The Snare of the Fowler

The Snare of the Fowler

A Sermon

(No. 124)

Delivered on Sabbath Morning, March 29, 1857, by the

REV. C.H. SPURGEON

at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.

"Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler."–Psalm
91:3.

If Moses wrote this Psalm he might represent the fowler as being in his
case the king of Egypt, who sought to slay him, or the Amalekites, who
pounced upon Israel in the plain, when they little expected it. If
David penned it, he might have compared Saul to the fowler, for he
himself says, he was hunted like a partridge upon the mountains. But we
believe, if the verse be applicable to either of those cases, it was
intended by the Psalmist not to have a private interpretation, but to
be applicable to all time; and we believe it is spoken concerning that
arch-enemy of souls, the great deceiver, Satan, of whom we just now
sang,

"Satan, the fowler, who betrays

Unguarded souls a thousand ways."

"The prince of the power of this world, the spirit which still worketh
in the children of disobedience," is like a fowler, always attempting
to destroy us. It was once said by a talented writer, that the old
devil was dead, and that there was a new devil now; by which he meant
to say, that the devil of old times was a rather different devil from
the deceiver of these times. We believe that it is the same evil
spirit; but there is a difference in his mode of attack. The devil of
five hundred years ago was a black and grimy thing well portrayed in
our old pictures of that evil spirit. He was a persecutor, who cast men
into the furnace, and put them to death for serving Christ. The devil
of this day is a well-spoken gentleman: he does not persecute–he
rather attempts to persuade and to beguile. He is not now so much the
furious Romanist, so much as the insinuating unbeliever, attempting to
overturn our religion, while at the same time he pretends he would make
it more rational, and so more triumphant. He would only link
worldliness with religion; and so he would really make religion void,
under the cover of developing the great power of the gospel, and
bringing out secrets which our forefathers had never discovered. Satan
is always a fowler. Whatever his tactics may be, his object is still
the same–to catch men in his net. Men are here compared to silly, weak
birds, that have not skill enough to avoid the snare, and have not
strength enough to escape from it. Satan is the fowler; he has been so
and is so still; and if he does not now attack us as the roaring lion,
roaring against us in persecution, he attacks us as the adder, creeping
silently along the path, endeavoring to bite our heel with his poisoned
fangs, and weaken the power of grace and ruin the life of godliness
within us. Our text is a very comforting one to all believers, when
they are beset by temptation. "Surely he shall deliver them from the
snare of the fowler."

First, a few words concerning the snare of the fowler; secondly, the
deliverance; and, thirdly, the certainty of it; dwelling upon that word
surely, for it seems to be the diamond wherewith this precious golden
promise is embellished. "Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of
the fowler."

I. First, then, THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. It is an illustration too
suggestive for me thoroughly to unravel. I must leave it for your
meditations at home to enumerate the divers ways in which a fowler
attempts to take his birds, and then you will have suggested to you the
divers means which the evil spirit employs for the destruction of
souls. Allow me, however, just to begin, and pass over two or three
points connected with the fowler and with the evil one.

