Chapter I: HAVE put these passages together because of their similarity. In (2)

So Peter, on the day of Pentecost, when three thousand conscience-smitten and heart-broken hearers cried out under the sermon—“What shall we do?” immediately replied—“Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost; for the promise is unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.”

And so in the sermon whence we have taken our text, when he saw that the truth had found its way to the understanding, and the conscience, and the heart—that many were awakened, and convinced of sin—he exhorted them to repentance and faith in Christ, as the condition of salvation:—“Repent ye, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord; and he shall send Jesus Christ, who before was preached unto you; whom the heaven must receive until the times of restitution of all things.”

The doctrine of this text is—the necessity of Christ’s return to heaven till the consummation of his mediatorial work.

It is generally admitted, that the twenty-second psalm has particular reference to Christ. This is evident from his own appropriation of the first verse upon the cross:—“My God! my God! why hast thou forsaken me?” The title of that psalm is—“Aijeleth Shahar;” which signifies—A hart, or—the hind of the morning. The striking metaphors which it contains are descriptive of Messiah’s peculiar sufferings. He is the hart, or hind of the morning, hunted by the black prince, with his hell-hounds—by Satan, and all his allies. The “dogs,” the “lions,” the “unicorns,” and the “strong bulls of Bashan,” with their devouring teeth, and their terrible horns, pursued him from Bethlehem to Calvary. They beset him in the manger, gnashed upon him in the garden, and wellnigh tore him to pieces upon the cross. And still they persecute him in his cause, and in the persons and interests of his people.

The faith of the church anticipated the coming of Christ, “like a roe or a young hart,” with the dawn of the day promised in Eden; and we hear her exclaiming in the Canticles—“The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh, leaping upon the mountains, and skipping upon the hills!” She heard him announce his advent in the promise—“Lo, I come to do thy will, O God!” and with prophetic eye, saw him leaping from the mountains of eternity to the mountains of time, and skipping from hill to hill throughout the land of Palestine, going about doing good. In the various types and shadows of the law, she beheld him “standing by the wall, looking forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice;” and then she sung—“Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like the roe or the young hart upon the mountains of Bether!” Bloody sacrifices revealed him to her view, going down to the “vineyards of red wine;” whence she traced him to the meadows of gospel ordinances, where “he feedeth among the lilies”—to “the gardens of cucumbers,” and “the beds of spices;” and then she sung to him again—“Make haste”—or, flee away—“my beloved! be thou like the roe or the young hart upon the mountains of spices!”

Thus she longed to see him, first “on the mountain of Bether,” and then “on the mountain of spices.” On both mountains she saw him eighteen hundred years ago, and on both she may still trace the footsteps of his majesty and his mercy. The former he hath tracked with his own blood, and his path upon the latter is redolent of frankincense and myrrh.

Bether signifies division. This is the craggy mountain of Calvary; whither the “Hind of the morning” fled, followed by all the wild beasts of the forest, and the hunting-dogs of hell; summoned to the pursuit, and urged on, by the prince of perdition; till the victim, in his agony, sweat great drops of blood—where he was terribly crushed between the cliffs, and dreadfully mangled by sharp and ragged rocks—where he was seized by Death, the great greyhound of the bottomless pit—whence he leaped the precipice, without breaking a bone; and sunk in the dead sea, sunk to its utmost depth, and saw no corruption.

Behold the “Hind of the morning” on that dreadful mountain! It is the place of skulls, where death holds his carnival in companionship with worms, and hell laughs in the face of heaven. Dark storms are gathering there—convolving clouds, charged with no common wrath. Terrors set themselves in battle-array before the Son of God; and tempests burst upon him, which might sweep all mankind in a moment to eternal ruin. Hark! hear ye not the subterranean thunder? Feel ye not the tremor of the mountain? It is the shock of Satan’s artillery, playing upon the Captain of our salvation. It is the explosion of the magazine of vengeance. Lo, the earth is quaking, the rocks are rending, the graves are opening, the dead are rising, and all nature stands aghast at the conflict of divine mercy with the powers of darkness. One dread convulsion more, one cry of desperate agony, and Jesus dies—an arrow has entered into his heart. Now leap the lions, roaring, upon their prey; and the bulls of Bashan are bellowing; and the dogs of perdition are barking; and the unicorns toss their horns on high; and the devil, dancing with exultant joy, clanks his iron chains, and thrusts up his fettered hands in defiance toward the face of Jehovah!

