gospel of the blessed God.” But there is other, and if possible still
stronger, proof of its divinity; namely, its power to renew the human
soul, and reform the human character. The Earl of Rochester was a great
skeptic, and one of the most witty and sarcastic men of his age. In his
last sickness, he was reading the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah; where
the prophet, in so graphic and touching a manner, describes the vicarious
sufferings of Christ. It scattered all his deistical doubts, as the sun
scatters the mist of the morning; led him with a broken and believing
heart to the atoning Lamb of God; and converted his death-bed into a
vestibule of heaven. This is not a solitary case. Thousands and
millions have been, in like manner, awakened and converted through the
gospel, and brought to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. It
is “mighty through God, to the pulling down of strong-holds; casting down
imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the
knowledge of God; and bringing into captivity every thought to the
obedience of Christ”—turning men from darkness to light, and from the
power of Satan to God, that they may receive remission of sins, and an
inheritance among all them that are sanctified through faith in Jesus.
Matthew at the custom-house, the woman of Samaria at Jacob’s well, the
dying malefactor upon the cross, the penitent jailor at Philippi, the
blasphemous persecutor on the road to Damascus, and three thousand souls
under Peter’s preaching at the Pentecost, all found it “the power of God
unto salvation.” And still it retains its convincing and quickening
virtue. Wherever it is proclaimed in its purity, and accompanied with
the power of the Holy Ghost, proud and hardened sinners are pricked in
their hearts, and forced to cry out—“Men and brethren, what must we do?”
It answers the question. It points to the crucified and saith—“Believe
and be saved!” It reconciles the enemy unto God. It makes the
blasphemer a man of prayer, the sensualist a man of purity, the inebriate
a man of sobriety; and where sin abounded, grace much more abounds. The
dead whom Jesus quickened had no time to inquire into the mysterious
process by which the work was wrought. They sprang instantly into life
by the power of God. Yet the evidence of the change was clear and
incontestible. So it is with the transforming effects of the gospel. We
cannot rationally doubt its power to raise the soul from death in
trespasses and sins. Suppose I have been long afflicted with a cancer,
or have been bitten by a mad-dog, or a rattlesnake; and I find a
sovereign and instantaneous remedy; but after I am cured, a skeptic calls
upon me, and tries to convince me that the remedy is good for nothing,
insists that it is a cheat lately invented by a villain, demands of me to
prove that such things were used before the deluge, and asks me a
thousand questions about the cure which Solomon could not answer; how can
I look upon such a man as better than a maniac? I have tried the
experiment, and found it successful; and all his pretended philosophical
reasoning rings in my ears like a sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
The wisdom of men has invented many remedies for the guilt and the love
of sin; but the vain philosophy of the world has never, like the gospel,
restored a single soul to peace, purity, and happiness. I can truly say,
after the most careful self-examination, and millions more can testify
the same thing, that the gospel, in the hand of the Spirit of God, has
subdued the love of sin, and quenched the fire of guilt within me; and
has taken away the sting of death, and the terrors of the grave. If the
infidel will allow that I am a sane man, and a man of truth, what farther
proof does he want that this is “the gospel of the blessed God?”
Once more: The character of God, as exhibited in the gospel, is perfect,
every way worthy of himself, infinitely above any original conception of
the human mind. The gods of Homer and Virgil are cruel and revengeful.
The god of Mohammed delights in pollution and crime. The god of Voltaire
is a buffoon, and the god of Paine a tyrant. But the gospel represents
the Deity in his true character, as the concentration and the fountain of
all moral excellence.
All this evidence of the Divine authority of the gospel is corroborated
by an overwhelming array of external proof. It was certainly written by
the men whose names it bears. They were men of irreproachable character.
Their declarations were confirmed by the testimony of miracles, and the
fulfilment of prophecy. Jesus of Nazareth was crucified on Calvary, rose
from the dead the third day, and ascended to heaven, according to the
Scriptures. These were facts believed by the primitive Christians, and
admitted by their enemies. They were received with the most perfect
confidence by the immediate successors of the original witnesses; and
farther corroborated by the testimony of neutrals, apostates, and the
most inveterate opponents. The question therefore is settled; all is
admitted that is necessary to prove that the Christian’s gospel is “the
gospel of the blessed God.”
II. It is “the _glorious_ gospel”—emphatically and pre-eminently
glorious; and this is our second topic of discourse.
