Romans 5:8
“But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
I shall have nothing new to tell you; it will be as old as the everlasting
hills, and so simple that a child may understand it. Love's
commendation. "God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we
were yet sinners, Christ died for us." God's commendation of himself
and of his love is not in words, but in deeds. When the Almighty God
would commend his love to poor man, it is not written, "God
commendeth his love towards us in an eloquent oration"; it is not
written that he commendeth his love by winning professions; but he
commendeth his love toward us by an act, by a deed; a surprising deed,
the unutterable grace of which eternity itself shall scarce discover. He
"commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners,
Christ died for us." Let us learn, then upon the threshold of our text,
that if we would commend ourselves it must be by deeds, and not by
words. Men may talk fairly, and think that thus they shall win esteem;
they may order their words aright, and think that so they shall
command respect; but let them remember, it is not the wordy oratory of
the tongue, but the more powerful eloquence of the hand which wins
the affection of "the world's great heart." If thou wouldst commend
thyself to thy fellows, go and do--not go and say; if thou wouldst win
honour from the excellent, talk not, but act; and if before God thou
wouldst show that thy faith is sincere, and thy love to him real:
remember, it is no fawning words, uttered either in prayer or praise, but
it is the pious deed, the holy act, which is the justification of thy faith,
and the proof that it is the faith of God's elect. Doing, not saying--
acting, not talking--these are the things which commend a man.
"No big words of ready talkers,
No fine boastings will suffice;
Broken hearts and humble walkers,
These are dear in Jesus' eyes."
Let us imitate God, then, in this. If we would commend our religion to
mankind, we cannot do it by mere formalities, but by gracious acts of
integrity, charity and forgiveness, which are the proper discoveries of
grace within. "Let your light so shine before men that they may see
your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." "Let
your conversation be such as becometh the gospel of Christ;" and so
shall you honour him, and "adorn the doctrine" which you profess.
But now for this mighty deed whereby God commended his love. We
think that it is twofold. We believe the apostle has given us a double
commendation of love. The first is, "God commendeth his love toward
us, in that, Christ died for us"; the second commendation arises from
our condition, "In that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us."
I. The first commendation of love, then, is this--that "CHRIST DIED
FOR US"; and as the whole text is double, so this sentence also
contains a twofold commendation There is a commendation of love in
the person who died--Christ; and then in the act which he performed--
"Christ died for us."
First, then, it is the highest commendation of love, that it was CHRIST
who died for us. When sinful man erred from his Maker, it was
necessary that God should punish his sin. He had sworn by himself,
"The soul that sinneth it shall die;" and God--with reverence to his all-
holy name be it spoken--could not swerve from what he had said. He
had declared on Sinai that he would by no means clear the guilty; but
inasmuch as he desired to pardon the offending, it was necessary that
some one else should bear the sufferings which the guilty ought to have
endured, that so by the vicarious substitution of another, God might be
"just, and yet the justifier of the ungodly." Now, the question might
have arisen, "Who is he that shall be the scapegoat for man's offence?
Who is he that shall bear his transgressions and take away his sins?" If
I might be allowed to picture in my imagination (and mark, it is nothing
more than imagination), I could almost conceive a parliament in
heaven. The angels are assembled; the question is proposed to them:--
"Cherubim and seraphim, cohorts of the glorified, ye spirits that like
flames of fire, swift at my bidding fly; ye happy beings, whom I have
created for my honour! here is a question which I condescend to offer
for your consideration:--Man has sinned; there is no way for his pardon
but by some one suffering and paying blood for blood. Who shall it
be?" I can conceive that there was silence throughout the august
assembly. Gabriel spoke not: he would have stretched his wings and
flapped the ether in a moment, if the deed had been possible; but he felt
that he could never bear the guilt of a world upon his shoulders, and,
therefore, still he sat. And there the mightiest of the mighty, those who
could shake a world if God should will it, sat still, because they felt all
powerless to accomplish redemption. I do not conceive that one of
them would have ventured to hope that God himself would assume
flesh and die. I do not think it could have entered even into angelic
thought to conceive that the mighty Maker of the skies should bow his
awful head and sink into a grave. I cannot imagine that the brightest
and most seraphic of these glorified ones would for an instant have
suffered such a thought to abide with him. And when the Son of God,
upstarting from his throne, spoke to them and said, "Principalities and
powers! I will become flesh, I will veil this Godhead of mine in robes
of mortal clay, I will die!"--I think I see the angels for once astonished.
