The Ascension and the Second Advent Practically Considered

The Ascension and the Second Advent Practically Considered

(No. 1817)

Delivered on Lord's Day Morning, December 28th, 1884, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

At the [2]Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.

"And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold,
two men stood by them in white apparel; which also said, Ye men of
Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is
taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have
seen him go into heaven."— Acts 1:10, 11.

FOUR GREAT EVENTS shine out brightly in our Savior's story. All
Christian minds delight to dwell upon his birth, his death, his
resurrection, and his ascension. These make four rounds in that ladder
of light, the foot of which is upon the earth, but the top whereof
reacheth to heaven. We could not afford to dispense with any one of
those four events, nor would it be profitable for us to forget, or to
under-estimate the value of any one of them. That the Son of God was
born of a woman creates in us the intense delight of a brotherhood
springing out of a common humanity. That Jesus once suffered unto the
death for our sins, and thereby made a full atonement for us, is the
rest and life of our spirits. The manger and the cross together are
divine seals of love. That the Lord Jesus rose again from the dead is
the warrant of our justification, and also a transcendently delightful
assurance of the resurrection of all his people, and of their eternal
life in him. Hath he not said, "Because I live ye shall live also"? The
resurrection of Christ is the morning star of our future glory. Equally
delightful is the remembrance of his ascension. No song is sweeter than
this—"Thou hast ascended on high; thou hast led captivity captive, thou
hast received gifts for men, yea, for the rebellious also, that the
Lord God might dwell among them."

Each one of those four events points to another, and they all lead up
to it: the fifth link in the golden chain is our Lord's second and most
glorious advent. Nothing is mentioned between his ascent and his
descent. True, a rich history comes between; but it lies in a valley
between two stupendous mountains: we step from alp to alp as we journey
in meditation from the ascension to the second advent. I say that each
of the previous four events points to it. Had he not come a first time
in humiliation, born under the law, he could not have come a second
time in amazing glory "without a sin-offering unto salvation." Because
he died once we rejoice that he dieth no more, death hath no more
dominion over him, and therefore he cometh to destroy that last enemy
whom he hath already conquered. It is our joy, as we think of our
Redeemer as risen, to feel that in consequence of his rising the trump
of the archangel shall assuredly sound for the awaking of all his
slumbering people, when the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with
a shout. As for his ascension, he could not a second time descend if he
had not first ascended; but having perfumed heaven with his presence,
and prepared a place for his people, we may fitly expect that he will
come again and receive us unto himself, that where he is there we may
be also. I want you, therefore, as in contemplation you pass with
joyful footsteps over these four grand events, as your faith leaps from
his birth to his death, and from his resurrection to his ascension, to
be looking forward, and even hastening unto this crowning fact of our
Lord's history; for ere long he shall so come in like manner as he was
seen go up into heaven.

This morning, in our meditation, we will start from the ascension; and
if I had sufficient imagination I should like to picture our Lord and
the eleven walking up the side of Olivet, communing as they went,—a
happy company, with a solemn awe upon them, but with an intense joy in
having fellowship with each other. Each disciple was glad to think that
his dear Lord and Master who had been crucified was now among them, not
only alive but surrounded with a mysterious safety and glory which none
could disturb. The enemy was as still as a stone: not a dog moved his
tongue: his bitterest foes made no sign during the days of our Lord's
after-life below. The company moved onward peacefully towards
Bethany—Bethany which they all knew and loved. The Savior seemed drawn
there at the time of his ascension, even as men's minds return to old
and well-loved scenes when they are about to depart out of this world.
His happiest moments on earth had been spent beneath the roof where
lived Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus. Perhaps it was best
for the disciples that he should leave them at that place where he had
been most hospitably entertained, to show that he departed in peace and
not in anger. There they had seen Lazarus raised from the dead by him
who was now to be taken up from them: the memory of the triumphant past
would help the tried faith of the present. There they had heard the
voice saying, "Loose him, and let him go," and there they might fitly
see their Lord loosed from all bonds of earthly gravitation that he
might go to his Father and their Father. The memories of the place
might help to calm their minds and arouse their spirits to that
fullness of joy which ought to attend the glorifying of their Lord.

