Is It Nothing To You?

DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 11, 1881,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"Is it nothing to you, all you that pass by? Behold and see if there is
any sorrowlike unto my sorrow, which is done unto me, with which the
Lord has afflicted me in the day of His fierce anger." Lamentations
1:12.

On a night when the Tabernacle was thrown open to all comers, the
ordinary hearers vacating their seats for the occasion.

SYMPATHY with suffering ones is never content to act her part alone.
The man who is sorrowful for another is sure to invite others to join
him in his sympathy. It seems to him so sad a thing that he would have
all men weep over it with himself. It is so great a grief that he would
hang the heavens with blackness and drape the world in sackcloth. Hence
Jeremiah, when he saw the sorrows of Jerusalem, complained of all who
dared to pass her by without a lamentation. He beheld that ancient and
glorious city besieged by her adversaries, invaded by their fierce
armies and given over to plunder, to murder, to fire and desolation. He
beheld the streets running with the blood of her sons and daughters,
her houses broken down and her glorious Temple defiled and laid in
ashes.

Do you wonder that he wept and called upon others to weep with him? He
pictured Jerusalem as sitting by the wayside, like a maiden who has
been sorely wounded and is in bitter grief, crying out in her
loveliness and anguish, "Is it nothing to you, all you that pass by?
Behold and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow." In all the
annals of history there never was sorrow equal to the fate of
Jerusalem! Many cities have been destroyed, but none have fallen amid
such a tempest of terrors. Some have been devoured with famine, wasted
with pestilence, or broken down by war–but as for you, O
Jerusalem–all these evils met upon you as when the vultures hasten
from afar and meet upon the slain. Beautiful for situation, yet
terrible for desolation! Joy of the whole earth and yet the queen of
sorrow! How utterly were you spoiled! Had grape-gatherers gathered the
grapes, they would have left, here and there, a cluster, but, O
Jerusalem, you are thoroughly stripped–no fruit remains in you–your
desolation is complete! How terrible was your lot and how grievous was
your fault! Well did the Prophet, in the foresight of your tremendous
doom, cry to all the nations, "Behold and see if there is any sorrow
like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me?"

But, Friends, the fact of sympathy's eager love of companionship is
true in other instances. I, too, share the sympathetic avarice of
Jeremiah's pity. Do you ask what grief I have and for whose woes I am a
mourner? I point you to the Cross and to the Man of Sorrows there. All
faithful servants of Christ who love their Master would have their
hearers mourn for Him, even as the Prophet foretold–"They shall look
on Him whom they have pierced and shall mourn for Him." When they think
of Calvary and of their wounded, bleeding Lord, they cannot help
imitating Jeremiah and picturing their Lord as crying from the Cross,
"Behold and see if there is any sorrow like unto My sorrow." Therefore
in all ages of the Church this has been a favorite text–not as
directly meaning what we shall say upon it, but as suggesting an
adaptation and asking to be used in our case as Jeremiah used it in his
own.

We apply to Jesus and His sufferings, tonight, the words which the
Prophet wrote in reference to Judea and her national sorrow. We hear
the Son of God saying in His death pangs to all this vast assembly, "Is
it nothing to you, all you that pass by? Behold and see if there is any
sorrow like unto My sorrow." And this is my first head tonight–the
sufferings of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, are unparalleled. When we
have dwelt enough upon this, we will proceed to note, secondly, that
they have a deep interest to many. And we will conclude, thirdly, by
enquiring whether they have not some interest for you?

O that God the Holy Spirit, whose office it is to bear witness to the
Lord Jesus, would now bear His testimony in all your hearts for His
mercy's sake.

' I. First, then, THE SUFFERINGS OF THE SON OF GOD UPON THE CROSS WERE
ALTOGETHER UNPARALLELED. I tell no idle tale tonight! I draw no picture
of romance, but the sorrows which we now relate are matters of fact!
Out of the excellent Glory let the Lord confirm it tonight, if it is
His truth, by the witness of His Spirit. Jesus, the eternal Son of God,
came down in boundless pity among the sons of men and took upon Himself
our human nature! Quitting the infinite honors of the skies, He came to
the lowliness of the manger and the labor of the carpenter's shop–and
here He lived, suffering as a real man, all the sorrows and infirmities
of our mortality.

