David sang of the compassionate pitifulness of our heavenly Father, who will not always chide, nor keep his anger for ever. He had proved in relation to himself that the Lord is not easily provoked, but is plenteous in mercy. Remembering how feeble and how frail we are, the Lord bears and forbears with his weak and sinful children, and is gentle towards them as a nurse with her child. Although our own observation has proved this to be true, and our experience every day goes to show how truthfully David sang, yet assuredly the clearest display of the patience and pity of God towards us may be seen in the life of him in whom dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. Therefore, instead of speaking upon providential patience, I shall bid you gaze upon God in Christ Jesus, and see there how human weaknesses and follies are pitied of the Lord. With a text from the Old Testament, I purpose to take you straight away to the New, and the tenderness and pitifulness of the Father shall be illustrated by the meekness and lowliness of the Son towards his immediate disciples, the apostles. While the Holy Spirit shows you thus the pity of Jesus Christ towards his own personal attendants, you will see as in a glass his pity towards you.

At the outset let us attentively and admiringly observe the divine patience of our Lord Jesus towards the apostles.

I shall begin on this point by reminding you of their origin. Who, and what were these, whom he received into intimate fellowship with himself? They were not the high-born and powerful of the earth, for, “Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are chosen.” Not a single nobleman was numbered with the apostles. They were not even educated persons who, if poor, might still wear a gentle heart beneath a peasant’s garb. There was not a rabbi nor a philosopher among them. They were as uninstructed and as clownish as the rest of the peasantry of Palestine. He selected them from the populace; they were either fishermen or publicans; and these he made to be the first instruments of spreading abroad the gospel and establishing his kingdom. For our Lord Christ, who had been accustomed to the thrones and royalties of heaven, to stoop to be the familiar companion of any of the sons of men, would be wonderful condescension, but what shall I say when he elects the weak, and the poor, and the despised, to be his friends? He might have selected for his associates the choicest spirits, the advanced intellects, the educated minds; but, lo! he maketh foolish the wisdom of this world, and chooses the things that are not to bring to nought the things that are. I do not exaggerate when I speak of the clownishness of the apostles, their dulness and their ignorance. They were very honest and sincere, but they were far from being naturally quick of understanding. It was intentionally that our Lord made choice of them, on purpose to illustrate the sovereignty of election, and that no flesh should glory in his presence. He resolved that when he had filled them with the divine Spirit, and ordained them to be the chosen vessels to bear his name unto the Gentiles, none should ascribe their power to themselves, but all the glory should evidently belong unto the Lord alone. At the same time we must not forget that it must have caused the Lord Jesus much inconvenience and trouble to bear with such disciples. The refined spirit cannot be in continual contact with the coarse without enduring pain. Some may call such pain sentimental, but in so doing, they only reveal their own ignorance, for, probably, no shocks are more severe, no wounds more smarting, than those inflicted upon the delicate, the pure, the holy, the refined, by association with the grovelling, the selfish, the sinful, the unspiritual. The glory of our Master’s patience is this, that he did not betray even the slightest disgust or weariness of his poor friends. Though he might have said to them, as well as to the multitude, “O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? How long shall I suffer you?” yet he bore with them without repining, and only now and then gave them a rebuke. He never looked contemptuously upon them as his inferiors, though they were vastly so in all respects. He called them friends; he told them mysteries as if they could understand them, though often when he explained them to them they missed the inner meaning; he took them into his most retired haunts; he familiarised them with the garden and the Mount of Olives, where he was wont to seek his retirement; he would even stay his prayers to teach them how to pray-there was nothing that he would not do for them. Just such as they were he accepted them, and resolved to train them for his service. Having once loved them, he loved them unto the end. He never made them feel a dread of his superiority, or shudder at the distance between their character and his own. He kept no register of their faults, he never rehearsed the list of their shortcomings, but, on the contrary, his main rebuke was his own perfect example, and he ever treated them as his friends and brethren. Think of this, and you will see in Christ Jesus that “like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.”