They had seen worlds created; they had beheld the earth, like a spark
from the incandescent mass of unformed matter, hammered from the
anvil of Omnipotence, and smitten off into space; and yet they had not
wondered. But on this occasion I conceive that they ceased not to
marvel. "What! wilt thou die, O Word! Creator! Master! Infinite!
Almighty! wilt thou become a man and die?" "Yes," saith the Saviour,
"I will." And are you not astonished, mortal men? Do you not wonder?
What, will you not marvel? The hosts of heaven still are wondering.
Though it is many an age since they heard it, they have not yet ceased
to admire; and do not you begin to marvel yet? Shall the theme which
stirs the marvel of the seraph not move your hearts? That God himself
should become man, and then should die for you! "God commendeth
his love toward us, in that, Christ should die. Roll that thought over in
your mind; ponder it in your meditations; weigh it in your hearts. If ye
have right ideas of Godhead, if ye know what Christ is, if ye can
conceive him who is the everlasting God, and yet the man--if ye can
picture him, the pure, holy, perfect creature, and yet the everlasting
Creator--if ye can conceive of him as the man who was wounded, and
yet the God who was exalted for ever--if ye can picture him as the
Maker of all worlds, as the Lord of providence, by whom all things
exist and consist--if ye can conceive of him now, as robed in splendor,
surrounded with the choral symphonies of myriads of angels, then
perhaps ye may guess how deep was that stride of condescension,
when he stepped from heaven to earth, from earth into the grave, from
the grave down, it is said, into the lowest "sheol," that he might make
his condescension perfect and complete. "He hath commended his
love" to you, my brethren, in that it was Christ, the Son of God, who
died for us.
The second part of the first commendation lieth here, that Christ died
for us. It was much love when Christ became man for us, when he
stripped himself of the glories of his Godhead for awhile, to become an
infant of a span long, slumbering in the manger of Bethlehem. It was no
little condescension when he divested himself of all his glories, hung
his mantle on the sky, gave up his diadem and the pleasures of his
throne, and stooped to become flesh. It was moreover, no small love
when he lived a holy and a suffering life for us; it was love amazing,
when God with feet of flesh did tread the earth, and teach his own
creatures how to live, all the while bearing their scoffs and jests with
cool unangered endurance. It was no little favour of him that he should
condescend to give us a perfect example by his spotless life; but the
commendation of love lieth here--not that Christ lived for us, but that
Christ died for us.
Come, dear hearers, for a moment weigh those words. "Christ died for
us!" Oh, how we love those brave defenders of our nation who but
lately died for us in a far-off land! Some of us showed our sympathy to
their sons and daughters, their wives and children, by contributing to
support them, when the fathers were laid low. We feel that the
wounded soldier is a friend to us, and that we are his debtors for ever.
We may not love war; we may not, some of us, think it a Christian act
to wield the sword; but, nevertheless, I am sure we love the men who
sought to defend our country with their lives, and who died in our
cause. We would drop a tear over the silent graves of Balaclava, if we
were there now. And, if it should ever come to pass that any one of
them should be called to die for us, should we not henceforth love
them? Do any of us know what is contained in that great word "die?"
Can we measure it? Can we tell its depths of suffering or its heights of
agony? "Died for us!" Some of you have seen death; you know how
great and dread is its power; you have seen the strong man bowing
down, his knees quivering; you have beheld the eyestrings break, and
seen the eyeballs glazed in death; you have marked the torture and the
agonies which appal men in their dying hours; and you have said, "Ah!
it is a solemn and an awful thing to die." But, my hearers, "Christ died
for us." All that death could mean Christ endured; he yielded up the
ghost, he resigned his breath; he became a lifeless corpse, and his body
was interred, even like the bodies of the rest that died. "Christ died for
us."