In our nature He lived some 30 years or more, enduring much of poverty
and labor. And at the end, thereof, He died, not amid the applause of
all mankind, as He deserved, but nailed to the Cross–like a felon or a
slave, a spectacle of scorn and infamy–the despised and rejected of
men! The sufferings of this Divine One were unparalleled, first,
because of the dignity of His Person which gave such point to the
insult which He endured. Kings have died. Philosophers have died.
Philanthropists have died, but never such a One as this, for He that
bled on Calvary was King, Priest and Prophet–a right royal Man, and
more–the Son of the Highest! God that made the heavens and earth was
in personal union with that Man who died upon the Cross of Calvary.

What a stoop it must have been for Him–from the brightness of the
Father's Glory to be made the image of shame! A dethroned monarch is
always the object of compassion and a once famous general, sitting at
the city gate and begging for a penny from every traveler that passes
by has been, in all ages, spoken of as a person to be deeply pitied.
But what shall I say of Him who stood as the center of angelic hosts,
the prince of the kings of the earth? Aside He flung His most Divine
array! He girded Himself with garments of this flesh and blood and then
became a Man among men and for men–only to be despised of men. Being
here among His own, His own received Him not! Instead of receiving Him,
they dragged Him to the judgment hall.

They scourged Him. They took Him into the common hall of the soldiers
and they spat in His face! They blindfolded Him, they buffeted Him.
They mocked at all His holy offices. They put an old soldier's cloak
about Him and then brought Him out and cried, "Behold the Man!" They
nailed Him to the Cross and then stood there and said, "If He is the
Christ, let Him come down." They made fun of His prayers and when He
said, "Eloi, Eloi," they said, "He calls for Elijah." They spared Him
nothing that shame could invent–and all this was poured on One whose
feet honored the ground they trod upon, the glances of whose eyes were
angels' Law, the words of whose mouth were the music of God's ears. "He
was despised and rejected of men," even He who was and is the King of
kings, the Lord of lords! Behold and see if there is any sorrow like
unto His sorrow which was done unto Him!

There was also this strange point about our Redeemer's suffering,
namely, the perfect innocence of His Character. Many a man has died
innocent of that which was laid to his charge, but no man has been
perfectly innocent of every kind of fault. In this Man there was never
taint of evil. He was born without tendency to sin, for the natural
corruption of our nature was not in Him. And He lived never doing wrong
to man, or woman, or child and never, by omission or by commission,
violating the Divine will of the Most High. He was absolutely perfect,
so that He could say when Satan came to assail Him, "The Prince of this
world comes and has nothing in Me."

Now, herein is a sorrow never to be forgotten–that He must bleed and
die and, moreover–that He must so suffer as to be connected with sin.
It is anguish and agony for even the breath of evil to blow upon
innocence. He was never guilty and never could have been so in any
sense–and yet sin was laid to His charge for our sakes–and He died
accused of treason and of blasphemy! In Him was no sin and yet the sins
of men were laid upon Him! Here, bring them here, the sins of ages!
Heap them on His back–the sins of men that lived before He was on
earth, the crimes of multitudes who transgressed in His own day and the
sins of all the ages since–your sins and mine! They are all brought
together and massed together–the total sum–how dreadful!

Hear the Word of God, "All we, like sheep, have gone astray; we have
turned, everyone, to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the
iniquity of us all." The Innocent, therefore, not only suffers, but
suffers in strange connection with sin–and this must have caused an
awful shrinking to our Lord's most holy soul. You and I are
comparatively hardened to sin and, therefore, it does not so alarm us
as it did the perfect soul of Christ who had no spot or trace of evil
upon Him. There was one tried for murder years ago and some thought it
an argument for his innocence that he stood in the

dock calm and composed. But others said, "Not so! Innocent men are the
very persons who shudder most at having such a crime laid to their
charge and he who could bear the charge without emotion is most
probably the man who has committed the crime."

