Chapter X: Part 10

It is only recently that the public prints quoted the minister of a prominent church as saying: "Modern Christianity has happily grown away from the old traditional doctrine of hell. The Church no longer believes in a place of literal fire and brimstone, into which all unbelievers are cast for an eternity of torment. Even the most rigid orthodoxy allows wide latitude of belief in the problem of future punishment." Such utterances are very prevalent, and have caused untold confusion of thought. The matter, however, is very simple. It is not a question of what some certain minister thinks, however prominent he may be; neither are we to be guided by what modern Christianity thinks, for modern Christianity ought not think and believe differently from ancient Christianity, since Christianity ought to be ever the same; nor are we concerned what was the old traditional doctrine, since tradition is not, nor has it ever been, a criterion for us. The only determining factor in this, as in all articles of our religious belief, is, What saith the Scripture? Nor may it be superfluous, in approaching the subject of to-day's instruction, to warn against another element, which is sentimentality. Sentiment in its place and sphere is noble and good; but it must remain within its place and sphere. When it comes into conflict with God's teaching, or when it sets itself against the teachings of God's Word, and, because it cannot think or feel how a loving and righteous God could do or permit certain things, then sentiment degenerates into sickly sentimentality, becomes ignoble and sinful. We must never allow our emotion to outrun our sober reason, and, least of all, to set itself against the statements of religion and the arrangements of a holy and all-wise God.

And what is that arrangement in respect to the future? Two main thoughts would we dwell upon at this time: _I. Hell, what is it?--its nature. II. How long does it last?--its duration._

Whenever a general in war wishes to surprise his enemy, he seeks to conceal himself from him, endeavors to make his antagonist believe that he is not at all about, or that he is not as formidable as the other might think. Just so the infernal enemy of men's souls seek to delude them into the belief that there is no hell; that, at any rate, it is not what some would make it out to be. Hell is within you; it's the pinching of conscience in this life, or the misery you have to endure here. At the most, it is not terrible, it is not going to last forever; there is going to be a final and universal restoration; all unbelievers will ultimately be delivered.

All this passes for naught. Whether there is a future life, and of what sort that future life is--only one can positively tell us, and that is God--I repeat, _positively_ tell us. Human reason and philosophy have conjectured its probability or its possibility, but as to its _certainty_, that we have exclusively from the book of God's revelations--the Bible. And the Bible tells us, in plain, unmistakable terms, as plainly as it tells us that there is a heaven and a God, that there is a hell. To discredit it is to discredit the Bible, to contradict our blessed Lord, to shut one's eyes willfully against the truth, and what is it? Something within us--something confined to this world? Never does the Bible so speak. Hell, according to the Scriptures, refers always to the future. So in the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. The rich man _died_, and _then_, after his death, in hell, he lifted up his eyes. When this life is over, the scenes of this world have faded upon their vision, then, for the unrepentant and unsaved, comes hell.

And what is it? To give it with one word--punishment. "These," declares the eternal Judge, "shall go away into everlasting punishment." This punishment is twofold; it is outward and it is inward. Man consists of body and of soul; both are the instruments of his guilt and condemnation; both receive the just reward of their deeds. Whenever Scripture speaks of future punishment, it uses expressions like these: "darkness, blackness of darkness, thirst, fire, lake burning with fire and brimstone." The Gospel parable represents the rich man begging for a drop of water to cool his tongue. It has been said that this is nothing but imagery, mere drapery, pictorial embellishment; but it is _true_. Imagery and the figure are always less terrible than the reality. It may be idle curiosity to speculate as to whether this fire which the Bible speaks of is material fire, how God can support life in the burnings of hell,--though we know that He sustained the companions of Daniel in a hot furnace in the days of King Nebuchadnezzar whose image they would not worship. Waiving all such questions as to the nature of the fire, the place where it is, and the extent to which it is inflicted, the fact that Scripture almost always employs the idea of fire to express the sufferings of hell leads one to believe that there unhappy sufferers literally endure torments like those which men burning in flames feel; and without running into all sorts of revolting descriptions, so much is plain: Hell is pain, acute sensation of the body, the sense of feeling physical suffering; and coupled with this outward punishment is the _inward_ anguish of mind, remorse of conscience. Thus, in the parable, Abraham speaks to the rich man, "Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things." Memory will be a dreadful source of misery.

