A Solemn Enquiry Concerning Our Families

A Solemn Enquiry Concerning Our Families

DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 20, 1864, BY C. H. SPURGEON, AT
THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE NEWINGTON.

"And the men said unto Lot, have you here any besides? Son-in-law and
your sons, and your daughters and whatever you ha ve in the city, bring
them out of this place."

Genesis 19:12.

THE angelic messengers of mercy were not only earnest to bring Lot out
of the city, but in their great kindness they reminded him of an
important matter which, in the alarm of the tumult without and in the
surprise of their fearful tidings, he might possibly have forgotten.
They suggested to his distracted heart a loving care for his relatives
and friends. His wife and his two daughters were already with him in
the house, but he had two sons-in-law to whom his daughters were
espoused, if not married. And the angels suggest to him to make an
effort to rescue these, also, from the destruction which awaited the
filthy city.

In the perturbation of mind which is so usual in the renewed heart at
first, it is no marvel if a man should be so taken up with thoughts of
his own safety as to forget the welfare of others. Therefore I see a
wisdom in the saying of the Apostle Paul to the trembling jailer,
"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved, and your
house." The jailer's question was personal and confined to
himself–"Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" In this we judge him
not–for his own conversion must be the object of the deepest and most
earnest thoughts of a convicted sinner. But Paul's answer was large and
liberal–"You shall be saved, and your house."

There may be some here who have but lately passed from darkness to
light. In the fear lest you should be mistaken, or in the joy of your
new-found comfort, it may be you have scarcely begun to think of your
wife, your children, or your relatives–is it not time to begin at
once? Let this text come, this morning, fresh out of Holy Scripture as
though it dropped anew from the angel's tongue–"Have you here any
besides?" You are yourself privileged by Sovereign Mercy and singled
out for safety–have you here in the land of sin any besides? Have you
not some unconverted kinsfolk, some unsaved relative, some who are
written in your family register but who are not written in the Lamb's
Book of Life?

Come, Friend, think about this and give heed to the question, "Have you
here any besides?" My heart is in a blaze with love to souls this
morning and if there are no others who care for the salvation of their
fellow men, I can truly say I agonize for conversions! Forgive me–in
my excitement my thoughts should seem tame and feeble, for I have
passed out of the realm of thoughts and am under the absolute dominion
of my feelings. Come, Holy Spirit, come and aid my tongue which is all
too feeble to express the language of my inmost heart!

I. We would observe, first, that such a question as this APPEALS TO OUR
NATURAL AFFECTIONS. Surely, unless we have lost manhood, we love our
kindred and desire their good! We have not yet become like the
ostriches in the wilderness which care not for their young. Our flesh
has not congealed into marble, nor are our hearts become like
millstones. We have a very tender concern for those united to us by
ties of nature and esteem them as parts of ourselves. What parent is
not glad to see his children in good health? We will watch with them
all through the weary night when they are ill and can we not pray for
them when they are sick with sin?

It is a singular mercy when our children are born to us without
deformity and in full possession of every sense. And it is a great
blessing when a man can look round upon a numerous household and see
them all full of cheerfulness and hope. Do we care for their bodily
welfare and shall we neglect to pray that their souls may prosper? Can
we see the deformity of sin without tears? Can we remark the blindness
of our children towards Divine things? Can we observe how deaf they are
to the admonitions of mercy? Can we discover clearly the depravity of
their nature without deep grief and regret? We hasten to the best
physicians when we see anything amiss and we spare no cost for their
recovery.

Shall we ever be at peace, or know what rest means concerning them
until we see their eyes open and the light of Jesus streaming into
their souls–until we know that their tongues are loosed to tell of
God's mercy towards them–until there is formed in them a new heart and
a right spirit? We are anxious to see in our children a due share of
intelligence. We are very quick to notice any signs of it. And perhaps
we are over anxious to remark upon their shrewdness and good sense–it
is an overwhelming sorrow to a parent to discover weakness or
imbecility of mind in his offspring.

But what shall we say if we cannot perceive any knowledge of Christ in
our children? Shall the folly of their hearts cause us no anxiety? Does
it give us no concern if they put bitter for sweet and sweet for
bitter, darkness for light and light for darkness? Do we seek to have
them educated in the various arts and sciences and not desire that they
should comprehend with all saints the love of Christ which passes all
knowledge? One thing is necessary–all the rest may have a temporary
necessity, but the one thing–acceptance in Christ and faith in Jesus
is absolutely necessary! Can we be content when we see them neatly
dressed, strongly framed and progressing in their learning, while their
souls are not clothed with Christ's righteousness and they are ignorant
of the power of Divine love?