Much forebearance he had with their lack of understanding. The apostles, before Pentecost, were very gross and unspiritual in judgment. He himself had to say to them, “O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken.” Until the Holy Spirit came upon them, and made them quick of understanding, they were sorry dunces; dull scholars, though the best of Masters had become their teacher. They did not understand the object of his mission; they fancied that he came to be a king, and they expected to receive crowns and dignities, and even began to quarrel over the division of the spoil, disputing as to which of them should be the greatest peer in the kingdom which they expected him to establish. He was thinking of suffering and death while they were dreaming of robes and coronets. The mother of Zebedee’s children even asked for her sons that one might sit on his right hand and the other on his left in his kingdom, a gross misconception indeed of what that kingdom would be, and a piece of pride and selfishness that she should seek for her sons, probably with their acquiescence, a place above their fellow disciples. When he spake to them concerning his sufferings, though he used great plainness of speech, yet they could not understand him. Take this passage in the ninth of Luke, at the forty-third verse: “While they wondered every one at all things which Jesus did, he said unto his disciples, Let these sayings sink down into your ears: for the Son of man shall be delivered into the hands of men. But they understood not this saying, and it was hid from them, that they perceived it not: and they feared to ask him of that saying.” The thought that the Son of God, the King of Israel should, by-and-by, be proclaimed king upon a felon’s cross could not by any means find place in their minds; they continued to cling tenaciously to the idea of earthly dominion. What strange ignorance was that which led them to think the Saviour referred to their having no bread when he said, “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees.” Think, too, of the dulness of Philip when the Lord was speaking concerning the Father, and he said, “Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us;” and Thomas was not much wiser when he said, “Lord, we know not whither thou goest, and how can we know the way?” There were many truths which Christ did not clearly teach to them before the descent of the Spirit, for the reason which he once gave: “I have many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.” Even when he made that simple statement, “A little while, and ye shall not see me: and again, a little while, and ye shall see me, because I go to the Father,” they did not understand him; and he said to them, “Do ye enquire among yourselves of that I said, A little while, and ye shall not see me: and again, a little while, and ye shall see me?” The expression was so simple that they should have understood it, but their prejudices blinded their eyes. Nor was this confined to the early days of their fellowship with him, for even after our Lord had risen from the tomb, those with whom he conversed on the road to Emmaus, who were probably by no means inferior to the rest, did not understand the references of the prophets to Christ, and were not prepared to see in his resurrection the manifest fulfilment of the words which had been spoken of old. Their eyes were holden in more senses than one. Many a master would have grown weary of such pupils, but infinite love brought to its succour infinite patience, and he continued still to teach them though they were so slow to learn. “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.”

Reflect again, my brethren, upon the unevangelical spirit which these apostles often showed. On one occasion even John, as mild and gentle a spirit as any of them, asked to be permitted to call fire from heaven to destroy certain Samaritans who would not receive the Saviour because his face was set towards Jerusalem. Jesus the friend of sinners calling fire from heaven! This might suit Elias, but was not after the manner of the meek and lowly Prince of Peace. It would have been quite foreign to all his purposes, and contrary to his entire spirit; yet the two sons of thunder would hurl lightning on their Master’s foes. He might well have spoken to them as bitterly as David did to the sons of Zeruiah, when in their hot rage they would have slain their leader’s foolish foes; he might have said, “What have I to do with you, ye sons of Zebedee?” But he merely said, “Ye know not what spirit ye are of.” Read the ninth chapter of Luke, which is full of the failings of the disciples, and notice how John and the rest forbad the man who was casting out devils in Jesus’ name. With the true spirit of bigoted monopoly that will not tolerate anything outside the pale of orthodoxy, they said, “We saw one casting out devils in thy name;” and instead of rejoicing that there were some beyond our company who were assisted by the Master’s power, and were glorifying the Master’s name, “we forbad him because he followeth not with us.” Their Lord, instead of angrily upbraiding their intolerance, gently chid them, with the sentence, “Forbid him not, for he that is not against us is for us.” Remember, also, how the disciples put away the mothers of Israel when they brought their tender offspring to receive the Saviour’s blessing; this showed a very unevangelical spirit. They would not have their Lord interrupted by the cries of babes, and thought the children too insignificant to be worthy of his consideration. But, though our Lord was much displeased with the disciples, yet he only said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” But, my brethren, it must have wanted great patience for our dear Lord and Master, who himself would not break a bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax, to bear with these rough men who pushed the little ones on one side, who would gag the mouths of those who were doing good in their own way, and who would even call fire from heaven upon poor ignorant sinners. Admire much his patience with their impatience, and see how “Like as a father pitieth his children, so he pitied them,” because he knew they feared him in their hearts, and their faults were rather infirmities than rebellions

Again, their weakness of faith must have been in itself a great provocation to him, and yet he bore with it most meekly. When in the storm, on the lake, they ought not to have been afraid, because Jesus was with them, though asleep; but their alarm was so great that they must needs awaken him, not thinking of his weariness which required rest in sleep; and they were so ungenerously unbelieving as to insinuate that he was unkindly thoughtless of their danger: “Master,” said they, “carest thou not that we perish?” Oh, what unbelief was here! He might well have been angry, but he rather rebuked the wind than them, and sweetly said, “Why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith?” Not many days after, however, they found themselves in a like case, and after such a deliverance, they ought to have been confident, but again they were troubled. Let us not upbraid them, for it has been our case full often. Jesus came to them in the midst of the storm, walking on the sea, and they were afraid of him, and thought it was a spirit, and they cried out. Their faith was so feeble-it was scarcely faith, but rather unbelief. Peter was a fair representative of them all when on that occasion he said, “If it be thou, bid me come to thee on the water.” He had faith enough with venturous footstep to tread the wave, and to continue to do so until a more than usually boisterous gust made his heart tremble, and down he went. Jesus, as he caught him, tenderly said, “O thou of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt?” No anger was in that fatherly rebuke. He spake as a mother might, when, after teaching her child to walk, she saw its little feet give way and saved it from a fall.