Here, again, we shall not enter upon any speculations as to the workings of mind and conscience in future retributions, but we know what agony remorse of conscience occasions in this world. It has made strong men tremble, it has smitten the knees of Belshazzar together in the midst of his pleasure. It has forced many a one to confess his misdeed, to give evidence against himself, and seek punishment to escape its excruciating agony. Terrible is an awakened conscience, and yonder it shall be fully awakened. It will have to do homage to an offended and avenging God; be obliged to say to itself, You are the author of your own punishment, you suffer for your own sins. The recollection of his selfishness, his uncharitableness, sensuality, of possessions, and of opportunities abused and misspent, as in the case of this rich man in the parable, will cause him keen and tormenting self-reproach. Anguish, inward and outward, and all this aggravated by the society, the companionship about them. Imagine the associates in yonder accursed place! No wonder that the unfortunate subject of to-day's parable plaintively pleads: "I pray thee, father, that thou wouldst send Lazarus to my father's house; for I have five brothers, lest they also come into this place of torment." The thought, not that of pity,--for pity and sympathy are unknown in hell,--but of increasing his misery, knowing how much he was guilty toward them in leading them astray by scoffing word and lewd example,--it was this that wrung from his lips this plea. How awful such association! How dreadful it is all!

So much as to the first particular, what hell is: outward and inward punishment in the society of the damned. And such punishment, it is further revealed here, is ceaseless in its duration. Many theories are taught to the contrary. It is contended by some that this punishment is only for a time, then follows annihilation of the wicked, they cease to exist. Others, again, hold that all the wicked will be finally restored to God's favor and heaven; that they are now only in a state of trial and probation; that hell will come to an end. I grant you that we would be very much inclined to believe that if we could. But what say the Scriptures? There is not a single word in all the Bible which indicates that there will be probation, another chance, after death. As the tree falleth, so it lies. When the sand has run out of the glass of life, there is no reversion of the glass, the period of grace is gone. "There is a great gulf fixed, says the Gospel, so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us that would come from thence."

What plainer words could be spoken: "These shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal." Mark the comparison,--everlasting punishment, life eternal. If you tamper with, lessen the one, you do so with the other; the only thing in fairness is to accept them thus strictly and expressly, meaning just what they say. _Eternity_, that is the word which is written over the portals of the blessed, over the place of the cursed.

Thus in its dread and awful solemnity have I set this subject before you. Why? Because it is the duty of a faithful servant of God to declare to his people the whole counsel of His Master, and do so unreservedly. A much abused subject is the subject of "Hell,"--from the playwright who works it up for public amusement, to the swearer who uses it in his foul mouth to add poison and fury to his oath, to the over-sensitive churchmen who treat the passages which treat of hell like a waxen nose that they can twist and turn to suit, and who would not recite in the Creed: "Christ descended into hell," since it sounds so bad. Over against these and all other perversions it behooves us to vindicate the clear and unmistakable teaching of the Bible. It is the Savior Himself who tells us to-day's parable, who spoke the words of our text, and it is for us to believe and declare what He says, to avoid all levity in the matter and all vain speculation, and to give it its proper weight and place.

But above all, this dreadful subject is held up before us that we may know how to escape the terrors portrayed. How? "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." "He has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me, that I may be His own and live under Him in His kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness and blessedness." That is the purpose of the Gospel. God wants none to perish, not one soul has He destined to eternal perdition; He would have all men to be saved. He has made every provision to save man from everlasting doom. The terrors of yonder place magnify the riches of that grace which in Jesus Christ delivers from it. Let us adore the wisdom, the unspeakable mercy that would spare us from such a doom. Let us turn to the Cross, employ the time of grace in faith and in wholesome service and life,--

So whene'er the signal's given
Us from earth to call away,
Borne on angels' wings to heaven,
Glad the summons to obey,
May we ready, may we ready,
Rise and reign in endless day.

Amen.

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to
come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time;
when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.--_Acts
24, 25._

Felix, the man here mentioned, was the Roman Governor or Procurator of Judea. Felix is a Latin word and means "happy." But Felix was not happy, for no wicked person can be happy, and Felix was a wicked person. Tacitus, the historian, says of him: "In the practice of all kinds of cruelty and lust, Felix exercised the power of a king with the temper of a slave." A sample we have here given. It reads in the previous verse: "After certain days, ... Felix came with his wife." Strictly taken, she was not his wife, but, being persuaded to elope to him from her husband, the two were living together in an adulterous alliance. And before this man appears a prisoner, unpretentious-looking, loaded with chains. He had stood before the Governor once before in answer to certain charges made by his countrymen, and had so ably and convincingly defended himself that, had it not been, as it says in the next verse, that Felix expected to realize something out of the case by way of a bribe, he would have set him free. As it was, the Governor had been so impressed with Paul's (for none other was the prisoner) forceful speech that he requested the apostle to give him a more explicit account concerning the religion he preached. He arranges the occasion, and the champion of the cross gladly availed himself of the opportunity. We do not know the precise course which he followed in his address to Felix, but his general outline was based on the same principles that every good Christian sermon is based on, viz., faith and practice. First he spoke concerning the faith in Christ, that is, the Christian faith, laying down its fundamental and cardinal facts and doctrines. But as a sick man will never send for the physician till he is aware of his danger, so the sinner will never betake himself to the redeeming blood of his Savior till he becomes sensible of his lost and sinful condition. The apostle, therefore, not only preaches the Gospel; he also preaches the Law. "He reasoned," it says, "of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come." No topics could have been more appropriate. Felix was a high-ranked magistrate, accustomed to see every one prostrate at his feet. Paul points out to him that though there be various gradations in social life, the one a king, the other a subject, the one stepping on a carpet of down and gold, the other walking barefoot through the dust, in the sight of God all these distinctions avail not. Yea, having higher opportunities, a man's responsibilities are but the greater, and woe if in the discharge of his office a man measure not up to the responsibilities. Thus, turning to the next particular, he reasoned of temperance, _i. e._, the right government of the passions; he showed him how intemperance degrades the character, debases society, and invites the punishment of God, and, finally, placing his sermon on still higher ground, he draws away for a moment from the eyes of Felix the bandage that concealed the sight of futurity, and ushers him in thought before the judgment-bar of his unalterable Judge.