Go a little farther upon the mountain, and you come to “a new tomb hewn out of the rock.” There lies a dead body. It is the body of Jesus. His disciples have laid it down in sorrow, and returned weeping to the city. Mary’s heart is broken, Peter’s zeal is quenched in tears, and John would fain lie down and die in his Master’s grave. The sepulchre is closed up and sealed, and a Roman sentry placed at its entrance. On the morning of the third day, while it is yet dark, two or three women come to anoint the body. They are debating about the great stone at the mouth of the cave. “Who shall roll it away?” says one of them. “Pity we did not bring Peter or John with us.” But arriving, they find the stone already rolled away, and one sitting upon it, whose countenance is like lightning, and whose garments are white as the light. The steel-clad, iron-hearted soldiers lie around him, like men slain in battle, having swooned with terror. He speaks:—“Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here; he is risen; he is gone forth from this cave victoriously.”

It is even so; for there are the shroud, and the napkin, and the heavenly watchers; and when he awoke, and cast off his grave-clothes, the earthquake was felt in the city, and jarred the gates of hell. “The Hind of the morning” is up earlier than any of his pursuers, “leaping upon the mountains, and skipping upon the hills.” He is seen first with Mary at the tomb; then with the disciples in Jerusalem; then with two of them on the way to Emmaus; then going before his brethren into Galilee; and finally, leaping from the top of Olivet to the hills of Paradise; fleeing away to “the mountains of spices,” where he shall never more be hunted by the black prince and his hounds.

Christ is perfect master of gravitation, and all the laws of nature are obedient to his will. Once he walked upon the water, as if it were marble beneath his feet; and now, as he stands blessing his people, the glorious form so recently nailed to the cross, and still more recently cold in the grave, begins to ascend like “the living creature” in Ezekiel’s vision, “lifted up from the earth,” till nearly out of sight; when “the chariots of God, even thousands of angels,” receive him, and haste to the celestial city, waking the thrones of eternity with this jubilant chorus—“Lift up your heads, O ye gates! and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors! and the King of glory shall come in!”

Christ might have rode in a chariot of fire all the way from Bethlehem to Calvary; but he preferred riding in a chariot of mercy, whose lining was crimson, and whose ornament the malefactor’s cross. How rapidly rolled his wheels over the hills and the plains of Palestine, gathering up everywhere the children of affliction, and scattering blessings like the beams of the morning! Now we find him in Cana of Galilee, turning water into wine; then treading the waves of the sea, and hushing the roar of the tempest; then delivering the demoniac of Gadara from the fury of a legion of fiends; then healing the nobleman’s son at Capernaum; raising the daughter of Jairus, and the young man of Nain; writing upon the grave at Bethany—“I am the resurrection and the life;” curing the invalid at the pool of Bethesda; feeding the five thousand in the wilderness; preaching to the woman by Jacob’s well; acquitting the adulteress, and shaming her accusers; and exercising everywhere, in all his travels, the three offices of Physician, Prophet, and Saviour, as he drove on toward the place of skulls.

Now we see the chariot surrounded with enemies—Herod, and Pilate, and Caiaphas, and the Roman soldiers, and the populace of Jerusalem, and thousands of Jews who have come up to keep the Passover, led on by Judas and the devil. See how they rage and curse, as if they would tear him from his chariot of mercy. But Jesus maintains his seat, and holds fast the reins, and drives right on through the angry crowd, without shooting an arrow, or lifting a spear upon his foes. For in that chariot the King must ride to Calvary—Calvary must be consecrated to mercy for ever. He sees the cross planted upon the brow of the hill, and hastens forward to embrace it. No sacrifice shall be offered to Justice on this day, but the one sacrifice which reconciles heaven and earth. None of those children of Belial shall suffer to-day. The bribed witnesses, and clamorous murderers, shall be spared—the smiters, the scourgers, the spitters, the thorn-platters, the nail-drivers, the head-shakers for Jesus pleads on their behalf—“Father, forgive them! they know not what they do. They are ignorant of thy truth and grace. They are not aware whom they are crucifying. O, spare them! Let Death know that he shall have enough to do with me to-day! Let him open all his batteries upon me! My bosom is bare to the stroke! I will gather all the lances of hell in my heart!”

Still the chariot rushes on, and “fiery darts” are falling thick and fast, like a shower of meteors, on Messiah’s head, till he is covered with wounds, and the blood flows down his garments, and leaves a crimson track behind him. As he passes, he casts at the dying malefactor a glance of benignity, and throws him a passport into Paradise, written with his own blood; stretches forth his scepter, and touches the prison-door of death, and many of the prisoners come forth, and the tyrant shall never regain his dominion over them; rides triumphant over thrones and principalities, and crushes beneath his wheels the last enemy himself, and leaves the memorial of his march engraven on the rocks of Golgotha!

