with the bodies of the slain—when we hear the shrieks and the groans of
the wounded and the dying—when we see the country wasted, cities burned,
houses pillaged, widows and orphans wailing in the track of the
victorious army, we cannot help exclaiming—O, what a blessing is peace!
When we are obliged to witness family turmoils and strifes—when we see
parents and children, brothers and sisters, masters and servants,
husbands and wives, contending with each other like tigers—we retire as
from a smoky house, and exclaim as we go—O, what a blessing is peace!
When duty calls us into that church, where envy and malice prevail, and
the spirit of harmony is supplanted by discord and contention—when we see
brethren, who ought to be bound together in love, full of pride, hatred,
confusion, and every evil work—we quit the unhallowed scene with painful
feelings of repulsion, repeating the exclamation—O, what a blessing is
peace!
But how much more precious in the case of the awakened sinner! See him
standing, terror-stricken, before mount Sinai. Thunders roll above
him—lightnings flash around him—the earth trembles beneath him, as if
ready to open her mouth and swallow him up. The sound of the trumpet
rings through his soul—“Guilty! guilty! guilty!” Pale and trembling, he
looks eagerly around him, and sees nothing but revelations of wrath.
Overwhelmed with fear and dismay, he cries out—“O wretched man that I am!
Who shall deliver me! What shall I do?” A voice reaches his
ear—penetrates his heart—“Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the
sin of the world!” He turns his eyes to Calvary. Wonderous vision!
Emmanuel expiring upon the cross! the sinner’s Substitute satisfying the
demand of the law against the sinner! Now all his fears are hushed, and
rivers of peace flow into his soul. This is the peace of Christ.
How precious is this peace, amid all the dark vicissitudes of life! How
invaluable this jewel, through all the dangers of the wilderness! How
cheering to know that Jesus, who hath loved us even unto death, is the
pilot of our perilous voyage; that he rules the winds and the waves, and
can hush them to silence at his will, and bring the frailest bark of
faith to the desired haven! Trusting where he cannot trace his Master’s
footsteps, the disciple is joyful amid the darkest dispensations of
Divine Providence; turning all his sorrows into songs, and all his
tribulations into triumphs. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose
mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.”
II. The victory of Christ over the world, the source of comfort and joy
to believers. “In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good
cheer; I have overcome the world.”
The world is the great castle of Belial, containing three temples; “the
lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life;” in one or
another of which every unconverted soul is a worshipper. But Jesus has
demolished that castle, and abolished the service of its several temples.
The world has two modes of warfare. Sometimes it puts on the apparent
mildness of a lamb, and allures to destruction with the song of a siren.
Again it leaps upon its prey like an angry lion, or pursues its victim
like an exasperated dragon. Its frown has destroyed thousands; its
smile, tens of thousands.
A certain man has laid it down as a rule, that all must take the world as
it is. But all general rules have their exceptions. Christ is the
exception here. Christ conquered the world. The Prince of this world
met him in the wilderness, when he was alone, in poverty and
distress—weary, hungry, and thirsty—and offered him all the kingdoms of
the world, for which have been fought so many battles. But Jesus refused
the offer; choosing rather to be poor, that we might be made rich. He
detected the lion in his affectation of the lamb, and stripped from the
angel of darkness his garment of light.
Then the enemy assumed another aspect—assailed him with the rage of a
wild beast, and the malice of a fiend. No sooner had he preached his
first sermon, than there was an attempt to hurl him down the precipice.
“The archers sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him.” Judea
became to him a mountain of leopards, and humanity seemed infernalized.
He was stigmatized as a hypocrite—an impostor—a demoniac. He was falsely
accused before rulers, and insult was added to perjury. “But his bow
abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong by the
hands of the mighty God of Jacob.” “He was tempted in all things like as
we are, yet without sin.” “He did no iniquity, neither was guile found
in his mouth.” He went through the wilderness without contracting any of
its defilement.
But this was comparatively a small part of his victory. A more glorious
conquest of the world was achieved by his death upon the cross, and his
resurrection from the grave. It is here we behold him “glorious in his
apparel, traveling in the greatness of his strength,” trampling the hosts
of hell, till his raiment is red with blood. It is here we behold him
“spoiling principalities and powers, and making a show of them
openly—triumphing over them” in his atonement. It is here we behold the
Prince of this world cast out and judged. The Prince of Peace has broken
his sceptre, demolished his throne, and established upon the ruins of his
empire an everlasting kingdom of grace.