But they have come to a standstill, having reached the brow of the
hill. The Savior stands conspicuously in the center of the group, and,
following upon most instructive discourse, he pronounces a blessing
upon them. He lifts his pierced hands, and while he is lifting them and
is pronouncing words of love, he begins to rise from the earth. He has
risen above them all to their astonishment! In a moment he has passed
beyond the olives, which seem with their silvery sheen to be lit up by
his milder radiance. While the disciples are looking, the Lord has
ascended into mid-air, and speedily he has risen to the regions of the
clouds. They stand spell-bound with astonishment, and suddenly a bright
cloud, like a chariot of God, bears him away. That cloud conceals him
from mortal gaze. Though we have known Christ after the flesh, now
after the flesh know we him no more. They are riveted to the spot, very
naturally so: they linger long in the place, they stand with streaming
eyes, wonder-struck, still looking upward.

It is not the Lord's will that they should long remain inactive; their
reverie is interrupted. They might have stood there till wonder
saddened into fear. As it was, they remained long enough; for the
angel's words may be accurately rendered, "Why have ye stood, gazing up
into heaven?"

Their lengthened gaze needed to be interrupted, and, therefore, two
shining ones, such as aforetime met the women at the sepulcher, are
sent to them. These messengers of God appear in human form that they
may not alarm them, and in white raiment as if to remind them that all
was bright and joyous; and these white-robed ministers stood with them
as if they would willingly join their company. As no one of the eleven
would break silence, the men in white raiment commenced the discourse.
Addressing them in the usual celestial style, they asked a question
which contained its own answer, and then went on to tell their message.
As they had once said to the women, "Why seek ye the living among the
dead? He is not here, but is risen;" so did they now say, "Ye men of
Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is
taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have
seen him go into heaven." The angels showed their knowledge of them by
calling them "men of Galilee," and reminded them that they were yet
upon earth by recalling their place of birth. Brought back to their
senses, their reverie over, the apostles at once gird up their loins
for active service; they do not need twice telling, but hasten to
Jerusalem. The vision of angels has singularly enough brought them back
into the world of actual life again, and they obey the command, "Tarry
ye at Jerusalem." They seem to say,—the taking up of our Master is not
a thing to weep about: he has gone to his throne and to his glory, and
he said it was expedient for us that he should go away. He will now
send us the promise of the Father; we scarcely know what it will be
like, but let us, in obedience to his will, make the best of our way to
the place where he bade us await the gift of power. Do you not see them
going down the side of Olivet, taking that Sabbath-day's journey into
the cruel and wicked city without a thought of fear; having no dread of
the bloodthirsty crew who slew their Lord, but happy in the memory of
their Lord's exaltation and in the expectation of a wonderful display
of his power. They held fellowship of the most delightful kind with one
another, and anon entered into the upper room, where in protracted
prayer and communion they waited for the promise of the Father. You see
I have no imagination: I have barely mentioned the incidents in the
simplest language. Yet try and realize the scene, for it will be
helpful so to do, since our Lord Jesus is to come in like manner as the
disciples saw him go up into heaven.

My first business this morning will be to consider the gentle chiding
administered by the shining ones:—"Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye
gazing up unto heaven?" Secondly, the cheering description of our Lord
which the white-robed messengers used,—"This same Jesus"; and then,
thirdly, the practical truth which they taught—"This same Jesus, which
is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye
have seen him go into heaven."

I. First, then, here is A GENTLE CHIDING. It is not sharply uttered by
men dressed in black who use harsh speech, and upbraid the servants of
God severely for what was rather a mistake than a fault. No; the
language is strengthening, yet tender: the fashion of a question allows
them rather to reprove themselves than to be reproved; and the tone is
that of brotherly love, and affectionate concern.