It is a wonderful exhibition of the glory of God—the most perfect
revelation of the Divine attributes ever granted to man—displaying the
sovereign mercy of the Father, in the gift of his beloved Son; the
infinite compassion of Christ, in offering himself upon the cross for our
sins; and the gracious power of the Holy Spirit, in turning us from
darkness to light, and renewing us in righteousness and true holiness
after the image of God.
But it is chiefly from a comparison of the gospel with the law, both in
its dispensation and its character, that we see its transcendent glory.
On this point let us fix our attention.
“The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.”
The ministration of the law brought the angels from heaven to earth, but
the ministration of the gospel required the incarnation of the God of
angels. The Mediator of the new covenant is Jehovah enshrined in
humanity—“Emmanuel”—“God with us”—“God manifest in the flesh”—“the
fulness of the Godhead,” that “filleth all in all,” imbodied and made
visible in the lowly Son of David.
This is the foundation of the apostle’s argument, by which he convicts
the despisers of the gospel of greater guilt than the transgressors of
the law. “If the word spoken by angels”—that is, the law given upon
Sinai—“was steadfast, and every transgression and disobedience received a
just recompense of reward; how shall we escape”—we who have heard the
glad tidings of the gospel—“if we neglect so great salvation; which at
first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by them
that heard him; God also bearing them witness, with signs, and wonders,
and divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost?” If God is greater
than man, then the gospel is greater than the law; and its superior
excellence constitutes for it a superior claim upon our faith and our
affections; and the strength of that claim graduates the guilt of its
rejection. There is a fire more intense than that which flamed on Sinai,
and a judgment more terrible than that of Korah and his confederates.
“He that despised Moses’ law died without mercy, under two or three
witnesses; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought
worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the
blood of the covenant an unholy thing, and hath done despite to the
Spirit of grace!”
The ceremonial law contained many a type and shadow of Messiah; but the
gospel is the history of his advent and mediatorial work. The ceremonial
law pointed to the coming Prince of Peace; but the gospel brings him to
his throne, and puts the crown upon his head. Christ is “the brightness
of the Father’s glory, and the express image of his person;” and Moses
and Aaron are lost in his light, as the moon and the stars in the blaze
of the rising sun. The excellence of his person, the merit of his
sacrifice, and the utility of his offices, give him an immense
superiority. The many prophets, priests, and kings, of the former
dispensation, were but the shadows cast by the one great Prophet, Priest,
and King, which indicated his coming. A light arose from the cross of
Calvary which turned the black cloud on Sinai into a pillar of glory.
Typical blood shielded the children of Israel from the arm of the
destroying angel, healed the leper, anointed to holy offices, atoned for
ceremonial sins, and sealed the covenant of God with his people; but
never cancelled the sinner’s debt, nor satisfied his conscience, nor
sanctified his affections, nor calmed his trembling spirit in the hour of
death. All these blessings, however, flow from the blood of
Christ—these, and infinitely more—more than tongue can tell, or heart
conceive.
The gospel is emphatically the ministration of mercy—the covenant of
grace, “ordered in all things and sure”—a goodly ship, freighted with the
bread of life, and commanded by the Son of God, who has steered into the
harbor of our famishing world, and is dispensing the precious provision
to all who will accept. These arc “the sure mercies of David.”
The law is only a partial revelation of the Divine attributes, which, in
the gospel, are all equally exhibited, and all equally glorified. Here,
“Mercy and Truth are met together; Righteousness and Peace have kissed
each other.” The justice of God looks more terrible at the cross of
Christ than at the gate of hell; and is more glorified in the sufferings
of his Son than in the eternal agonies of all the damned; while his mercy
is more beautiful, because more honorable to his administration, than if
sinners had been saved without an atonement.
Thus, while the law reveals the righteousness of God, the gospel
brightens the revelation of his righteousness, and adds the revelation of
his grace. While the law imprisons the sinner, the gospel liberates him,
yet liberates him according to law. While the law shows the malignity of
sin, and dooms the sinner to death, the gospel assents to both, but
conquers the one and counteracts the other.
The law convinces us of our fall; the gospel assures us of our
redemption. The law shows us what we are, and what we ought to be; the
gospel tells us what we may become, and now the change must be effected.
The law tears open our wounds; the gospel pours in the healing balm. The
law makes known our duty; the gospel aids us to perform it. The law
plunges us in the ditch; the gospel opens to us the purifying fountain.
The law is a mirror in which we behold our own filthiness and deformity;
the gospel is a mirror which reflects the glory of God in Christ, and
transforms the believer into the same image.