Take another instance of their unbelief. Our Lord had fed the multitude, if you remember, with five loaves and two fishes, and but a short time after, another vast crowd was in a similar hungry condition. Jesus declared his compassion to the apostles in much the same language as he had used previously: one would have thought that after seeing him feed the five thousand so short a time before, they would have had no fear about the four thousand then to be fed, but would have said, “Lord, do as thou didst before, here are our seven loaves and our few little fishes; if five loaves fed five thousand, surely thou canst feed four thousand with seven.” Instead of that they said, “Whence should we have so much bread in the wilderness, as to fill so great a multitude?” Alas! for such unbelief. How could they doubt when with all their eyes they had seen what the Master could do? How could they be so unbelieving as to ask, “Whence can a man satisfy these men with bread here in this wilderness?” Surely the Saviour must have been sorely put to it to bear with this. Moreover, they lost by their unbelief a large amount of power which they might have exercised for good, and they exposed their Master’s name to derision. When he came down from the mount of transfiguration, he found a company gathered at the mountain foot, who were glorying over the baffled disciples, because they could not cast out a devil from a poor tormented child. There were the reviling multitude, and there the disconcerted disciples; the Lord Jesus immediately rectified the mischief by casting out the devil, and when alone with the disciples he answered their question, “Why could not we cast him out?” How pityingly and encouragingly he replied, “Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.” Now, where unbelief not only makes the person fearful, but causes him to be weak where he should be strong, and to expose his Master’s name and fame to doubt and distrust, it is enough to provoke anger in the holiest; and yet provoked the Master was not, for he pitied his disciples as a father pitieth his children.

Again, I would remark that it was not only in the earlier period of his intercourse that they were unbelieving. There might have been some excuse at that time, but even at the close of his sojourn with them they still remained doubters. Take Thomas as a case in point, and hear him obstinately declare, “Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, I will not believe.” Yet our gentle Lord condescended to grant his incredulous disciple the tokens for which he had asked. The rest of the apostles do not seem to have been much stronger in faith, for when he appeared “they were terrified and affrighted,” and were not comforted even when he said, “Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself; handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.” How gracious it was on his part, since they yet believed not, to eat before them all a piece of a broiled fish, and of a honeycomb, to prove that he was yet alive and in a real body! What, had they seen him three years, had they beheld the miracles which he wrought, had they listened to his teaching, had they perceived the divinity which dwelt within him, and yet when he had risen from the dead, did they refuse to believe the testimony of the holy women and of Peter and John? Did they disbelieve the evidence of the empty tomb? Oh, yes! for unbelief was in them all, and they might each have cried, “Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief.” Yet he bore with them and pitied them still.

Nor have I exhausted this matter. Their emulations of each other must very frequently have distressed the lowly mind of Jesus. Again and again we find them striving among themselves which should be the greatest. After James and John had so foolishly sought to sit on his right hand and on his left, the ten, it is said, had indignation against them, proving that if they did not show it in the same manner, yet they were actuated by much the same spirit as the sons of Zebedee. We find them again contending which should be the greatest, when our Lord took a little child and set him in their midst, and said, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” As much as to say, ‘You need not choose places in the kingdom, and dispute as to precedence, you cannot even enter there while you are moved by the spirit of ambition. You must be humble, and become like this child before you can understand that kingdom.’ Perhaps the worst case of the apostles’ emulation is that recorded in Luke 22:24, when even after the blessed festival of love the apple of discord was thrown upon the table. Sad to think that at the Lord’s Supper Satan should be so present. Extraordinary as it may seem, yet so it was. The question, “Lord, is it I?” was succeeded by the question which of them should be the greatest. Their Lord was about to die, Gethsemane’s sweat of agony was almost gathering on his brow, his passion was close at hand, and yet his disciples were taken up with so contemptible a question as which of them should take precedence of the other. That dear rebuke of washing their feet was a sweet way of reproving them and revealing his own love.

I must not forget that on some occasions they showed their pride in a very wrong and even insulting manner. Peter, who was after all but a type of the rest, when our Lord had spoken of his death, took him and began to rebuke him! Yes, he rebuked his Master!!! His Lord then turned himself and rebuked the devil rather than Peter, though Peter had become the foolish instrument of the devil, and he said, “Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence unto me: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men.” Nor was this the only occasion, for when he had warned him that he would deny him that night, he was contradicted point blank by his rash follower, and his fellow disciples joined him in the contradiction. “Likewise also said all the disciples.” They were told to pray that they might not enter into temptation, but they were proud enough to believe that their Master did not know them, and to think that no temptation could overcome them. Here was pride indeed, and yet though those poor things who had needed to be humbled in the dust, spoke so exceeding proudly and lifted up their horn on high, yet all he did was just to pity them and to pray for them, and bear with their ignorance and their ill-manners. Having loved them he pitied them, and remembered that they were but dust.