Can we rest content while their souls are not trained for God, not
tutored for Heaven, not educated for eternity? Why, common sense
teaches our natural affection that the first thought should be the
training of the soul and the highest desire of our spirits should be
that they may live before God, whatever may become of them in their
education as to the things of time and sense. It is only natural that
we should care for the prosperity of our friends and children. We are
grieved if we hear that they meet with any accident. If losses and
calamities befall them, I trust we know how to weep with them that
weep. We would sooner bear pain ourselves than that they should suffer.
We have often felt our own cross to be very light, if we have thereby
lifted a cross from the shoulders of those dear to us.

But can we think of their sinning against God and abiding under the
anger of the Most High without any emotion? Above all, can we
contemplate for an instant their death and their appearance before God
unpardoned–their condemnation and their eternal doom–without a horror
taking hold upon us? My friend, my sister, my wife, my child in Hell!
How can I bear the dreadful thought? Mother, if your child were running
in the streets and there were a fear that yonder wheel would go over it
and crush it, your heart would be in your mouth! Can you see your child
in danger of eternal destruction without your bosom heaving high with
fond maternal anxiety?

If I saw my friend upon the edge of a precipice I would rush to his
rescue. And can I be silent when I see so many whom I love walking upon
the verge of eternal ruin, utterly unconcerned about their souls?
Natural affection, which makes us care for our children and friends
that they may prosper, will, if it is rightly trained, make us far more
earnest for their salvation from the wrath to come. If there are any
who are professedly Christians who nevertheless have no sort of
interest in the welfare of their children, I only utter what I believe
to be the solemn truth when I say that their profession is a mistake,
if not an hypocrisy–they had better give it up! If you care not for
the souls of others, you do not know the value of your own!

God's people are a tender-hearted people. Like their Savior, they
cannot look upon Jerusalem without weeping over it–they cannot view
with complacency the destruction of any, much less can they be careless
concerning the condition of those who spring from their own loins–who
are united to them by ties of blood! Like Doddridge, we dare say in the
sight of God, that we love the souls of men–

"My God, I feel the mournful scene.
My heart yearns over dying men!
And gladly my pity would reclaim,
And snatch the firebrands from the flame."

I set you down as nearer akin to a devil than to a saint if you can go
your way and look into the face of your friend or child and know him to
be on the downward road and yet never pray for him nor use any means
for his conversion. May God grant that no doctrinal belief may ever dry
up the milk of human kindness in our souls!

Certainly the doctrines of Divine Grace, such as election and effectual
redemption, will not do so. Error may petrify, but the Truth of God
melts. May we feel that no dogma can be Scriptural which is not
consistent with a sincere love to men. Truth must be consistent with
its Author's Character. And He who has revealed saving Truth is the God
of Love– no, He is Love itself! And that cannot be true which
naturally and legitimately would lead men to be unloving! May we be
such parents, such brothers, such sisters, such children that it shall
be the first anxiety of our spirits that our children, our parents, our
husband, our wife, our friends, our brothers and sisters should be
brought to partake with us of the things of God!

I do think that the query which is suggested this morning, "Have you in
Sodom any besides?" is one which forcibly appeals to the natural
affections while it does no violence to the judgment. I shall hope,
therefore, that in such a congregation as the present, where there are
so many loving hearts, my question will drop like a spark upon dry
tinder to set the soul on fire or melt into the soul as a snowflake
into the sea, to increase the flood of holy earnestness. My own heart
is stirred in its inmost depths by the enquiry and I cannot but hope
that yours will be also. You who are friends, I now pray you show
yourselves friendly. Parents, be parents, indeed. Brothers, act a true
fraternal part. Sisters, let your tender love find a fitting channel.
Husbands and wives, let your conjugal union awaken you to most tender
emotions. Let every fond relationship stir us to care for others while
the enquiry is made, "Have you here any besides?"