Christ is everywhere in the Scriptures spoken of as a blessing; and whether we contemplate his advent, his ministry, his miracles, his agony, his crucifixion, his interment, his resurrection, or his ascension, we may truly say, “all his paths drop fatness.” All his travels were on the road of mercy; and trees are growing up in his footsteps, whose fruit is delicious food, and whose “leaves are for the healing of the nations.” He walketh upon the south winds, causing propitious gales to blow upon the wilderness, till songs of joy awake in the solitary place, and the desert blossoms as the rose.

If we will consider what the prophets wrote of Messiah, in connection with the evangelical history, we shall be satisfied that none like him, either before or since, ever entered our world, and departed from it. Both God and man—at once the Father of eternity and the son of time—he filled the universe, while he was imbodied upon earth; and ruled the celestial principalities and powers, while he wandered—a persecuted stranger—in Judea. “No man,” saith he, “hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven—even the Son of man, who is in heaven.”

Heaven was no strange place to Jesus. He talks of the mansions in his Father’s house as familiarly as one of the royal family would talk of Windsor Castle, where he was born; and saith to his disciples—“I go to prepare a place for you; that where I am, there ye may be also.” The glory into which he entered was his own glory—the glory which he had with the Father before the world was. He had an original and supreme right to the celestial mansions; and he acquired a new and additional claim by his office as mediator. Having suffered for our sins, he “ought to enter into his glory.” He ought, because he is “God, blessed for ever”—he ought, because he is the representative of his redeemed people. He has taken possession of the kingdom in our behalf, and left on record for our encouragement this cheering promise—“To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne; even as I also have overcome, and am set down with my Father in his throne.”

The departure of God from Eden, and the departure of Christ from the earth, were two of the sublimest events that ever occurred, and fraught with immense consequences to our race. When Jehovah went out from Eden, he left a curse upon the place for man’s sake, and drove out man before him into an accursed earth. But when Jesus ascended from Olivet, he lifted the curse with him, and left a blessing behind him—sowed the world with the seed of eternal blessings; “and instead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree; and instead of the briar shall come up the myrtle-tree; and it shall be to the Lord for a name, and an everlasting sign, that shall not be cut off.” He ascended to intercede for sinners, and reopen paradise to his people; and when he shall come the second time, according to the promise, with all his holy angels, then shall we be “caught up to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord.”

“The Lord is gone up with a shout,” and has taken our redeemed nature with him. He is the head of the church, and her representative at the right hand of the Father. “He hath ascended on high; he hath led captivity captive; he hath received gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also, that God may dwell among them.” “Him hath God exalted, with his own right hand, to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance to Israel, and remission of sins.” This is the Father’s recognition of his “Beloved Son,” and significant acceptance of his sacrifice. “Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in the earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

The evidence of our Lord’s ascension is ample. He ascended in the presence of many witnesses, who stood gazing after him till a cloud received him out of their sight. And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven, two angels appeared to them, and talked with them of what they had seen. Soon afterward, on the day of Pentecost, he fulfilled, in a remarkable manner, the promise which he had made to his people:—“If I go away, I will send you another Comforter, who shall abide with you for ever.” Stephen, the first of his disciples that glorified the Master by martyrdom, testified to his murderers—“Lo, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God!” And John, “the beloved disciple,” while an exile “in Patmos, for the word of God, and the testimony of Jesus Christ,” beheld him “in the midst of the throne, as a Lamb that had been slain!” These are the evidences that our Lord is in heaven; these are our consolations in the house of our pilgrimage.

The apostle speaks of the _necessity_ of this event:—“Whom the heaven _must_ receive.”

Divine necessity is a golden chain, reaching from eternity to eternity, and encircling all the events of time. It consists of many links, all hanging upon each other; and not one of them can be broken, without destroying the support of the whole. The first link is in God, “before the world was;” and the last is in heaven, when the world shall be no more. Christ is its Alpha and Omega, and Christ constitutes all its intervenient links. Christ in the bosom of the Father, receiving the promise of eternal life, before the foundation of the world, is the beginning; Christ in his sacrificial blood, atoning for our sins, and pardoning and sanctifying all them that believe, is the middle; and Christ in heaven, pleading the merit of his vicarious sufferings, making intercession for the transgressors, drawing all men unto himself, presenting the prayers of his people, and preparing their mansions, is the end.

There is a necessity in all that Christ has done as our Mediator, in all that he is doing on our behalf, and all that he has engaged to do—the necessity of Divine love manifested, of Divine mercy exercised, of Divine purposes accomplished, of Divine covenants fulfilled, of Divine faithfulness maintained, of Divine justice satisfied, of Divine holiness vindicated, and of Divine power displayed, Christ felt this necessity while he tabernacled among us, often declared it to his disciples, and acknowledged it to the Father in the agony of the garden.