I will only mention one other matter, and that was his patience with their infirmities; I mean not only their sinless weaknesses, but those in which sin was in some degree present. Remember their weakness in the garden. He was in an agony, and he selected three of them to watch near to the scene of his passion, but when in the midst of his distress he came to them, as if he would have a word of comfort from them, he found them sleeping. Oh, the pathos of those words, “What, could ye not watch with me one hour?” and such an hour-an hour of such extremity! Where was their love that they could sleep while he was in agony? Yet how mild his language-“the spirit truly is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Worse than that, no sooner was he taken, than not one of all the band, so valiant in their own opinion, was found standing at his Master’s side. Then all the disciples forsook him and fled; and the bravest of them all, in the hall where his Master was accused as a criminal, stood by the fire and warmed his hands, and said, “I know not the man,” and then with oaths and cursing, even a third time declared, “I know not what thou sayest.” Here was cowardly weakness indeed, at which the Saviour’s resentment might well have been kindled, but he showed no anger, he only turned and looked on Peter, and it was such a look of mingled sorrow and pity, that the poor denier of his Lord went out and wept bitterly. When the Lord had risen from the dead, he did not upbraid Peter, but he sent a special love message to him, “Go, tell my disciples and Peter;” and when Peter was with him by the sea, the only rebuke, if rebuke it could be called, was the question, “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?” asked a third time in remembrance of the three times in which he had denied him, and that three times he might have the privilege of saying, “Yea, Lord, thou knowest all things. Thou knowest that I love thee.”

Beloved friends, it is meet that I should add that the pain to our Lord arising from these faults must be estimated by his matchless character and by the end he had in view. Remember he was perfectly holy as man, and, moreover, he was God; and to have to bear with such poor creatures as these, was therefore the most wonderful condescension and pity. Engaged as he was in seeking their good, and not his own it was the harder to endure, that they should be such stubborn materials, and so great a hindrance to him. Moreover, remember that he did not merely bear with them but treated them as his friends. All things that he had heard of his Father he made known unto them; he admitted, them into his most intimate acquaintanceship, and all the while almost his only rebuke to them was his own perfect example. He taught them humility by his humility; he taught them gentleness by his gentleness; he did not point out their defects in words, he did not dwell upon their errors, but he rather let them see their own spots by his purity, their own defects by his perfection. Oh, the marvellous tenderness of Christ, who so paternally pitied them that feared him!

Let us think for a short time of the reasons of this divine patience in the case of our Lord.

Doubtless we must find the first reason in what he is. Our Lord was so greatly good that he could bear with poor frail humanity. When you and I cannot bear with other people it is because we are so weak ourselves. If you cannot bear with your imperfect brother, take it for certain that you are very imperfect yourself. Jesus was so free from selfishness that anything that they might do, which was injurious to the honour due to him, did not afflict him in the same way as our pride would afflict us. All the suffering he would feel would be grief that they should be so erring, that they should have learnt so slowly. He would not think of himself, but would only think of them. Besides, he was so gentle, so tender! It was no exaggeration or egotism when he said, “I am meek and lowly in heart.” I would to God we could copy his love and borrow his “meekness so divine.”

He bore with them and pitied them because of his relationship to them. He had loved them as he has loved many of us, “from before the foundation of the world.” He was their shepherd, and he pitied the diseases of his flock; he was their Saviour, and he lamented the sins from which he was about to save them; he was their “brother born for adversity,” and he stooped to be familiar with their frailties. He had determined to bring many sons unto glory, and therefore, for the joy that was set before him, he endured all things for the elect’s sake.

Another reason for his patience was his intention to become perfect as the Captain of our salvation, through suffering. You have perhaps enquired, “Why did not the Lord Jesus at once perfectly sanctify these apostles, and deliver them from sin? He might have done so.” I grant you he might, and I have often wondered why he does not do the same with us. But I do not wonder when I recollect that it was needful that he should become a faithful High Priest, touched with a feeling of our infirmities by being tempted in all points, like as we are. Now, you and I have to bear with our imperfect brethren, and if our Lord had never endured the same, he could not in that point have shown fellowship with us. In order that he might be a complete High Priest, and know all the temptations of all his servants, he bears with the infirmities and sins of disciples whom he could have perfected at once if he had willed, but whom he did not choose to perfect because he desired to reveal his tender pity towards them, and to obtain by experience complete likeness to his brethren. Thus the High Priest of our profession became capable of sympathy with us in like condition, by having to bear with all the infirmities of his disciples.