II. In the second place, the question is one which AROUSES HOLY
SOLICITUDE. Shall I stop a moment while you think over the roll of your
friends and kinsfolk? "Have you here any besides?" Are they all saved?
Are you quite sure that all of them are rejoicing in Christ Jesus and
are washed in His blood? Mother, it was such a comfort to you when your
first-born was added to the Church. And what a joy when your fair
daughters subscribed with their hand to the name of Jesus! Are there
not others who are strangers to the commonwealth of Israel?

Brother, it has been a great delight to you to see your brother saved.
Your heart has swollen high with holy joy to know that a sister has
passed from death unto life. But there are others of the family–are
they all converted? Are there not some still in the gall of bitterness
and in the bonds of iniquity–concerning whom even in the judgment of
charity you are compelled to say, "Lord, have mercy upon them, for they
have no mercy upon themselves"? Have you no tears for the unsaved ones?
No prayers for those who abide under the wrath of God? In your house
you have seen your servants saved. And next to the salvation of one's
children, there is no greater mercy than to see one's servants walking
in the faith–but are all of your servants saved?

Is there not one in the house with you who still has not given her
heart to Christ? You are happy, my Brother, thrice happy, if while I
suggest this question you can read down the whole list with sparkling
eyes and say, "Yes, I can say, like Noah, they are all with me in the
ark–my wife and my sons and my sons' wives with them, they are all
secure–and though the deluge sweep over the whole world, in that
Covenant Ark of salvation, with my whole household, I hope to float in
safety."

But it is not so, I am afraid, with the most of us. We have an Esau as
well as a Jacob, an Ishmael as well as an Isaac. To provoke you to
earnest solicitude this morning, let me remind you of times when we
should be anxious about our friends and children. When first we
ourselves look to Christ, we should care for others. Oh, what a joy it
is to feel the burden rolling from our shoulders–to be able to say
with holy delight–"Great God, I'm saved! The chief of sinners is at
last at peace with You! Your enemy is reconciled, my sin is covered, my
iniquity is cast into the depths of the sea." What should be the next
thought? If this is so sweet to me, there are my sin-burdened
relatives–O God, bring them to know this blessedness!

If I leap at the sound of Jesus' name and find it blessed to know that
sin is forgiven, O my God, let others whom I love be set free and be
enabled to triumph in justification through the blood of Jesus Christ!
We would not eat our morsel alone lest it grow stale through our
selfishness. The woods drops with honey–we cannot eat it all–let us
call others to taste its sweetness. I think, dear Friends, there can be
no better season than the first blush of your newborn piety in which to
cry unto the Most High with strong crying and tears, that He would be
pleased to pluck others, as He has done yourselves, like firebrands
from the flame. "In the morning sow your seed."

Then there are times of Christian enjoyment. When we have been sitting
round the table of our dying Lord, we have been made to feast at the
banquet of wine with King Jesus–the banner over us has been love and
His fruit has been sweet unto our taste. But while we were downstairs
at the table, did we not think of those upstairs among the spectators?
Will not our hearts wing their flight with anxious desires towards
loved ones who cannot unite with us? Do we not hope that before long
they will sit side by side with us? Let us remember those at home this
morning–at home, did I say? Alas, some are worse than at home for they
are now where we were once, spending the Sunday in sin–finding their
pleasures anywhere but in the things of God!

A warm fire and a happy family gathering may well make us think of
those shivering in the cold outside–I charge you, Believer, forget not
your poor unconverted children. Let your highest and most rapt moments
of communion with Christ be just the times when your soul shall speak
to God as Abraham talked to his Father and his Friend and pleaded for
the sinners of Sodom. I think when we are downcast, when our soul is
filled with bitter trouble, then also is an appropriate season to pray
for others. God turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his
friends, and he may turn our captivity when we do the same. Why, if I
who have an interest in Christ, yet feel so desponding, what must be
the wretchedness of those who have no Christ to go to?

If we who live on the bread of Heaven, yet complain that our spirit
oftentimes sinks within us, what must be the failings of heart–the
horror of great darkness–which those must experience who feed upon the
wind and would gladly fill their bellies with the husks which the swine
eat? Let your own grief help you to arrive at some knowledge of the
griefs of unconverted souls and go to the Throne of Grace on their
account. It may also help to stimulate this holy solicitude to think of
how we shall feel in regard to our children and friends when they come
to lie sick. They will be sick as well as others. And when they are in
jeopardy of their lives and the physician tells us that their existence
trembles in the scale, how shall we feel, then?