Behold him wrestling in prayer, with strong crying and tears:—“Father, save me from this hour! If it be possible, let this cup pass from me!” Now the Father reads to him his covenant engagement, which he signed and sealed with his own hand before the foundation of the world. The glorious Sufferer replies:—“Thy will be done! For this cause came I unto this hour. I will drink the cup which thou hast mingled, and not a dreg of any of its ingredients shall be left for my people. I will pass through the approaching dreadful night, under the hidings of thy countenance, bearing away the curse from my beloved. Henceforth, repentance is hidden from mine eyes!” Now, on his knees, he reads the covenant engagements of the Father, and adds:—“I have glorified thee on the earth. I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do. Now glorify thou me, according to thy promise, with thine own self, with the glory which I had with thee before the world was. Father, I will also that they whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory. Thine they were, and thou hast given them to me, on condition of my pouring out my soul unto death. Thou hast promised them, through my righteousness and meritorious sacrifice, the kingdom of heaven, which I now claim on their behalf. Father, glorify my people, with him whom thou lovedst before the foundation of the world!”

The intercession of Christ for his saints, begun on earth, is continued in heaven. This is our confidence and joy in our journeyings through the wilderness. We know that our Joshua has gone over into the land of our inheritance, where he is preparing a place of habitation for Israel, for it is his will that all whom he has redeemed should be with him for ever!

The text speaks of the period when the great purposes of our Lord’s ascension shall be fully accomplished:—“until the times of restitution of all things.”

The period here mentioned is “the dispensation of the fulness of time,” when “the fulness of the gentiles shall come in,” and “the dispersed of Judah” shall be restored, and Christ shall “gather together in himself all things in heaven and in earth,” overthrow his enemies, establish his everlasting kingdom, deliver the groaning creation from its bondage, glorify his people with himself, imprison the devil and his angels in the bottomless pit, and punish with destruction from his presence them that obey not the gospel.

To this glorious consummation, the great travail of redemption, and all the events of time, are only preparatory. It was promised in Eden, and the promise was renewed and enlarged to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. It was described in gorgeous oriental imagery by Isaiah, and “the sweet psalmist of Israel;” and “spoken of by all the prophets, since the world began.” Christ came into the world to prepare the way for his future triumph—to lay on Calvary the “chief corner-stone” of a temple, which shall be completed at the end of time, and endure through all eternity. He began the great restitution. He redeemed his people with a price, and gave them a pledge of redemption by power. He made an end of sin, abolished the Levitical priesthood, and swallowed up all the types and shadows in himself. He sent home the beasts, overthrew the altars, and quenched the holy fire; and, upon the sanctifying altar of his own divinity, offered his own sinless humanity, which was consumed by fire from heaven. He removed the seat of government from Mount Zion in Jerusalem, to Mount Zion above, where he sits—“a priest upon his throne”—drawing heaven and earth together, and establishing “the covenant of peace between them both.” Blessed be God! we can now go to Jesus, the mediator; passing by millions of angels, and all the spirits of just men made perfect; till we “come to the blood of sprinkling, which speaketh better things than that of Abel.” And we look for that blessed day, when “this gospel of the kingdom” shall be universally prevalent; “and all shall know the Lord, from the least even to the greatest”—when there shall be “a new heaven, and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness”—when both the political and the moral aspects of our world shall be changed; and a happier state of things shall exist than has ever been known before—when the pestilence, the famine, and the sword shall cease to destroy; and “the saints of the Most High shall possess the kingdom,” in “quietness and assurance for ever.” “Then cometh the end,” when Emmanuel “shall destroy in this mountain the vail of the covering cast over all people, and swallow up death in victory!”

But what will it avail you to hear of this glorious restitution, if you are not partakers of its incipient benefits, and happily interested in its consummation? Has it begun in your own hearts? Are you restored to God in Christ? Have you a place in his house, and a name among his people? Are your feet running the way of his commandments, and your hands diligent in doing his work? If not, “it is high time to awake out of sleep.” “Repent and believe the gospel!” “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, who will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon!”

SERMON XV. TRIBULATION CONQUERED.

“_These things have I spoken unto you_, _that in me ye might have
peace_. _In the world ye shall have tribulation_; _but be of good
cheer_; _I have overcome the world_.”—John xvi. 33.

THE last sayings of those we love are not soon forgotten. These words form the conclusion of our Lord’s valedictory to his disciples. They did not yet understand that the redemption of man was to be obtained by the death of their Master. When Christ was put to death, he descended to the lower parts of the earth, in order to raise up sinners; but their faith could not follow him into the deep. Nicholas Pisces sunk into the sea to raise a golden cup, but neither he nor the cup ever came up again. A man clothed in glass went down to prepare for raising the Royal George; the man came up, but the ship remains in the bottom. But our blessed Redeemer, clothed in humanity, descended to the deeps of death, and raised the church from the pit of perdition, and founded her upon a rock, against which the gates of hell cannot prevail.