He had invited this prisoner, far-famed for his topic and eloquence, to give a display of his powers, but he had never supposed such a presentation. As the divine word, the two-edged sword of the Spirit, wielded by such an arm, cut into the joints and marrow of the profligate sinner's conscience. It had the same effect which the handwriting on the wall once had upon Belshazzar of Babylon. He moved about uneasily, his color changed, his knees smote one against the other; "he trembled," it says. The truth had smitten to the heart, and then? Was truth victorious? Did virtue conquer? Did the judgment-hall echo the words of the Philippian jailer, "What shall I do to be saved?" or, like the publican, did he smite upon his breast, saying, "God be merciful to me a sinner"? How the angels would have rejoiced, and Felix would have been what his name means, "happy." But Satan knew his man too well. In a moment the smitten sinner had rallied from his shock; with a grace and courtesy, truly admirable if it had not been so disastrous, he says: "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee."

The story of Felix has been written for our admonition. God grant that like an arrow it may smite into the joints and marrow of our conscience to-day. Our theme is:

THE CONVENIENT SEASON,

noting, _I. A few things that hinder the convenient season;
II. The delusion of putting it off._

We have heard Felix' plea; it was not an abrupt turning away from the topics Paul had spoken to him of. He did not declare in express terms that he would never embrace the faith in Christ, that he would not renounce iniquity and prepare for the final account. No, his answer implies that he would do all this, but he begs to be excused from doing it for the present. "When I have a convenient season, I will call for thee."

Felix' plea is still a most prevalent plea. Perhaps it is the most prevalent plea, never advanced so much as in our times. It is not that people are deliberately determined to rush into the arms of the devil and hell; many of the most thoughtless and the most profligate, convicted by the emotions of conscience within and the presentation of religion, still have the intention that some time or other, bye and bye, they are going to become more serious, to reform. The drunkard will some day abandon his cups, the swearer his profanity, the lewd man his profligacy, but not just now. And not only these, the thoughtless, the profligate, but those who are very thoughtful and of excellent standing and morals. What a universal plea it is!

There is one class, they are "too young to be religious. Youth is the time of gayety. Even if they do not sow wild oats, they must have their pleasure. As they advance in years, they will eventually grow more serious." Let me caution you, my young hearers! Of all other seasons, youth is the fittest for God and godliness. No man ever became more disposed to be religious by mere age. He may become more thoughtful and serious, but thoughtfulness and seriousness is not yet religion. The duty enjoined is: "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth," and it is a solemn fact that the greater number of those who are Christians indeed have been so in early life.--So be not deceived! The present time is the most convenient season. You can never enjoy a better.

Another apology and hindrance which multitudes offer against the convenient season is what they style "business." I suppose Felix had occasion to offer that, too. The office of a governor was no lazy one; he had a large docket of pending cases, a considerable correspondence, many distracting cares.

Correspondingly, at the present, there be those who are occupied in providing for their wants, gaining a livelihood for their families, accumulating a fortune. It is impossible for them just now, but in a few years they will have more leisure; their property will be greater, their anxiety lessened, and then, relieved of pressing cares, they will devote their time and their attention to God's service. Sad mistake! Business never lets up. The world gives no man leisure for the consideration of the greater business of salvation. I have known those who have urged this excuse ten, nearly twenty years ago; they still urge it, and will continue to do so so long as they live. Some may regard it as a witticism, but it was immensely serious when a child recently informed its mother that the child did not think papa was going to heaven, and asked why, replied, "He can't possibly leave the store." We have a number of that class in connection with our membership. It is a sorry business that keeps any man away from the main business, the one thing needful.