Caiaphas rejoiced that Christ was under the king’s seal in the grave; but
his unholy joy was brief as “the crackling of thorns under a pot.” At
the dawning of the third day, Cæsar’s seal is broken, the stone rolled
away, the tomb deserted of its occupant, Caiaphas’ feast of joy turned to
lamentation and mourning, and the eternal power and Godhead of him whom
they crucified engraved for ever on the rent rocks of Calvary.
Alexander conquered the world, but did not live to enjoy the fruits of
his victory. But the Captain of our salvation, though he was dead, is
alive for evermore. He shall prosecute his conquests, and put all
enemies under his feet, and retain his dominion for ever. “He shall see
of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied.” He lives to confer upon
his people the riches which he procured for them by his death. He lives
to defend his redeemed, and draw all men unto himself. He lives to
perpetuate in the church the peace which he bequeathed to her in his last
will and testament.
A servant of Julian the Apostate asked one of the martyrs—“What is thy
God, the carpenter, doing now in heaven?” He answered—“Making a coffin
for thy master!” Julian was soon afterward mortally wounded by an arrow
from one of the Scythians. When he was expiring, he waved his hand
sorrowfully, and exclaimed—“O Galilean, thou hast conquered!”
“Be of good cheer,” therefore, ye trembling disciples! Christ has
vanquished all your enemies. Ye are more than conquerors, through him
that loved you, and gave himself for you. “In those things wherein they
were proud, he was above them.” When Pharaoh exulted to overtake Israel,
shut in between Pi-hahiroth and Baal-zephon, with the sea before them,
Jehovah was higher than the Egyptian. His sight was clearer—his arm was
stronger—his purpose was firmer. He said to his people—“Stand still! you
are not able to raise this rampart. I must do it for you. I will divide
the sea, and lead you through on dry land, and drown those who have
drowned so many of your infants. Every one of them shall perish, from
the king to the last footman.” Thus the Prince of Peace has triumphed
over your foes, and you may conquer through faith in his conquest.
“Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world; and this is the victory
that overcometh the world, even our faith.”
John in the Apocalypse saw the army of the victors—a great multitude, out
of all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues—standing before
the throne, and before the Lamb; clothed with white robes, and palms in
their hands; and crying with a loud voice—“Salvation to our God, who
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb!” And one of the elders asked
him—“Who are these, and whence came they?” But so wonderfully were they
changed, since he saw them on earth—in exile, in prison, in torture and
death—that he confessed he knew them not. Then answered the elder—“These
are they that came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before
the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple; and he that
sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more,
neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any
heat. For the Lamb, who is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them,
and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes.”
Thus, ye saints, shall you “overcome by the blood of the Lamb;” “for
greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world;” and your
sorrows shall be lost in unspeakable joy, and your disgrace in eternal
glory!
SERMON XVI.
THE GLORY OF THE GOSPEL.
“_According to the glorious gospel of the blessed God_.”—1 Tim. i.
11.
THE being of God, and some of his attributes, are revealed to us by
natural religion. The proof is seen in all his works, commending itself
to the reason and conscience even of pagan nations. “Because that which
may be known of God is manifest in them, for God hath showed it unto
them; for the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world,
are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his
eternal power and godhead; so that they are without excuse, because that
when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful,
but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was
darkened.” {223}
Paul’s sermon in Athens was founded on the revelations of natural
religion:—“Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars’ hill, and said, Ye men
of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious; for as
I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this
inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD; whom therefore ye ignorantly worship,
him declare I unto you. God that made the world and all things therein,
seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made
with hands; neither is worshipped with men’s hands, as though he needed
any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and
hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of
the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds
of their habitation; that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might
feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us;
for in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your
own poets have said, For we are also his offspring.” {224}
But natural religion, though it reveals the being and attributes of God,
cannot teach the way of salvation, nor lead us in the path of holiness.