We would notice, _first_, the peace that is in Christ, in opposition to the tribulation that is in the world; and _secondly_, the victory of Christ over the world, as the source of comfort and joy to believers.

I. “These things have I spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. I know what you will have in the world—mountains of tribulation—nothing but tribulation. I will put my peace in the other end of the scale.”

Peace in Christ is “the peace of God which passeth all understanding”—an ocean sufficiently deep and large to swallow up millions of fiery mountains. See the awakened sinner, overwhelmed with the terrors of God. His inflexible justice and spotless holiness seem to him like a mountain of flame, which he cannot approach without being consumed. But the Holy Spirit shows him the reconciling blood of the cross. He sees the crucified God-man rising from the grave, and ascending on high, “to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and remission of sins.” Instantly the terrible mountain sinks and is lost in the sea of his Redeemer’s merit. His faith has conquered his fears. His burden of guilt is gone. He is a new creature in Christ Jesus, and in Christ Jesus there is no condemnation. The deluge of tribulation may swell and roar around him, but he is securely enclosed in the ark.

A man in a trance saw himself locked up in a house of steel, through the walls of which, as through walls of glass, he could see his enemies assailing him with swords, spears, and bayonets; but his life was safe, for his fortress was locked within. So is the Christian secure amid the assaults of the world. His “life is hid with Christ in God.”

The psalmist prayed—“When my heart is overwhelmed within me, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.” Imagine a man seated on a lofty rock in the midst of the sea, where he has every thing necessary for his support, shelter, safety, and comfort. The billows heave and break beneath him, and the hungry monsters of the deep wait to devour him; but he is on high, above the rage of the former, and the reach of the latter. Such is the security of faith.

But why need I mention the rock and the steel house? for the peace that is in Christ is a tower ten thousand times stronger, and a refuge ten thousand times safer. Behold the disciples of Jesus exposed to famine, nakedness, peril, and sword—incarcerated in dungeons; thrown to wild beasts; consumed in the fire; sawn asunder; cruelly mocked and scourged; driven from friends and home, to wander among the mountains, and lodge in dens and caves of the earth; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; sorrowful, but always rejoicing; cast down, but not destroyed; an ocean of peace within, which swallows up all their sufferings.

“Neither death,” with all its terrors; “nor life,” with all its allurements; “nor things present,” with all their pleasure; “nor things to come,” with all their promise; “nor height” of prosperity; “nor depth” of adversity; “nor angels” of evil; “nor principalities” of darkness; “shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus.” “God is our refuge and strength; a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea—though the waters thereof roar and be troubled—though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.” This is the language of strong faith in the peace of Christ. How is it with you amid such turmoil and commotion? Is all peaceful within? Do you feel secure in the name of the Lord, as in a strong fortress—as in a city well supplied and defended?

“There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most high. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved. God shall help her, and that right early.” “Unto the upright, there ariseth light in the darkness.” The bright and morning star, shining upon their pathway, cheers them in their journey home to their Father’s house. And when they come to pass over Jordan, the Sun of Righteousness shall have risen upon them, with healing in his wings. Already they see the tops of the mountains of immortality, gilded with his beams, beyond the valley of the shadow of death. Behold, yonder, old Simeon hoisting his sails, and saying—“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.” Such is the peace of Jesus, sealed to all them that believe, by the blood of his cross.

When we walk through the field of battle, slippery with blood, and strewn with the bodies of the slain—when we hear the shrieks and the groans of the wounded and the dying—when we see the country wasted, cities burned, houses pillaged, widows and orphans wailing in the track of the victorious army, we cannot help exclaiming—O, what a blessing is peace! When we are obliged to witness family turmoils and strifes—when we see parents and children, brothers and sisters, masters and servants, husbands and wives, contending with each other like tigers—we retire as from a smoky house, and exclaim as we go—O, what a blessing is peace! When duty calls us into that church, where envy and malice prevail, and the spirit of harmony is supplanted by discord and contention—when we see brethren, who ought to be bound together in love, full of pride, hatred, confusion, and every evil work—we quit the unhallowed scene with painful feelings of repulsion, repeating the exclamation—O, what a blessing is peace!

But how much more precious in the case of the awakened sinner! See him standing, terror-stricken, before mount Sinai. Thunders roll above him—lightnings flash around him—the earth trembles beneath him, as if ready to open her mouth and swallow him up. The sound of the trumpet rings through his soul—“Guilty! guilty! guilty!” Pale and trembling, he looks eagerly around him, and sees nothing but revelations of wrath. Overwhelmed with fear and dismay, he cries out—“O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me! What shall I do?” A voice reaches his ear—penetrates his heart—“Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world!” He turns his eyes to Calvary. Wonderous vision! Emmanuel expiring upon the cross! the sinner’s Substitute satisfying the demand of the law against the sinner! Now all his fears are hushed, and rivers of peace flow into his soul. This is the peace of Christ.