Notice, that what these saintly men were doing seems at first sight to
be very right. Methinks, if Jesus were among us now we would fix our
eyes upon him, and never withdraw them. He is altogether lovely, and it
would seem wicked to yield our eyesight to any inferior object so long
as he was to be seen. When he ascended up into heaven it was the duty
of his friends to look upon him. It can never be wrong to look up; we
are often bidden to do so, and it is even a holy saying of the
Psalmist, "I will direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up"; and,
again, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my
help." If it be right to look up into heaven, it must be still more
right to look up while Jesus rises to the place of his glory. Surely it
had been wrong if they had looked anywhere else,—it was due to the Lamb
of God that they should behold him as long as eyes could follow him. He
is the Sun: where should eyes be turned but to his light? He is the
King; and where should courtiers within the palace gate turn their eyes
but to their King as he ascends to his throne? The truth is, there was
nothing wrong in their looking up into heaven; but they went a little
further than looking; they stood "gazing." A little excess in right may
be faulty. It may be wise to look, but foolish to gaze. There is a very
thin partition sometimes between that which is commendable and that
which is censurable. There is a golden mean which it is not easy to
keep. The exact path of right is often as narrow as a razor's edge, and
he must be wise that doth not err either on the right hand or on the
left. "Look" is ever the right word. Why, it is "Look unto me, and be
saved." Look, aye, look steadfastly and intently: be your posture that
of one "looking unto Jesus," always throughout life. But there is a
gazing which is not commendable, when the look becomes not that of
reverent worship, but of an overweening curiosity; when there mingles
with the desire to know what should be known, a prying into that which
it is for God's glory to conceal. Brethren, it is of little use to look
up into an empty heaven. If Christ himself be not visible in heaven,
then in vain do we gaze, since there is nothing for a saintly eye to
see. When the person of Jesus was gone out of the azure vault above
them, and the cloud had effectually concealed him, why should they
continue to gaze when God himself had drawn the curtain? If infinite
wisdom had withdrawn the object upon which they desired to gaze, what
would their gazing be but a sort of reflection upon the wisdom which
had removed their Lord? Yet it did seem very right. Thus certain things
that you and I may do may appear right, and yet we may need to be
chidden out of them into something better: they may be right in
themselves, but not appropriate for the occasion, not seasonable, nor
expedient. They may be right up to a point, and then may touch the
boundary of excess. A steadfast gaze into heaven may be to a devout
soul a high order of worship, but if this filled up much of our working
time it might become the idlest form of folly.

Yet I cannot help adding that it was very natural. I do not wonder that
the whole eleven stood gazing up, for if I had been there I am sure I
should have done the same. How struck they must have been with the
ascent of the Master out of their midst! You would be amazed if some
one from among our own number now began to ascend into heaven! Would
you not? Our Lord did not gradually melt away from sight as a phantom,
or dissolve into thin air as a mere apparition: the Savior did not
disappear in that way at all, but he rose, and they saw that it was his
very self that was so rising. His own body, the materialism in which he
had veiled himself, actually, distinctly, and literally, rose to heaven
before their eyes. I repeat, the Lord did not dissolve, and disappear
like a vision of the night, but he evidently rose till the cloud
intervened so that they could see him no more. I think I should have
stood looking to the very place where his cloudy chariot had been. I
know it would be idle to continue so to do, but our hearts often urge
us on to acts which we could not justify logically. Hearts are not to
be argued with. Sometimes you stand by a grave where one is buried whom
you dearly loved: you go there often to weep. You cannot help it, the
place is precious to you; yet you could not prove that you do any good
by your visits, perhaps you even injure yourself thereby, and deserve
to be gently chidden with the question, "why?" It may be the most
natural thing in the world, and yet it may not be a wise thing. The
Lord allows us to do that which is innocently natural, but he will not
have us carry it too far; for then it might foster an evil nature.
Hence he sends an interrupting messenger: not an angel with a sword, or
even a rod; but he sends some man in white raiment,—I mean one who is
both cheerful and holy, and he, by his conduct or his words, suggests
to us the question, "Why stand ye here gazing?" Cui bono? What will be
the benefit? What will it avail? Thus our understanding being called
into action, and we being men of thought, we answer to ourselves, "This
will not do. We must not stand gazing here for ever," and therefore we
arouse ourselves to get back to the Jerusalem of practical life, where
in the power of God we hope to do service for our Master.