Did he not also do this, my dear friends, that he might honour the Holy Spirit? If Jesus had perfected the apostles, they would not have seen so manifestly the glory of the Holy Ghost. Until the Holy Ghost was come, what poor creatures the eleven were! but when the Holy Ghost was given, what brave men, what heroes, how deeply instructed, how powerful in speech, how eminent in every virtue they became! It is the object of Jesus Christ to glorify the Spirit, even as it is the design of the Holy Spirit to glorify Christ in our hearts.

Moreover, our Lord was considering the future of the apostles, and therefore bore with them instead of removing all their evil. He knew that after his decease they would think of these things; and I can well conceive that in their solitude, and when they met each other, they would either soliloquise or say to each other, “Do you not remember how our Lord spoke to us on such an occasion? I do remember the very words he used.” “Yes,” and said the other, blushing and with tears, “I do remember we did not understand him.” “And do you recollect the question Philip put to him?” “Yes,” said the other, “but do you know I did not confess it, but I was just going to say the very same thing, for I was quite as foolish as Philip.” And then they would smile to themselves, and say, “How slow of understanding we were in those days!” “Yes,” but the other would say, “Did you not notice that our blessed and ever dear Master never smiled contemptuously upon us, and never seemed wearied by our folly; he evidently looked at us as being little children, and he just explained himself again and again, and when we did not comprehend he was still ready to explain once more. But, oh, how tenderly he dealt with us! “And then one of them would say, “How often have I lamented that I fled that night when he was seized. I wish I had gone with him right up to the judgment-seat. I wish I had stood at the cross foot or hung on another cross side by side with him. But do you know when I met him after his resurrection, I thought he would have said a word, but there was never even a hint about my cowardice; he received me with just the same tranquil love he had been wont to show before, and he sent me on an errand just as he had been wont to do, to show he could trust me still.” Oh, what a dear and tender Lord he was! They did not know when he was alive how good he was, but when he was gone, and had given them the Spirit, they could see it all. Just as with a photograph, when it is first taken the image is not yet visible to the eye, it has to lie a little while in the bath, and to be washed before the artist brings it out, and so the picture of Christ on their hearts had to be baptised in the Holy Spirit, and then it was revealed to them, and as they looked on it, they said, “Never was there such a one. He was, and is, the chief among ten thousand, and our souls shall love him even unto death.” If it be so on earth it will be much more so in heaven, when we enter within the pearl-gate we shall see how Jesus loved us when we were on earth. “I remember well,” saith one, “that trial which passed over me, and I said God hath forgotten me, he will be mindful of me no more, and all the while he was afflicting me in very faithfulness, and in love to my soul.” Then will another saint bear testimony, “Though I was very often cold of heart and forgot him, yet he said unto me, ‘Return unto me, I am married unto thee, saith the Lord.’ And when I did return I do remember how gently he received me and let out the full flood of his love into my soul once again! So that he restored unto me the love of my espousals, and I rejoiced in his salvation.” You see the Lord is thinking of our eternity. He does not sanctify us at once, for we should not know all the sin that is in us, and therefore should not know how much we owe to him, but he leaves us these thirty, forty, fifty years in the wilderness, that we may see what is in our hearts and what is in his heart as he manifests it towards us in unfailing lovingkindness. Blessed be his name, that thus he pities us even as a father doth his children.

First, if the Lord has thus had pity upon you as he had on his apostles, do ye even so to others. I know there is a tendency with us to feel so grieved with the inconsistencies of our fellow Christians as to lose patience. Moses, the most meek of men, yet lost his temper with Israel, and said, “Hear now, ye rebels, must I fetch you water out of this rock?” I do not wonder that he called them rebels, for they were such; but then God would not have Moses call them so, for they were God’s children. Their Father may call them what names he pleases, but he will not have the servants take liberties with the children. Sometimes when we see the inconsistencies of God’s people, we are apt to speak harshly, but our Lord sets us a different example. Jesus bore with imperfect people, ought not you and I to do the same. Jesus must have borne a great deal more than we ever have borne or ever shall have to bear, yet he was still pitiful, still kind and loving to them; let us follow in his steps. It ought to help us when we remember that we were converted through imperfect preachers. I am sure if any of you have been converted through my ministry, you have been converted through a very imperfect one. While I deeply regret my imperfections, yet in one sense I glory in my infirmities, because the power of God doth rest upon me. For what are we! we cannot turn any to righteousness-the Lord alone can do that, but if by imperfect instruments you are blessed to the saving of your souls, you ought never again to be out of patience with imperfect people. Remember also that you are imperfect yourself. You can see great faults in others; but, my dear brother, be sure to look in the looking glass every morning and you will see quite as many faults, or else your eyes are weak. If that looking glass were to show you your own heart you would never dare look again, I fear you would even break the glass. Old John Berridge, as odd as he was good, had a number of pictures of different ministers round his room, and he had a looking glass in a frame to match. He would often take his friend into the room and say, “That is Calvin, that is John Bunyan,” and when he took him up to the looking glass he would add, “and that is the devil.” “Why,” the friend would say, “it is myself.” “Ah,” said he, “there is a devil in us all.” Being so imperfect we ought not to condemn. Remember also that if we are not patient and forbearing, there is clear proof that we are more imperfect than we thought we were. Those who grow in grace grow in forbearance. He is but a mere babe in grace who is evermore saying, “I cannot put up with such conduct from my brother.” My dear brother, you are bound even to wash the disciples’ feet. If you know yourself, and were like your Master, you would have the charity which hopeth all things and endureth all things.