1. First, the fowler's snare is intimately connected with secrecy.
"Surely in vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird." Therefore
the fowler carefully covers up his trap; or, if the trap itself be
uncovered he doth well beguile the bird, so that it is utterly ignorant
of his intention to take it in the trap, little thinking that the food
laid there for its banqueting is really placed there for its enticement
and destruction. The fowler, when he goes after his birds, is very
careful lest they should discover him. We hear, for instance, that in
the taking of wild ducks, in Lincolnshire, a man will hold before his
mouth a piece of turf, in order that the smell of his breath may not be
perceived by the birds, who are exceedingly wary. The temptations of
the world are of this secret sort to a Christian, though not to the
wicked man, for the wicked man sins with his eyes wide open; dashing
into the net knowing it is a net, laying hold of iniquity with both his
hands, even when destruction stareth him in the face. He will commit a
sin that he knows is condemned even by the law of the land; he will
rush into a crime, concerning the guilt of which no doubt can be
entertained. Not so the Christian: he is taken by secrecy. "Ah!" says
one, "if I thought such-and-such a thing were really wrong; if I were
perfectly convinced of its wrongfulness, I would give it up." It is
just there the difficulty lies. So would the bird say: "If I thought
that really were a trap, I would not enter it; if I were perfectly
persuaded that net would entangle me, I would not fly to such-and-such
a spot; I would not approach there at all, it I were sure it would be
my destruction." How many a professor there is who asks the question,
"May I go to this place? May I go to that place?" and some of us answer
"No," and we are called Puritans for it; but let those who have
attempted to keep their godliness intact, while they pursued the
pleasures of this world, stand up and make the mournful confession,
that the healthiness of the two things can never exist together. We
must either serve God wholly, or serve the evil one wholly. "If God be
God, serve him; If Baal be God, serve him." One, or else the other.
Many a man has been entrapped into sin by Satan; not knowing that it
was evil! Some one has hinted to him in business, for instance–"You
may very safely do such-and-such a thing; all the shopkeepers in the
street have done it; it is not actually dishonest; it improves the
article, it really does; and although you can thus sell an article at a
dearer rate than you ought to sell it, yet you need not tell the
public; and if the article is all the better for it, it is quite fair
and safe that you should adulterate it." And so the good easy man, not
opening both his eyes, I think, but shutting one of them a little, lest
he should see too well to be able to fill his pockets in the dark, is a
little taken aside; and by-and-by he is led to discover that the act
which he has done is the taking of him in the snare of the fowler, for
he has been sinning against his God, and his God therefore punishes him
for it with many stripes, and lays his rod upon him. I do not think
that a Christian is so often betrayed into a sin that is palpable and
known, as he is into a sin that is secret. If the devil comes to my
door with his horns visible, I will never let him in; but if he comes
with his hat on as a respectable gentleman, he is at once admitted. The
metaphor may be very quaint, but it is quite true. Many a man has taken
in an evil thing, because it has been varnished and glossed over, and
not apparently an evil; and he has thought in his heart, there is not
much harm in it; so he has let in the little thing, and it has been
like the breaking forth of water–the first drop has brought after it a
torrent. The beginning has been but the beginning of a fearful end.
Take care, Christian, of things that are secret; take care of the
common doings of the world, which are well enough for them, perhaps. We
would not deny them their pleasures, for they have no others; but they
are not good for you, for you have a finer life–a life of a finer
texture and order than can exist in the haunts of ungodly persons.
Remember, you are not to be a judge for others. Some men, especially
those who are unconverted, can, without being led into sin, indulge in
many gayeties and merriments; but the Christian is like the Englishman,
who can not hope to survive long where the jungle fever reigns. The
native can live there, but he can not. And so you who are twice-born
men will find your piety ruined, by that which, to a worldly man, does
not lead him into greater evil than that which he would naturally
commit. You are to have a stricter rule on yourselves than others, and
are to be more stern in your piety than the world would have you be;
for sin is usually hidden, and the snare is not often made apparent.
"Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler."