Notice, then, that the disciples were doing that which seemed to be
right and what was evidently very natural, but that it is very easy to
carry the apparently right and the absolutely natural too far. Let us
take heed to ourselves, and often ask our hearts, "Why?"

For, thirdly, notice that what they did was not after all justifiable
upon strict reason. While Christ was going up it was proper that they
should adoringly look at him. He might almost have said, "If ye see me
when I am taken up a double portion of my spirit shall rest upon you."
They did well to look where he led the way. But when he was gone, still
to remain gazing was an act which they could not exactly explain to
themselves, and could not justify to others. Put the question
thus:—"What purpose will be fulfilled by your continuing to gaze into
the sky? He is gone, it is absolutely certain that he is gone. He is
taken up, and God himself has manifestly concealed all trace of him by
bidding yonder cloud sail in between him and you. Why gaze ye still? He
told you 'I go unto my Father.' Why stand and gaze?" We may under the
influence of great love, act unwisely. I remember well seeing the
action of a woman whose only son was emigrating to a distant colony. I
stood in the station, and I noticed her many tears and her frequent
embraces of her boy; but the train came up and he entered the carriage.
After the train had passed beyond the station, she was foolish enough
to break away from friends who sought to detain her; she ran along the
platform, leaped down upon the railroad and pursued the flying train.
It was natural, but it had been better left undone. What was the use of
it? We had better abstain from acts which serve no practical purpose;
for in this life we have neither time nor strength to waste in
fruitless action. The disciples would be wise to cease gazing, for
nobody would be benefitted by it, and they would not themselves be
blessed. What is the use of gazing when there is nothing to see. Well,
then, did the angels ask, "Why stand ye gazing up into heaven?"

Again, put another question,—What precept were they obeying when they
stood gazing up into heaven? If you have a command from God to do a
certain thing, you need not inquire into the reason of the command, it
is disobedient to begin to canvas God's will; but when there is no
precept whatever, why persevere in an act which evidently does not
promise to bring any blessing? Who bade them stand gazing up into
heaven? If Christ had done so, then in Christ's name let them stand
like statues and never turn their heads: but as he had not bidden them,
why did they do what he had not commanded, and leave undone what he had
commanded? For he had strictly charged them that they should tarry at
Jerusalem till they were "endued with power from on high." So what they
did was not justifiable.

Here is the practical point for us:—What they did we are very apt to
imitate. "Oh," say you, "I shall never stand gazing up into heaven." I
am not sure of that. Some Christians are very curious, but not
obedient. Plain precepts are neglected, but difficult problems they
seek to solve. I remember one who used always to be dwelling upon the
vials and seals and trumpets. He was great at apocalyptic symbols; but
he had seven children, and he had no family prayer. If he had left the
vials and trumpets and minded his boys and girls, it would have been a
deal better. I have known men marvellously great upon Daniel, and
specially instructed in Ezekiel, but singularly forgetful of the
twentieth of Exodus, and not very clear upon Romans the eighth. I do
not speak with any blame of such folks for studying Daniel and Ezekiel,
but quite the reverse; yet I wish they had been more zealous for the
conversion of the sinners in their neighborhoods, and more careful to
assist the poor saints. I admit the value of the study of the feet of
the image in Nebuchadnezzar's vision, and the importance of knowing the
kingdoms which make up the ten toes, but I do not see the propriety of
allowing such studies to overlay the common-places of practical
godliness. If the time spent over obscure theological propositions were
given to a mission in the dim alley near the good man's house, more
benefit would come to man and more glory to God. I would have you
understand all mysteries, brethren, if you could; but do not forget
that our chief business here below is to cry, "Behold the Lamb!" By all
manner of means read and search till you know all that the Lord has
revealed concerning things to come; but first of all see to it that
your children are brought to the Savior's feet, and that you are
workers together with God in the upbuilding of his church. The dense
mass of misery and ignorance and sin which is round about us on every
side demands all our powers; and if you do not respond to the call,
though I am not a man in white apparel, I shall venture to say to you,
"Ye men of Christendom, why stand ye gazing up into the mysteries when
so much is to be done for Jesus, and you are leaving it undone?" O ye
who are curious but not obedient, I fear I speak to you in vain, but I
have spoken. May the Holy Spirit also speak.