One more plea would we regard, that is health. How many, when aroused to the importance of attending to matters spiritual, will seek to soothe the clamors of conscience by the reflection: It is true, I must be renewed and holy, or I will perish. I cannot go to heaven as I am, but I hope to be better before I die. I will look after these things when I get sick; then I shall have leisure for reflection. With nothing else to do then, I will repent and make my peace with God. Oh! the folly and the wickedness of such reasoning! Not only does it reflect on God's religion, as if it were a tyranny and a grievous yoke that one puts off as long as it is possible, not only is it God-dishonoring, giving unto the devil and to the world, the Lord's foremost rivals, the best fruits of one's days, and turning over to Him the stubble and the dregs left in the cup of life, but who knows the time of his death, the time appointed when he shall go hence, and whether occasion shall be left for any reflection? Like a lightning flash it may summon us into the presence of the Almighty. And even granted that everything shall be propitious in that respect, have you ever seen persons on a sick- or death-bed? Their pulse feverish and their body weak; their senses so impaired that they seem utterly unable to collect their thoughts; and this is the time that people want to select for religious reflection? Then, too, when does the Bible say that a man can convert himself at any time that he chooses? The Bible speaks of only one solitary case of death-bed, or eleventh-hour repentance, and that is the instance of the dying thief on the cross. And there is a tremendously wide difference between him and the people who offer up that plea. The dying malefactor had never deferred his conversion to his dying day; he had never put religion off until then. So his case does not belong under consideration at all, though it is always quoted by such delinquents. No, there is only one convenient season, and there is only one course to pursue in view of it. That one convenient season is now, and the only one course to pursue in view of it is to seize hold upon and attend to its demands.

We have all seen mottoes on the walls of business offices: "Do it now," "Never put off until to-morrow what can be done to-day," "Now or never," "Make hay while the sun shines." And as you see them at their worldly interests, they follow those mottoes; they are up and about, straining every nerve, using every moment to gain an advantage. Yes, as you study the whole working creation of God, you will discover that everything is on time: The birds know when to fly southward; the stars of heaven meet all their appointments; the earth is believed to make a circuit of five hundred millions of miles and back again at the winter and spring solstice on the second, yes, on the millionth part of a second. There is only one who wastes time, and that in the most important matter, and that creature is _man_.

Observe in this the terrible delusion of procrastination. And it cheats us all, more or less; or how--to make the application to ourselves who are church-members--how is it that we can hear the things which we hear Sunday after Sunday, and on many other occasions, things which, so far from denying or contradicting, we like to hear, we would be uncomfortable not to hear, and agree with them and still go on living and doing as if they were mere words and meant nothing, if it were not that we fancy to ourselves a time when it will suit us not only to agree with them, but actually to put them in practice,--a time when we shall pray in earnest, though we are careless about praying now,--a time when we shall take up the reading of the Bible, though we neglect it now,--a time when we shall be gentle, and loving, and heavenly-minded, and pure, whatever to the contrary we may be now? But is it not a delusion? If you are putting off saying your prayers regularly and earnestly because it is not convenient now, do you really think that the time will come when it will be easier, and more natural for you to do this? If you are still putting off, as so many have, and are putting off for years, what yet they acknowledge to be a Christian's bounden duty, employing the much-needed means of grace, the coming to the Lord's holy Sacrament, can you really expect that anything will happen to you which somehow or other will be the opportunity you cannot find now of hearing the Gospel and drawing near to that blessed communion?

Reflect! Felix waited for a convenient season. It never came; it will never come where he is now. Let him be a lesson to us. The convenient season is just now,--and let us beware of trifling with it.

Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, It might have been.

And of all devices by which the devil throws a loop around the sinner's neck, the most effective is this: "A more convenient season!" "Not yet."

My dear hearers, I have again, like my great predecessor, the apostle, made an appeal to you to accept the faith as it is in Christ Jesus. What say you? With Felix: "Not now," or, "I will"? O for the right choice! God gives you the opportunity to make it now. Will you not seize it? Amen.

THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

And as Jesus passed forth from thence, He saw a man named
Matthew sitting at the receipt of custom; and He said unto
him, Follow me. And he arose and followed Him. And it came to
pass, as Jesus sat at meat in the house, behold, many publicans
and sinners came and sat down with Him and His disciples. And
when the Pharisees saw it, they said unto His disciples, Why
eateth your Master with publicans and sinners? But when Jesus
heard that, He said unto them, They that be whole need not a
physician, but they that are sick. But go ye and learn what that
meaneth, I will have mercy, and not sacrifice; for I am not come
to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.--_Matt. 9,
9-13._

The text just heard contains much of interest and importance--first, for the history which it gives, and secondly, for the Gospel which it preaches. We shall consider both for our encouragement and instruction.