Truth lies in that observation. For the innocent Christ to be made sin
for us–for the wrath of God to roll over Him instead of us–must have
caused within His spirit a depth of anguish which the most tender heart
cannot fathom! Behold and see if there was ever sorrow like unto His
sorrow! Was there ever dignity that suffered such indignity, or
innocence that came into contact with such a mass of sin and suffered
for it all? But this is not all, nor half of it! There was another
wonder about the sufferings of Christ, namely, that in His case there
was such a conjunction of griefs. Have you ever noticed that when you
have one trouble, as a rule some other one is absent? Of course, if the
north wind blows, the south does not, also, blow and if we have the
troubles of summer, we do not also endure the evils of winter at the
same time. One grief often strangles another in its arms.

We read in Acts of a place where two seas met. Rough navigation there,
my Brethren, where two seas meet, for one sea is often more than enough
for a sailor! Sometimes you and I have grief on grief and sorrow upon
sorrow–and things go hard, then. As to the Savior, it seemed as if
every form of grief was let loose against Him on that dark, that
dreadful night! All the winds of woe escaped from their cave at that
dread hour! He was heavy within Himself, deserted by His friends who
ought to have defended Him, betrayed by His bosom companion, slandered
by false witnesses, hunted down by false-hearted men! He had no one to
speak for Him and He was unable, for a certain reason, to speak for
Himself. Griefs of body were added to His sadness of soul. Was there a
part of His blessed form that escaped from suffering? I know of none.
His whole corporeal frame was the center and seat of pain–a furnace of
fever, the melting crucible of death. From the thorn-crowned head to
the bleeding feet, all, all were wounds and bruises for our sake!

But the bodily sufferings were only the body of His sufferings–there
was an agony of heart, mind and soul. O Brothers and Sisters, if, when
you have sickness, you can keep your spirits up, it does not matter!
And, perhaps, when the spirits sink, you are happy if you have no pain
at the same time. But to have body and soul at once in the fire, this
is, indeed, torture! This is to do business in great waters where all
the waves and billows go over the mariner. Hell from beneath was
stirred against our Lord–Satan bade his legions aim all their arrows
against His heart! Heaven veiled its sun and left the Sufferer in a
chill darkness. God hid His face which made Jesus cry, "Why have You
forsaken Me?" Earth's inhabitants seemed leagued to cast Him out.

There is not, to my knowledge, a mitigating circumstance in the woes of
Christ. It is bitter, bitter, bitter! And if there is a mixture, it is
wormwood mingled with gall. It was all bitter, all tempestuous, all
terrible! No drop of water, for in His thirst they gave Him vinegar to
drink. No ray of light–the sun is set. No stable ground of
comfort–the very rocks rend. Heaven and earth stand arrayed against
Him! Well does He cry, "Behold and see if there is any sorrow like unto
My sorrow which is done unto Me." Oh that these lips had language and
could speak aright upon such a theme as this!

But I ask you to notice, next, that there is in our Savior's sorrow
this singular point which is not found anywhere else, namely, that all
His sorrow was voluntarily undertaken and voluntarily continued in.
When a man feels that it must be, he girds himself to bear the will of
destiny. But concerning Christ, He was under no compulsion from any
force which He could not, Himself, control. He dies but He says, "No
man takes My life from Me, but I lay it down of Myself." He is betrayed
into the hands of wicked men, but He says that He could presently pray
to His Father and He would send Him 12 legions of angels! He has not a
word to say to Pilate, but He had ten thousand words which He might
have spoken if He would, only that He could not, then, have effected
the Divine purpose or worked out our salvation. This perfect freedom
involved Him in a double labor–He not only had to suffer, but to will
to suffer even to the end!

He had, therefore, to put a Divine restraint upon Himself and to bear
on when His human nature might have suggested that He should bear no
more. It did suggest it, so far as it could do so, without a faulty
shrinking. "If it is possible," He said, "let this cup pass from Me."
But His holy soul came to the rescue of His resolution, for He added,
"Nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." It is not in our power
to thus yield ourselves to sorrow. If we gave up ourselves once to the
hands of pain or death it would be but one act and we should then be
out of our own power. But our Lord always had Himself in His own hands
and, therefore, He made a continuous offering of Himself by a distinct
act of His will until He expired.