Others are contemplative but not active,—much given to the study of
Scripture and to meditation thereon, but not zealous for good works.
Contemplation is so scarce in these days that I could wish there were a
thousand times as much of it; but in the case to which I refer
everything runs in the one channel of thought, all time is spent in
reading, in enjoyment, in rapture, in pious leisure. Religion never
ought to become the subject of selfishness, and yet I fear some treat
it as if its chief end was spiritual gratification. When a man's
religion all lies in his saving his own self, and in enjoying holy
things for his own self; there is a disease upon him. When his judgment
of a sermon is based upon the one question, "Did it feed me?" it is a
swinish judgment. There is such a thing as getting a swinish religion
in which you are yourself first, yourself second, yourself third,
yourself to the utmost end. Did Jesus ever think or speak in that
fashion? Contemplation of Christ himself may be so carried out as to
lead you away from Christ: the recluse meditates on Jesus, but he is as
unlike the busy self-denying Jesus as well can be. Meditation
unattended with active service in the spreading of the gospel among
men, well deserves the rebuke of the angel, "Ye men of Galilee, why
stand ye gazing up into heaven?"

Moreover, some are careful and anxious and deliriously impatient for
some marvellous interposition. We get at times into a sad state of
mind, because we do not see the kingdom of Christ advancing as we
desire. I suppose it is with you as it is with me,—I begin to fret, and
I am deeply troubled, and I feel that there is good reason that I
should be, for truth is fallen in the streets, and the days of
blasphemy and rebuke are upon us. Then we pine; for the Master is away,
and we cry, "When will he be back again? Oh, why are his chariots so
long in coming? Why tarries he through the ages?" Our desires sour into
impatience, and we commence gazing up into heaven, looking for his
coming with a restlessness which does not allow us to discharge our
duty as we should. Whenever anybody gets into that state, this is the
word, "Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven?"