2. In the second place, the snare of the fowler is generally noted for
its adaptation. You do not find a fowler setting the same snare for one
bird as for another; he knows his bird and he adapts his bait to it. He
would be an unwise fowler who should go to work with the same machinery
to catch the lark that flies on high as the duck that swims along the
stream. The fowler is wiser than that: he adapts his snare to the
condition of the bird which he desires to take. Satan the fowler does
just the same. There is one man here; he tempts him to drunkenness.
Perhaps that would naturally be his sin, if left without grace in his
heart; and Satan, knowing it to be his weak point, attempts to overcome
him by surfeiting, gluttony, and drunkenness. Another man is utterly
impervious to any temptation to that bestial habit; but, it may be, he
is easily taken in another snare–the snare of lust; therefore Satan
adapts his temptation to the hot blood of the man who naturally would
be inclined to live a life of sin. Another one perhaps eschews every
lascivious and sensual habit; then Satan comes to him, and adapts his
temptation to the shape of pride. The man is naturally a melancholy
man, full of solitude; Satan gets him, if he can, to wrap himself up in
a solitary dignity, to say, "I am holy." "Lord, I thank thee, I am not
as other men are." Or if a man is not naturally inclined to a very high
degree of pride, Satan takes him with sloth. The man likes an easy
life; Satan therefore adapts his bait to him by letting him sit still,
fold his arms, and so perish by slothfulness: and mark this, he who
sitteth still in the frost, when the snow is on the ground, in the
depths of the wild regions of the frozen zone, must as surely perish by
his idleness as if he drove a dagger to his heart. Satan knows that,
and so adapts his bait accordingly. O! how often it happens, beloved,
that you and I condemn a thing in another person which we allow in
ourselves, perhaps without knowing it. We say of such a one, How proud
he is! Well, our pride is not exactly of that shape; we have got
another shaped pride, but the same article; labeled differently, but
the same thing. Satan adapts the pride to each particular case. We are
rich: he does not perhaps tempt us to the pride of riches, but he
tempts us to the pride of mastership, and makes us harsh masters to our
servants. Or if he does not tempt us to that pride, he perhaps enchants
us with the pride of generosity, and we are apt to boast of our
kindness and of what we have given away. He will always adapt his trap
to his man, and his bait to his bird. He will not tempt you all with
the same temptation he would tempt me with; nor me with the temptation
with which he would naturally assail another. "The snare of the
fowler." A cunning enemy we have to deal with; he knows our weak
points; he has been dealing with men for these last six thousand years;
he knows all about them. He is possessed of a gigantic intellect;
though he be a fallen spirit and he is easily able to discover where
our sore places are, and there it is he immediately attacks us. If we
be like Achilles, and can not be wounded anywhere but in our heel, then
at the heel he will send his dart, and nowhere else. He will find out
our easily besetting sin, and there, if he can, he will attempt to work
our ruin and our destruction. Let us bless God that it is written,
"Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler."

3. In the next place, the fowler's snare is frequently connected with
pleasure, profit, and advantage. In the bird's case it is for the seed
scattered on the ground that he flies to the snare. It is some tempting
bait which allures him to his death. And usually Satan; the fowler,
uses a temptation wherewith to beguile us. "O!" says one, "I can not
give up such-and-such a thing, it is so pleasant. Sir, you never knew
the charms of such-and-such a pursuit, otherwise you could never advise
me to relinquish it." Yes, my friend, but it is just the sweetness of
it to you that makes it the more dangerous. Satan never sells his
poisons naked; he always gilds them before he vends them. He knows very
well that men will buy them and swallow them, if he does but gild them
beforehand. Take care of pleasures; mind what you are at when you are
at them. Many of them are innocent and healthful, but many of them are
destructive. It is said that where the most beautiful cacti grow, there
the most venomous serpents are to be found at the root of every plant.
And it is so with sin. Your fairest pleasures will harbor your grossest
sins. Take care; take care of your pleasures. Cleopatra's asp was
introduced in a basket of flowers; so are our sins often brought to us
in the flowers of our pleasures. Satan offers to the drunkard the
sweetness of the intoxicating cup, which rejoices him, when his brain
is rioting in frolic, and when his soul is lifted up within him. He
offers to the lustful man the scenes and pleasures of carnal mirth, and
merriment, and delight, and so he leadeth him astray with the bait,
concealing the hook which afterwards shall pain him. He gives to you
and to me, each of us, the offer of our peculiar joy; he tickleth us
with pleasures, that he may lay hold upon us, and so have us in his
power. I would have every Christian be especially on his guard against
the very thing that is most pleasing to his human nature. I would not
have him avoid every thing that pleases him, but I would have him be on
his guard against it. Just like Job, when his sons had been feasting in
their houses. He did not forbid them doing it, but he said, "I will
offer a sacrifice, lest my sons should have sinned in their hearts, and
should have cursed God foolishly." He was more careful over them at the
time of their feasting than at any other season. Let us be the same.
Let us remember that the snare of the fowler is generally connected
with some pretended pleasure or profit, but that Satan's end is not our
pleasing, but our destruction.