Remember that your brethren and sisters in Christ, with whom you find so much fault, are God’s elect for all that, and if he chose them, why do you reject them? They are bought with Christ’s blood, and if he thought them worth so much, why do you think so little of them? Recollect, too, that with all their badness there are some good points in them in which they excel you. They do not know so much, but perhaps they act better. It may be that they are more faulty in pride, but perhaps they excel you in generosity; or if perhaps one man is a little quick in temper, yet he is more zealous than you. Look at the bright side of your brother, and the black side of yourself, instead of reversing the order as many do. Remember there are points about every Christian from which you may learn a lesson. Look to their excellences, and imitate them. Think, too, that small as the faith of some of your brethren is, it will grow, and you do not know what it will grow to. Though they be now so sadly imperfect, yet if they are the Lord’s people, think of what they will be one day. O brethren and sisters, shall we know them? shall we know ourselves when we once get to heaven, and are made like our Lord? There, my brother, though you are a quarrelsome man, I will not quarrel with you; I am going to live in heaven with you, and I will keep out of your way till then. I will not find fault with you, my friend, if I can help it, because you will be one day without fault before the throne of God. If God will so soon remove your faults, why should I take note of them? I will not peevishly complain of the rough stone, for I see it is under the Great Artist’s chisel, and I will tarry till I see the beauty which he brings out of it.

The drift of this lesson, is this-as your heavenly Father has pity on you, have pity on one another. He remembers that we are dust; remember this of others. You, who live in the same house, do not fall out with each other. You, who are members of the same church, do not criticise and judge each other so severely; or if you are severe upon the fault, be gentle towards the person who commits it, and seek not his destruction, but his good. Preacher, mind you learn your own lesson-be as tender towards those who sin as the Master was.

Another lesson, and I have done. In your own case, my dear friends, have firm faith in the gentleness and forbearance of Christ. You are conscious, this morning, that you have been slipping, and have fallen short or gone beyond the mark, and I know unbelief will whisper to you that you cannot expect to enjoy renewed fellowship with Christ, or to taste of his love again. O think not so! Think of how gentle he was with the apostles, and remember he is the same still. Change of place has not changed his character. The exaltations of heaven have not removed from him the tenderness of his heart; he will accept you still. My brother, I know that prayer of yours was not what it should be; try again; he will accept the prayer, despite the fault. I know, my dear friend, your ministry up till now has not been so earnest as it should have been, but do not give it up; preach again, preach with greater fervour and greater unction-he will bless you, he has not put you away. I know that with all of us there is nothing we have done but what we might weep a whole shower of tears over; but Jesus, the pitiful, knows our meaning; he will not look at the flaws, but at the jewel; he will cover our sins with the mantle of his love, he will accept the will for the deed. Let us try again. Let us trust in him wholly, and devote ourselves unreservedly to his service. Let us be persuaded that as we accept from our children a poor fading nosegay on our birthday, and thank them as much as if it were pearls and diamonds, because it shows their love, even so if our heart loves Jesus, he will receive our poor imperfect service for our love’s sake. “He knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust;” he knows we cannot bring a clean thing out of an unclean; he in his infinite compassion will cover our transgressions and accept our heart’s love. Be of good courage, then; be of good courage, my brethren, he will accept you still.

I should think this subject ought to attract many sinners to him, and I pray it may, “for him that cometh to him he will in no wise cast out.” O that the Holy Spirit would lead many of you to fix your hope on Jesus, the gentle Lamb of God. Come and trust him, O sinner. The Lord bless you. Amen.

Portions of Scripture read before Sermon-Psalm 103, and Luke 22:19-34.

THE WAY

A Sermon

Delivered on Lord’s-day Morning, July 24th, 1870, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way.”-John 14:6.

The most precious things lie in the smallest compass. Diamonds have much value in little space. Those scriptural sayings which are fullest of meaning are many of them couched in the fewest words. Who shall measure the depth of that sentence, “God is love”? or that other, “God is light”? Who shall know the lengths and breadths of this declaration, “Christ is all”? How clearly is the whole gospel condensed into that line, “By grace are ye saved”! There are many more divine words of a like character, all short, and as sweet as they are short, precious beyond comparison, and as brief as precious. Our text, with its four words, and those all monosyllables, and none of more than three letters, is among the chief of these Bibles in miniature. “I am the way.” It were difficult, and it were as wicked as difficult, to be otherwise than simple in preaching when such a text as this is the theme. May God grant that some of you may be reached by my simple testimony, and led in the way to heaven; may those who are in the way already be strengthened, and comforted, and quickened in it; may God be glorified and sinners converted, and then our hearts shall be exceeding glad.

