comes, all carnal reasonings are battered down immediately, and the
poor soul begins to feel and see the fountain from which all the
polluted streams do flow. When the sinner is first awakened, he begins
to wonder, How came I to be so wicked? The Spirit of God then strikes
in, and shows that he has no good thing in him by nature; then he
sees that he is altogether gone out of the way, that he is altogether
become abominable, and the poor creature is made to lie down at the
foot of the throne of God and to acknowledge that God would be just to
damn him, just to cut him off, tho he never had committed one actual
sin in his life.
Did you ever feel and experience this, any of you--to justify God in
your damnation--to own that you are by nature children of wrath, and
that God may justly cut you off, tho you never actually had offended
Him in all your life? If you were ever truly convicted, if your hearts
were ever truly cut, if self were truly taken out of you, you would be
made to see and feel this. And if you have never felt the weight of
original sin, do not call yourselves Christians. I am verily persuaded
original sin is the greatest burden of a true convert; this ever
grieves the regenerate soul, the sanctified soul. The indwelling of
sin in the heart is the burden of a converted person; it is the burden
of a true Christian. He continually cries out: "Oh! who will deliver
me from this body of death, this indwelling corruption in my heart?"
This is that which disturbs a poor soul most. And, therefore, if you
never felt this inward corruption, if you never saw that God might
justly curse you for it, indeed, my dear friends, you may speak peace
to your hearts, but I fear, nay, I know, there is no true peace.
Further, before you can speak peace to your hearts you must not only
be troubled for the sins of your life, the sins of your nature, but
likewise for the sins of your best duties and performances.
When a poor soul is somewhat awakened by the terrors of the Lord,
then the poor creature, being born under the covenant of works,
flies directly to a covenant of works again. And as Adam and Eve hid
themselves among the trees of the garden and sewed fig-leaves together
to cover their nakedness, so the poor sinner when awakened flies to
his duties and to his performances, to hide himself from God, and goes
to patch up a righteousness of his own. Says he, I will be mighty good
now--I will reform--I will do all I can; and then certainly Jesus
Christ will have mercy on me. But before you can speak peace to your
heart you must be brought to see that God may damn you for the best
prayer you ever put up; you must be brought to see that all your
duties--all your righteousness--as the prophet elegantly expresses
it--put them all together, are so far from recommending you to God,
are so far from being any motive and inducement to God to have
mercy on your poor soul, that He will see them to be filthy rags, a
menstruous cloth--that God hates them, and can not away with them, if
you bring them to Him in order to recommend you to His favor.
My dear friends, what is there in our performance to recommend us unto
God? Our persons are in an unjustified state by nature; we deserve to
be damned ten thousand times over; and what must our performance be?
We can do no good thing by nature: "They that are in the flesh can not
please God."
You may do things materially good, but you can not do a thing formally
and rightly good; because nature can not act above itself. It is
impossible that a man who is unconverted can act for the glory of God;
he can not do anything in faith, and "whatsoever is not of faith is
sin."
After we are renewed, yet we are renewed but in part, indwelling sin
continues in us, there is a mixture of corruption in every one of our
duties, so that after we are converted, were Jesus Christ only to
accept us according to our works, our works would damn us, for we can
not put up a prayer but it is far from that perfection which the moral
law requireth. I do not know what you may think, but I can say that I
can not pray but I sin--I can not preach to you or any others but
I sin--I can do nothing without sin; and, as one expresseth it, my
repentance wants to be repented of, and my tears to be washed in the
precious blood of my dear Redeemer.
Our best duties are so many splendid sins. Before you can speak peace
to your heart you must not only be sick of your original and actual
sin, but you must be made sick of your righteousness, of all your
duties and performances. There must be a deep conviction before you
can be brought out of your self-righteousness; it is the last idol
taken out of our heart. The pride of our heart will not let us submit
to the righteousness of Jesus Christ. But if you never felt that you
had no righteousness of your own, if you never felt the deficiency of
your own righteousness, you can not come to Jesus Christ.