4. In the next place, sometimes the fowler very wisely employs the
force of example. We all know the influence of the decoy-duck, in
endeavoring to bring others into the snare. How very often Satan, the
fowler, employs a decoy to lead God's people into sin! You get with a
man; you think him to be a true Christian; you have some respect for
his character; he is a high professor, can talk religion by the yard,
and can give you any quantity of theology you like to ask for. You see
him commit a sin; ten to one but you will do the same, if you have much
respect for him; and so he will lead you on. And mark, Satan is very
careful in the men whom he chooses to be decoys. He never employs a
wicked man to be a decoy for a good man. It is very seldom, when Satan
would decoy a Christian into a snare, that he makes use of an open
reprobate. No; he makes use of a man who is pretendedly religious, and
who looks to be of the same quality as yourself, and therefore entices
you astray. Let a bad man meet me in the street, and ask me to commit
sin! The devil knows better than to set him at any such work as that,
because he knows I should pass by directly. If he wants his errand well
done, he sends one to me whom I call brother; and so through the
brotherhood of profession I am apt to give him credence and pay him
respect; and then if he goeth astray, the force of example is very
powerful, and so I may easily be led into the net too. Take care of
your best friends; be careful of your companions. Choose the best you
can; then follow them no further than they follow Christ. Let your
course be entirely independent of every one else. Say with Joshua, let
others do what they will, "As for me and my house we will serve the
Lord."

5. Note, once more, that sometimes the fowler, when he faileth to take
his bird by deceit and craft, will go a hawking after it–will send his
hawk into the air, to bring down his prey. It often happens, when the
devil can not ruin a man by getting him to commit a sin, he attempts to
slander him; he sends a hawk after him, and tries to bring him down by
slandering his good name. I will give you a piece of advice. I know a
good minister, now in venerable old age, who was once most villainously
lied against and slandered by a man who had hated him only for the
truth's sake. The good man was grieved; he threatened the slanderer
with a lawsuit, unless he apologized. He did apologize. The slander was
printed in the papers in a public apology; and you know what was the
consequence. The slander was more believed than if he had said nothing
about it. And I have learned this lesson–to do with the slanderous
hawk what the little birds do, just fly up. The hawk can not do them
any hurt while they can keep above him–it is only when they come down
that he can injure them. It is only when by mounting he gets above the
birds, that the hawk comes sweeping down upon them, and destroys them.
If any slander you, do not come down to them; let them slander on. Say,
as David said concerning Shimei, "If the Lord hath given him
commandment to curse, let him curse;" and if the sons of Zeruiah say,
"Let us go and take this dead dog's head," you say, "Nay, let him
curse;" and in that way you will live down slander. If some of us
turned aside to notice every bit of a sparrow that began chirping at
us, we should have nothing to do but to answer them. If I were to fight
people on every doctrine I preach, I should do nothing else but just
amuse the devil, and indulge the combative principles of certain
religionists who like nothing better than quarreling. By the grace of
God, say what you please against me, I will never answer you, but go
straight on. All shall end well, if the character be but kept clean;
the more dirt that is thrown on it by slander, the more its shall
glisten, and the more brightly it shall shine. Have you never felt your
fingers itch sometimes to be at a man who slanders you? I have. I have
sometimes thought, "I can not hold my tongue now; I must answer that
fellow;" but I have asked of God grace to imitate Jesus, who, "when he
was reviled, reviled not again," and by his strength let them go
straight on. The surest way in the world to get rid of a slander is
just to let it alone and say nothing about it, for if you prosecute the
rascal who utters it, or if you threaten him with an action, and he has
to apologize, you will be no better off–some fools will still believe
it. Let it alone–let it keep as it is; and so God will help you to
fulfill by your wisdom his own promise, "Surely he shall deliver thee
from the snare of the fowler."

And now, ere I close this point, let me observe once more, the fowler,
when he is determined to take his birds, uses all these arts at once,
perhaps, and besets the bird on every side. So, you will remember,
beloved, it is with you. Satan will not leave a stone unturned to ruin
your soul for ever.

"Amidst a thousand snares I stand,

Upheld and guarded by thy hand."

Old Master Quarles says,

"The close pursuer's busy hands do plant

Snares in thy substance; snares attend thy want;

Snares in thy credit; snares in thy disgrace;

Snares in thy high estate; snares in thy base;

Snares tuck thy bed; and snares surround thy board;

Snares watch thy thoughts; and snares attach thy words;

Snares in thy quiet; snares in thy commotion;

Snares in thy diet; snares in thy devotion;

Snares lurk in thy resolves, snares in thy doubt;

Snares lie within thy heart, and snares without;

Snares are above thy head, and snares beneath;

Snares in thy sickness, snares are in thy death."