In certain cases this uneasiness has drawn to itself a wrong
expectation of immediate wonders, and an intense desire for
sign-seeing. Ah me, what fanaticisms come of this! In America years
ago, one came forward who declared that on such a day the Lord would
come, and he led a great company to believe his crazy predictions. Many
took their horses and fodder for two or three days, and went out into
the woods, expecting to be all the more likely to see all that was to
be seen when once away from the crowded city. All over the States there
were people who had made ascension-dresses in which to soar into the
air in proper costume. They waited, and they waited, and I am sure that
no text could have been more appropriate for them than this, "Ye men of
America, why stand ye here gazing up into heaven?" Nothing came of it;
and yet there are thousands in England and America who only need a
fanatical leader, and they would run into the like folly. The desire to
know the times and seasons is a craze with many poor bodies whose
insanity runs in that particular groove. Every occurrence is a "sign of
the times": a sign, I may add, which they do not understand. An
earthquake is a special favourite with them. "Now," they cry, "the Lord
is coming"; as if there had not been earthquakes of the sort we have
heard of lately hundreds of times since our Lord went up into heaven.
When the prophetic earthquakes occur in divers places, we shall know of
it without the warnings of these brethren. What a number of persons
have been infatuated by the number of the beast, and have been ready to
leap for joy because they have found the number 666 in some great one's
name. Why, everybody's name will yield that number if you treat it
judiciously, and use the numerals of Greece, Rome, Egypt, China, or
Timbuctoo. I feel weary with the silly way in which some people make
toys out of Scripture, and play with texts as with a pack of cards.
Whenever you meet with a man who sets up to be a prophet, keep out of
his way in the future; and when you hear of signs and wonders, turn you
to your Lord, and in patience possess your souls. "The just shall live
by his faith." There is no other way of living among wild enthusiasts.
Believe in God, and ask not for miracles and marvels, or the knowledge
of times and seasons. To know when the Lord will restore the kingdom is
not in your power. Remember that verse which I read just now in your
hearing,—"It is not for you to know the times or the seasons." If I
were introduced into a room where a large number of parcels were stored
up, and I was told that there was something good for me, I should begin
to look for that which had my name upon it, and when I came upon a
parcel and I saw in pretty big letters, "It is not for you," I should
leave it alone. Here, then, is a casket of knowledge marked, "It is not
for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in
his own power." Cease to meddle with matters which are concealed, and
be satisfied to know the things which are clearly revealed.

II. Secondly, I want you to notice THE CHEERING DESCRIPTION which these
bright spirits give concerning our Lord. They describe him thus,—"This
same Jesus."

I appreciate the description the more because it came from those who
knew him. "He was seen of angels"; they had watched him all his life
long, and they knew him, and when they, having just seen him rise to
his Father and his God, said of him, "This same Jesus," then I know by
an infallible testimony that he was the same, and that he is the same.

Jesus is gone but he still exists. He has left us, but he is not dead;
he has not dissolved into nothing like the mist of the morning. "This
same Jesus" is gone up unto his Father's throne, and he is there to-day
as certainly as he once stood at Pilate's bar. As surely as he did hang
upon the cross, so surely does he, the self-same man, sit upon the
throne of God and reign over creation. I like to think of the positive
identity of the Christ in the seventh heaven with the Christ in the
lowest deeps of agony. The Christ they spat upon is now the Christ
whose name the cherubim and seraphim are hymning day without night. The
Christ they scourged is he before whom principalities and powers
delight to cast their crowns. Think of it and be glad this morning; and
do not stand gazing up into heaven after a myth or a dream. Jesus
lives; mind that you live also. Do not loiter as if you had nothing at
all to do, or as if the kingdom of God had come to an end because Jesus
is gone from the earth, as to his bodily presence. It is not all over;
he still lives, and he has given you a work to do till he comes.
Therefore, go and do it.

"This same Jesus"—I love that word, for "Jesus" means a Savior. Oh, ye
anxious sinners here present, the name of him who has gone up into his
glory is full of invitation to you! Will you not come to "this same
Jesus"? This is he who opened the eyes of the blind and brought forth
the prisoners out of the prison-house. He is doing the same thing
to-day. Oh that your eyes may see his light! He that touched the
lepers, and that raised the dead, is the same Jesus still, able to save
to the uttermost. Oh that you may look and live! You have only to come
to him by faith, as she did who touched the hem of his garment; you
have but to cry to him as the blind man did whose sight he restored;
for he is the same Jesus, bearing about with him the same tender love
for guilty men, and the same readiness to receive and cleanse all that
come to him by faith.

"This same Jesus." Why, that must have meant that he who is in heaven
is the same Christ who was on earth, but it must also mean that he who
is to come will be the same Jesus that went up into heaven. There is no
change in our blessed Master's nature, nor will there ever be. There is
a great change in his condition:—

"The Lord shall come, but not the same
As once in lowliness he came,
humble man before his foes,
A weary man, and full of woes."

