Precious Deaths

Delivered on Lord's Day Morning, February 18th, 1872, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.''Psalm
116:15.

DAVID SOUGHT DELIVERANCE from imminent peril, and he felt sure of
obtaining it; for being a servant of the Lord he knew that his life was
too precious in the sight of God for it to be lightly brought to an
end. It should be a source of consolation to all tried saints that God
will not deliver them over to the hands of their enemies; it is not the
will of their Father who is in heaven that one of his little ones
should perish. A shepherd who did not care for his sheep might suffer
the wolf to devour it, but he who prizes it highly will put his own
life in jeopardy to pluck the defenseless one from between the
monster's jaws.

The text informs us that the deaths of God's saints are precious to
him. How different, then, is the estimate of human life which God forms
from that which has ruled the minds of great warriors and mighty
conquerors. Had Napoleon spoken forth his mind about the lives of men
in the day of battle, he would have likened them to so much water spilt
upon the ground. To win a victory, or subdue a province, it mattered
not though he strewed the ground with corpses thick as autumn leaves,
nor did it signify though in every village orphans and widows wailed
the loss of sires and husbands. What were the deaths of conscript
peasants when compared with the fame of the Emperor? So long as Austria
was humbled, or Russia invaded, little cared the imperial Corsican
though half the race had perished. Not thus is it with the King of
kings; he spares the poor and needy, and saves the souls of the needy,
and precious shall their blood be in his sight. Our glorious Leader
never squanders the lives of his soldiers; he values the church
militant beyond all price; and though he permits his saints to lay down
their lives for his sake, yet is not one life spent in vain, or
unnecessarily expended.

How different also is the Lord's estimate from that of persecutors!
They have hounded the saints to death, considering that they did God
service. They have thought no more of burning martyrs than destroying
noxious insects, and massacres of believers have been to them as the
slaying of wild beasts. Did they not strike a medal to celebrate the
massacre of the Huguenots in France? and did not the infallible Pope
himself consider it to be a business for which to offer Te Deums to
God? What if murder made the streets of Paris run with blood, the
slaughtered ones were only Protestants, and the world thought itself
well rid of them. Foxes and wolves, and Protestants were best
exterminated. As for so-called Anabaptists they were counted worse than
vipers, and to crush them utterly was reckoned to be salutary Christian
discipline. The enemies of the church of God have hunted the saints as
if they were beasts of the chase. They have let loose upon them the
dogs of war, and the hell-hounds of the Inquisition, as if they were
not fit to live. 'Away with such a fellow from the earth' has been the
general cry of persecutors against the men of whom the world was not
worthy. But, precious is their blood in his sight. Though they have
been cast to the beasts in the amphitheatre, or dragged to death by
wild horses, or murdered in dungeons, or slaughtered amongst the snows
of the Alps, or made to fatten Smithfield with their gore, precious has
their blood been, and still is it in his sight, who will avenge his own
elect when the day shall come for his patience to have had her perfect
work, and for his justice to begin her dread assize.

The text, also, corrects another estimate, namely, our own. We love the
people of God, they are exceedingly precious to us, and, therefore, we
are too apt to look upon their deaths as a very grievous loss. We would
never let them die at all if we could help it. If it were in our power
to confer immortality upon our beloved Christian brethren and sisters,
we should surely do it, and to their injury we should detain them here,
in this wilderness, depriving them of a speedy entrance into their
inheritance on the other side the river. It would be cruel to them, but
I fear we should often be guilty of it. We should hold them here a
little longer, and a little longer yet, finding it hard to relinquish
our grasp. The departures of the saints cause us many a pang. We fret,
alas! also, we even repine and murmur. We count that we are the poorer
because of the eternal enriching of those beloved ones who have gone
over to the majority, and entered into their rest. Be it known that
while we are sorrowing Christ is rejoicing. His prayer is, 'Father, I
will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am,' and
in the advent of every one of his own people to the skies he sees an
answer to that prayer, and is, therefore, glad. He beholds in every
perfected one another portion of the reward for the travail of his
soul, and he is satisfied in it. We are grieving here, but he is
rejoicing there. Dolorous are their deaths in our sight, but precious
are their deaths in his sight. We hang up the mournful escutcheon, and
sit us down to mourn our full, and yet, meanwhile, the bells of heaven
are ringing for 'the bridal feast above,' the streamers are floating
joyously in every heavenly street, and the celestial world keeps
holiday because another heir of heaven has entered upon his heritage.
May this correct our grief. Tears are permitted to us, but they must
glisten in the light of faith and hope. Jesus wept, but Jesus never
repined. We, too, may weep, but not as those who are without hope, nor
yet as though forgetful that there is greater cause for joy than for
sorrow in the departure of our brethren.