Brothers and Sisters, remember that if you were to die for your
country, you would only, then, pay the debt of nature a little sooner
than it would otherwise be due–the debt would, in any case, have had
to be paid in due time. If tonight I died for you, I should but
anticipate that hour which may be near enough, now, when I must surely
die. Jesus needed not to die. There was no necessity, as far as His
Nature was concerned, that He should ever slumber in a grave! Oh, but
this is a death altogether unexampled–voluntarily undertaken and
voluntarily borne for the good of others! Love led His perfect will in
sweet captivity so that He could not do otherwise but die and, with the
exception of His own unrivalled love, not another cord held Him, or
could have held Him for a moment! Let us give Him our deepest love in
return for so special a sacrifice!

And this makes it more singular, still–that those for whom He died
thus voluntarily were His enemies! Oh, tell it, tell it all the world
over, that Jesus laid down His life for those who hated Him, for those
who loved the wages of unrighteousness! Tell it in Hell, tell it on
earth, tell it in Heaven! And let the three worlds overflow with wonder
at this miracle of love! Let the whole universe hear it–Jesus died for
His enemies! His last breath said, "Father, forgive them, for they know
not what they do." He died for those who did not love Him, but thirsted
for His blood! He died for those who could not see His beauties–who
never will see His beauties unless He work a miracle upon them. He died
for you and for me! But oh, how shamefully have the best rewarded Him
with chill barren love! How shamefully are some here present rewarding
Him at this very moment by living in entire neglect of Him–living as
if they had nothing to do with the death of Christ at all!

Scarcely for a righteous man will one die–perhaps for a benevolent man
one would even dare to die. But "God commends His love toward us, in
that, while we were yet sinners, in due time Christ died for the
ungodly." Hear that, O you deaf ears, hear that! O you blind eyes,
behold the splendor of this love! O you hard hearts, feel the magic of
this deed! Christ died for the ungodly, for the guilty, for the
profane, for the drunk, for the unchaste, for the worst of men–He died
that He might purify them, lift them out of their degradation, make new
men of them–and prove what heavenly love can do! Men were utterly
depraved and wedded to their sin–as mad about sin as the lunatic is
mad in his delirium, as eaten up with it as a leper with leprosy–and
yet for such Christ died! He gave Himself, not for our virtues, but for
our sins! He came to seek and save, not the good, but those that were
lost. For such did He die and, therefore, His death is altogether
unparalleled.

Once more, to crown this edifice of wonder–there was this about
Christ's sorrow which was never in any other sorrow under Heaven,
namely, that it was expiatory. Christ was dying and suffering in the
place of others–and by that dying and suffering He was putting away
the sin of others! This is the substance of the Revelation of God, that
Jesus Christ has appeared to put away sin by the Sacrifice of Himself
and there is virtue in His blood to cleanse from all sin. I hear
certain philosophical divines denying this Atonement, but I beseech you
give no heed to them–they would rob you of your only hope of Heaven!
Mark this–there is nothing left of Christianity when Atonement is
gone. "The blood is the life thereof," and if you remove its life, the
Gospel will die.

What do you see where this atoning Sacrifice is left out of the
preaching? Why, very soon, empty places of worship, for the people soon
find that there is nothing there for them and they will not go where
they are mocked with husks! To deny the great Doctrine of Atonement by
the blood of Jesus Christ is to hamstring the Gospel and to cut the
throat of Christianity! Look at this house tonight, this spectacle,
this gathered throng! Into what corner could another hearer be thrust?
One would think, from the vehement eagerness to enter, that we gave
some gorgeous entertainment! Come here any night in all the year, or
any morning, if you like, and it is still the same.

Well, why do the people come? To see a man in fine raiment? We wear no
millinery! To listen to sweet strains of music and the swell of organs?
We have none of it! What do they come for? To hear an orator? Far from
it! I have never aimed at oratory, or desired to exhibit it! I have
preached Christ out of my very soul and lifted Him up as the Savior of
men and, therefore, the people throng the house and they always will
while Christ is fully preached in language which they can understand!
Men need a Savior as hungry men need bread and as thirsty souls need
drink! And they know where that is preached which they require!