There are a great many now who may say, Well, we believe all this; but
there is a great difference betwixt talking and feeling. Did you ever
feel the want of a dear Redeemer? Did you ever feel the want of Jesus
Christ, upon the account of the deficiency of your own righteousness?
And can you now say from your heart Lord, thou mayest justly damn
me for the best duties that ever I did perform? If you are not thus
brought out of self, you may speak peace to yourselves, but yet there
is no peace.
But then, before you can speak peace to your souls, there is one
particular sin you must be greatly troubled for, and yet I fear there
are few of you think what it is; it is the reigning, the damning sin
of the Christian world, and yet the Christian world seldom or never
think of it. And pray what is that?
It is what most of you think you are not guilty of--and that is, the
sin of unbelief. Before you can speak peace to your heart, you must be
troubled for the unbelief of your heart But can it be supposed that
any of you are unbelievers here in this churchyard, that are born in
Scotland, in a reformed country, that go to church every Sabbath? Can
any of you that receive the sacrament once a year--oh, that it were
administered oftener!--can it be supposed that you who had tokens for
the sacrament, that you who keep up family prayer, that any of you do
not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?
I appeal to your own hearts, if you would not think me uncharitable,
if I doubted whether any of you believed in Christ: and yet, I fear
upon examination, we should find that most of you have not so much
faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as the devil himself. I am persuaded
that the devil believes more of the Bible than most of us do. He
believes the divinity of Jesus Christ; that is more than many who call
themselves Christians do; nay, he believes and trembles, and that is
more than thousands amongst us do.
My friends, we mistake a historical faith for a true faith, wrought
in the heart by the Spirit of God. You fancy you believe because you
believe there is such a book as we call the Bible--because you go to
church; all this you may do and have no true faith in Christ. Merely
to believe there was such a person as Christ, merely to believe there
is a book called the Bible, will do you no good, more than to believe
there was such a man as Caesar or Alexander the Great. The Bible is a
sacred depository. What thanks have we to give to God for these lively
oracles! But yet we may have these and not believe in the Lord Jesus
Christ.
My dear friends, there must be a principle wrought in the heart by
the Spirit of the living God. Did I ask you how long it is since you
believed in Jesus Christ, I suppose most of you would tell me you
believed in Jesus Christ as long as ever you remember--you never did
misbelieve. Then, you could not give me a better proof that you never
yet believed in Jesus Christ, unless you were sanctified early, as
from the womb; for they that otherwise believe in Christ know there
was a time when they did not believe in Jesus Christ.
You say you love God with all your heart, soul, and strength. If I
were to ask you how long it is since you loved God, you would say, As
long as you can remember; you never hated God, you know no time when
there was enmity in your heart against God. Then, unless you were
sanctified very early, you never loved God in your life.
My dear friends, I am more particular in this, because it is a most
deceitful delusion, whereby so many people are carried away, that they
believe already. Therefore it is remarked of Mr. Marshall, giving
account of his experiences, that he had been working for life, and he
had ranged all his sins under the ten commandments, and then, coming
to a minister, asked him the reason why he could not get peace. The
minister looked to his catalog. "Away," says he, "I do not find one
word of the sin of unbelief in all your catalog." It is the peculiar
work of the Spirit of God to convince us of our unbelief--that we have
got no faith. Says Jesus Christ, "I will send the comforter; and when
he is come, he will reprove the world" of the sin of unbelief; "of
sin," says Christ, "because they believe not on me."
Now, my dear friends, did God ever show you that you had no faith?
Were you ever made to bewail a hard heart of unbelief? Was it ever the
language of your heart, Lord, give me faith; Lord, enable me to lay
hold on Thee; Lord, enable me to call Thee my Lord and my God? Did
Jesus Christ ever convince you in this manner? Did he ever convince
you of your inability to close with Christ, and make you to cry out to
God to give you faith? If not, do not speak peace to your heart. May
the Lord awaken you and give you true, solid peace before you go hence
and be no more!