How precious is this peace, amid all the dark vicissitudes of life! How invaluable this jewel, through all the dangers of the wilderness! How cheering to know that Jesus, who hath loved us even unto death, is the pilot of our perilous voyage; that he rules the winds and the waves, and can hush them to silence at his will, and bring the frailest bark of faith to the desired haven! Trusting where he cannot trace his Master’s footsteps, the disciple is joyful amid the darkest dispensations of Divine Providence; turning all his sorrows into songs, and all his tribulations into triumphs. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.”

II. The victory of Christ over the world, the source of comfort and joy to believers. “In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

The world is the great castle of Belial, containing three temples; “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life;” in one or another of which every unconverted soul is a worshipper. But Jesus has demolished that castle, and abolished the service of its several temples.

The world has two modes of warfare. Sometimes it puts on the apparent mildness of a lamb, and allures to destruction with the song of a siren. Again it leaps upon its prey like an angry lion, or pursues its victim like an exasperated dragon. Its frown has destroyed thousands; its smile, tens of thousands.

A certain man has laid it down as a rule, that all must take the world as it is. But all general rules have their exceptions. Christ is the exception here. Christ conquered the world. The Prince of this world met him in the wilderness, when he was alone, in poverty and distress—weary, hungry, and thirsty—and offered him all the kingdoms of the world, for which have been fought so many battles. But Jesus refused the offer; choosing rather to be poor, that we might be made rich. He detected the lion in his affectation of the lamb, and stripped from the angel of darkness his garment of light.

Then the enemy assumed another aspect—assailed him with the rage of a wild beast, and the malice of a fiend. No sooner had he preached his first sermon, than there was an attempt to hurl him down the precipice. “The archers sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him.” Judea became to him a mountain of leopards, and humanity seemed infernalized. He was stigmatized as a hypocrite—an impostor—a demoniac. He was falsely accused before rulers, and insult was added to perjury. “But his bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob.” “He was tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin.” “He did no iniquity, neither was guile found in his mouth.” He went through the wilderness without contracting any of its defilement.

But this was comparatively a small part of his victory. A more glorious conquest of the world was achieved by his death upon the cross, and his resurrection from the grave. It is here we behold him “glorious in his apparel, traveling in the greatness of his strength,” trampling the hosts of hell, till his raiment is red with blood. It is here we behold him “spoiling principalities and powers, and making a show of them openly—triumphing over them” in his atonement. It is here we behold the Prince of this world cast out and judged. The Prince of Peace has broken his sceptre, demolished his throne, and established upon the ruins of his empire an everlasting kingdom of grace.

Caiaphas rejoiced that Christ was under the king’s seal in the grave; but his unholy joy was brief as “the crackling of thorns under a pot.” At the dawning of the third day, Cæsar’s seal is broken, the stone rolled away, the tomb deserted of its occupant, Caiaphas’ feast of joy turned to lamentation and mourning, and the eternal power and Godhead of him whom they crucified engraved for ever on the rent rocks of Calvary.

Alexander conquered the world, but did not live to enjoy the fruits of his victory. But the Captain of our salvation, though he was dead, is alive for evermore. He shall prosecute his conquests, and put all enemies under his feet, and retain his dominion for ever. “He shall see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied.” He lives to confer upon his people the riches which he procured for them by his death. He lives to defend his redeemed, and draw all men unto himself. He lives to perpetuate in the church the peace which he bequeathed to her in his last will and testament.

A servant of Julian the Apostate asked one of the martyrs—“What is thy God, the carpenter, doing now in heaven?” He answered—“Making a coffin for thy master!” Julian was soon afterward mortally wounded by an arrow from one of the Scythians. When he was expiring, he waved his hand sorrowfully, and exclaimed—“O Galilean, thou hast conquered!”

“Be of good cheer,” therefore, ye trembling disciples! Christ has vanquished all your enemies. Ye are more than conquerors, through him that loved you, and gave himself for you. “In those things wherein they were proud, he was above them.” When Pharaoh exulted to overtake Israel, shut in between Pi-hahiroth and Baal-zephon, with the sea before them, Jehovah was higher than the Egyptian. His sight was clearer—his arm was stronger—his purpose was firmer. He said to his people—“Stand still! you are not able to raise this rampart. I must do it for you. I will divide the sea, and lead you through on dry land, and drown those who have drowned so many of your infants. Every one of them shall perish, from the king to the last footman.” Thus the Prince of Peace has triumphed over your foes, and you may conquer through faith in his conquest. “Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world; and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.”