Consider the circumstances which attended his death. It was no
common death he died; it was a death of ignominy, for he was put to
death by a legal slaughter; it was a death of unutterable pain, for he
was crucified; and what more painful fate than to die nailed to a cross?
It was a long protracted death, for he hung for hours, with only his
hands and his feet pierced--parts which are far away from the seat of
life, but in which are situated the most tender nerves, full of sensibility.
He suffered a death which for its circumstances still remain
unparalleled. It was no speedy blow which crushed the life out of the
body, and ended it; but it was a lingering, long, and doleful death,
attended with no comforts and no sympathy, but surrounded with scorn
and contempt. Picture him! They have hurled him on his back; they
have driven nails through his hands and his feet; they have lifted him
up. See! They have dashed the cross into its place. It is fixed. And now
behold him! Mark his eyes, all full of tears; behold his head, hanging
on his breast. Ah! mark him, he seems all silently to say, "I am poured
out like water; all my bones are out of joint; I am brought into the dust
of death." Hear him, when he groans, "I thirst." Above all, listen to
him, whilst he cries, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" My words cannot
picture him; my thoughts fail to express it. No painter ever
accomplished it, nor shall any speaker be able to perform it. Yet I
beseech you regard the Royal Sufferer. See him, with the eye of your
faith, hanging on the bloody tree. Hear him cry, before he dies, "It is
finished!"
"See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?"
Oh! how i wish I could stir you! If I should tell you some silly story of
a love-sick maid, ye would weep; if I should turn novelist, and give you
some sad account of a fabled hero who had died in pain--if it were a
fiction, I should have your hearts; but this is a dread and solemn reality,
and one with which you are intimately connected, for all this was done
for as many of you as sincerely repent of your sins.
"All ye that pass by,
to Jesus draw nigh:
To you is it nothing that Jesus should die?"
Bethink you, that if you are saved, it is something to you, for the blood
which trickles from his hands, distils for you. That frame which writhes
in torture writhes for you; those knees, so weak with pain, are weak for
you; those eyes, dripping with showers of tears, do drop for you. Ah!
think of him, then, ye who have faith in him; look to him, and as many
of you as have not yet believed, I will pray for you, that ye may now
behold him as the expiation of your guilt; as the key which opens
heaven to all believers.
Our second point was this: "God commendeth his love towards us," not
only because Christ died for us, but that CHRIST DIED FOR US
WHILE WE WERE YET SINNERS."
Let us for a moment consider what sort of sinners many of us have
been, and then we shall see it was marvellous grace that Christ should
die for men--not as penitents"but as sinners. Consider how many of us
have been continual sinners. We have not sinned once, nor twice, but
ten thousand times. Our life, however upright and moral it has been, is
stained by a succession of sins. If we have not revolted against God in
the outward acts which proclaim the profligate to be a great sinner, yet
the thoughts of our heart and the words of our lips are swift witnesses
against us that we have continually transgressed. And oh! my brethren,
who is there among us who will not likewise confess to sins of act?
Who among us has not broken the Sabbath-day? Who among us has
not taken God's name in vain? Who of us shall dare to say that we have
loved the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with
all our strength? Have we never by any act whatsoever showed that we
have coveted our neighbour's goods? Verily, I know we have; we have
broken his commands, and it is well for us to join in that general
confession--"We have done those things which we ought not to have
done; we have left undone those things which we ought to have done,
and there is no health in us." Now, the sweet thought is, that Christ
died for us, whilst he knew that we should be continual transgressors.
Men, brethren, and fathers, he did not die for you as those who have
committed but one fault, but as those who were emphatically "sinners;"
sinners of years' standing; some of you sinners with grey heads; sinners
who have persevered in a constant course of iniquity. As sinners we
are redeemed, and by it we become saints. Does not this commend
Christ's love to us, that he should die for sinners, who have dyed
themselves with sin as with crimson and with scarlet; great and
continual sinners.