I. Coming now to the instructive text before us, we shall remark, in
the first place, that THE STATEMENT HERE MADE IMPLIES A VIEW OF DEATH
OF A PECULIAR KIND. 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of
his saints.'

Death in itself cannot be precious; it is terrible. It cannot be a
precious thing to God to see the noblest works of his hand torn in
pieces, his skillful embroidery in the human body rent, defiled, and
given over to decay. Death in itself cannot be a theme for rejoicing
with God. But death in the case of believers is another matter. To
them, it is not death to die; it is a departure out of this world unto
the Father, a being unclothed that we may be clothed upon, a falling
asleep, an entrance into the Kingdom. To the saint death is by no means
such a thing as happeneth unto the unregenerate.

And, observe wherein this change lies. It lies mainly in the fact that
death is no more the indiction of a penalty for sin upon the believer.
One great cardinal truth of the gospel is that the sins of believers
were laid upon Christ, and were punished upon Christ, and that,
consequently, no sin is imputed to the believer, neither can any be
penally visited upon him. His sin was punished in his substitute. The
righteous wrath of God has altogether ceased towards those for whom
Christ died. It could not be consistent with justice that the death
penalty should be executed upon Christ, and then should be again
visited upon those for whom Christ was a substitute. Death, then, does
not come to me as a believer because I deserve it and must be punished
by it: it comes so to the ungodly, it is upon them a fit visitation for
their iniquities, the beginning of an unending death, which shall be
their perpetual portion. To the saints the sting of death is gone, and
the victory of the grave is removed; it is no more a penalty but a
privilege to die. What if I say it is a covenant blessing: so Paul
esteemed it, for when he said 'All things are yours, things present or
things to come,' he added, 'or life, or death, all are yours; and ye
are Christ's; and Christ is God's:' as if the believer's death came to
him amongst other good and precious things by the way of his being
Christ's; and Christ's being God's. To fall asleep in Jesus is a
blessing of the covenant; it is a grace to be asked for, 'Lord, now
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word.' I
would not miss it; if I might make my choice between living till Christ
comes, so as to be changed only, and not to die, or of actually
sleeping in the dust, I would prefer to die, for in this the believer
who shall fall asleep will be the more closely conformed to Christ
Jesus. He will have passed into the sepulcher and slept in the tomb as
his master did; he will know, as Jesus knows, what death pangs mean,
and what it is to gaze upon the invisible, while the visible retreats
into the distance. Nay, let us die. The Head has traversed the valley
of death-shade, and let the members rejoice to follow.

'As the Lord their Savior rose,

So all his followers must.'

And, therefore, as the Lord the Savior slept, so let us sleep. When we
think of our Master in the tomb, our hearts say, 'Let us go that we may
die with him.' We would not be divided from him in life or in death. We
are so wedded to him that we say, 'Where thou goest I will go, where
thou diest I will die, and with thee would I be buried, that with thee
in the resurrection morning I may be partaker of the resurrection.'
Death, then, is so far changed in its aspect as it respects the saints,
that it is no longer a legal infliction, but it comes to us as a
covenant blessing conforming us to Christ.