John in the Apocalypse saw the army of the victors—a great multitude, out of all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues—standing before the throne, and before the Lamb; clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands; and crying with a loud voice—“Salvation to our God, who sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb!” And one of the elders asked him—“Who are these, and whence came they?” But so wonderfully were they changed, since he saw them on earth—in exile, in prison, in torture and death—that he confessed he knew them not. Then answered the elder—“These are they that came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple; and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb, who is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.”

Thus, ye saints, shall you “overcome by the blood of the Lamb;” “for greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world;” and your sorrows shall be lost in unspeakable joy, and your disgrace in eternal glory!

SERMON XVI. THE GLORY OF THE GOSPEL.

“_According to the glorious gospel of the blessed God_.”—1 Tim. i.
11.

THE being of God, and some of his attributes, are revealed to us by natural religion. The proof is seen in all his works, commending itself to the reason and conscience even of pagan nations. “Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them, for God hath showed it unto them; for the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead; so that they are without excuse, because that when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.” {223}

Paul’s sermon in Athens was founded on the revelations of natural religion:—“Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars’ hill, and said, Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious; for as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD; whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you. God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; neither is worshipped with men’s hands, as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us; for in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring.” {224}

But natural religion, though it reveals the being and attributes of God, cannot teach the way of salvation, nor lead us in the path of holiness. It may excite a thousand fears, not one of which can it allay; and suggest a thousand questions, not one of which can it answer. It leaves us, with the deist, in a region of doubt and perplexity; and neither of its four oracles—creation, providence, reason, and conscience—can satisfy the soul that inquires, “What must I do to be saved?” Its light affords us no guidance in the path of virtue; no certain indications of duty, either to God or man. Our understandings are so darkened, our wills so perverted, our affections so carnal, that we can depend upon no suggestions of external nature, or of reason and conscience, for the regulation of our moral conduct. God, therefore, of his infinite mercy, has given us his written word—a perfect rule both of faith and practice—a law by which we ought to live, and by which we shall be judged—a revelation of the mystery which had been hidden for ages, but is now made manifest to the saints, dispelling the fears of conscience, soothing the sorrows of the heart, and bringing life and immortality to light.

Divine revelation, though infinitely above human reason, does not in the least oppose it. That God should clearly make known his will to man, is so far from being contrary to reason, that we may truly say, nothing is more reasonable. The deductions of reason from the insufficiency of natural religion strongly indicate the necessity of such a revelation; and as to its possibility, we know that there can be no impossibility on the part of God to give it, and there is no impossibility on the part of man to receive it. God is able to communicate his will to his creatures in any way he pleases. He can stamp it on the mind, and make us know that it is he who speaks to us. But he has chosen another method. He has given us a record of his will in the Holy Scriptures. “God who, at sundry times, and in divers manners, spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds. Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip.”

Is the gospel the truth of God or not? Much has been written on this question. The arguments that have been advanced in support of the affirmative have never been overthrown, and never can be, by all the skeptics in the world. The revelation of the method of salvation was given in the garden of Eden to our first parents. Since that period great talents have been employed, talents worthy of a better cause, in ridiculing the Bible; but to very little purpose. The character of the Book of God stands firm as a mountain amid the clouds, the thunders, and the whirlwinds; and all the opposition of infidels and blasphemers, instead of tarnishing, have only brightened its lustre; and from every trial through which it has passed, it has come forth as fine gold from the furnace. The religions of the world, the vices and virtues of the world, all its wisdom and sagacity, and all its power and authority, in league with the demons of the pit, have not been able to destroy the gospel, or stay the wheels of its chariot. Though they were headed by the prince of darkness—the prince of this world—the prince of the power of the air, that worked mightily in the children of disobedience, in Palestine, in Greece and Rome, and all over the world; yet the gospel has proved triumphant. Its enemies, human and infernal, may wonder and be amazed at its prosperity; but let them remember that its author is the living God, and liveth for ever. Though its ministers have been persecuted and imprisoned, stoned, sawn asunder, slain with the sword, and burnt in the flames; yet the word of the Lord is not bound, but is freely preached in many parts of the world, and its doctrines and practices maintained in their purity by multitudes of Christians, notwithstanding the most dreadful attempts that have been made at different times to corrupt and destroy them. “For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth and the flower thereof falleth away; but the word of the Lord endureth for ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.”

We would now call your attention to the Divine authority of the gospel, and its characteristic glory.