Note again, he has died for us, although our sins were aggravated. Oh!
there are some of us here who are great sinners--not so much in the
acts we have performed, as in the aggravation of our guilt. I reckon that
when I sin, I sin worse than many of you, because I sin against better
training than many of my hearers received in their youth. Many of you,
when you sin, sin against faithful ministers, and against the most
earnest warnings. It has been your wont to sit under truthful pastors;
you have often been told of your sins. Remember, sirs, when you sin
you do not sin so cheap as others: when you sin against the convictions
of your consciences, against the solemn monitions of your pastors, you
sin more grossly than others do. The Hottentot sinneth not as the Briton
doth. He who has been brought up in this land may be openly more
righteous, but he may be inwardly more wicked, for he sins against
more knowledge. But even for such Christ died--for men who have
sinned against the wooings of his love, against the strivings of their
consciences, against the invitations of his Word, against the warnings
of his providence--even for such Christ died, and therein he
commendeth his love towards us, that he died for sinners. My hearer, if
thou hast so sinned, do not therefore despair, it may be he will yet
make thee rejoice in his redemption.
Reflect again, When we were sinners, we were sinners against the
very person who died for us. "Tis strange, 'tis passing strange, 'tis
wonderful," that the very Christ against whom we have sinned died for
us. If a man should be injured in the street, if a punishment should be
demanded of the person who attacked him, it would be passing strange
if the injured man should for love's sake bear the penalty, that the other
might go free; but 'twas so with Christ. He had been injured, yet he
suffers for the very injury that others did to him. He dies for his
enemies--dies for the men that hate and scorn him. There is an old
tradition, that the very man who pierced Christ's side was converted;
and I sometimes think that peradventure in heaven we shall meet with
those very men who drove the nails into his hands and pierced his side.
Love is a mighty thing; it can forgive great transgressors. I know my
Master said, "Begin at Jerusalem," and I think he said that because
there lived the men who had crucified him, and he wanted them to be
saved. My hearer, hast thou ever blasphemed Christ? Hast thou ever
mocked him, and scoffed at his people? Hast thou done all thou couldst
to emulate the example of those who spat in his holy face? Dost thou
repent of it? Dost thou feel thou needst a Saviour? Then I tell thee, in
Christ's name, he is thy Saviour; yes, thy Saviour, though thus hast
insulted him--thy Saviour, though thou hast trampled on him--thy
Saviour though thou hast spoken evil of his people, his day, his Word,
and his gospel.
Once more, let us remember, that many of us as sinners have been
persons who for a long time have heard this good news, and yet have
despised it. Perhaps there is nothing more wonderful in the depravity of
man than that it is able to forget the love of Christ. If we were not so
sinful as we are, there is not one of us here this morning who would not
weep at the thought of the Saviour's love, and I believe there is not a
solitary man, woman, or child here, who would not say, "I love thee, O
my God! because thou hast done so much for me." It is the highest
proof of our depravity that we do not at once love the Christ who died
for us. There is a story told of the convenanters--of one named Patrick
Welwood--whose house was surrounded at a time when a minister had
for security been hidden there. Claverhouse's dragoons were at the
door, and the minister had fled. The master of the house was
summoned, and it was demanded of him, "Where is the minister?" "He
is gone; I cannot tell whither, for I know not." But they were not
satisfied with that; they tortured him, and since he could not tell them
where he was (for in reality he did not know), they left him, after
inflicting upon him the torture of the thumbscrew; and they took his
sister, a young girl who was living in the house. I believe she did know
where the minister was concealed; but on taking her they asked her,
and she said, "No, I can die myself, but I can never betray God's
servant, and never will, as he may help me." They dragged her to the
water's edge, and making her kneel down, they determined to put her to
death. But the captain said, "Not yet; we will try to frighten her"; and
sending a soldier to her, he knelt down, and applying a pistol to her
ear, she was bidden to betray the minister or die. The click of the pistol
was heard in her ear, but the pistol was not loaded. She slightly
shivered, and the question was again asked of her. "Tell us now," said
they, "where he is, or we will have your life." "Never, never," said she.