The statement of the text refutes the gloomy thought that death is a
ceasing to be. It is not the annihilation of a man, nor ought it ever
to be regarded as such. In all ages there has fingered upon mankind the
fear that to die may involve ceasing to be; and of all thoughts this is
one of the most gloomy. But, when God says that the death of a believer
is precious to him, it is clear that no tinge of annihilation is in the
idea, for where would be the preciousness of a believer ceasing to
exist? Oh, no, the thought is gone from us. We know that to die is not
to renounce existence; we understand that death is but a passage into a
higher and a nobler existence. The soul emancipated from all sinfulness
passes the Jordan, and is presented without fault before the throne of
God. No purgatorial fires are needed to cleanse her; the self-same day
she leaves the body she is with Christ in paradise, because fit to be
there. The body in death, it is true, undergoes decay, but even for
that meaner part of our manhood there is no destruction. Let us not
malign the grave, it is no more a prison, but an inn, a halting place
upon the road to resurrection. As Esther bathed herself in spices that
she might be fit for the embraces of the king, so is the body purged
from its corruption that it may rise immortal.

'Corruption, earth, and worms

Shall but refine this flesh

Till my triumphant spirit comes

To put it on afresh.'

The body could not rise if it had not first died; it could not spring
up like a fair flower unless it had first been sown. If a grain of
wheat fall not into the ground and die, how springeth it up again? but
the body is sown in dishonor that it may be raised in glory; it is sown
in weakness that it may be raised in power; it is laid in the grave as
a natural body, that it may arise therefrom by the infinite power of
the almighty a spiritual body, full of life, and glory, and majesty.
Let this mortal body die, aye, let it moulder into dust! What more fit
than earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Let the gold go into
the fining pot, it will lose none of its preciousness, it will only be
delivered from its dross. Let the gem go to the lapidary's house, for
it shall glitter the more brightly in the royal crown, in the day when
the Lord shall make up his jewels.

Death, too, we may be sure from this statement cannot be any serious
detriment to the believer after all; it cannot be any serious loss to a
saint to die. Looking upon the poor corpse, it does seem to be a
catastrophe for death to have passed his cold hand across the brow, but
it is not so, for the very death is precious; therefore, it is no
calamity. Death if rightly viewed is a blessing from the Lord's hand. A
child once found a bird's nest in which were eggs, which it looked upon
as a great treasure. It left them, and by-and-by, when a week or so had
passed, went back again. It returned to its mother grieving: 'Mother,'
said the child, 'I had some beautiful eggs in this nest, and now they
are destroyed; nothing is left but a few pieces of broken shell. Pity
me, mother, for my treasure is gone.' But the mother said, 'Child, here
is no destruction; there were little birds within those eggs, and they
have flown away, and are singing now among the branches of the trees;
the eggs are not wasted, child, but have answered their purpose. It is
better far as it is.' So, when we look at our departed ones, we are apt
to say, 'And is this all thou hast left us? Ruthless spoiler, are these
ashes all?' But, faith whispers 'No, the shell is broken, but amongst
the birds of paradise, singing amid unwithering bowers, you shall find
the spirits of your beloved ones; their true manhood is not here, but
has ascended to its Father, God.' It is not a loss to die, it is a
gain, a lasting, a perpetual, an illimitable gain. The man is at one
moment weak, and cannot stir a finger; in an instant he is clothed with
power. Call ye not this a gain? That brow is aching; it shall wear a
crown within the next few tickings of the clock. Is that no gain? That
hand is palsied; it shall at once wave the palm branch. Is that a loss?
The man is sick beyond physician's power; but he shall be where the
inhabitant is never sick. Is that a loss? When Baxter lay a dying, and
his friends came to see him, almost the last word he said was in answer
to the question, 'Dear Mr. Baxter, how are you?' 'Almost well,' said
he, and so it is. Death cures; it is the best medicine, for they who
die are not only almost well, but healed for ever. You will see, then,
that the statement of our text implies that the aspect of death is
altogether altered from that appearance in which men commonly behold
it. Death to the saints is not a penalty, it is not destruction, it is
not even a loss.