There is not a place beneath which a believer walks that is free from
snares. Behind every tree there is the Indian with his barbed arrow;
behind every bush there is the lion seeking to devour; under every
piece of grass there lieth the adder. Everywhere they are. Let us be
careful; let us gird ourselves with the might of God's omnipotence, and
then shall his Holy Spirit keep us, so that we shall tread on the lion
and the adder, the young lion and the dragon shall we trample under our
feet, and we shall be "delivered from the snare of the fowler."

II. Now we pass to the second point–THE DELIVERANCE. God delivers his
people from the snare of the fowler. Two thoughts here: from–out of.
First, he delivers them from the snare–does not let them get in it;
secondly, when they do get in it, he delivers them out of it. The first
promise is the most precious to some of us; the second is the best to
others.

He shall deliver thee from the snare. How does he do that?

Very often by trouble. Trouble is often the means whereby God delivers
us from snares. You have all heard the old story of the celebrated
painter who was painting in St. Paul's, and who, looking at his work,
went gradually back, inch by inch, to get a view of it, so that he
might see the excellence of its proportions, until his feet were just
on the edge of the platform upon which he stood; and he would have
fallen down and been dashed in pieces upon the pavement beneath, but
just at that moment a workman who stood there, desirous to save his
life, and not knowing how to do it, hit upon an expedient which proved
to be a very wise one. Instead of shouting out to his master, "Sir, you
are in danger," which would most certainly have sent him backward, he
took up a brush and dipping it in a pot of paint, dashed it at the
picture. The good man rushed forward in anger to chastise him; but when
it was explained, he clearly saw that he had acted wisely. Just so with
God. You and I have often painted a fine picture, and we have been
walking backward admiring it. God knows that our backsliding will soon
end in our destruction and he, by a sad providence, blasts our
prospect, takes away our child from us, buries our wife, removes some
darling object of our pleasures; and we rush forward and say, "Lord,
why is this?"–utterly unconscious that if it had not been for trouble
we might have been dashed in pieces, and our lives would have been
ended in destruction. I doubt not, many of you have been saved from
ruin by your sorrows, your griefs, your troubles, your woes, your
losses, and your crosses. All these have been the breaking of the net
that set you free from the snare of the fowler

At other times God keeps his people from the snare of the fowler by
giving them great spiritual strength, a spirit of great courage; so
that when they are tempted to do evil they say, with decision, "How can
I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" O! that was a noble
escape of Joseph, when his mistress laid hold of his garment; that was
a noble escape of his, when his soul escaped like a bird out of the
snare of the fowler; and I doubt not there are many here who have done
deeds almost as noble as that of Joseph, who have had grace within
their hearts, so that they have turned away their eyes from beholding
folly, and when they have been tempted to evil they have put their foot
upon it, and said, "I can not, I can not; I am a child of God; I can
not and I must not;" and though the thing was pleasing to themselves
yet they abjured it. You remember the case of Mr. Standfast in Bunyan's
Pilgrim's Progress. Madame Bubble had greatly enticed poor Mr.
Standfast with her offers. He says, "There was one in very pleasant
attire, but old, who presented herself to me, and offered me three
things, to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now the truth is, I
was both weary and sleepy: I am also as poor as an owlet, and that
perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once and again, but she
put by my repulses and smiled. Then I began to be angry; but she
mattered that nothing at all. Then she made offers again, and said if I
would be ruled by her, she would make me great and happy; for, said
she, I am the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me. Then
I asked her her name, and she told me it was Madame Bubble. This set me
further from her; but she still followed me with enticements. Then I
betook me, as you saw, to my knees, and with hands lifted up, and
cries, I prayed to him that had said he would help. So just as you came
up the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for
this my great deliverance; for I verily believe she intended no good,
but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey." Thus God delivers
his people from the snares of the fowler, by giving them the spirit of
prayer as well as the spirit of courage, so that they call upon God in
the day of trouble, and he delivers them.