A second time the endeavour was made; this time a couple of carabines
were discharged, but into the air, in order to terrify her. At last they
resolved upon really putting her to death, when Trail, the minister, who
was hidden somewhere near, being aroused by the discharge of guns,
and seeing the poor girl about to die for him, sprang forward, and cried,
"Spare that maiden's blood, and take mine; this poor innocent girl, what
hath she done?" The poor girl was dead even there with the fright, but
the minister had come prepared to die himself, to save her life. Oh, my
friends, I have sometimes thought that her heroic martyrdom was
somewhat like the blessed Jesus. He comes to us, and says, "Poor
sinner, wilt thou be my friend?" We answer, "No," He comes to us, and
says, "Ah, I will make thee so," saith he, "I will die for thee"; and he
goes to die on the cross. Oh! methinks I could spring forward and say,
"Nay, Lord Jesus, nay, thou must not die for such a worm." Surely such
a sacrifice is a price too large to pay for poor sinful worms! And yet,
my hearers, to return again to what I have uttered before, you will hear
all this, and nine out of ten will retire from this place, and say, "It was
an old, old story"; and while ye can drop a tear for aught else, ye will
not weep one tear for Jesus, nor sigh one sigh for him, nor will ye
afford him even a faint emotion of love. Would it were different!
Would to God he would change your hearts, that so ye might be
brought to love him.
Further, to illustrate my text, let me remark again, that inasmuch as
Christ died for sinners, it is a special commendation of his love for the
following reasons:--It is quite certain that God did not consider man's
merit when Christ died; in fact, no merit could have deserved the death
of Jesus. Though we had been holy as Adam, we could never have
deserved a sacrifice like that of Jesus for us. But inasmuch as it says,
"He died for sinners," we are thereby taught that God considered our
sin, and not our righteousness. When Christ died, he died for men as
black, as wicked, as abominable, not as good and excellent. Christ did
not shed his blood for us as saints, but as sinners. He considered us in
our loathsomeness, in our low estate and misery--not in that high estate
to which grace afterwards elevates us, but in all the decay into which
we had fallen by our sin. There could have been no merit in us; and
therefore, God commendeth his love by our ill desert.
Again: it is quite certain, because Christ died for us as sinners, that
God had no interest to serve by sending his Son to die. How could
sinners serve him? Oh! if God had pleased, he might have crushed this
nest of rebels, and have made another world all holy. If God had
chosen, the moment that man sinned he might have said unto the world,
"Thou shalt be burned"; and like as a few years ago astronomers told
us that they saw the light of a far-off world burning, myriads of miles
away, this world might have been consumed with burning heat, and sin
scorched out of its clay. But no. Whilst God could have made another
race of beings, and could have either annihilated us, or consigned us to
eternal torment, he was pleased to veil himself in flesh, and die for us.
Surely then it could not have been from any motive of self-interest.
God had nothing to get by man's salvation. What are the attractions of
human voices in Paradise. What are the feeble symphonies which
mortal lips can sing on earth, compared with the death of our Lord? He
had angels enough. Do they not day without night circle his throne
rejoicing? Are not their golden harps sufficient? Is not the orchestra of
heaven large enough? Must our glorious Lord give up his blood to buy
poor worms, that they may join their little notes with the great swell of
a choral universe? Yes, he must; and inasmuch as we are sinners, and
could by no possibility repay him for his kindness, "God commendeth
his love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for
us."
But there is another commendation of love. Christ died for us
"unasked." Christ did not consider me as an awakened heir of heaven,
but as a dead, corrupt, lost, and ruined heir of hell. If he had died for
me as an awakened heir of heaven, then I could have prayed for him to
die, for then I have power to pray, and will to pray; but Christ died for
me when I had no power nor will to lift my voice in prayer to him. It
was entirely unasked. Where did ye ever hear that man was first in
mercy? Did man ask God to redeem? Nay, rather, it is almost the other
way; it is as if God did entreat man to be redeemed. Man never asked
that he might be pardoned, but God pardons him, and then turns round
and cries, "Return unto me, backsliding children of men, and I will
have mercy upon you." Sinners! if you should go down on your knees,
and were for months to cry for mercy, it would be great mercy if mercy
should look upon you; but without asking, when we are hardened and
rebellious, when we will not turn to Christ, he still comes to die for us.