II. But now, secondly, I want your earnest thought to a further
consideration of the text. THE STATEMENT HERE MADE IS OF A MOST
UNLIMITED KIND.

'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.' It is a
broad statement, wide and comprehensive, and I want you to observe that
there is no limit here as to whom. Provided that the dying one be a
saint, his death is precious. He may be the greatest in the church, he
may be the least: he may be the boldest confessor, he may be the most
timid trembler; but if a saint, his death is precious in God's sight. I
can well conceive the truth of this in respect to martyrs; to see a man
enduring torments, but refusing to deny his Lord; to behold him offered
life and wealth if he will recant, but to hear him say, 'I cannot and I
will not draw back by the help of God:' to mark every nerve throbbing
with anguish, and every single member of his body torn with torment,
and yet to see the man faithful to his God even to the close,'why, this
is a spectacle which God himself might well count precious. The church
embalms the memories of her martyrs wherever they die'precious in God's
sight must their deaths be. The deaths too of those who work for
Christ, until at last weary nature gives out, when body and brain are
both exhausted, and the man can no longer continue in his beloved
labor, but lays down his body and his charge together, never putting
off harness until he puts off his flesh'methinks the deaths of such men
must be precious in God's sight. But, not more so, mark that not more
so than the departure of the patient sufferer, scarcely able to say a
word, solitary and unknown, only able to serve God by submissively
enduring pains which make night weary and day intolerable. Precious in
the sight of the Lord is the death of the consumptive girl who
gradually melts into heaven; the death of the pauper in the workhouse,
without a friend, but uncomplainingly bearing God's will, is as
precious (not perhaps under some aspects), but as truly precious in the
sight of the Lord as that of the most useful preacher of the word.
Precious to Jehovah is the death of the least in the ranks, as the
death of those who rush to the front and bear the brunt of the battle
well. There are no distinctions in the text; if you be a saint no one
may know you, you may be too poor and too illiterate to be of much
account in the world, you may die and pass away, and no record may be
among the sons of men, no stone set up over your lonely grave, but
precious in the sight of the Lord in every case is the death of his
saints. There is no limit as to whom.

And, mark you, there is no limit at all as to when. It matters not at
what age the saint dies, his death is precious to God. Very delightful
to those who observe them are the deathbed scenes of young children who
have early been converted to God. There is a peculiar charm about the
pious prattler's departing utterances. He can hardly pronounce his
words aright, but he seems illuminated from above, and to talk of Jesus
and his angels, and the harps of gold, and the better land, as if he
had been there. Some of you have had the privilege to carry in your
bosoms some of those nurselings for the skies, unfledged angels sent
here but for a little while, and then caught away to heaven, that their
mothers' hearts might follow them, and their fathers' aspirations might
pursue them. I confess to a great liking for such books as 'Janeway's
Token for Children,' where the deaths of many pious boys and girls are
recorded with the holy sayings which they used. The Lord sets a high
value on his little ones, and, therefore, frequently gathers them while
they are like flowers in the bud. When these favored children die,
Jesus stands at their little cots, and, while he calls them away, he
whispers, 'Of such is the kingdom of heaven.' Equally precious,
however, are the deaths of those who depart in middle life. These we
usually regret most of all, because of the terrible blanks which they
leave behind them. What, shall the hero fall when the battle wants him
most? Shall the reaper be sent home and made to lay down his sickle
just when the harvest is heaviest, and the day requires every worker?
To us it seemeth strange, but to God it is precious. Oh, could we lift
the veil, could we understand what now we see not, we should perceive
that it was better for the saints to die when they died, than it would
have been for them to have lived longer lives. Though the widow mourns,
and the orphans are left penniless, it was good that the father fell
asleep. Though a loving church gathered round the hearse and mourned
that their minister had been taken away in the fullness of his vigor,
it was best that God should take him to himself. Let us be persuaded of
this, that no believer dies an untimely death. In every consistent
Christian's case that promise is true, 'With long life also will I
satisfy him, and show him my salvation;' for long life is not to be
reckoned by years as men count them. He lives longest who lives best.
Many a man has crowded half a century into a single year. God gives his
people life, not as the clock ticks, but as he helps them to serve him;
and he can make them to live much in a short space of time. There are
no untimely figs gathered into God's basket; the great Master of the
vineyard plucks the grapes when they are ripe and ready to be taken,
and not before. Saintly deaths are precious in his sight.