He will be "the same Jesus" in nature though not in condition: he will
possess the same tenderness when he comes to judge, the same gentleness
of heart when all the glories of heaven and earth shall gird his brow.
Our eye shall see him in that day, and we shall recognize him not only
by the nail-prints, but by the very look of his countenance, by the
character that gleams from that marvellous face; and we shall say,
"'Tis he! 'tis he! the self-same Christ that went up from the top of
Olivet from the midst of his disciples." Go to him with your troubles,
as you would have done when he was here. Look forward to his second
coming without dread. Look for him with that joyous expectancy with
which you would welcome Jesus of Bethany, who loved Mary, and Martha,
and Lazarus.

On the back of that sweet title came this question, "Why stand ye here
gazing into heaven?" They might have said, "We stay here because we do
not know where to go. Our Master is gone." But oh, it is the same
Jesus, and he is coming again, so go down to Jerusalem and get to work
directly. Do not worry yourselves; no grave accident has occurred; it
is not a disaster that Christ has gone, but an advance in his work.
Despisers tell us nowadays, "Your cause is done for! Christianity is
spun out! Your divine Christ is gone; we have not seen a trace of his
miracle-working hand, nor of that voice which no man could rival." Here
is our answer: We are not standing gazing up into heaven, we are not
paralyzed because Jesus is away. He lives, the great Redeemer lives;
and though it is our delight to lift up our eyes because we expect his
coming, it is equally our delight to turn our heavenly gazing into an
earthward watching, and to go down into the city, and there to tell
that Jesus is risen, that men are to be saved by faith in him, and that
whosoever believeth in him shall have everlasting life. We are not
defeated, far from it: his ascension is not a retreat, but an advance.
His tarrying is not for want of power, but because of the abundance of
his long-suffering. The victory is not questionable. All things work
for it; all the hosts of God are mustering for the final charge. This
same Jesus is mounting his white horse to lead forth the armies of
heaven, conquering and to conquer.

III. Our third point is this, THE GREAT PRACTICAL TRUTH. This truth is
not one that is to keep us gazing into heaven, but one that is to make
each of us go to his house to render earnest service. What is it?

Why, first, that Jesus in gone into heaven. Jesus is gone! Jesus is
gone! It sounds like a knell. Jesus is taken up from you into
heaven!—that sounds like a marriage peal. He is gone, but he is gone up
to the hills whence he can survey the battle; up to the throne, from
which he can send us succour. The reserve forces of the omnipotent
stood waiting till their Captain came, and now that he is come into the
centre of the universe, he can send legions of angels, or he can raise
up hosts of men for the help of his cause. I see every reason for going
down into the world and getting to work, for he is gone up into heaven
and "all power is given unto him in heaven and in earth." Is not that a
good argument—"Go ye therefore and teach all nations, baptising them in
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost"?

Jesus will come again. That is another reason for girding our loins,
because it is clear that he has not quitted the fight, nor deserted the
field of battle. Our great Captain is still heading the conflict; he
has ridden into another part of the field, but he will be back again,
perhaps in the twinkling of an eye. You do not say that a commander has
given up the campaign because it is expedient that he should withdraw
from your part of the field. Our Lord is doing the best thing for his
kingdom in going away. It was in the highest degree expedient that he
should go, and that we should each one receive the Spirit. There is a
blessed unity between Christ the King and the commonest soldier in the
ranks. He has not taken his heart from us, nor his care from us, nor
his interest from us: he is bound up heart and soul with his people,
and their holy warfare, and this is the evidence of it, "Behold, I come
quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according as his
work shall be."