We shall go at once to the text, and consider, in the first place, how Jesus Christ is the way, and how he comes to be so.

How he is the way. A way supposes two points-from which and to which. Christ is the way from man’s ruin to the Father. Our Lord was speaking of man’s coming to the Father, so we know whither the way leads, and we know very well that the way were of no service unless it came to where we are by nature, and that is in the place of ruin and of wrath. Christ is the way that leadeth from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City-from the ruin of our father Adam right up to the glory of our Father who is in heaven.

Christ is the way, then, first, from the guilt of sin to the Father. The, great difficulty was-How is sin to be put away? Many attempts have been made to remove it, but there is no way of our escaping from the guilt of sin except by Jesus Christ. Some have hoped for pardon from future good conduct, but as we all know that the payment of a future debt can by no means discharge a past debt, so that even the perfect future obedience of man, could he achieve it, could not touch his past sins. Self-righteousness, therefore, even if it could reach perfection, would not be “the way.” Some hope much from the mercy of God, but the law knows nothing of clearing the sinner of guilt by a sovereign act of mercy-that cannot be done; for then God’s justice would be impugned, his law would be virtually annulled. He will by no means clear the guilty. Every transgression must have its just recompense of reward, so that the absolute mercy of God as such is not the way out of the guilt of sin, for that mercy is blocked up by avenging justice, and over the face of that star of hope called absolute mercy there passes an eclipsing shadow, because God is righteous as well as gracious. There is no way by which a sinner can escape from the guilt of sin but that which is revealed in Jesus Christ. God has sent forth his Son, his only Son. The Word was made flesh and came under the law: upon that mysterious being who combined both Godhead and manhood in one person, the Lord has laid the iniquity of us all. By imputation the transgressions of his elect have been laid upon their Covenant Head, so that he was numbered with the transgressors, and he bare the sin of many. He voluntarily undertook to be the substitute and covenant surety of his chosen; and in this way, by the transferring of sin from the sinner to Christ, the sinner ceases to be regarded as a sinner, and his guilt is removed. Here is the way for that sinner to approach the Father. His sin is laid upon Christ, who became the substitute for all sinners that ever have believed or ever shall believe on him, and he himself is clear. The whole mountain mass of the sins of believers lies not on them any longer, but on Christ. He hath taken their transgressions, he hath borne their iniquities, their sins are moved from them and laid on him. Now hark! The only way in which sin can be taken from any one of us is by this method; it is not imputed unto us, it is imputed unto him; but think not that the sin which was laid upon Christ of old lies upon Christ now. It does not, for the day came when the punishment for all that sin was demanded; the sword of vengeance awoke against human sin, and it would have smitten all the flock, and the sheep would have been destroyed, but the Shepherd came into the place of the flock, and he bore the strokes of the sword; and there upon yonder once accursed, but now for ever blessed, tree, the Saviour endured the fulness of divine wrath on account of sin. Now, where is the sin of his people? He hath cast it into the depths of the sea. By bearing its punishment he has caused it no more to exist; it is as though it had never been; it is annihilated, it is gone, if it be searched for, it cannot be found. Jesus Christ by his taking the sin and then discharging all the liability that was due to God from that sin, has for ever finished transgression-mark the word, made an end of sin, and brought in everlasting righteousness for his people. Now, sinner, if thou wouldst get away from thy sin, Christ is the way; this is the way by which thou canst escape from it. I have already told thee that thy future reformation cannot remove thy past sin, neither can the mercy of God, considered as an attribute by itself, clear thee from thy sin; but this wonderful deed of love and wisdom, this marvellous transaction that makes heaven and earth ring with grateful songs, when glorified spirits see further into it, and when angelic intellects are able to grasp it, this wondrous transaction can clear thee from sin as it has cleared many of us; for we are this day before God justified, so that none can lay anything to our charge. Sinners we are in ourselves, but not sinners before God’s judgment-seat, for Jesus has made us clean; we are whiter than snow, our sins being removed from us far as is the east is from the west by our great atoning Substitute. Here is a way consistent with divine justice, a way exactly meeting what you need. Oh, I pray God that while the words are used, “I am the way,” your spirit may say, “Blessed be his name, Jesus shall be my way, I will this day believe on him and thus escape from my guilt.”