And, dear brethren, if the Lord's providence permits the saint to live
to a good old age, then is his death precious too. The decease which
has lately occurred among us will abide in my memory as one of my
choice treasures. I say but little of it to-day, for on another Sabbath
morning I may be able to tell you some of those choice things which our
dear brother and venerated elder uttered which charmed and gladdened us
all as we lingered about his bed. You knew him; you knew what a man he
was in life; he was just such a man in death. But a day or so before he
died, while he could scarcely draw his breath, he told me with a smile
that it was the happiest day of his life. As he was always wont to
rejoice in God while he was here among us, so he was kept in the same
blessed spirit even to the end. 'See,' said he, 'what a blessed thing
it is to be here.' 'Here!' I said. 'What, on a dying bed?' 'Yes,' said
he, 'for I am Christ's, and Christ is mine; I am in him, and He is in
me; what more would I have? It is the happiest day of my life,' and
again he smiled serenely. It was all joy with him, all bliss with him.
Pain might rack him, or weakness might prostrate him, but ever did his
spirit magnify the Lord, and rejoice in God his Savior. Yes, these ripe
ones, like the fruits of autumn, fall willingly from off the tree of
life when but a gentle breeze stirs the branches. The deaths of these
are precious unto God. There is no limitation as to when.

And, again, there is no limitation as to where. Precious shall their
deaths be in his sight, let them happen where they may. Up in the
lonely garret where there are none of the appliances of comfort, but
all the marks of the deepest penury, up there where the dying workgirl
or the crossing sweeper dies'there is a sight most precious unto God;
or yonder, in the long corridor of the hospital, where many are too
engrossed in their own griefs to be able to shed a tear of sympathy,
there passes away a triumphant spirit, and precious is that death in
God's sight. Alone, utterly alone in the dead of night, surprised,
unable to call in a helper, saintly life often has passed away; but in
that form also precious is the death in God's sight. Far away from home
and kindred, wandering in the backwoods or on the prairie, the believer
has died where there was none to call him brother; but it mattered not,
his death was precious in the sight of the Lord. Or, a bullet has
brought the missive from the throne which said, 'Return and be with
God,' and falling in the ditch to die amongst the wounded and the dead,
with no onlooker but the silent stars and blushing moon, amidst the
carnage the death of the believing soldier has been precious in the
sight of Jehovah. Ah, and run over in the street, or crushed, and
bruised, and mangled in the railway accident, or stifled in the pit by
the coal damp, or sinking amidst the gurgling waters of the ocean, or
falling beneath the assassin's knife, precious in the sight of the Lord
is the death of his saints. They are everywhere in the sight of God
when they die, and he looks upon them with a smile, for their death is
precious to his heart.

There is no limit as to where, and, dear brethren, there is no limit as
to how. 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.'
Their deaths may happen suddenly; they may be alive, and active, and in
a moment fall down dead, but their death is precious. I could never
understand that prayer which is put into the prayer-book, that God
would deliver us from sudden death. Why, methinks, it is the most
desirable death that a person could die, not to know you die at all, to
have no fears, no shiverings on the brink, but to be busy in your
Master's service here, and suddenly to stand in the white robe before
his throne in heaven, shutting the eye to the scenes below, and opening
it the scenes above. I know, if I might ask such a favor, I would covet
to die as a dear brother in Christ died, who gave out this hymn from
his pulpit:'

'Father, I long, I faint to see

The place of thine abode

I'd leave thine earthly courts, and flee

Up to thy seat, my God.'