It may excite a thousand fears, not one of which can it allay; and
suggest a thousand questions, not one of which can it answer. It leaves
us, with the deist, in a region of doubt and perplexity; and neither of
its four oracles—creation, providence, reason, and conscience—can satisfy
the soul that inquires, “What must I do to be saved?” Its light affords
us no guidance in the path of virtue; no certain indications of duty,
either to God or man. Our understandings are so darkened, our wills so
perverted, our affections so carnal, that we can depend upon no
suggestions of external nature, or of reason and conscience, for the
regulation of our moral conduct. God, therefore, of his infinite mercy,
has given us his written word—a perfect rule both of faith and practice—a
law by which we ought to live, and by which we shall be judged—a
revelation of the mystery which had been hidden for ages, but is now made
manifest to the saints, dispelling the fears of conscience, soothing the
sorrows of the heart, and bringing life and immortality to light.
Divine revelation, though infinitely above human reason, does not in the
least oppose it. That God should clearly make known his will to man, is
so far from being contrary to reason, that we may truly say, nothing is
more reasonable. The deductions of reason from the insufficiency of
natural religion strongly indicate the necessity of such a revelation;
and as to its possibility, we know that there can be no impossibility on
the part of God to give it, and there is no impossibility on the part of
man to receive it. God is able to communicate his will to his creatures
in any way he pleases. He can stamp it on the mind, and make us know
that it is he who speaks to us. But he has chosen another method. He
has given us a record of his will in the Holy Scriptures. “God who, at
sundry times, and in divers manners, spake in time past unto the fathers
by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom
he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds.
Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we
have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip.”
Is the gospel the truth of God or not? Much has been written on this
question. The arguments that have been advanced in support of the
affirmative have never been overthrown, and never can be, by all the
skeptics in the world. The revelation of the method of salvation was
given in the garden of Eden to our first parents. Since that period
great talents have been employed, talents worthy of a better cause, in
ridiculing the Bible; but to very little purpose. The character of the
Book of God stands firm as a mountain amid the clouds, the thunders, and
the whirlwinds; and all the opposition of infidels and blasphemers,
instead of tarnishing, have only brightened its lustre; and from every
trial through which it has passed, it has come forth as fine gold from
the furnace. The religions of the world, the vices and virtues of the
world, all its wisdom and sagacity, and all its power and authority, in
league with the demons of the pit, have not been able to destroy the
gospel, or stay the wheels of its chariot. Though they were headed by
the prince of darkness—the prince of this world—the prince of the power
of the air, that worked mightily in the children of disobedience, in
Palestine, in Greece and Rome, and all over the world; yet the gospel has
proved triumphant. Its enemies, human and infernal, may wonder and be
amazed at its prosperity; but let them remember that its author is the
living God, and liveth for ever. Though its ministers have been
persecuted and imprisoned, stoned, sawn asunder, slain with the sword,
and burnt in the flames; yet the word of the Lord is not bound, but is
freely preached in many parts of the world, and its doctrines and
practices maintained in their purity by multitudes of Christians,
notwithstanding the most dreadful attempts that have been made at
different times to corrupt and destroy them. “For all flesh is as grass,
and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth and
the flower thereof falleth away; but the word of the Lord endureth for
ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.”
We would now call your attention to the Divine authority of the gospel,
and its characteristic glory.
I. It is “the gospel of the blessed God”—a message from God to man—a
revelation of God’s gracious method of saving sinners through the death
of his Son—a declaration of his sovereign love and mercy to the utterly
wretched and perishing children of men. It testifieth of the coming of
the promised Messiah; of the glory of his person as God-man; of the
excellency of his offices, as our Prophet, Priest, and King; the honor
which he has conferred upon the law that we have violated, and the
satisfaction which he has given to the Divine justice that we have
insulted. It records the sufferings and death of Christ, his victory
over the powers of darkness, his resurrection from the grave, his
ascension to glory, his session at the right hand of the Father, and his
intercession for sinners on the ground of his vicarious sufferings; and
predicts his second coming in glory, on the clouds of heaven, to judge
the quick and the dead.
I do not mean to say that there is no other truth necessary to be
preached and believed, but all the truths of Divine revelation are
immediately connected with the doctrine of the cross. This is the
testimony that the Father hath testified of his Son. This is the glad
tidings of great joy which shall be unto all people. This is the
faithful saying, or true report, that is worthy of all acceptation, that
Christ Jesus came into the world to save the chief of sinners. This is
“the glorious gospel of the blessed God;” emanating from his spirit, and
conducting to his kingdom. Let us consider the evidences of its Divine
authority.