Once more, then: before you can speak peace to your heart, you must
not only be convinced of your actual and original sin, the sins of
your own righteousness, the sin of unbelief, but you must be enabled
to lay hold upon the perfect righteousness, the all-sufficient
righteousness, of the Lord Jesus Christ; you must lay hold by faith
on the righteousness of Jesus Christ, and then you shall have peace.
"Come," says Jesus, "unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden,
and I will give you rest."
This speaks encouragement to all that are weary and heavy laden;
but the promise of rest is made to them only upon their coming and
believing, and taking Him to be their God and their all. Before we can
ever have peace with God we must be justified by faith through our
Lord Jesus Christ, we must be enabled to apply Christ to our hearts,
we must have Christ brought home to our souls, so as His righteousness
may be made our righteousness, so as His merits may be imputed to our
souls. My dear friends, were you ever married to Jesus Christ? Did
Jesus Christ ever give Himself to you? Did you ever close with Christ
by a lively faith, so as to feel Christ in your hearts, so as to hear
Him speaking peace to your souls? Did peace ever flow in upon your
hearts like a river? Did you ever feel that peace that Christ spoke to
His disciples? I pray God he may come and speak peace to you. These
things you must experience.
I am now talking of the invisible realities of another world, of
inward religion, of the work of God upon a poor sinner's heart. I am
now talking of a matter of great importance, my dear hearers; you are
all concerned in it, your souls are concerned in it, your eternal
salvation is concerned in it. You may be all at peace, but perhaps the
devil has lulled you asleep into a carnal lethargy and security, and
will endeavor to keep you there till he gets you to hell, and there
you will be awakened; but it will be dreadful to be awakened and find
yourselves so fearfully mistaken when the great gulf is fixt, when
you will be calling to all eternity for a drop of water to cool your
tongue and shall not obtain it.
BLAIR
THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
Hugh Blair, the preacher and divine, was born in Edinburgh, 1718. He
entered the university of his native town and graduated in 1739. Two
years later he was licensed to preach; he was ordained minister of
Colossie, Fife, in 1742, but returned to Edinburgh and in 1762
was made regius professor of rhetoric and belles-lettres to the
university. He became a member of the great literary club, the Poker,
where he associated with Hume, A. Carlyle, Adam Ferguson, Adam Smith
and others, and enjoyed a high reputation as a preacher and critic.
The lectures he published on style are elegantly written, but weak in
thought, and his sermons share the same fault. They are composed with
great care, and sometimes a single discourse cost him a week's labor,
but they are formal and destitute of feeling and sometimes even
affected in style. Blair was notable for fastidiousness in dress and
manners, and took very seriously the reputation he was given for
refinement and common-sense as one of the moderate divines. He died in
1800.
BLAIR
1718--1800
THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME
_Jesus lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said, Father! the hour is
come_.--John xvii., 1.
These were the words of our blest Lord on a memorable occasion. The
feast of the Passover drew nigh, at which He knew that He was to
suffer. The night was arrived wherein He was to be delivered into the
hands of His enemies. He had spent the evening in conference with His
disciples, like a dying father in the midst of his family, mingling
consolations with His last instructions. When He had ended His
discourse to them, "he lifted up his eyes to heaven," and with the
words which I have now read, began that solemn prayer of intercession
for the Church, which closed His ministry. Immediately after, He went
forth with His disciples into the garden of Gethsemane and surrendered
Himself to those who came to apprehend Him.
Such was the situation of our Lord at the time of His pronouncing
these words. He saw His mission on the point of being accomplished.
He had the prospect full before Him of all that He was about to
suffer--"Father! the hour is come." What hour? An hour the most
critical, the most pregnant with great events, since hours had begun
to be numbered, since time had begun to run. It was the hour at which
the Son of God was to terminate the labors of His important life by a
death still more important and illustrious; the hour of atoning, by
His sufferings, for the guilt of mankind; the hour of accomplishing
prophecies, types, and symbols, which had been carried on through a
series of ages; the hour of concluding the old and of introducing into
the world the new dispensation of religion; the hour of His triumphing
over the world, and death, and hell; the hour of His creating that
spiritual kingdom which is to last forever. Such is the hour. Such are
the events which you are to commemorate in the sacrament of our Lord's
Supper.