Just as he finished that line in the pulpit he bowed his head, and his
prayer was answered, he was immediately before the throne of God. Is
there anything in that to pray against? It seems to us much to be
desired; but at any rate, such a death as that is precious in God's
sight. But if we linger long, if the tabernacle be taken down piece by
piece, and the curtains be slowly folded up, and the tent pins gently
put away, precious in the sight of the Lord is such a death as that.
Should we die by fierce disease, which shakes the strong man, or by
gentle decline, which slowly saps and undermines, it matters not.
Should a sudden stroke take us, and men call it a judgment, it is no
judgment to the believer, for from him all judgments are past, and the
true light of love shineth on him. Die how he may, and where he may,
and when he may, and let him be in what position he will when he dies,
'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.'

III. And now, thirdly, coming to the very soul and marrow of the text,
we notice that THE STATEMENT OF THE TEXT MAY BE FULLY SUSTAINED AND
ACCOUNTED FOR, 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his
saints,' is a most sober and truthful declaration.

First, because their persons were, and always will be, precious unto
God. His saints! Why, these are his elect; these are they upon whom his
love was set before the mountains lifted their heads into the clouds;
these are they whom he bought with precious blood, cheerfully laying
down his life for their sakes; these are they whose names are borne on
Jesus' breast, and engraved upon the palms of his hands; these are his
children; these are members of his body; these are his bride, his
spouse; he is married unto them: therefore, everything that concerns
them must be precious. Do I not look with interest upon the history of
my child? Do I not carefully observe everything that happens to my
beloved spouse? Where there is love the little becometh great, and what
would seem a matter of no concern in a stranger is gilded with great
importance. The Lord loves his people so intensely that the very hairs
of their heads are numbered: his angels bear them up in their hands
lest they dash their foot against a stone, and because they are the
precious sons of Zion, comparable unto fine gold, therefore their
deaths are precious unto the Lord.

Precious are the deaths of God's saints next, because precious graces
are in death very frequently tested, and as frequently revealed and
perfected. How could I know faith to be true faith if it would not
stand a trial? The precious faith of God's elect is proved to be such
when it can bear the last ordeal of all; when the man can look grim
death in the face, and yet not be staggered through unbelief, when he
can gaze across the gulf, so often veiled in cloud, and yet not fear
that he shall be able to overleap it, and land in the Savior's arms.
Believe me, the faith which only plays with earthly joys, and cannot
endure the common trials of life, will soon be dissipated by the solemn
trial of death; but that which a man can die with, that is faith
indeed. Faith, moreover, brings with it, as its companions, an
innumerable company of graces, amongst which chiefly are hope and love.
Blessed is the man who can hope in God when heart and flesh are failing
him, and can love the Lord even though he smite him with many pains,
yea, even though he slay him. The death of the body is a crucible for
our graces, and much that we thought to be true grace disappears in the
furnace heat; but God counts the trial of our faith much more precious
than that of gold, and therefore he counts deathbeds precious in his
sight. Besides, how many graces are revealed in dying hours. I have
known plants of God's right hand planting that had always been in the
shade before, and yet they have enjoyed sunlight at last; silent
spirits that have laid their finger on their lips throughout their
lives but have taken them down, and have declared their love to Jesus
just when they were departing. Like the swan, of whom the fable hath
it, that it singeth never till it comes to its end, so many a child of
God has begun to sing in his last hours; because he has done with the
glooms of earth, he begins to sing here his swan song, intending to
sing on for ever and ever. You cannot tell what is in a man to the
fullness of him till he is tried to the full, and therefore the last
trial, inasmuch as it strippeth off earth-born imperfections and
developes in us that which is of God, and brings to the front the real
and the true, and throws to the back the superficial and the
pretentious, is precious in God's sight.