It was in Capernaum, the capital of Galilee, on the borders of Lake Tiberias. Jesus was walking by the seaside when He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the receipt of customs, collecting the duties, or taxes, on goods landed from the vessels. To all human appearance this collector of customs, or publican, as they were called, was a very unlikely person to become a convert, much less an apostle. Publicans, or taxgatherers, in those days were held in very ill repute. One reason for this was that they were in the employ of the Roman Government, and no patriotic, loyal-hearted Jew would permit himself to be employed by these despised and oppressive Gentiles. Another reason was that those who were thus employed generally managed to make it profitable for themselves. By practicing fraud and distortion upon their own countrymen, overcharging and collecting more than was due, they succeeded in accumulating means, and many, like Zaccheus, a large fortune. There is nothing to show that Matthew was guilty of such extortion and fraud, but he was by office and occupation connected with this odious and unprincipled set of men; nor is it necessary for us to believe that he was altogether free from the taint that attached to them. And yet, out of the ranks of these base and detested publicans, Jesus did not disdain to take at least one of those twelve men whom He chose to be the heralds of His Gospel, the great leaders of His kingdom to a perishing world. Good men, let us learn from this, often come from despised and unworthy classes. Outward circumstances do not always prove as unfavorable nor as adverse to piety as we are apt to imagine. There is often a wide contrast between outward appearances and inward realities. It may be that Matthew inwardly was very much disposed to follow Jesus when addressed by Him. It is not for us to discern what is going on in the inner man. We may hear the blasphemer uttering a vile oath and pass him by as one on the verge of perdition, while the heart of the poor wretch at the very moment may be bursting with anguish and filled with self-reproach, and one word of kindness might melt him into contrition and love. We see another amid the wild whirl of earthly dissipation and pleasure, and may suppose that it would be casting pearls before swine to waste a word on religious topics with him, while he may be aching with a sense of the emptiness of the world, and a single expression of Christian kindness may draw from him a confession of the vanity of all his pleasures, and the inquiry, Who will show me any permanent and real good? Never let us judge of the hopelessness of man's salvation by the mere outward appearance.

No den of infamy is so vile, no hall of skepticism, or haunt of worldliness is so impenetrable, no prison cell so deep or polluted, but that Jesus can gather thence gems that shall shine in His crown. Who was ever a more devoted follower of Christ than Mary Magdalene?--and yet she once had seven devils. Who was more voluptuous, depraved, and infamous in his course as a young man than Augustine, who became the great bishop of Hippo and one of the most illustrious doctors of the Church? And what did Jesus see in any of us to lead Him to visit us with His salvation? Was there any such native excellence in your character, or such a purity in your conduct, when out of Christ, that God was attracted thereby and stooped from heaven to save you, because it was a pity that so much worth and goodness should be lost forever? Oh, no, not for our merits, but of His own infinite mercy does He save us, and if we feel aright, we shall never think that we deserved to be saved, while the vile sinner deserved to be damned, but that all of us are sinners worthy of God's wrath and curse, and that none have reason for boasting. Viewed in that light, we shall not wonder that Christ chose an apostle from that most ill-favored class of men known in Palestine at the time.

And the call was not unheeded. It is not necessary to assume that the call came to Matthew as a clap of thunder out of a clear sky. Matthew, as a dweller in Capernaum, where our Savior was preaching and performing some of His most noted miracles, and as a man who daily had to do with people of all classes, could not have been without some knowledge of what was going on. In all likelihood he had seen and heard Christ, and so was not wholly without preparation for what happened when the great Teacher and Wonder-worker came into his office and said to him, "Follow me." And what was the decision? Our text informs us: He left all, rose up, and followed Christ. Promptly, cheerfully, he surrendered his worldly interests, unites his fortune and his future with the Master. It was not so in every instance. We know that the same call was extended to others, who at once propounded something else to be attended to. The one remarked, "Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father;" another, "Lord, I will follow Thee, but let me first go bid them farewell which are at home at my house," and still another, it says, "went away sorrowing," because he was not willing to separate himself from his great possessions. It is so to this very day and hour.

To every one that hears the Gospel the word is: "Follow Me." There are those who heed it like Matthew. Then others who hear the same call make a thousand excuses, but never reach the point of honest decision. Obedience, as it is the first virtue of a child, in a soldier, or a servant, so it is the first virtue in a Christian. When you hear the blessed Savior's voice, asking you to take up the obligations of a Christian faith and life, then respond like Matthew, instantly, promptly.