Can we gaze upon their pallid countenances without bitter reproaches
for our past indifference? I am afraid I cannot say I have had a sick
friend concerning whom I could feel that I had done all I ought to have
done. I do not know whether you have–happy are you if you feel quite
guiltless. When we have seen our friends on their beds of languishing,
have we not thought, "Ah, would to God we had over again the occasions
and opportunities of talking to them on Divine things, for now they are
so racked with pain, so distracted with many thoughts that there is
scarcely room to sow the good seed, because of the many thorns." O that
the harvest may not be past and the summer ended before we begin our
sowing!

Fools lose the spring and then lament in the time of harvest. May
Heaven save us from the fool's lament. And what will you think if your
children should die unconverted–your wife, your husband, your friend?
To lose our loved ones is one of the sore, though common troubles of
life. But oh, it can be little trouble to send on those who are ripe
for Glory! Go where Glory waits you–we would not detain you here! To
think that while we are weeping here they are singing around the
eternal Throne wipes the tears from our eyes! But what must it be to
bury them without "a sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection"?

To put the body under the sod with this dread thought upon us, that,
"we sorrow as those that have no hope"? It is the death of death to
fear that our friends have not escaped the second death. Must you not
confess, this morning, that if some of your kinsfolk were to die as
they are, you could not, unless you were to stultify your own
conscience, entertain anything like a sure hope of their entering into
eternal life? Now, as you would wish you had prayed for them, as you
would wish you had labored with them, when they are dead, so do now!
While there is an opportunity, avail yourself of it for fear you should
have to mourn with briny tears that the soul has gone, and that you
have never rendered it any help. Before the sun goes down forever, use
its light. It is vain to warn after the ship is wrecked. Hell will
never give up its prey–nor will your tears mitigate the fury of its
fires. It is now or never. Lord, make it now!

Think again, how you would care for your friends if you were, yourself,
this morning very near death. O my Hearers, I sometimes think of the
time when I shall lie a-dying–when all alone my spirit must cross the
black brook of Kedron and leave the city of our solemnities for the
other side of Jordan. Then such thoughts as these will surely steal
over me– "O that I might preach to this people again! O that I had the
opportunity of addressing those thousands once more that I might preach
in real earnest and not talk away the time! O that I might deal with
their souls, as if they really were immortal and there were a judgment
to come! O that I might set before them life and death, Hell and Heaven
and plead with them, knowing the terrors of the Lord."

I can scarcely tell you what must be the sorrow of a dying man at the
end of an unfaithful ministry. Then shall every wasted opportunity
stuff his pillow with thorns. There shall be no sleep for that aching
head, no rest for those weary eyes–he has damned the souls of men by
his carelessness and sloth and now he must give his account. He is
haunted by grim forebodings of wrath to come and knows not where to
turn for comfort. He has insulted Heaven and played into the hands of
Hell. What will be your thought, my Hearers, if in your narrower sphere
you shall have been unfaithful?

There on the sick bed, though the comforts of complete forgiveness may
take away from you the sting of death, which is sin, yet even the blood
of Christ will not be able to remove those solemn heart-moving regrets
which shall be suggested by a lively remembrance that you had
opportunities of doing good and wasted them! And now that you are
dying, but leaving unconverted children behind you–dying and the wife
is still unsaved–dying, and your father still lives to whom you might
have spoken of the way of God, but who now has no loving child to care
about his soul!

As you must die, Believers, seek to live like dying men and labor for
your sons and daughters and kinsfolk as those who must soon leave them
and have no other opportunities of doing them good. You cannot come
back from Heaven! If you have neglected a duty, you cannot leave Heaven
to perform it. If there is one thing that can make an angel in Heaven
envy a man on earth, it is his power to intercede for sinners, to
preach, to woo and to win souls. If there is one thing which a
glorified saint before the Throne of God might wish to come to earth
for, it is surely this–that he might speak to impenitent brothers,
that he might weep over unconverted friends and perhaps bring them to
repentance. "Work while it is called today, for the night comes wherein
no man can work."

III. And now we turn, seeking the same earnest object, to the third
point of our discourse. Such a question as this is calculated to EXCITE
US TO ANXIOUS EFFORT for mere solicitude without effort is not genuine.
A man must not pretend that he cares for the souls of others so long as
he leaves one stone unturned which might be the means of blessing them.
It seems to me, then, that if we are in a right state of heart this
morning, one of the first things we shall do will be to tell those dear
to us of their danger.