Go, tell the men that preach their new doctrine that they cannot stir a
tiny village with their fine theories after they have preached them
once or twice! And yet for 27 years together we can hold a multitude
with no magic but the name of Christ–with no mystery but the Cross,
the blood, and the one word–"Believe in Christ and live." Therefore I
preach

the old, old Gospel yet again, harping forever on that one Divine
string which has yet more music in it than all the flutes, harps,
sackbuts, psalteries and dulcimers of modern thought! If you would have
sin forgiven, forgiveness is to be found in Jesus, and only there!
"Behold and see if there is any sorrow like unto His sorrow," for no
other sorrow can wipe away sin–not even the pangs of Hell can effect
expiation–but the sorrow of Christ can put your sins away! Oh, seek a
share in the boundless merit of the Crucified! Turn not away, but seek
your Savior's face at once!

II. Thus have I spoken upon the first head and pretty well exhausted my
time–therefore only a minute or two upon

the second–THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS HAVE HAD A DEEP INTEREST IN THEM
FOR MANY. Oh that I

could set Him forth before you! There He is! Look upon Him! He is
before my eyes. I see those languid eyes closing in death, I see that
glorious head bowing upon His bosom. I see and I adore! I note with
grief the gashes made by the nails in His dear hands and feet from
which flows the ruddy stream which scatters roses among the lilies of
His pure and spotless flesh! I look into His heart and see it
breaking–the soldier has opened a door through which your soul may
gaze! My Savior's death is to me all things–I could live and die
contemplating it.

It stirs my blood, it opens the fountains of my eyes and makes my
inmost heart dissolve. Is it not a thing of power to others, also? Did
I hear one ask, "What good has this sorrow ever brought to anyone? Has
anybody derived benefit from it?" Let me tell you! Multitudes have
found, in the sufferings of Christ, the cure for their despair. Read
the biographies of converted men and you shall find cases upon cases
where they had been ready to commit suicide–but the sight of a
crucified Savior encouraged them to hope and gave them rest. No, you
need not read books–speak to any godly man of your acquaintance and he
will tell you that the wounds of Jesus were and are the fountains of
his hope! Many of you could speak for yourselves and say that nothing
could have brought you back from despair on account of sin but a sight
of Christ.

I cannot speak without remembering my own case and how bitter were my
griefs, how dark my days, how hideous my nights till I saw One hanging
on a tree and my state was changed from continual sorrow into perpetual
joy! Can I hear Him dishonored and not be moved? Do you think that
those of us who owe all the light we have to Jesus crucified can ever
think lightly of Him? I pray we never may become so mean, so base! We
have a deep and abiding interest in Jesus, for He turned our darkness
into day! In others, the sorrows of the Cross have worked a complete
transformation of their lives. The Apostle Paul, on the way to
Damascus, was going to hunt Christians to death–but the voice of One
who said, "I am Jesus whom you persecute" changed his mind so
completely that he became the greatest of all preachers of Christ!

You have, most of you, I dare say, heard of the life of Colonel
Gardiner, a dissipated officer who indulged, as too many soldiers do,
in wantonness. One night he had made an appointment of the most vicious
kind and reached the place an hour too soon. Waiting there, alone, he
thought that he saw upon the wall, the Savior on the Cross and he
thought that he heard Him say to him, "I did all this for you. What
have you ever done for Me?" He fled the house and you know what an
earnest soldier of Christ, from that moment, he became! Such miracles
have been worked in every age and will be worked to the end of time!
Nor are they so rare that you need search far for them. One and another
will tell you, if you will listen–some here can tell you for
themselves–that the sight of Christ has changed them altogether in a
manner as astounding as a miracle!

It has been with them as marvelous a change as if Niagara, leaping down
her profound abyss, were suddenly spoken to by the voice which made
that mighty flood and her waters began to leap upward, ascending the
steep fall which they have rushed for ages! The transformation of the
lives of men by the sight of the Cross of Christ is as great a marvel
as though rivers should seek their source, or midnight brighten into
day! It is matchless, superb–there is nothing like it– and they that
have once felt its transforming power laugh at infidelity. "What?" they
say, "no truth in the Cross? Let the man that has been a leper, the man
that has been lame or blind suddenly receive a cure and then tell him
that there is nothing in it. 'Pshaw!' he would say, 'there is nothing
in you, or you would not make the remark!'" And he goes his way and
that is all the answer that he deigns. Matters of actual experience may
be contradicted, but they cannot be disproved! Men may say what they
will, but we are still of the same opinion when once the Cross has
worked its marvels upon our souls.