And not only was it prompt and ready obedience, it was steadfast, persevering. It was not a spirit of momentary enthusiasm that presently died away. Never again did he return to his old profession. With unfaltering devotion did he cling to our Lord, and finally laid down his life in His cause. There are those who, when they hear the merciful call of the Savior, are prompt enough sometimes to follow. They are greatly captivated with the Christian profession. They like the distinction it gives them, the new attitude and surroundings in which they are placed, the gaining of new friends, sympathies and credit with which it invests them. But when it comes to the serious side,--and Christian discipleship has a serious side,--it does not mean only wearing a bright uniform and carrying a flag, but standing on guard, enduring hardships as a good soldier of Christ. Then the cross becomes too heavy for them, and by and by they are offended, their zeal expires, and their once flaming devotion dies. Matthew was not of that class; his decision was as honest, thorough, and enduring as it was prompt, and in this he is an example for us.

Nor was this all. Not only did Matthew follow the Savior, but the subsequent verse informs us that he made a great feast for the Master. We can easily see the motives of the man in making this feast. "My Lord has had mercy on me," he would say, "and I wish to do something to testify my love and gratitude to Him. I will make an entertainment in His honor, and I will invite my old friends among the publicans to it, for it may be that His words of power may reach their hearts as they did mine, and turn them from their sins." That, my beloved, is one of the strongest evidences of a truly converted soul--anxiety and concern for the soul of others. A person that has found the Savior is anxious that others should find Him, too. Christianity is not like gold, which every one wishes to secrete for his own use, but it is like a full fountain--it runs over; like the sun--it must shine forth. And so we behold the Savior now seated in the midst of a large company of publicans and sinners.

But have you, my dear hearers, ever known of a noble and holy work, no matter what it is, that did not meet with some criticism? Some carping voice is bound to be always heard, and so here. That Jesus was found in such company, and agreed to be a guest with such society, was a scandal in the eyes of the ceremonial, self-righteous Jews, and "He it was who claimed to be the long-expected Messiah." It was conclusive evidence to them that He was a sheer impostor, a glutton and wine-bibber, equally as bad as those whom He met on such familiar terms. Nor were they slow in making known their conclusions. They uttered their malignant feelings, not to Jesus Himself, but to His disciples. When Jesus learned their cavils, it does not appear that He was ruffled in the least. He knew His mission, for what purpose He had come into this world, and so with all firmness we hear Him setting forth His association with these ill-reputed people as in accord not only with the best principles of common sense, but with the whole spirit and intent of His Messiahship. "But when Jesus heard that, He said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." Sin is a sickness, a disease, and these publicans and sinners were very deeply under the power of this disease. Now, where should a physician be but with the sick and the dying? Is a doctor to be blamed for entering a hospital full of suffering invalids? Is it not rather a blessed demonstration of His fidelity to his profession to go to such ailing people? Well, then, what right had these self-constituted saints and judges to find fault? They claimed to be good and holy people. They kept the Law. They were _whole_. They had no need of a physician to make them better,--so they thought. Why, then, was the great Healer of souls to confine Himself to them? Thus upon their own principles and common sense, Christ amply justified His conduct.

There is a double lesson to be drawn from our text. First, if you have always maintained a good moral character, through the restraints of a religious education and of God's grace, be thankful for it; it is, indeed, a great mercy to have been kept from gross sins, and it will be a great help to you in a life of godliness. But be careful that you do not rest salvation upon it, make a Savior of your own goodness, and so refuse Christ, without whom you will be damned as surely as the vilest transgressor. Beware that your outward decency of character does not puff you up and make you think that such as you can never be lost. There is no other name but that of Christ whereby you can be saved, and you must come to Him weary and heavy-laden, just as the vilest sinner does, if you would find rest to your soul.

On the other hand, if there be one present who has fallen into gross transgression, so that it seems almost too much for him to hope to be forgiven, let him hear the words of Jesus, "I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance," and let him be encouraged. Is there any wound this great Physician cannot heal? Is there any sin the grace of Jesus cannot pardon, or His blood wash away? Doubt not His infinite compassion, doubt not His almighty power. Lay your soul in His hands. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Oh! that, like Matthew of old, we might yield ourselves to His gracious summons, go down to our houses, humble, obedient believers in Him who came into this world to call sinners to repentance. Amen.

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and
whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;
and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in
heaven.--_Matt. 16, 19._