The law has no fellowship with the sinner—offers no pardon to the
sinner—cannot cure the love of sin in his heart—cannot give a spark of
life, without perfect obedience, and full satisfaction for past offences.
Therefore some accuse the law of cruelty—cannot set forth the superior
glory of the gospel, without representing the law as a tyrant or a
vagrant. But it is not the cruelty of the law, but the righteousness of
the law, that condemns the sinner. This is the reason that it has no
alms-house, nor city of refuge, in its dominion. Yet “the law is our
schoolmaster, to bring us to Christ.” By convincing us of sin, it shows
us our need of a Saviour. It meets the sinner on his way to hell, and
drives him back to Calvary!
But the gospel is more glorious. It enters the sinner’s heart, and casts
out the love of sin, and scourges the traffickers from the temple of God.
It enters the prisoner’s cell, knocks off his fetters, and bids him go
free. It descends into the valley of dry bones, makes the mouldering
skeletons living men, and leads them to Mount Zion with songs of
everlasting joy. It gives eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, feet to
the lame, tongues to the dumb, health to the sick, life to the dead, and
revives such as are fainting under the terrors of the law. It is “the
power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.”
The Moravian missionaries in Greenland preached several years on the
great doctrines of natural religion, and the requirements of the moral
law, without producing any visible reformation in their hearers; but
under the very first sermon which exhibited “Jesus Christ and him
crucified,” many were pricked in their hearts, and led effectually to
repentance.
We have a striking illustration of the distinguishing glory of the
gospel—its mercy—in the parable of the prodigal son. The young man,
having received his portion from his Father, went into a far country, and
spent all his substance in drunkenness and debauchery. Reduced to the
last extremity of want, the proud young nobleman hired himself to a
citizen of that country, and became a feeder of swine—the meanest
employment to which a Jew could be degraded. On the very verge of
starvation, we see him snatching the husks from the mouths of the
detested animals to satisfy his hunger. Now he contrasts the present
with the past. “My father’s house! O, my father’s house!” A trembling
hope springs up in his bosom, “I will arise and go!” I see him coming,
full of guilt and shame—halting—trembling—ready to turn back, or lie down
by the wayside and die. While yet a great way off, the father beholds
him—O, not with an eye of anger and revenge! and runs to meet him—O, not
with a drawn sword, or an uplifted rod! He feels within him the yearning
of a father’s heart, leaps to embrace the prodigal, and pours upon him a
mingled shower of kisses and tears. Not a reproachful word is
uttered—not the slightest censure—nothing but love. “Father, I have
sinned! I am not worthy to be”—“Peace, my son! Servants, bring a robe,
a ring, a pair of shoes; and haste to kill the fatted calf; and let us
eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive, was lost and is
found!” “And they began to be merry.”
Such, my brethren, is the unspeakable mercy of the gospel, which
constitutes its distinguishing glory. It is the law that creates the
famine in the “far country” of sin. The poor prodigal goes about,
begging for bread; but none will give him a crust, or a crumb. The
desert of Mount Sinai is a poor country for a starving soul. There is no
bread in all that region, and no toleration for beggars. If the sinner
offers to work for any of the citizens—either for Mr. Holiness, or Mr.
Justice, or Mr. Truth—he is sent into the fields to feed swine, till he
is thoroughly convinced of the nakedness of the land, and the misery of
his lot; and if he faints through famine or fatigue, and fails to perform
his task, he is thrust into the house of correction, and placed upon the
tread-wheel of remorse, till the ministers of mercy come to his relief.
It is the gospel that whispers—“Return to thy father!” It is the gospel
that inspires the hope of acceptance. It is the gospel that meets him
with more than paternal welcome, and rains upon him the baptism of
blessings and tears. It is the gospel that brings its robe of
righteousness, and its ring of favour, and spreads its feast of joy, and
calls the angels to merry-making “over one sinner that repenteth.”
O, the love of God! O, the riches of Christ! His salvation is more than
a restoration to the joys of Eden. He came that we might have life, and
that we might have it more abundantly. Where sin abounded under the law,
grace hath much more abounded under the gospel. It is an ocean of
blessings—“blessings of the heaven above, and of the deep that lieth
under”—the blessings of Jacob, “prevailing above the blessings of his
progenitors, unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills”—blessings
which cannot be circumscribed by time, passing over the mountains which
now divide us from the promised land, and flowing down on the other side
into the pacific vales of immortality!