I. It is “the gospel of the blessed God”—a message from God to man—a revelation of God’s gracious method of saving sinners through the death of his Son—a declaration of his sovereign love and mercy to the utterly wretched and perishing children of men. It testifieth of the coming of the promised Messiah; of the glory of his person as God-man; of the excellency of his offices, as our Prophet, Priest, and King; the honor which he has conferred upon the law that we have violated, and the satisfaction which he has given to the Divine justice that we have insulted. It records the sufferings and death of Christ, his victory over the powers of darkness, his resurrection from the grave, his ascension to glory, his session at the right hand of the Father, and his intercession for sinners on the ground of his vicarious sufferings; and predicts his second coming in glory, on the clouds of heaven, to judge the quick and the dead.

I do not mean to say that there is no other truth necessary to be preached and believed, but all the truths of Divine revelation are immediately connected with the doctrine of the cross. This is the testimony that the Father hath testified of his Son. This is the glad tidings of great joy which shall be unto all people. This is the faithful saying, or true report, that is worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save the chief of sinners. This is “the glorious gospel of the blessed God;” emanating from his spirit, and conducting to his kingdom. Let us consider the evidences of its Divine authority.

The perfections of God, in some degree, are manifested in all his works and words; his character is stamped on every thing that his hands hath formed, and his mouth hath spoken; so that there is a vast difference between the work and language of God, and the work and language of men. This is especially the case in reference to the Christian revelation. It is “the gospel of the blessed God,” and bears throughout the impress of its author. When John saw the Lamb in the midst of the throne, he had no difficulty in determining that he was a proper object of adoration and praise. As soon as any one sees the stone with seven eyes laid before Zerubabel, he knows that it is not a common stone. When you look to the book of the firmament, the fingers of the Creator’s eternal power and Godhead are evidently seen in the sun, the moon and the stars. So, in the Bible, we trace the same Divine hand. As often as I read it, I see eternity, with its flaming eye, gazing upon me. It unfolds to me the mysteries of creation and providence. It informs me who made, and still sustains and governs the universe. It leads me to the spring and original cause of all things; and places me immediately before the eyes of the eternal God; and I find myself, in his presence, both killed and made alive—most dreadfully oppressed, and set at perfect liberty—sunk in the valley of repentance and humiliation, and lifted upon the top of Pisgah—full of fears, and full of joy—desiring to hide myself from his sight, yet wishing to abide in the light of his countenance for ever!

I see the eye of Omniscience looking out upon me from every chapter of the Bible—from every doctrine, every precept, every promise, every ordinance of the gospel—penetrating alike the darkness and the light—searching me through and through, till I can hide nothing from its gaze—giving me a faithful representation of my conscience and my heart—making me hate myself, and confess my uncleanness, and cry out for the creation of a right spirit within me. And then I see it looking far into futurity—discovering, many hundreds of years beforehand, the smallest circumstances in the life and death of Jesus, even to the price of his betrayal, the gall mingled with his drink, and the lot cast for his vesture. How can I doubt that this is the eye of God?

Again: I see Holiness, Justice, and Truth, gazing upon me from the very heart of the gospel, like so many eyes of consuming fire. I tremble before them, like Moses before the burning bush, or Israel at the base of Sinai. Yet do I wish to behold this terrible glory, for it is mingled with milder beams of mercy. I take off my shoes, and approach that I may contemplate. “Truly, God is in this place!” I cannot live in sin under the intense blaze of his countenance. But here also I find the cleft of the Rock, even the Rock of Ages, wherein he hides me with his hand, while he makes all his goodness pass before me, and proclaims to me his name—“The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, forgiving iniquity, and transgression, and sin, and by no means clearing the guilty!”

“The word of God is quick and powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword; piercing to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow; and discerning”—revealing—condemning—correcting—“the thoughts and intents of the heart.” It unlocks my soul, and sits upon its throne; an infallible judge over all my secret imaginations, purposes, and feelings; bringing them under its own perfect law; examining them in the light of spotless holiness, inflexible justice, and eternal truth. And when I shrink from the scrutiny, overwhelmed with a sense of my corruption, and confessing my guilt with a broken and contrite heart, then it speaks to me of the boundless love of God, and the infinite merit of Christ; and “a still small voice” directs my sight to the holy of holies; where I see, through the rent vail, the King of Zion, sitting upon his throne of grace, more glorious than the ancient Shekinah upon the mercy-seat. I approach with joyful confidence, and find him invested with my own nature, “God manifest in the flesh,” his royal garments red with sacrificial blood; and again I hear the still small voice—“Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace!” And when the dark mountains of tribulation rise up before me, I see their tops gilded with beams of love; and when I look into the valley of the shadow of death, I see it brightening with the footsteps of the Son of God; and when the soul sits solitary and dejected in her mortal prison, longing for the wings of a dove, that she may fly away and be at rest, she sees the eyes of her Deliverer looking through the crevices of the wall, and hears his voice at the grated window—“Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God!”