I think 1 see Lot going out that night. No very safe place, the streets
of Sodom, especially after that wretched scene which had been enacted
at his own door–a miracle had rescued him. But yet with his life in
his hand, the good old man goes to the door of his sons-in-law.
Affection is not always so strong towards sons-in-law as towards those
who are of our own blood. Still he goes with all solemnity of feeling,
knowing that he, himself, should be rescued, but trembling lest these
sons-in-law should refuse the invitation to escape with him.

The good old man finds his way through the winding streets of Sodom and
begins to knock at the door with a resolute hand. They look down from
the top of the house. "That is the voice of old Lot," says one, "what
is he doing, disturbing our comfortable slumber?" They have but little
love for him. They have put on some pretense of affection that they
might win his daughters, but Sodomites cannot have much love for
righteous men. And consequently they have no care for Lot. "What does
the old fellow want at this time of night?" they say. "Why cannot he
keep seasonable hours? Besides, what a disturbance there was at his own
door just now! Does he not know better than to knock at our door, when
he so resolutely shut his own to protect two tramping strangers? What
does he want?"

He cries to them, "My sons, this city is to be burned with fire in the
morning! Come, get up and flee with me, for the two men who came to me
were angels sent from God to rescue me and they have bid me seek you.
Come with me!" "Ah," they say. "What next? Old Lob–that is your name,
Lob, instead of Lot–go your way and talk about your silly dreams to
men of softer brains and not to us." "No," says he, "it is even so, by
the love you bear my daughters, bear with me. If it is not so it will
not matter, you can return. But if it is so, think what it will be to
be destroyed with fire and brimstone out of Heaven! I pray you, come."

But they scoff at him–they tell him he is only mocking them–that he
has some motive for wishing to get them into the street and they bid
him go. And with an aching heart the poor old man goes back, feeling
something more than Isaiah's grief–"Who has believed our report? And
to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?" Yet as he fled out of Sodom,
if the sight of his daughters reminded him of their husbands, he would
think, "I am clear of their blood. I did plead with them. I did exhort
them to escape. And if they would not, why, they would not–and the sin
lies at their own door."

It will be some comfort to the Christian, if the worst should come to
worst, that he has warned the ungodly. Let us tell them of their danger
and never cease to warn until they cease to sin. Having so done, it is
the duty of every Christian to tell his friend the remedy. Plain
speaking about Christ is the ordinary means of bringing sinners to
repentance. Those ministers most useful in soul-seeking are those who
put the doctrine of simple faith in the Atonement in the clearest
light. Let not your friend perish through ignorance. Tell him that
whoever comes unto Christ He will in no wise cast out– that there is
life in a look at the Crucified Savior! Tell him that whoever believes
that Jesus is the Christ is born of God. Preach no salvation by
works–but preach faith and works only as the fruit of faith.

And let the doctrine that Christ came to seek and to save that which
was lost be clearly set before your friend's eyes. Remember, it is not
enough coldly to warn them of danger and doctrinally to teach the
remedy. There are many who will go so far. But I hold, my Brothers and
Sisters, that we are bound to use a constraint with our friends. Do not
misunderstand me–only a loving and a tender constraint, such as these
angels used with Lot. Press them, plead with them, take them by the
hand. Some are afraid to do this. They fear that they should be doing
the Spirit's work. My dear Brother, that is the reason why I do it, for
I know the Spirit of God works by means and I am in hopes that He will
use me to do His own work.

"Well, but we cannot bring them to Christ," says one. That is true and
that is false. That is true–you cannot, unless God is with you. But
instrumentality is the ordinary method by which God accomplishes His
purpose and therefore you may be enabled to bring sinners to Jesus. I
do not, when I plead with sinners, plead as though I pleaded, or as
though there were anything in my pleading which could do them good! I
plead, as Paul says, "As though God did beseech you by us." This is the
position the Christian parent should take up, the position of God
pleading with men, "As though God did beseech you by us." Not man
seeking to win a soul, but the Son of Man coming to seek and to save
that which was lost.