Ah, Brothers and Sisters, think what power the Cross has had on other
men's minds to gird them to heroic deeds. I shall never forget when I
shook the hand of Livingstone. I count it one of the great honors of my
life to have known him and even men of the world will join in doing
homage to his name. It was the love of Christ that made him tread
pathless

Africa and die among the heathen! He was not the first by many a
thousand who counted it all joy to succumb to climate and to perish
among strangers for the Cross of Christ! Moffat still lives and what a
life! There was a John Williams, of whom you older men can remember,
who laid down his life at Erromanga for Christ's sake. These are but
the later ranks of a mighty host that counted life not dear to them for
Jesus' sake!

Look at the first centuries–how men marched to the rack to be
tortured, to the stake to be burned, to the amphitheatre to be devoured
of beasts for Christ's sake! The lifting up of the little finger of
Christ was enough to move hosts of men and women to court death and
defy the flames! The Roman empire, with all its legions and cruelties,
could not stand against the insignificant, unlettered, humble, but
earnest and intense followers of Jesus! The sufferings of Christ made
them strong to suffer! Later ages tell the same story. Our own land has
seen the heroes of the Cross enduring unto the end. Over there at yon
Smithfield, why, there were men and women there who early in the
morning, while yet the sun was scarcely up, were summoned forth to
stand at fiery stakes and burn–and they were seen to clap their hands,
when every finger was a candle–and cry, "None but Christ! None but
Christ!"

And the crowd that stood around them, who were they? There were cruel
men and brutal priests, but there were also men, women and children, of
whom it is written, in the humble Church records of the day, that they
went there to see their pastor burn to learn the way! Oh, that is grand
to learn the way to die when their turn came–for the idea of ever
yielding up to the papacy, or of giving up Christ because they must die
for Him or else deny Him never entered into their heads! Even boys and
girls learned at their mother's knee so much of Jesus' sufferings that
they became invincible! Yes, and we should be so, again, if it ever
came to the same pass, for the old name and the old love still linger
in the hearts of Christians today with all their faults and
infirmities! And, if it came to battle and to push of pike again, we
are as ready, by the good hand and Grace of God, as were our Puritan
forefathers–our Protestant ancestors–ready to seal the faith with our
blood! This is what the Cross of Christ can do! It can make men suffer
for His name sake.

Ah, but you may not be called to that, you say, "What is the use of the
Cross of Christ to us in everyday life?" Why, it is of this use–that
men who love the suffering Savior become patient in their everyday
sufferings! They say to themselves–

"His way was much rougher And darker than mine. Did Christ, my Lord,
suffer, And shall I repine?"

They learn to hate sin by seeing the agonies by which Redemption was
obtained. They learn to be upright by seeing with what a price they are
bought. They learn to be self-denying at the feet of the Crucified.
This is the good of the Cross to them and this is the way they learn
both to live and to die!

This black cloth which casts its somber hue around my platform is the
memorial of one dear soul, my Sister, who learned to love the Savior
while she was yet young and, in her early days, joined with this
Church. And in her death, when it was a pang to draw each breath, she
found her joy, her victory, in resting in the Divine Savior! She was a
soldier's daughter and was not ashamed to join with the despised people
of God! And in her long pains and agonizing death she found sustaining
power in the doctrine of the Cross and found victory in death.

Hold, then, Your Cross before my failing eyes, O Jesus! Let me see You
when I can see nothing else! At the sight of You I will leap the stream
of death! I will defy death, as Samson defied the lion. I will find
honey in the vanquished monster if You are there. It is not death to
die if the death of Christ is but the life of the soul! This is what
multitudes of men and women have had to do with Christ. They have not
passed Him by, but bowed at His feet and found life, light, joy,
perfection, Heaven!