Tell it in heaven; tell it in the lower world! God's amazing work
surpasses thought; for love itself did die for hatred--holiness did crucify
itself to save poor sinful men, and unasked for and unsought, like a
fountain in the desert sparkling spontaneously with its native waters,
Jesus Christ came to die for man, who would not seek his grace. "God
commendeth his love towards us."
And now, my dear hearers, I want to close up, if the Spirit of God will
help me, by endeavouring to commend God's love to you, as much as
ever I can, and inviting as many of you as feel your need of a Saviour,
to lay hold of him and embrace him now as your all-sufficient sacrifice.
Sinner! I can commend Christ to thee for this reason: I know that thou
needest him. Thou mayest be ignorant of it thyself, but thou dost need
him. Thou hast a leprosy within thine heart--thou needest a physician;
thou sayest, "I am rich;" but sinner, thou art not--thou art naked, and
poor, and miserable. Thou sayest, "I shall stand before God accepted at
last"; but, sinner, without Christ thou wilt not; for whosoever believeth
not on Christ "hath not life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." Hear
that, my dear hearers: "The wrath of God abideth on him." Oh! that
wrath of God! Sinner, thou needest Christ, even though thou dost not
think so. Oh, that the Lord would impress this upon thee! Again, a day
is coming when thou wilt feel thy need of Christ if thou dost not now.
Within a few short years, perhaps months or days, thou wilt lie upon
the last bed that shall ever bear thy weight; soon thou shalt be stayed
up by soft pillows; thy frame will be weak, and thy soul full of sorrow.
Thou mayest live without Christ now, but it will be hard work to die
without him. Thou mayest do without this bridge here; but when thou
gettest to the river thou wilt think thyself a fool to have laughed at the
only bridge which can carry thee safely over. Thou mayest despise
Christ now, but what wilt thou do in the swellings of Jordan. Canst
thou face death, and not be afraid? Nay, man, thou art affrighted now if
the cholera is in the city; or if some little sickness is about thee thou
shakest for fear; what wilt thou do when thou art in the jaws of death,
when his bony hand is squeezing thee, and when his dart is in thy
vitals? What wilt thou do then without a Saviour? Ah! thou wilt want
him then. And what wilt thou do when thou hast passed that black
stream, when thou findest thyself in the realm of spirits--in that day of
judgment, when the thunders shall be loosed, and the wings of the
lightning shall be unbound--when tempests shall herald with trumpet
voice the arrival of the great Assize? What wilt thou do when thou
shalt stand before his bar before whom, in astonishment, the stars shall
flee, the mountains quake, and the sea be licked up with tongues of
forked flame? What wilt thou do, when from his throne he shall
exclaim, "Come hither, sinner," and thou shalt stand there alone, to be
judged for every deed done in the body? Thou wilt turn thine head, and
say, "Oh! for an advocate!" And he shall look on thee, and say, "I
called, and ye refused; I stretched out my hand and no man regarded; I
also will now laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear
cometh." Ah! what wilt thou do then sinner, when the judgment-seat is
set? Oh! there will be weeping--there will be weeping at the judgment-
seat of Christ. And what wilt thou do in that day when he shall say,
"Depart, ye cursed;" and when the black angel, with a countenance
more fierce than lightening, and with a voice louder than ten thousand
thunders, shall cry, "Depart!" and smite thee down where lie for ever
those accursed spirits, bound in fetters of iron, who, long long ago,
were cast into perdition? Say not, I tell thee terrible things: if it be
terrible to speak of, how terrible it must be to bear! If you believe not
what I say, I shall not wonder if you laugh at me; but as the most of
you believe this, I claim your most solemn attention to this subject.