Do not be afraid, dear Friends, that you will ever violate the doctrine
of election or predestination by the most solemn determination you can
make in the sight of God that you will wrestle and weep and agonize to
bring your children to Himself. Rightly understood, this doctrine is an
incentive to duty and never an opiate for sloth. "Compel them to come
in," is the Savior's own command. I remember an old man who was a
nursing father to all the young men in the parish where he lived. This
one thing he used to do–there was scarcely a lad whom he would not
know and speak to and there was a time with most of the lads when he
specially sought to see them decided.

Suppose one of them was going away to London? He would be sure to ask
him to have a cup of tea with him. "You are going away, John," he would
say, "I should not like you to go without spending an evening with me."
If it was a fine sunshiny evening, he would say, "You know I have often
talked to you about the things of God and I am afraid that as yet there
has been no impression produced. You are going to London and will meet
with many temptations and I fear you may fall into them. I should like
to pray with you once before you go. Let us walk down the field
together."

There was a tree, an old oak tree in a solitary place, where he would
say, "To help you to remember my words better, we will pray under this
tree." The young and the old knelt together and the old man poured out
his soul before God. And when he had wrestled with God and talked with
his young friend, he would say, "Now, when I am dead and gone and you
will perhaps come back to the place where you lived when a youth–let
that tree be a witness between God and your soul that here I wrestled
with you. And if you forget God and do not give your heart to Christ,
let that tree stand to accuse your conscience till it yields to the
entreaties of Divine love."

Now here was a using of what I have styled constraint. But it is not a
constraint, you see, such as the Papist would use. And as for physical
force, of course that is never to be used–but the constraint of
spiritual force, Divine love and earnestness. May I ask whether we have
all done our duty in this matter? Here stands one who has not. And if
every Christian here who has something to repent of in this matter were
to stand up, I question, Brothers and Sisters, whether many of us dare
keep our seats.

Ah, if they perish, we cannot say that we wept after them! Whitfield
could say to his congregations often, "Ah, if you are lost, it is not
for want of weeping after, not for want of my groans and tears." But I
am afraid if our children were lost, or our brothers and sisters were
lost, we could not say so much as that. May God forgive the past and
may He help us in the future. And from this time forth may we resolve
as in the presence of the flowing wounds of Christ and as He enables us
we will–

"Tell to sinners round,
What a dear Savior we have found,
Point them to the redeeming blood,
And say, 'Behold the way to God.'"

IV. And now I shall not weary you, I trust, if I continue a little
longer. It seems to me that our text FOSTERS A VERY CHEERING HOPE. It
says, "Have you here any besides?," as much as if it would say, "Hope
for them all. Why should they not all be brought out of Sodom? Why
should one be left behind?" That was a grand saying of Moses when
Pharaoh said, "Go, serve the Lord. Only let your flocks and your herds
be stayed: let your little ones also go with you. And Moses said, You
must give us also sacrifices and burnt offerings, that we may sacrifice
unto the Lord our God. Our cattle also shall go with us. There shall
not an hoof be left behind"–the smallest lamb, or the meanest
goat–they shall all come out.

So it is glorious when in strength of faith the father of the family
can feel that he will give the Master no rest till they are all saved.
Not leaving William out, nor omitting Mary. Not saying, "Well, thank
God, I am blessed above the aver- age–the most of my children are
converted and if one shall perish, I must bear with it as a cross." No!
But saying in your soul with humble boldness–

"Lord, I will not let You go, Till a blessing You bestow upon every
child of my loins, upon every brother and every sister and every
relative." I say the text fosters a hope that you may yet see them all
brought to Jesus!

I stayed some few months ago with a Brother in Christ in a certain town
in the midland counties. I might mention his name if I could, He is the
banker of the town. I was delighted when staying there, to hear a story
from his own lips which is also printed and worthy of your careful
perusal. His wife, a godly woman, had been exercised with many thoughts
for her husband and children. She did not live to see her prayers
answered. She fell asleep, but with a good hope that yet her husband
and her children would join her in the skies.

She said that her husband would experience a bad trial, but that it
would be greatly blessed to him and so it turned out. Our esteemed
friend, that excellent man of God, Mr. Denham Smith, went to preach in
the town and the gentleman went to hear him. He did not go with any
desire for conversion–he knew not its value–he merely went to hear
Mr. Smith as a person well known as an evangelist. The Word, through
Divine Grace, pierced his heart and about the same time it also reached
the heart of one of his daughters. He was under deep distress of mind
but through the simple teaching of our friend, Mr. Smith, he was led to
rest upon Jesus and cast his anchor in the blessed anchorage of the
Atonement.