III. And I close with this last appeal–what, dear Hearers–WHAT HAVE
YOU TO DO WITH HIM? "Is it nothing to you, all you that past by? Behold
and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow." Now, I do not
suppose that Jesus Christ means much to some that are here present, I
mean people that are getting on in the world. Everything is going very
easily with you. You are rising like a balloon! You are filled and
inflated with prosperity! You are getting as much money as you can
count. You are going on very well without a Savior. You have your
portion in this life. I should not wonder if you turn on your heel and
despise Him and say that you do not need a Savior. "We will meet
another day, young Sir, when all that wine is sour and that gold is
corroded and those pleasures, like the dew of the morning, shall have
disappeared beneath the burning sun of care."

But for a while, I doubt not, Jesus Christ will be nothing to you. It
is dreary talk and a weariness to hear about Him. But is there one here
heavy of heart? Are there not many here conscious of fault? Are you
wrong? Would you be right? Are you guilty? Would you be forgiven? Ah,
then, the Cross for you! Jesus is for you! Turn aside and look at Him!
Look till your eyes are full of tears. Look till you brush those tears
away and say, "I see it all. Jesus has suffered in my place. I am
forgiven! My Father has adopted me. I am His child. I am glad." Oh,
guilty ones, there is something in Christ for you, for He died, the
Just for the unjust, to bring us to God!

Perhaps there is another here who is not so much laboring under a sense
of fault as under a sense of aimlessness in life. Do you feel, "Well,
somehow, I have no purpose in life. I keep on like a blind horse round
a mill, but I do not go anywhere and, what is more, I do not know what
I am toiling for." To bring up my children? Well, perhaps that is done.
They are all settled in life and, you say, "I do not know what more is
to be done. I do not seem to have any objective worth striving after."
My Master's sorrows may enlist you. The Red-Cross Knight, when he bore
the cross upon his arm as he fought with the Saracen, (though he was
under a grave delusion, for Christ would not have us fight with deadly
weapons), yet felt strong because he thought that the name of Christ
was named upon him.

But if you become a true knight of the red Cross by living for the
glory of Christ, you will rise to a noble enthusiasm and find an aim in
life of which you will never tire! The love of the Crucified shall be a
wellspring of vigor to your own heart. It shall make you brave against
all odds and shall bring you great reward and sure victory. Oh, if I
had not an objective in life, today, I would wish to give myself to
Christ and then begin to tell to others His dear name that I might win
their hearts to the love of my sweet Lord! For, as it is, I know of no
man I would change with, so long as I have but opportunities of
spreading abroad the fame and name of Jesus Christ, my suffering Lord
and royal Master!

Perhaps you are anxious to benefit others. Oh, if you are, you need to
be doing something real and effective. The world is going to the bad.
There is a great deal of mischief abroad. You say, "I want to do good."
Friend, turn aside, look at Christ's sufferings and see whether you
have not, there, the fulcrum for your lever! To move rocks and
mountains, here, is an unrivalled force–not steam power or dynamite,
but something stronger–but an ounce of the Doctrine of the Cross would
blast all the walls of error and burst the dungeons of misery, if
rightly applied! Come to Christ and see if you have not there, by the
power of the Holy Spirit, an irresistible agent of good to all mankind.

"Oh," says one, "I do not believe in Him." What do you believe in? For
whatever you believe in, try to use it for the good of your fellow men.
I would like to see you sending city missionaries from street to street
to preach what you believe in. Come, be reasonable and do something
more than find fault! Some are so fond of pulling down. Would they try
a little building up? Come, then! You say that we Christians are doing
no good. Just try your own hand at it! Go to the dying! Go to the sick!
Take them bottles of your philosophy and comfort them with the elixir
of scientific doubt. Go ahead! If somebody says that the current system
of medicine is faulty, we reply–Very well, Sir. Have you found the
right medicine? "Yes." Then distribute it, train physicians and build
hospitals! Get to work at it. Why not?

