It may be that I am talking now to some poor drunkard here. When he
comes into his house his children listen, and hear by the footfall
that their father is coming home drunk, and the little things run away
and hide from him as if he was some horrid demon. His wife begins to
tremble. Many a time has that great, strong arm been brought down on
her weak, defenceless body. Many a day has she carried about marks
from that man's violence. He ought to be her protector, support, and
stay; but he has become her tormentor. His home is like hell upon
earth; there is no joy there. There may be one such here to-night who
hears the good news that he can be born again, and receive a nature
from heaven, and receive the Spirit of God. God can give him power to
hurl the infernal cup from him. God will give him grace to trample
Satan under his feet, and the drunkard will then become a sober man.
Go to that house three months hence, and you find it neat and clean.
As you draw near that home you hear singing; not the song of the
drunkard, that is gone, all things have become new. He has been born
of God, and is singing one of the songs of Zion:
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
Or perhaps he is singing that good old hymn that his mother taught him
when he was a little boy:
"There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains."
He has become a child of God, an heir of heaven. His children are
climbing up his knee, and he has his arms round their necks. That dark
home is now changed into a little Bethel on earth. God dwells there
now. Yes; God has done all that, and that is regeneration.