His daughter, about the same time, through the united prayers of her
newly-converted father and Mr. Smith, was brought into perfect peace.
He thought, "This is a happy season–two of my sons are out on
business, but I will send for them to come home." They were brought
home–they were asked to go and hear Mr. Smith. One of them found the
Savior. The other remained indifferent. The three converted ones began
to pray for the others and, to make the story–a blessed story–very
short, there were six in the household, sons and daughters, they were
all saved, father included!

They had but three domestic servants–Mr. Smith visited them a second
time. It had been a subject of prayer that the three servants might be
saved and they were so and are now a whole family walking in the Truth
of God! Such an instance as this in a somewhat large family should
excite the desire of all Christian parents, that they may have the same
blessing! Of course we cannot expect it where there are very little
children. But we can expect, we ought to expect family conversions. And
in answer to prayer we may have it where the children are come to an
age in which they are capable of understanding the things of God and
knowing the Truth as it is in Christ Jesus. I know that many of you
feel your eyes watering at the thought of being able to say, "Here am
I, and the children You have given me, for I have no greater joy than
this–to see my children walking in the Truth."

Do not think that the conversion of children is a thing unusual or
suspicious–look for it and believe in it. You cannot change their
hearts, or give them Divine life –it is beyond your power. But it is
not beyond the power of your God. And God will refuse His children
nothing if they do but know how to plead His promise and ask in faith,
doubting nothing. Only let us feel more about this and I am persuaded
we shall see better times with regard to our young people. I am
resolved, in connection with this Church, as soon as I can get over my
many present engagements in the country, in Scotland and so on, that we
will devote ourselves to looking more directly and personally after our
young people.

We must have special meetings with them. The pastor must commune with
them. The elders and deacons must meet them. We must be seeking to
bring in more souls. God has dealt very graciously with this Church and
for eleven years there has been one long revival. But I want to see
greater things than these. I believe that the prayers of the last three
weeks are being heard. Last Friday I met with many of my Brethren, the
ministers of London, in this place, to pray. We did pray. Our hearts
were knit together in holy love and we prayed for our Churches and
congregations and pleaded with God that He would make us better
ministers and help us to be free from the blood of our hearers.

And I expect in answer to the prayers of my Brethren that we shall get
a blessing. Moreover we have all been pleading–may I not say all? We
have been crying, "Will You not revive us again that Your people may
rejoice in You?" But we must use the means. I must ask my dear Friends
who love the Lord who are scattered about the Tabernacle to begin from
this time forward to look after those who sit near them, to look after
those who sit in the pews with them. Put questions to them and endeavor
gently to lead them to the Savior. Instead of one address from this
pulpit, make it a thousand addresses from Christians round about!

Let me give you the nail and the hammer by preaching the sermon–but
YOU–as agents in the hands of the Holy Spirit, labor to drive home the
Word. And if I can get all of you who love the Lord into a thoroughly
warm and earnest state, I am persuaded the great things we have seen
are only the beginning of greater things to come! We are on the
threshold of an era of mercy! We have journeyed to the edge of a long
stretch of glorious sunlight, emerging out of the shadows into the
serene clear shining of Jehovah's face. We shall see these galleries
and these aisles and this vast area full of Believers yet! We shall see
the Word of God running, having free course, and being glorified! But
we must, dear Friends, be stirred up to holy action for it.

V. Alas, I must conclude! Conclude, too, with a very dark and gloomy
thought. The text SUGGESTS A VERY SOLEMN FEAR, namely, that there may
be some in our households who will not be saved. Ah, young men and
women! Ah, you who are fathers of Christian children, but not converted
yourselves! You who are godless daughters and unre-generate sons of
Christian people–you are lost now and you may be lost forever! Lot's
sons-in-law were consumed and why not you? Saved shall the Patriarch
be, but not saved the Patriarch's son, except he shall flee out of
Sodom!

Beware! No kinship can save you! You may be allied to a race of saints,
but, being yourself a sinner, your pedigree cannot save you.
Unconverted souls, flee away, I pray you! And may God's Grace direct
you to the Rock of Ages split for you. Hide yourself in the cracks
there and let your soul find peace through Jesus the Savior. May God
bless these feeble words of mine to every soul here, for Jesus' sake.
Amen.