Now, you that do not believe in God or Christ, send your own
missionaries abroad. Enlighten the heathen by telling them that there
is no God, no sin, no Hell, no Heaven, no soul, no anything! Go into
the center of Africa and win them from their bloody superstitions by
the doctrines of science. Go ahead! If you have a gospel, do not hide
it! What? You have no zeal in that direction. But why not? There is no
particular use in it, is there? Not worth spending your money on.
Miserable comforters! Wretched physicians that cannot heal!

But now, if you want to know whether there is power in the Cross, ask a
city missionary to let you go with him for a day. Pitch on the right
man and go and see for yourself. He will show you what the Doctrine of
the Cross can do in comforting, in sobering, in cheering, in elevating.
"I do not believe it," says one. No one said you did. I will, however,
venture to observe that, "The proof of the pudding is in the eating." A
good old English proverb, my dear Sir! Here is a ship filling with
water and you do not believe in pumps. Very well. I am going on
pumping! You are anxious to discuss. Discuss away, but meanwhile I
pump! Let every Christian man here make practical use of the Cross of
Christ and keep on at it! And if men will not even take the trouble to
enquire what are its results–their disbelief is irrational and
inexcus-able–and they must answer the consequences. Our skirts are
clear of their blood.

Dear Friend, what if it should turn out that you have such a connection
with the Cross that Christ redeemed you there–that Christ put your
sins away there? What if He so bought you there that He means to have
you? What if you are so His that He means to save you? What if, when He
died there, He bought eternal life for you and insured for you a place

in Heaven at the right hand of God to reign there with Himself? "Oh, if
I thought that," says one, "I would come to Him." Come to Him, then,
and it is true, for, "whoever believes in Him has everlasting life!"
Let me say that word over again. "He that believes in Him has
everlasting life." If he only believed a minute ago–if he only
believed a second ago–He has not only life but everlasting life! That
life, therefore, is a thing that can never die. You have Heaven as well
as all the blessings of earth if you believe in Jesus!

But if you say, "I will have nothing to do with Jesus," I would like
you to say so to yourself in a deliberate manner. If Christ is not
worth having, say that you will not have Him and say it most
distinctly. I feel hopeful when a man will come to a decision one way
or the other. The sort of people for whom I tremble are those who say,
"I hope it will be all right somehow." O, Sirs, do not hesitate another
hour, but answer me as in God's name I question you–will you have
Christ, tonight, or will you not? Say, "Yes," or, "No." I would ask you
to write down your decision when you get home. Is Christ's yours or
not? Sit down and say deliberately, "Yes, my Lord, in the merits of
Your death I put my trust." Or else write it if you mean it–"He is not
mine at all."

We have known some get comfort out of this act of decision. There was a
poor girl who had long been a Christian, but she was very sad at heart
through sickness. And when her minister came to see her, he said to
her, "Well, Susan, how is your hope?" She said, "Sir, I am afraid I am
not a Christian. I do not love the Lord Jesus Christ." He said, "Why, I
always thought you did. You acted as if you did." "No," she said, "I am
afraid I have deceived myself and that I do not love Him." The minister
wisely walked to the window and wrote on a piece of paper, "I do not
love the Lord Jesus Christ," and he said, "Susan, here is a pencil.
Just put your name to that." "No, Sir," she said, "I could not sign
that." "Why not?" "I would be torn to pieces before I would sign it,
Sir." "But why not sign it if it is true?" "Ah, Sir," she said, "I hope
it is not true. I think I do love Him."

Get to know where you are, Friend. If Baal is God, serve him! If God is
God, serve Him! If Christ is a Savior, have Him–if He is not a Savior,
do not pretend to serve Him! Decide one way or the other. God help you
to decide, tonight, as you will decide when the heavens are on fire,
when sun and moon have vanished from their spheres, when the solid
earth shall rock and reel and over all shall be heard the trumpet note,
"Come to judgment! Come to judgment! Come to judgment!" There sits the
Judge, the Crucified, whose sorrows surpassed all sorrows, but whose
Glory, then, shall surpass all glory as He shall divide the saints on
the right from the graceless on the left–and from His mouth shall come
the final sentence which shall settle the doom of Believers and
unbelievers.

God bless you, dear Friends, every one of you. Henceforth and forever
may you be the Lord's. Amen and amen!
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The Ark of the Covenant