'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints,' for a
third reason, because precious attributes are in dying moments
gloriously illustrated. I refer now to the divine attributes. In life
and in death we prove the attribute of God's righteousness, we find
that he does not lie but is faithful to his word. We learn the
attribute of mercy, he is gentle and pitiful to us in the time of our
weakness. We prove the attribute of his immutability, we find him 'the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' There is scarcely a single
characteristic of the divine being which is not set out delightfully to
the child of God and onlookers when the saint is departing. And the
same is true of the promises as well as the attributes. Precious
promises are illustrated upon dying beds. 'I will never leave thee nor
forsake thee.' Who would have known the meaning of that to the full, if
he had not found that the Lord did not leave him when all else was
gone? 'When thou passeth through the river I will be with thee.' Who
could have known the depth of truth in that word, if saints did not
pass through the last cold stream. 'As thy days so shall thy strength
be.' Who could have known to the full that word, if he had not seen the
believer triumphant on his dying day? 'Yea, though I pass through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with
me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me.' You may read commentaries upon
that psalm, but you will never value it so well as when you are in the
valley yourself. My dear departed friend said to me, ere I came away on
one of my last visits, 'Read me a psalm, dear pastor,' and I said,
'which one?' 'There are many precious ones,' said he, 'but as I get
nearer to the time of my departure, I love the 23rd best, let us have
that again.' 'Why,' I said, 'you know that by heart.' 'Yes,' said he,
'it is in my heart too, it is most true and precious to me.' And is it
not so? Yet you had not seen the 23rd Psalm to be a diamond of the
purest water, if you had not beheld its value to saints in their
departing moments.

'Precious,' again, 'in the sight of the Lord is the death of his
saints,' because the precious blood is glorified. It is memorable how
saints turn to the cross when they die. Not very often do you hear them
speak of Christ in his glory then, it is of Christ the sufferer, Christ
the substitute that they then speak. And how they delight to roll under
their tongue as a sweet morsel, such texts as that one, 'The blood of
Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin.' With what delight do
they speak about having trusted in him years ago, and how gladly will
they tell you that they have not been confounded. All their hope and
all their confidence lie in the crucified one alone, and they are
persuaded that he is able to keep that which they have committed to
him. It ought to be the object of our lives to magnify the blood of
Jesus, and to speak well of it, and to recommend it to others. But oh,
dear soul, if thou hast no faith in Christ's blood, one argument that
ought to convince thee of the sin of unbelief above all others, is
this,'that blood has afforded comfort when pains have been bitter, and
consolation when death has been imminent, not in one case or a
thousand, but in countless cases. Saints by myriads have died singing,
for they have overcome the last enemy by the blood of the Lamb. Oh, you
that were never washed in Jesus' blood, I dread to think of your dying.
What will you do without the Savior? Oh, how will you pass the terrors
of that tremendous hour, with no advocate on high pleading for you
there, and no blood of Christ upon you pleading for you here. Oh, fly
to that cross, rest in that cross, then will you live well and die
well; but, without the blood, you shall live uneasily and die
wretchedly. God prevent it, for his name's sake!

Again, the deaths of believers are precious to God, because oftentimes
precious utterances are given forth in the last moments. There are
little volumes extant of the death bed sayings of saints, and if ever I
have mistaken the utterances of man for inspiration, it has been when I
have read some of these dying speeches. No one ever mistook the
brilliant utterances of Shakespeare, or the wise sayings of Bacon, or
the profound thoughts of Socrates, for Scripture'everyone could see
that they were earthy and of the earth; but have you never caught
yourself imagining that the saying of a dying man must have been
borrowed from the Scriptures, and if you have searched for it you have
not found it in Cruden, nor have you discovered it anywhere in the
sacred page; the voice has been so near akin to inspiration, and so
true, that if it had been permitted, you would have written it in your
Bibles, and made a new chapter there. Oh, what brave things do they
tell of the heavenly world! What glorious speeches do they make! To
some of them the veil has been thrown back, and they have spoken of
things not seen as yet. They have almost declared things which it were
not lawful for men to utter, and, therefore, their speech has been
broken, and mysterious, like dark sayings upon a harp. We could hardly
make out all they said, but we gathered that they were overwhelmed with
glory, that they were confounded with unutterable bliss, that they had
seen and fain would tell but must not, they had heard and fain would
repeat but could not. 'Did you not see the glory?' they have said, and
you have replied, 'The sun shines upon you through yonder window;' they
have shaken their heads, for they have seen a brightness not begotten
of the sun. Then have they cried, 'Do you not hear it?' and we should
have supposed that a sound in the street attracted them, but all was
the stillness of night; silent all, except to their ear, which was
ravished with the voice of harpers, harping with their harps. I shall
never forget hearing a brother, with whom I had often walked to preach
the gospel, say,'