And I have noticed one more very singular thing. Sometimes I, myself,
have been saved from the snare of the fowler (I can not tell you how
exactly), in this way. I have felt that if the temptation had come a
week before, my mind was in that peculiar condition, that I should
almost inevitably have been led away by it; but when it came, the mind,
by passing through some process, had become in such a condition that
the temptation was no temptation at all. We were just brought to such a
state, that what might have ruined us before, we would not then look
at. "No," we have said, "if you had offered me this some time ago it
might have been accepted; but now God has, by some mysterious influence
of his Spirit, turned my heart in another direction, and it is not even
a temptation to me at all–not worthy of a moment's thought." So God
delivers his people from the snare of the fowler.

But the second thought was, that God delivers his people, even when
they get into the snare. Alas! my hearer, you and I know something
about the net; we have been inside it, we have; we have not only seen
it spread, we have been in its folds. We know something about the cage,
for we have, unfortunately, been in the cage ourselves, even since we
have known the Lord. The fowler's hand has been upon our neck; it has
only been the sovereign grace of God that has prevented him from
utterly destroying us. What a blessed thing it is, that if the believer
shall, in an evil hour, come into the net, yet God will bring him out
of it! Poor Christian and Hopeful got into the fowler's net when they
entered into the castle of Giant Despair; but the key of promise picked
the lock, and they escaped. They were in the fowler's net, too, when
Flatterer cast a net over them, and left them in the lane; but there
came one who, after he had beaten them full sore, took the net off, and
then they went on their way, better men than they were before they were
in the net. I know one who is in the net now. Some bird, one of God's
own ones too, has been taken in the snare, and is now groaning and
crying out, because, alas! alas! he has sinned. I have a person here, a
good man, a professor of religion, and a truly worthy one! but alas! he
has sinned, and at this hour the tears are in his eyes, and he is
saying,

"The tumult of my thoughts

Doth but increase my woe;

My spirit languishes, my heart

Is desolate and low."

"Turn, turn thee to my soul;

Bring thy salvation near;

When will thy hand release my feet

Out of the deadly snare?"

O backslider, be cast down, but do not despair; God will restore thee
yet. Wanderer though thou hast been, hear what he says! "Return, O
backsliding children; I will have mercy upon you." But you say you can
not return. Then here is still a promise–"Surely he shall deliver thee
from the snare of the fowler." Thou shalt yet be brought out from all
the evil into which thou hast fallen, and though thou shalt never cease
to repent thy ways even to thy dying day, yet he that hath loved thee
will not cast thee away; he will receive thee; he will admit thee into
his dwelling-place, and will even now restore thee to the number of his
people, and give thee joy and gladness, that the bones which he has
broken may rejoice. "Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the
fowler."

There have been very remarkable instances of God delivering his people
out of the snare of the fowler, as the following illustration will
show:

"A young lady, who belonged to a church in the city of New York,
married a young man who was not a Christian. He was a merchant, engaged
in a lucrative business, and the golden stream of wealth flowed in upon
him till he had amassed a large fortune. He accordingly retired from
business, and went into the country. He purchased a splendid residence;
fine trees waved their luxuriant foliage around it; here was a lake
filled with fish, and there a garden full of rare shrubbery and
flowers. Their house was fashionably and expensively furnished; and
they seemed to possess all of earth that mortal could desire. Thus
prospered, and plied with an interchange of civilities among her gay
and fashionable neighbors, the piety of the lady declined, and her
heart became wedded to the world. And it is not to be wondered at, that
her three children, as they grew up, imbibed her spirit and copied her
example. A severe disease,' it is said, demands a severe remedy;' and
that God soon applied. One morning intelligence came that her little
son had fallen into the fish-lake, and was drowned. The mother's heart
was pierced with the affliction, and she wept and murmured against the
providence of God. Soon afterwards, her only daughter, a blooming girl
of sixteen, was taken sick of a fever and died. It seemed then as if
the mother's heart would have broken. But this new stroke of the rod of
a chastening Father seemed but to increase her displeasure against his
will. The only remaining child, her eldest son, who had come home from
college to attend his sister's funeral, went out into the fields soon
afterwards, for the purpose of hunting. In getting over a fence, he put
his gun over first to assist himself in springing to the ground, when
it accidentally discharged itself and killed him! What then were that
mother's feelings in the extravagance of her grief, she fell down, tore
her hair, and raved like a maniac against the providence of God. The
father, whose grief was already almost insupportable, when he looked
upon the shocking spectacle, and heard her frenzied ravings, could
endure his misery no longer. The iron entered into his soul and he fell
speedy victim to his accumulated afflictions. From the wife and mother,
her husband and all her children were now taken away. Reason returned,
and she was led to reflection. She saw her dreadful backslidings, her
pride, her rebellion; and she wept with the tears of a deep repentance.
Peace was restored to her soul. Then could she lift up her hands to
heaven, exclaiming, I thank thee, O Father!–the Lord hath given, the
Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord.' Thus did
her afflictions yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness, and her
heavenly Father chasten her, not for his pleasure, but for her profit,
that she might become partaker of his holiness.'"

