of
strength in a bruised reed. Well, never mind. Jesus has a special care
for the weak and is tender to the utmost degree towards such as need to
be gently handled. Has He not said, "He carries the lambs in His bosom,
and does gently lead those that are with young"?

Only let your faith be sincere and if it is but as a grain of mustard
seed it shall bring you into the Kingdom. Though you can but look with
a bleared eye at the Cross and scarcely see it by reason of the tears
of your sorrow, yet, if you do

but trust in the great Sacrifice, you are saved, for Jesus is no rough
taskmaster towards seeking souls. He is no stern judge or heartless
driver of the weak. He is very pitiful and full of compassion.

And you, Backslider, where are you? Your light, once so brilliant, has
waned into a mere spark and your only sign of possessing the heavenly
fire is the smoke of your desire. You are saying, "Would God I had the
life of Grace in my soul! I cannot be happy in the world and yet I fear
I have no share in the world to come." Backslider, you have been broken
and rendered useless by sin–you have fallen from your
steadfastness–you are not fit to be a pillar in the house of your God,
but only to be thrown on the dunghill like a broken bulrush. Yet Jesus,
when men reject you, will receive you. And when your conscience
reprobates you, His love will not discard you. Be of good cheer! He who
affords His direst foes a thousand opportunities to repent will not, in
His fierce anger, cast out those who crave mercy at His hands!

II. THE OUTCOME OF THE GENTLENESS OF CHRIST. "In His name shall the
Gentiles trust." What does this mean? Why, power, violence, harshness,
severity are never to be trusted. You cannot win men's hearts by such
means. The Parisians wrote upon the wall of the Imperial Palace,
"Infantry, cavalry, artillery"–these were the basis of the imperial
power. But an empire founded upon such things melted away like snow in
summer. If there had been loyal affection between the ruler and the
ruled, a thousand German invasions could not have dissolved the tie.

When the old Napoleon was on the rock of St. Helena, he said gloomily
to one of his attendants, "My empire has passed away, because it rested
upon force, but the empire of Jesus still lasts, and will last forever,
because it is based upon love." What has Jesus done for His subjects
but loved them better than anyone else could have done, suffered for
them beyond all and conferred greater blessings upon them than all the
universe besides could have bestowed? By such things has He captured
their hearts. You may tempt away Christ's followers from Him when you
can find them a better master, or a more loving friend–but not till
then.

You shall win us to a new leader when you can show us a better. But you
cannot even imagine one who could compare for an instant with the Chief
among ten thousand, the altogether Lovely! We who are descendants of
the Gentiles trust Him, and trust Him implicitly, because He is so
Divinely gentle, so Omnipotently tender. Savior, You are no tyrant! You
do not trample on the poor and needy, or oppress the weak and
trembling! You are Mercy itself, Love embodied, Grace
Incarnate–therefore do the people flock to You and in Your name do the
Gentiles trust! The power of Jesus over men lies in the fact that He
has taught them to trust Him. The firm faith of His followers
consolidates His Kingdom.

When His Word comes home to us in its own soft and gentle manner and He
manifests Himself to us as He does not unto the world. And when He
permits us to put our finger into the print of the nails and our hand
into His side. And when He says, "You are Mine and I am yours," oh,
then we feel burning in our soul like coals of juniper–that grand
enthusiasm which is the terror of the adversaries of Christ–and the
power of the Church! More potent than the edge of the sword is the
intense love of saints. As the might of the north wind when it chases
away the mist, such is the Divine force of love for Jesus when it fills
the heart–it chases away all lethargy and sin.

When we truly trust our Lord we feel that we can do anything for Him!
Impossibilities have ceased and miracles have returned. When we trust
Christ, self-sacrifice becomes a joy and holy daring is but a natural
impulse. By trust in Christ the weakest have been made strong, feeble
women have routed their persecutors and humble men have confronted the
proudest despots without fear! O Lord Jesus, the Gentiles trust You
because You are meek and lowly–and their trustful love is the strength
of Your growing dominion!

III. The last thing is this–THE TERMINATION OF THIS GENTLENESS. Our
jaded spirits think the end long in

coming. Read an account of the Popish Confessional, or stand, as I have
done, by the confessional box and read, printed before your eyes, the
subjects which are to be matters of question between the priests and
the young girls who confess to him. And if you do not feel as if you
could invoke a curse upon each shaven head, you are something more or
less than man! It makes one's blood boil to think that such wretches
should be in a position to insult and corrupt the modesty of
maidenhood.

Why does not the Lord's anger flash forth against them and consume them
as stubble? So would our hasty justice deal out righteousness, but the
Lord is slow to anger and gives His patience room. Yet if men will not
alter. If they will not be won by love. If even the wounds of Christ
cannot wean them from their lusts. If reason is lost upon them and they

make beasts of themselves, there must come an end of it. A God who is
all mercy and no justice would, in the long run be a dreadful calamity,
just as a judge who never punished crime would be the worst possible
magistrate for any nation.

Ah, yes, the very instincts of our Nature make us feel that sin must be
punished in due time. The best emotions of the most saintly spirit
coincide with the belief in future retribution. There must come a time
when the foes of God shall not rule and error shall not dominate over
men. It must be so. Jesus, the Friend of man, will "send forth judgment
unto victory." He will do this in a certain sense at the death of every
ungodly man and woman. With what surprise will they open their eyes in
the next state and see the Christ, whom they despised, sitting upon His
Throne!

With what unutterable dismay have some been seized, even before they
have been quite dead! While the curtain was just rising and was not
fully drawn up, they have howled with horror! And, ah, their dreadful
doom! Those who denied that Jesus was God shall see Him as Divine.
Those who persecuted His people shall see His people glorified at His
side. Those who opposed the Truth He taught shall feel how sure that
Truth is and shall learn how dreadful a thing it is to neglect the
great salvation and fall into the hands of the living God!

But this is not all. There is a day appointed, an hour of which no man
knows, when the Lord Jesus shall descend from Heaven with a shout. Yes,
He who was nailed to the Cross, who died and rose, and ascended,
leaving the last print of His feet upon Olivet–He shall descend to
earth again! He shall come, not to suffer, but to judge! And with Him,
as co-assessors, shall come His own beloved followers. Then shall the
dead rise from their graves and sea and land yield up the trophies of
the grave! Then shall stern Justice take the place of gentleness and
pity–for as He Himself repeats the words, "I was hungry and you gave
Me no meat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me no drink; sick and in
prison, and you visited Me not"–His Words shall roll like thunder and
smite like lightning, "Depart you cursed into everlasting fire in Hell,
prepared for the devil and his angels."

You rejected mercy, and Mercy will plead with you no more! You
challenged power, and Power shall break you like potters' vessels. You
despised love, and Love grown angry now despises you! You rejected the
Truth of God, and now Truth shall bind you in chains of fire forever!
You would have none of God, and God will have none of you! You would
not have the Savior, and He shall say, "I never knew you: depart from
Me you workers of iniquity." He will not, today break the bruised reed,
or quench the smoking flax–but He will by-and-by–when He "sends forth
judgment unto victory." He will sweep out of His Kingdom every
offensive thing. God grant that we may not be obnoxious to His anger
when He shall be among the sons of men as a refiner's fire and like
fullers' soap. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Matthew 12:1-30.
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The Parent's and Pastor's Joy