Then, moreover, we are told in the text—and this in a reason why we
should get to our work—that he is coming in like manner as he departed.
Certain of the commentators do not seem to understand English at all.
"He which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner
as you have seen him go into heaven,"—this, they say, relates to his
spiritual coming at Pentecost. Give anybody a grain of sense, and do
they not see that a spiritual coming is not a coming in the same manner
in which he went up into heaven? There is an analogy, but certainly not
a likeness between the two things. Our Lord was taken up; they could
see him rise: he will come again, and "every eye shall see him." He
went up not in spirit, but in person: he will come down in person.
"This same Jesus shall so come in like manner." He went up as a matter
of fact: not in poetic figure and spiritual symbol, but as a matter of
fact,—"This same Jesus" literally went up. "This same Jesus" will
literally come again. He will descend in clouds even as he went up in
clouds; and "he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth" even as
he stood aforetime. He went up to heaven unopposed; no high priests,
nor scribes, nor Pharisees, nor even one of the rabble opposed his
ascension; it were ridiculous to suppose that they could; and when he
comes a second time none will stand against him. His adversaries shall
perish; as the fat of rams shall they melt away in his presence. When
he cometh he shall break rebellious nations with a rod of iron, for his
force shall be irresistible in that day.

Brethren, do not let anybody spiritualize away all this from you. Jesus
is coming as a matter of fact, therefore go down to your sphere of
service as a matter of fact. Get to work and teach the ignorant, win
the wayward, instruct the children, and everywhere tell out the sweet
name of Jesus. As a matter of fact, give of your substance and don't
talk about it. As a matter of fact, consecrate your daily life to the
glory of God. As a matter of fact, live wholly for your Redeemer. Jesus
is not coming in a sort of mythical, misty, hazy way, he is literally
and actually coming, and he will literally and actually call upon you
to give an account of your stewardship. Therefore, now, to-day,
literally not symbolically, personally and not by deputy, go out
through that portion of the world which you can reach, and preach the
gospel to every creature according as you have opportunity.

For this is what the men in white apparel meant—be ready to meet your
coming Lord. What is the way to be ready to meet Jesus? If it is the
same Jesus that went away from us who is coming, then let us be doing
what he was doing before he went away. If it is the same Jesus that is
coming we cannot possibly put ourselves into a posture of which he will
better approve than by going about doing good. If you would meet him
with joy, serve him with earnestness. If the Lord Jesus Christ were to
come to-day I should like him to find me at my studying, praying, or
preaching. Would you not like him to find you in your Sunday-school, in
your class, or out there at the corner of the street preaching, or
doing whatever you have the privilege of doing in his name? Would you
meet your Lord in idleness? Do not think of it. I called one day on one
of our members, and she was whitening the front steps. She got up all
in confusion; she said, "Oh dear, sir, I did not know you were coming
to-day, or I would have been ready." I replied, "Dear friend, you could
not be in better trim than you are: you are doing your duty like a good
housewife, and may God bless you." She had no money to spare for a
servant, and she was doing her duty by keeping the home tidy: I thought
she looked more beautiful with her pail beside her than if she had been
dressed according to the latest fashion. I said to her, "When the Lord
Jesus Christ comes suddenly, I hope he will find me doing as you were
doing, namely, fulfilling the duty of the hour." I want you all to get
to your pails without being ashamed of them. Serve the Lord in some way
or other; serve him always; serve him intensely; serve him more and
more. Go to-morrow and serve the Lord at the counter, or in the
workshop, or in the field. Go and serve the Lord by helping the poor
and the needy, the widow and the fatherless; serve him by teaching the
children, especially by endeavoring to train your own children. Go and
hold a temperance meeting, and show the drunkard that there is hope for
him in Christ, or go to the midnight meeting and let the fallen woman
know that Jesus can restore her. Do what Jesus has given you the power
to do, and then, ye men of Britain, ye will not stand gazing up into
heaven, but you will wait upon the Lord in prayer, and you will receive
the Spirit of God, and you will publish to all around the doctrine of
"Believe and live." Then when he comes he will say to you, "Well done,
good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." So may
his grace enable us to do. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON—Luke 24:49-53, Acts 1:1-12.

HYMNS FROM OUR OWN HYMN BOOK—17, 319, 346.
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The Song of a City, and the Pearl of Peace