'And when ye hear my eyestrings break,

How sweet my minutes roll;

A mortal paleness on my cheek,

But glory in my soul.'

It must have been a grand thing to hear good Harrington Evans say to
his deacons, 'Tell my people, tell them I am accepted in the Beloved;'
or, to hear John Rees say, 'Christ in the glory of his person, Christ
in the love of his heart, Christ in the power of his arm, this is the
rock I stand on, and now death strike.' Departing saints have uttered
brave things and rare things, which have made us wish that we had been
going away with them, so have they made us long to see what they have
seen, and to sit down and feast at their banquet.

The last reason I shall give why the death of a saint is precious is
this'because it is a precious sheep folded, a precious sheaf harvested,
precious vessel which had been long at sea brought into harbour, a
precious child which had been long at school to finish his training
brought home to dwell in the Father's house for ever. God the Father
sees the fruit of his eternal love at last ingathered: Jesus sees the
purchase of his passion at last secured: the Holy Spirit sees the
object of his continual workmanship at last perfected: Father, Son, and
Holy Spirit rejoice that now the bloodbought ones are free from all
inbred sin, and delivered from all temptation. The battle's fought, the
battle's fought, and the victory is won for ever.

The commander's eagle eye, as he surveys the plain, watches joyously
the shock of battle as he sees that his victory is sure; but when at
the last the fight culminates in one last assault, when the brave
guards advance for the last attack, when the enemy gathers up all the
shattered relics of his strength to make a last defense, when the army
marches with sure and steady tramp to the last onslaught, then feels
the warrior's heart a stern o'erflowing joy, and as his veterans sweep
their foes before them like chaff before the winnower's fan, and the
adversaries melt away, even as the altar fat consumes away in smoke, I
see the commander exulting with beaming eye, and hear him rejoicing in
that last shock of battle, for in another moment there shall be the
shout of victory, and the campaign shall be over, and the adversary
shall be trampled for ever beneath his feet. King Jesus looks upon the
death of his saints as the last struggle of their life-conflict; and
when that is over, it shall be said on earth, and sung in heaven, 'Thy
warfare is accomplished, thy sin is pardoned, thou hast received of the
Lord's hand double for all thy sins.'

'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.' Sirs,
are you his saints? Preacher, thou speakest to others, hast thou been
sanctified unto God? Answer this in the silence of thy soul. Officers
of this church, are you saints or mere professors? Members of this
church, are you truly saints, or are you hypocrites? You who sit in
this congregation Sabbath after Sabbath, have you been washed in the
blood of Jesus? are you made saints, or are you still in the gall of
bitterness and the bonds of iniquity? Casual visitors to this house of
prayer, the same question would I press on you, are you saints of God?
If not, earth and hell combined, though they are both full of anguish,
could not utter a shriek that should be shrill enough to set forth the
woe unutterable of the death that shall surely come upon you. Oh I ere
that death overtakes you, fly to Jesus. Trust Him, trust Him now! Ere
this day's sun goes down cast yourself at the feet of the crucified
Redeemer, and live! The Lord grant it, for his name's sake. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON'Psalm 116; Revelation 7:9-17.

* Rev. W. Dransfield, a beloved elder of the church at the Tablernacle,
died February 15th, full of years.
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The Poor Man's Friend

A Sermon