Sirs! Do ye believe there is a hell, and that you are going there? And
yet do you still march heedless on? Do you believe that beyond you,
when the stream of life is ended, there is a black gulf of misery? and do
you still sail downwards to it, quaffing still your glass of happiness,
still merry as the live-long day? O stay, poor sinner, stay! Stay! It may
be the last moment thou wilt ever have the opportunity to stay in.
Therefore stay now I beseech thee. And if thou knowest thyself to be
lost and ruined, if the Holy Spirit has humbled thee and made thee feel
thy sin, let me tell thee how thou shalt be saved. "He that believeth on
the Lord Jesus Christ and is baptized, shall be saved. "He that believeth
not," saith the Scripture "shall be damned." Do you not like that
message? Ought I to have said another word instead of that? If you
wish it, I shall not; what God says I will say; far be it from me to alter
the messages from the Most High; I will, if he help me, declare his
truth without altering. He saith "He that believeth and is baptized shall
be saved; he that believeth not shall be damned." What is it to believe?
To tell you as simply as possible: to believe is to give up trusting in
yourself and to trust in Jesus Christ as your Saviour. The negro said,
you know, "Massa dis here is how I believe--when I see a promise, I
do not stand on de promise; but I say, dat promise firm and strong; I
fall flat on it; if de promise will not bear me, den it is de promise fault;
but I fall flat on it." Now, that is faith. Christ says, "This is a faithful
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the
world to save sinners." Faith is to say, "Well, then, sink or swim, that is
my only hope; lost or saved, that is my only refuge. I am resolved, for
this my last defence,
`If I perish there and die,
At his cross I still will lie'."
"What!" says one, "no good works?" Good works will come
afterwards, but they do not go with it. You must come to Christ, not
with your good works, but with your sins; and coming with your sins,
he will take them away, and give you good works afterwards. After
you believe, there will be good works as the effect of your faith; but if
you think faith will be the effect of good works, you are mistaken. It is
"believe and live." Cowper calls them the soul-quickening words,
"believe and live." This is the sum and substance of the gospel.
Now, do any of you say this is not the gospel? I shall ask you one day
what it is. Is not this the doctrine Whitfield preached? Pray what else
did Luther thunder, when he shook the Vatican? what else was
proclaimed by Augustine and Chrysostom, but this one doctrine of
salvation in Christ by faith alone? And what did Paul write? Turn ye to
his epistles. And what did our Saviour himself say, when he left these
words on record--"Go ye and teach all nations, baptizing them in the
name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost?" And what did
he command his disciples to teach them? To teach them this. The very
words I have now repeated to you were his last commission. "He that
believeth and is baptized shall be saved; he that believeth not shall be
damned."
But again you say, "How can I believe that Christ died for me?" Why,
thus,--He says he died for sinners: canst thou say thou art a sinner? I do
not mean with that fine complimentary phrase which many of you use,
when you say, "Yes, I am a sinner;" and if I sit down to ask you, "Did
you break that commandment?" "Oh, no," you will say: "Did you
commit that offence?" "Oh, no;" you never did anything wrong. And
yet you are sinners. Now that is the sort of sinners I do not think I shall
preach to. The sort of sinners I would call to repentance are those
whom Christ invited--those who know that they have been guilty, vile,
and lost. If thou knowest thy sinnership, so truly Christ died for thee.
Remember that striking saying of Luther. Luther says, Satan once came
to him and said, "Martin Luther, thou art lost, for thou art a sinner."
Said I to him, "Satan, I thank thee for saying I am a sinner, for
inasmuch as thou sayest I am a sinner, I answer thee thus--Christ died
for sinners; and if Martin Luther is a sinner, Christ died for him." Now,
canst thou lay hold on that, my hearer? It is not on my authority, but on
God's authority. Go away and rejoice; for if thou be the chief of sinners
thou shalt be saved, if thou believest.
"Jesus, thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress;
'Midst flaming worlds in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.
Bold shall I stand in that great day.
For who aught to my charge shall lay?
While, thro' thy blood, absolv'd I am
From sin's tremendous curse and shame."
Sing that, poor soul, and thou hast begun to sing the song of Paradise.
May the Lord, the Holy Spirit, apply these simple statements of truth to
the salvation of your souls.
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