Such is “the glorious gospel of the blessed God.” You have seen the
evidence of its divinity, and the peculiar excellence of its character.
Suffer me to ask, do you believe its doctrines? do you obey its precepts?
do you enjoy its blessings? do you delight in its promises? It commends
itself every way to your faith, and your affections. It is worthy of all
acceptation. It is the light of the world—walk ye in it! It is a feast
for the soul—eat and be satisfied! It is a river of living water—drink
and thirst no more!
How miserable is that man who rejects alike its evidences and its offers!
How miserable in the hour of death! As Thistlewood said of himself, when
on the drop at Newgate, he is “taking a leap in the dark!” How miserable
in the day of judgment! God saith—“Because I have called, and ye
refused; I have stretched out my hands all the day long, and no man
regarded; but ye have set at naught my counsel, and would none of my
reproof; therefore I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when
your fear cometh—when your fear cometh as desolation, and your
destruction cometh as a whirlwind—when distress and anguish cometh upon
you!”
SERMON XVII.
THE SONG OF THE ANGELS.
“_Glory to God in the highest_, _and on earth peace_, _good will
toward men_.” Luke ii. 14.
THE most important event recorded in the annals of time, is the
incarnation of the Son of God. Anointed to be “the Apostle and High
Priest of our profession,” it was necessary that he should humble
himself, to assume our degraded nature, and enter into our suffering
condition. Had he appeared on earth in the unmitigated glory of his
Godhead, the children of men could not have borne the revelation, and
could not have been benefited by his personal ministry; neither could he
have been “touched with the feeling of our infirmities,” nor have offered
himself a sacrifice for our sins. His manifestation in the flesh was
essential to the great objects of his advent; and no wonder the heavenly
host descended to announce his coming, and poured forth their delight in
this joyful strain;—“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace,
good will toward men.”
Let us consider, _first_, The incarnation of the Eternal Word; and,
_secondly_, The song of the angels on the occasion of his birth.
I. Though it is impossible for the immutable God to be made a creature,
yet the Divine nature was so closely and mysteriously joined to the
human, that the same person was “a child born,” and “the Mighty God”—“a
son given,” and “the Everlasting Father.” The Divinity did not become
humanity, and the humanity did not become Divinity; but the two were so
united as to constitute but one glorious Mediator.
Though his incarnation did not destroy, or even tarnish in the least, the
essential glory of the Deity; yet was it a mighty and marvellous
condescension, for him who is “over all, God, blessed for ever,” thus to
assume our frail and suffering flesh. Solomon asked—“Will God in very
deed dwell with men upon the earth?” A question which neither men nor
angels could answer. But God hath answered it himself, and answered it
in the affirmative. “The Word” that “was in the beginning with God, and
was God,” in the fulness of time, “was made flesh, and dwelt among us,
and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,
full of grace and truth.”
We can form no idea of the natural distance between God and man. But the
infinite vacuum is filled up by the Messiah. He is “Emmanuel”—“the true
God,” and “the Son of Man.” “He thought it not robbery to be equal with
God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon himself the form of
a servant, and was made in the likeness of sinful flesh.” Passing by the
nobler nature of angels, “he took on him the seed of Abraham.” Nor did
he join himself to humanity in its original perfection and glory. He
came into the mean condition of fallen creatures, sharing with us our
various infirmities and sufferings. Yet he was free from all moral
contamination. He was “holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from
sinners.” He “knew no sin.” He “did no iniquity, neither was guile
found in his mouth.”
But notwithstanding the humility of his appearance in Bethlehem, such was
the dignity of his person, and such the magnitude and grandeur of the
work for which he came into the world, that angels descended from heaven
to publish the glad tidings to the children of men. True, no ambassadors
were sent to the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem—none to the Senate of Rome, to
proclaim the coming of the Prince of Peace; but never was there such an
embassage on earth, to announce the birth of a royal son, as that which
came to the shepherds of Bethlehem. When he appeared among men, the
order was given in heaven, that all the angels of God should worship him;
and their example was followed by wise men upon earth. The prophet
Isaiah said that his name should be called Wonderful; and the angel
informed Mary that he should be great, and should be called the Son of
the Highest; and that God should give unto him the throne of his father
David, and he should reign over the house of Jacob for ever. “Though he
was rich, yet for our sake he became poor, that we through his poverty
might be rich.” He humbled himself that we might be exalted—was bruised
and wounded that we might be healed—died the most shameful death that men
could inflict, that we might live the most glorious life that God can
confer!