I. This was the hour in which Christ was glorified by His sufferings.
The whole of His life had discovered much real greatness under a mean
appearance. Through the cloud of His humiliation, His native luster
often broke forth; but never did it shine so bright as in this last,
this trying hour. It was indeed the hour of distress and of blood. He
knew it to be such; and when He uttered the words of the text, He had
before His eyes the executioner and the cross, the scourge, the nails,
and the spear. But by prospects of this nature His soul was not to be
overcome. It is distress which ennobles every great character; and
distress was to glorify the Son of God. He was now to teach all
mankind by His example, how to suffer and to die. He was to stand
forth before His enemies as the faithful witness of the truth,
justifying by His behavior the character which He assumed, and sealing
by His blood the doctrines which He taught.
What magnanimity in all His words and actions on this great occasion!
The court of Herod, the judgment-hall of Pilate, the hill of Calvary,
were so many theaters prepared for His displaying all the virtues of a
constant and patient mind. When led forth to suffer, the first voice
which we hear from Him is a generous lamentation over the fate of His
unfortunate tho guilty country; and to the last moment of His life we
behold Him in possession of the same gentle and benevolent spirit. No
upbraiding, no complaining expression escaped from His lips during the
long and painful approaches of a cruel death. He betrayed no symptom
of a weak or a vulgar, of a discomposed or impatient mind. With the
utmost attention of filial tenderness He committed His aged mother to
the care of His beloved disciple. With all the dignity of a sovereign
He conferred pardon on a fellow-sufferer. With a greatness of mind
beyond example, He spent His last moments in apologies and prayers for
those who were shedding His blood.
By wonders in heaven and wonders on earth, was this hour
distinguished. All nature seemed to feel it; and the dead and the
living bore witness of its importance. The veil of the temple was rent
in twain. The earth shook. There was darkness over all the land. The
graves were opened, and "many who slept arose, and went into the holy
city." Nor were these the only prodigies of this awful hour. The most
hardened hearts were subdued and changed. The judge who, in order to
gratify the multitude, passed sentence against Him, publicly attested
His innocence. The Roman centurion who presided at the execution,
"glorified God," and acknowledged the Sufferer to be more than man.
"After he saw the things which had passed, he said, Certainly this
was a righteous person: truly this was the Son of God." The Jewish
malefactor who was crucified with Him addrest Him as a king, and
implored His favor. Even the crowd of insensible spectators, who had
come forth as to a common spectacle, and who began with clamors and
insults, "returned home smiting their breasts." Look back on the
heroes, the philosophers, the legislators of old. View them, in their
last moments. Recall every circumstance which distinguished their
departure from the world. Where can you find such an assemblage of
high virtues, and of great events, as concurred at the death of
Christ? Where so many testimonials given to the dignity of the dying
person by earth and by heaven?
II. This was the hour in which Christ atoned for the sins of mankind,
and accomplished our eternal redemption. It was the hour when that
great sacrifice was offered up, the efficacy of which reaches back
to the first transgression of man, and extends forward to the end of
time; the hour when, from the cross, as from a high altar, the blood
was flowing which washed away the guilt of the nations.
This awful dispensation of the Almighty contains mysteries which are
beyond the discovery of man. It is one of those things into which "the
angels desire to look." What has been revealed to us is, that the
death of Christ was the interposition of heaven for preventing the
ruin of human kind. We know that under the government of God misery
is the natural consequence of guilt. After rational creatures had, by
their criminal conduct, introduced disorder into the divine kingdom,
there was no ground to believe that by their penitence and prayers
alone they could prevent the destruction which threatened them. The
prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices throughout the earth proclaims
it to be the general sense of mankind that mere repentance was not of
sufficient avail to expiate sin or to stop its penal effects. By the
constant allusions which are carried on in the New Testament to the
sacrifices under the law, as pre-signifying a great atonement made by
Christ, and by the strong expressions which are used in describing the
effects of His death, the sacred writers show, as plainly as language
allows, that there was an efficacy in His sufferings far beyond
that of mere example and instruction. The nature and extent of that
efficacy we are unable as yet fully to trace. Part we are capable of
beholding; and the wisdom of what we behold we have reason to adore.