So God delivered her soul out of the snare of the fowler. She started
afresh in the ways of righteousness, serving God with diligence and
zeal, and growing up in his fear. By trouble and trial, by some means
or another, God will surely deliver his people out of the snare of the
fowler, even when they are in it.

III. And now, to conclude, I am to dwell for a moment or two upon that
word "SURELY." The assurance of every truth of Scripture is just the
beauty of it. If it were not sure, it were not precious; and it is
precious just because it is sure.

Now, it says, "surely he shall deliver thee." Why? First, because he
has promised to do it; and God's promises are bonds that never yet were
dishonored. If he hath said he will, he will. Secondly, because Christ
Jesus hath taken an oath that he will do it. In ages long gone by
Christ Jesus became the shepherd of the sheep, and the surety of them
too. "If any of them perish," said he, "at my hand, thou shalt require
it;" and, therefore, because Christ is responsible, because he is the
heavenly sponsor for all God's people, they must be kept: for otherwise
Christ's bond were forfeited, and his oath were null and void. They
must be kept, again, because otherwise the union that there is between
all of them and Christ would not be a real one. Christ and his church
are one–one body; but if any of the members of my body were cut off, I
should be maimed, and if Christ could lose one of his children he would
be a maimed Christ. "We are his body, the fullness of him that filleth
all in all." If, then, the whole church were not gathered in, Christ
would be an incomplete Christ, seeing he would want his fullness. They
must all be saved, for God the Father has determined that they shall
be; nay, the Son has sworn they shall be; and God the Holy Spirit
vouches for it they shall be. None of God's people shall be cast away,
or else the Bible is not true. The whole stability of the covenant rest
in their final perseverance. The whole covenant of grace rests upon
this–

"He shall present our souls,

Unblemished and complete,

Before the glory of his face,

With joys divinely great."

And therefore they must be preserved out of the snare of the fowler,
because otherwise the covenant would be null and void. If one should
perish the oath would be broken; if one should be cast away the
covenant would be void; and therefore they must be kept secure.

"His honor is engaged to save

the meanest of his sheep;

All that his heavenly Father gave,

His hands securely keep."

I have no time to enlarge upon that subject, which is big with glory,
and might afford a topic for many discourses. I now close up by saying,
Men and brethren, is this promise yours? "Surely he shall deliver
thee." Are you the men? "How can I tell?" you say. Do you believe on
the Lord Jesus Christ? Do you, as a guilty sinner, cast yourself wholly
on the blood and righteousness of the immaculate Redeemer? I do not ask
you whether you are a Wesleyan, a Churchman, a Baptist, an Independent,
or a Presbyterian; my only question is, Are you born again? Have you
passed from death unto life? Are you "a new creature in Christ Jesus?"
Is all your trust put in the Lord Jesus Christ? Has his life become
your model, and does his Spirit dwell in your mortal body? If so, peace
be unto you; this promise is yours. You may have been the worst of men;
but if you have faith in Christ those sins are all forgiven, and you
may take this promise to be yours for ever. But if you are
self-righteous, self-sufficient, ungodly, careless, worldly, there is
no such promise for you; you are in the snare, you shall be there, and
you shall perish, unless you repent; for it is written, "Except ye
repent ye shall all likewise perish." May God save you from perishing,
by giving you an interest in the blood of Christ; and to the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be glory for ever and ever.