II. Let us now consider the import of the anthem, sung by the heavenly
host, when he was born in Bethlehem. “Glory to God in the highest, and
on earth peace, good will toward men.”
1. “Glory to God in the highest.” The shining light between the
cherubim, on the mercy-seat, was called “the glory of the Lord,” being a
supernatural representation of his presence in the sanctuary. Three of
the apostles saw the same glory upon the mount of transfiguration, and
all believers have seen it by faith. The word “glory,” in the anthem of
the angels, refers to the divine honor and praise resulting from the
humiliation of Christ. The redemption of sinners, through the blood of
the cross, and by the grace of the Holy Spirit, is not only consistent
with the glory of God, but highly promotive of his glory, as our Creator
and Lawgiver. It brightens all the gems previously visible in his crown,
and reveals others that were concealed. His glory, as seen in the works
of creation and providence, is the glory of wisdom, power, and love. His
glory, as seen in his law and its administration, is the glory of
holiness, justice, and truth. These are essential to his nature and his
government. But in the incarnation and the cross of Christ, we behold a
new glory, a glory nowhere else displayed, the glory of mercy. God was
known before to be the friend of saints, but here he shows himself the
friend of sinners. His character as previously revealed was matter of
admiration and praise in earth and heaven, but this new revelation
occasions new wonder and rejoicing to men and angels. Angels delighted
to bear the joyful news to men, and this was the burden of their
message:—“Behold, we bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be
unto”—the righteous? the benevolent and charitable? no; but—“unto all
people.” And what are these tidings? “To you is born, this day, in the
city of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord.” Here is the Lawgiver
embracing the rebels; his the glory, theirs the benefit; while angels
participate the joy of both, singing—“Glory to God in the highest, and on
earth peace.”
2. “On earth peace.” Not by a compromise with Satan, as he proposed
when he tempted the Son of God in the wilderness. Not at the expense of
the Divine law, but by magnifying and making it honorable. Not a peace
with enmity, for Christ hath slain the enmity by his cross. Our peace
flows from the reconciling blood of Jesus. Nothing else could satisfy
the claims of Divine justice, and procure pardon for the penitent
believer.
Without the atonement, there is no peace for sinners. There is an
accusing witness within. Behold that king in the banqueting-house! Why
changes his countenance? Why tremble his knees? Have the wise men of
Babylon interpreted the mystic writing upon the wall? No; but conscience
has. Conscience has given dreadful intimations of its meaning, before
Daniel comes into the presence of the king, and the Hebrew prophet only
confirms the previous interpretation. Every sinner bears about with him
that internal tormentor. It may be bribed; but not for ever. It may be
lulled to sleep; but it will awake with increased energy, and augmented
wrath. The gnawing worm may be stupified for a season, but cannot be
killed. The devouring fire may be temporarily stifled, but cannot be
quenched. How dreadful are its torments, when it wreaks all its anger
upon the guilty! To be drowned in the Red Sea, like Pharaoh—to be
swallowed up by the earth, like Korah—to be hewn in pieces, like Agag—to
be eaten of worms, like Herod—is nothing in the comparison.
Where shall we find peace? We have heard of a stone which nothing but
blood can dissolve. Such a stone is the human conscience. But all the
blood shed on Jewish altars could never effect the work. It must be the
blood of Jesus. He is “the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the
world.” At his cross, the believer’s conscience finds assurance and
repose. He is the good physician, and his blood is the sovereign balm.
Come to his extended arms! Come, for he waits to be gracious!
3. “Good will toward men.” The “good will” of whom? Of God, blessed
for ever. The funds of a benevolent society may be exhausted, so that
its members in distress can receive no benefit. But in the “good will”
of God we find unsearchable riches of grace, sufficient to pay off our
whole debt to the law, and restore our forfeited inheritance; to bring
forth the prisoners, and them that sit in darkness, out of the
prison-house; to support the believer through life, and comfort him in
death, and raise him from the grave not a beggar, or a pensioner, but a
prince, clothed in white, and entitled to an everlasting kingdom.
Did I possess the nature of angels, with my present sinfulness, I should
have no hope of salvation, for God hath provided no mercy for fallen
angels; but, in his infinite wisdom, he hath devised a method for the
consistent display of his “good will toward men,” by assuming their
nature, and in that nature atoning for their sins. This is a wonderful
scheme, whereby God can be just, and yet justify the ungodly. His law is
honoured, though its violater be acquitted; and his government is secure,
though the rebel be forgiven.