The perfections of God, in some degree, are manifested in all his works
and words; his character is stamped on every thing that his hands hath
formed, and his mouth hath spoken; so that there is a vast difference
between the work and language of God, and the work and language of men.
This is especially the case in reference to the Christian revelation. It
is “the gospel of the blessed God,” and bears throughout the impress of
its author. When John saw the Lamb in the midst of the throne, he had no
difficulty in determining that he was a proper object of adoration and
praise. As soon as any one sees the stone with seven eyes laid before
Zerubabel, he knows that it is not a common stone. When you look to the
book of the firmament, the fingers of the Creator’s eternal power and
Godhead are evidently seen in the sun, the moon and the stars. So, in
the Bible, we trace the same Divine hand. As often as I read it, I see
eternity, with its flaming eye, gazing upon me. It unfolds to me the
mysteries of creation and providence. It informs me who made, and still
sustains and governs the universe. It leads me to the spring and
original cause of all things; and places me immediately before the eyes
of the eternal God; and I find myself, in his presence, both killed and
made alive—most dreadfully oppressed, and set at perfect liberty—sunk in
the valley of repentance and humiliation, and lifted upon the top of
Pisgah—full of fears, and full of joy—desiring to hide myself from his
sight, yet wishing to abide in the light of his countenance for ever!
I see the eye of Omniscience looking out upon me from every chapter of
the Bible—from every doctrine, every precept, every promise, every
ordinance of the gospel—penetrating alike the darkness and the
light—searching me through and through, till I can hide nothing from its
gaze—giving me a faithful representation of my conscience and my
heart—making me hate myself, and confess my uncleanness, and cry out for
the creation of a right spirit within me. And then I see it looking far
into futurity—discovering, many hundreds of years beforehand, the
smallest circumstances in the life and death of Jesus, even to the price
of his betrayal, the gall mingled with his drink, and the lot cast for
his vesture. How can I doubt that this is the eye of God?
Again: I see Holiness, Justice, and Truth, gazing upon me from the very
heart of the gospel, like so many eyes of consuming fire. I tremble
before them, like Moses before the burning bush, or Israel at the base of
Sinai. Yet do I wish to behold this terrible glory, for it is mingled
with milder beams of mercy. I take off my shoes, and approach that I may
contemplate. “Truly, God is in this place!” I cannot live in sin under
the intense blaze of his countenance. But here also I find the cleft of
the Rock, even the Rock of Ages, wherein he hides me with his hand, while
he makes all his goodness pass before me, and proclaims to me his
name—“The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, forgiving iniquity,
and transgression, and sin, and by no means clearing the guilty!”
“The word of God is quick and powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword;
piercing to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints
and marrow; and discerning”—revealing—condemning—correcting—“the thoughts
and intents of the heart.” It unlocks my soul, and sits upon its throne;
an infallible judge over all my secret imaginations, purposes, and
feelings; bringing them under its own perfect law; examining them in the
light of spotless holiness, inflexible justice, and eternal truth. And
when I shrink from the scrutiny, overwhelmed with a sense of my
corruption, and confessing my guilt with a broken and contrite heart,
then it speaks to me of the boundless love of God, and the infinite merit
of Christ; and “a still small voice” directs my sight to the holy of
holies; where I see, through the rent vail, the King of Zion, sitting
upon his throne of grace, more glorious than the ancient Shekinah upon
the mercy-seat. I approach with joyful confidence, and find him invested
with my own nature, “God manifest in the flesh,” his royal garments red
with sacrificial blood; and again I hear the still small voice—“Thy faith
hath saved thee; go in peace!” And when the dark mountains of
tribulation rise up before me, I see their tops gilded with beams of
love; and when I look into the valley of the shadow of death, I see it
brightening with the footsteps of the Son of God; and when the soul sits
solitary and dejected in her mortal prison, longing for the wings of a
dove, that she may fly away and be at rest, she sees the eyes of her
Deliverer looking through the crevices of the wall, and hears his voice
at the grated window—“Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for
I am thy God!”