Fixed in our Church calendar for the 29th of June is Saint Peter the Apostle's day. We do not, as a rule, observe these days, or minor festivals, as they are styled. And it may be asked why we have them given in our Church calendar and observe them at all. In answer we would say that we do not, like the Romanists, regard the saints as mediators, do not address prayers to them, nor ask them to pray for us. And we differ further from the Romanists in that we place none in our Church calendar as saints save such as are clearly set forth in that character in the Word of God. Rome is continually adding new saints to her list. Any one who has been eminently holy--in the odor of sanctity--is canonized by the pope, and his or her name placed in the calendar; and there are instances on record where other influences besides piety placed it there. We place the word "saint" before none but those who, we are sure from God's Word, are deserving of it. Nor even all of these do we thus honor. Enoch and Elijah were translated into heaven and are assuredly among God's saints. The same is true of Abraham and Moses, Joseph and Daniel. But we never speak of St. Abraham, St. Moses, and the like. In this matter we follow our Lord's rule: "He that is least in the kingdom," meaning the Church He came to establish, "is greater than he," and select for our list only New Testament persons; and here, again, those especially near to Him, such as the evangelists and apostles, and so we speak of St. Peter, St. Matthew, St. Paul. These we honor because Christ honored them. On his birthday each year we extol the virtues of a Washington; on Reformation Day we speak on the character and life-work of a Luther. Why should we not, therefore, on one day of the year, especially when it falls on a Sunday, note for our instruction what God in His Word has recorded of these favored servants? Only ignorance and prejudice could ever find fault with such an observance of these days and minor festivals which the Church in her wisdom purposes, and so from the lesson of this day would we regard the latter part. An important truth is it, a truth which has given rise to endless controversy, that this line sets forth to us. We shall inquire, _I. What is the office or the power of the Keys? II. How is it exercised?_

In the opinion of some, these words addressed to Peter on that memorable occasion when he confessed Jesus to be the Christ, the Son of the living God, gave to Peter a direction to take charge of divine affairs. The religious destiny of the race was placed in his hands. It was for him to save or condemn at will, and this power and commission he then turned over to his successor, alleged to be the pope at Rome. That was the common interpretation for hundreds of years. In consequence of that we have such happenings in history as that which took place at Canossa, when Henry IV of Germany, deposed from his royal office through the influence of the pope, came over the Alps to secure the Holy Father's absolution. He presented himself at the gate of Gregory VII, and made his humble petition. He was ordered to remain at the gate and abstain from food; he was further ordered to strip himself of the royal purple and put on hair-cloth. At the end of three weary days of penance, standing out in the cold and snow, and nearly famished, he was required to go into the presence of Pope Gregory and kiss his feet. Then this "vicar of God," as he styled himself, was pleased to say, "_Absolvo te_," "I absolve thee." And what child knows not the account of Tetzel, who, with an armful of indulgences and a chest bearing the inscription: "Soon as the money in the chest doth ring, the soul at once to heaven doth spring," sold as an article of merchandise, for so much consideration, so many and such great sins? The confessional, the extreme unction, the deliverance of souls from purgatory, these and other adjuncts and accessories that have risen from the claim of the Romish Church to the power of the keys, they allege were once given to St. Peter. But it rests, like so many other claims of that Church, upon a serious misinterpretation and perversion of the passage.

In the following chapter our Lord says to the whole band of apostles: "Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." And this He said not only on one occasion to them all, but on several. On this particular occasion He said it especially to Peter because Peter had acted as the spokesman of the rest and rendered a grand confession. Never do we find that any command, blessing, office, or grace was ever conferred here or anywhere upon Peter which was not conferred equally and also upon all the apostles of the Lord. Nor can it be shown from the Bible, nor from the history of the Church in apostolic times, or from those who lived next after the apostles, that Peter ever asserted, or sought to assert, such authority. On the contrary, Peter, in his Epistles, invariably refers to himself as simply one of the apostles, in no way the superior of the others, and when the first Christian synod was held, though he was present, it was James that presided and gave the official judgment of the assembly. If God's authority prevails, we must dismiss the Romish dogma which would entrench itself in this text as a falsehood, without the remotest claim to our respect. No, not to Peter exclusively was given the power of the keys; not even to the twelve apostles exclusively, in the sense that it belonged to them personally. They received it as a power, a commission, which belonged to the Church. In the 18th chapter of St. Matthew, speaking of this very thing, the Savior directs: "And if he neglect to hear them, tell it to the Church; but if he neglect to hear the Church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican. Verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."

Correctly does our Catechism define the office of the keys. It says: "The office of the keys is the peculiar Church power which Christ has given to His Church on earth, to forgive the sins of the penitent unto them, but to retain the sins of the impenitent as long as they do not repent." We learn, then, who is invested with this authority, _viz._, the Church, the congregation of believers. It is something which belongs to all Christians, not to one apostle only, or to twelve apostles only, but to every congregation that is met around the Word and the Sacrament. They have this jurisdiction and power. What jurisdiction and power? The power that attaches to the office of the keys is twofold. It is used to lock and to unlock, to fasten and to open the door.

First, there is the power to fasten and to lock. We call this administering discipline. This is necessary to the health and life of the Church. In the Corinthian church a certain man was guilty of a nameless crime. Possibly of good social standing, his offense was winked at. St. Paul, however, exhorts the Corinthian congregation to deal summarily with him; he exhorts them to meet in the name of the Lord, and deliver this evil-doer over to Satan in the hope that he might come to his senses and be reclaimed--"for the destruction of the flesh," as the phrase is. In another place he writes: "I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner. Put away from among yourselves that wicked person." It was what we call suspension, excommunication, or the ban.