We discern, in this plan of redemption, the evil of sin strongly
exhibited and the justice of the divine government awfully
exemplified, in Christ suffering for sinners. But let us not imagine
that our present discoveries unfold the whole influence of the
death of Christ. It is connected with causes into which we can not
penetrate. It produces consequences too extensive for us to explore.
"God's thoughts are not as our thoughts." In all things we "see only
in part"; and here, if anywhere, we see also "as through a glass.
darkly."
This, however, is fully manifest, that redemption is one of the most
glorious works of the Almighty. If the hour of the creation of the
world was great and illustrious, that hour when, from the dark and
formless mass, this fair system of nature arose at the divine command,
when "the morning-stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted
for joy," no less illustrious is the hour of the restoration of the
world; the hour when, from condemnation and misery, it emerged into
happiness and peace. With less external majesty it was attended; but
it is, on that account, the more wonderful that, under an appearance
so simple, such great events were covered.
III. In this hour the long series of prophecies, visions, types, and
figures were accomplished. This was the center in which they all met:
this the point toward which they had tended and verged, throughout the
course of so many generations. You behold the law and the prophets
standing, if we may speak so, at the foot of the cross, and doing
homage. You behold Moses and Aaron bearing the Ark of the Covenant;
David and Elijah presenting the oracle of testimony. You behold all
the priests and sacrifices, all the rites and ordinances, all the
types and symbols assembled together to receive their consummation.
Without the death of Christ, the worship and ceremonies of the law
would have remained a pompous, but unmeaning, institution. In the hour
when He was crucified, "the book with the seven seals" was opened.
Every rite assumed its significancy; every prediction met its event;
every symbol displayed its correspondence.
The dark and seemingly ambiguous method of conveying important
discoveries under figures and emblems was not peculiar to the sacred
books. The spirit of God in presignifying the death of Christ, adopted
that plan, according to which the whole knowledge of those early
ages was propagated through the world. Under the veil of mysterious
allusion, all wisdom was then concealed. From the sensible world
images were everywhere borrowed to describe things unseen. More was
understood to be meant than was openly exprest. By enigmatical rites
the priests communicated his doctrines; by parables and allegories
the philosopher instructed his disciples; even the legislator, by
figurative sayings, commanded the reverence of the people. Agreeably
to this prevailing mode of instruction, the whole dispensation of the
Old Testament was so conducted as to be the shadow and figure of
a spiritual system. Every remarkable event, every distinguished
personage, under the law, is interpreted in the New Testament, as
bearing reference to the hour of which we treat. If Isaac was laid
upon the altar as an innocent victim; if David was driven from his
throne by the wicked, and restored by the hand of God; if the brazen
serpent was lifted up to heal the people; if the rock was smitten by
Moses, to furnish drink in the wilderness; all were types of Christ
and alluded to His death.
In predicting the same event the language of ancient prophecy was
magnificent, but seemingly contradictory: for it foretold a Messiah,
who was to be at once a sufferer and a conquerer. The Star was to come
out of Jacob, and the Branch to spring from the stem of Jesse. The
Angel of the Covenant, the desire of all nations, was to come suddenly
to His temple; and to Him was to be "the gathering of the people."
Yet, at the same time, He was to be "despised and rejected of men"; He
was to be "taken from prison and from judgment," and to be "led as a
lamb to the slaughter." Tho He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted
with grief," yet "the Gentiles were to come to his light, and kings
to the brightness of his rising." In the hour when Christ died, those
prophetical riddles were solved: those seeming contradictions were
reconciled. The obscurity of oracles, and the ambiguity of typos
vanished. The "sun of righteousness" rose; and, together with the dawn
of religion those shadows passed away.