It is not a pleasant duty by any means, as little as it is a pleasant thing to amputate, to cut off a member of the body; but if the member be gangrenous and a menace to the life of the body, and nothing but an amputation will do, then let it be done. A congregation is answerable before the Head of the Church; it must keep its membership and roster clear; it dare not permit among its membership impenitent and manifest sinners, those who are despisers of God's means of grace, the Word and the Sacrament, whose morals are a blot, whose lives are a stench in the nostrils of the believers and of the world. Such, after due hearing, exhortation, remonstrance, must be turned out. They have no place in the company of Christians. This is the exercise of the office of the keys in the one direction. In general, it is to be deplored that the Christian Churches do not exercise this power as they ought. It would mean the reawakening and recovery of many a sinner.

The other part of the office of the keys is what is called absolution, the power to forgive sins. That power the Church has committed to it, as we heard in the text, by Christ Himself. There is much misconception on this among even Christians; to some it is no small stumbling-block. It need not be. The matter is quite simple and plain.

Could Peter forgive sins? The Lord says so. Could the apostles forgive sins? The Lord says so. Can the Church, through its called ministers, forgive sins? The Lord says so. Yes, we may press the question still further and ask, Can every Christian forgive sins? What the Church, as the collective body of Christians, can do, that each Christian can do as an individual. Yes, every Christian can forgive sins. How is that to be understood? Peter, as Peter, as a man, could not forgive sins of himself and by his own authority. No man can forgive sins--that is a divine prerogative. But Christ gave to Peter the charge, the commission, to do so. The power, then, was not in Peter, but in the charge, the commission. When the Governor of our State issues a pardon and sends a messenger to deliver it, it is rightly and properly said that the messenger brings pardon to the prisoner. The power, of course, is not of the messenger, but of the Governor, as vested in the message of pardon. Equally so the Gospel is the message of pardon to sinful men. The ministers of Christ, as the messengers of the Churches, proclaim that message. The power of the pardon does not depend upon them, their general piety or impiety; the power of the pardon rests upon Him that gave it, the great Governor of the Church. And yet, can it not be justly, truthfully, and properly said in their case, as in the case mentioned, that the messengers bring pardon to the prisoners, that they forgive sins? So our Lord spoke, so our Catechism speaks, and so we may speak.

Not the power of absolute forgiveness does the text confer upon the Church, but that of declarative forgiveness. But this declaration of forgiveness, it must be held, is real forgiveness. When the Church forgives sins, they are forgiven. The words of Christ say that as distinctly as words can say it. "Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them." The pardon brought by the messenger is a real pardon, as certain and valid as if the Governor had brought it himself. And so, declares our Catechism, when in the confessional service the minister pronounces the forgiveness of sins, you are to receive it as from God Himself and in no wise to doubt, but firmly to believe that by it your sins are forgiven before God in heaven.

This is the teaching of God's Word in regard to the loosing power of the office of the keys. A comforting teaching it is. We Christians, it is true, have the assurance of forgiveness already in our baptism, in the general preaching of the Gospel, and in the Lord's Supper; but that does not make absolution superfluous. Battling, as we have daily to do, against flesh and blood, disturbed as we are by many a conflict, many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without, how uplifting the words of absolution addressed to you directly, individually: "My son, my daughter, be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee!"

God preserve us from all abuse, perversion, and misunderstanding of His Word and ministry, and give us the comfort and blessing that come from both! Amen.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

And Ananias went his way, and entered into the house; and
putting his hands on him, said, Brother Saul, the Lord, even
Jesus, that appeared unto thee in the way as thou camest, hath
sent me, that thou mightest receive thy sight, and be filled
with the Holy Ghost. And immediately there fell from his eyes as
it had been scales; and he received sight forthwith, and arose
and was baptized.--_Acts 9, 17, 18._

We hear in the Gospel of this Sunday how by speech and by miracle our Lord called four of His disciples from their fishing boats to the labors of His ministry. His first selection fell upon persons from the humble walks of life, plain, unlettered fishermen, toilers for their daily bread in a lowly occupation. There was divine wisdom in the choice. Being of the common people, they knew the thoughts, feelings, and habits of the common people, and so could best adapt themselves and their preaching to the general masses. But the time came when God, for the propagation of His saving Gospel, for the upbuilding of His Church, needed another sort and stamp of man, a man whose learning, eloquence, and boldness should elevate the Gospel before the eyes of all the world. And then as now He was not at a loss to secure such a chosen vessel. We shall regard in these moments sacred to devotion the call or conversion of St. Paul.