The text refers to the guilt of sin, but then “I am the way” is as true concerning the wrath of God on account of sin. You will see at once, and, therefore, I need not use many words about it, that the way to escape from wrath is to escape from the sin which causes the wrath. Remove the cause, you remove the effect. Now, when the sin of God’s people was moved from them to Christ, the wrath of God went where the sin went, and it fell upon Christ, until he said, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” and when that bitter cup of wrath had been drained to its dregs, it was emptied for ever, and not one drop was left for a believing soul to taste. The wrath of God towards the believer has ceased to be, and at this moment there is no angry thought in God’s heart towards a justified person. Whosoever has believed in Christ, his sins were laid on Christ, and punished in Christ, and God is not and cannot be angry with the man for whom Jesus was a substitute, for he has no sins for God to be angry with. “Oh,” say you, “but does he not sin?” He does, but it is not imputed to him, according to the saying of the psalmist in the thirty-second Psalm: “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity.” He commits sin, but it is not imputed to him, and so the wrath never comes on him; he is free from guilt and wrath; God has love to him, unbounded love, and though he may chasten him, yet this is not in anger, but with purposes of love to him for his spiritual and everlasting good. So you see Christ, is the way out of divine wrath as well as out of our sin.

And, listen. There comes upon us in consequence of sin, when the Lord deals with us and makes us see sin, a deep and terrible depression of spirit, in some more and in some less, but in every case “when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.” Sin as soon as it is really felt in the soul to be sin, kills us, blasts our former hopes, crushes our pride, lays us like bruised and mangled things before the burning throne of justice. Oftentimes souls have been heard to cry, “There is no soundness in my flesh because of thine anger; neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin. For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me. My wounds stink and are corrupt because of my foolishness.” Many such expressions, it may be, you, my awakened hearer, have been made to utter, but, oh! if thou comest to see that all this sin of thine is not thine, that in Christ Jesus God hath put away thy sin by thy Saviour’s bearing it and enduring its punishment, I say, if thou seest this, thou wilt speedily rejoice. In a moment those waves of wrath will pass away from thee, and thy spirit will sing, “Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.” I know a truly awakened conscience never will believe in the pardon of sin without atonement first made; but when you hear that atonement has been made, that Christ suffered instead of you, that his death has glorified the justice of God more than your lying in hell could have glorified him, that his atonement is to God’s injured law a better vindication than even your eternal destruction, do you not see it, do you not lay hold on it, and doth not your heart leap at the sound of this glorious gospel of the blessed God? Christ is the way, then, out of the guilt of thy sin, out of the wrath of God for thy sin, and out of thy sense of that wrath.

But more, Christ is the way to escape from the power of sin. The great object of a penitent soul is to get away from the tyrrany and slavery of evil habits and of corrupt desires. A man may break off some of his sins by his own unaided efforts. For instance, no man need be a drunkard, common determination may have done with those intoxicating cups. No man need be a swearer; let him understand what a wantonness of iniquity there is in that sin, and he may surely give it up. Still, sin dwells in fallen creatures, and the imagination of the thoughts of their hearts is evil, and that continually. Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Man, thy sinfulness is such that thou canst not cease from sin. But man, there is a power above and beyond thee which can deliver thee from the power of sin and make thee holy; it is found in Christ Jesus, in Christ Jesus as I have preached him to thee this day. Let me tell thee my own experience. Whenever I feel that I have sinned, and desire to overcome that sin for the future, the devil at the same time comes to me and whispers, “How can you be a pardoned person and accepted with God while you sin in this way?” If I listen to this I drop into despondency, and if I continued in that state I should fall into despair, and should commit sin more frequently than before; but God’s grace comes in and says to my Soul, “Thou hast sinned; but did not Jesus come to save sinners? Thou art not saved because thou art righteous; for Christ died for the ungodly.” And my faith says, “Though I have sinned, I have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, and though I am guilty, yet by grace I am saved, and I am a child of God still.” And what then? Why, then the tears begin to flow, and I say, “How could I ever sin against my God who is so good to me? Now I will overcome that sin,” and I get strong to fight with sin through the conviction that I am God’s child. Doubts and fears, and the thought that God is angry only drive you further into sin, but the faith which in the teeth of sin yet believes in God’s love, and still believes in the perfect pardon Christ has given, which God himself can never take back again; that holy faith which still clings to the cross with, “If I perish I perish, but to this atoning sacrifice I cling;” that faith, I say, makes you strong against sin. The saints in glory overcame through the blood of the Lamb, and there is no other way of overcoming. The precious blood of atonement wherever sprinkled kills sin, and he that lives in the full belief of it will be purified from sinful habits, as saith that precious text: “If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” It is walking under a sense of divine love as manifest in Christ, it is walking with the full conviction of pardon through the blood that brings to us freedom from the reigning power of sin. So, soul, Jesus Christ is “the way” to escape from sin, its guilt, its wrath, its fear, its power.

Now we must have a word or two upon the other end of the way. I said it was from sin, to what? To the Father. Now the way to the Father is alone by Jesus Christ. We have for this the express saying of Christ: “No man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” We hear talk of getting to God the Father by nature, but it is a ladder too short to reach the Infinite. God is somewhat seen in his works, but I believe those who have seen the grandest works of God, and have also seen God in Christ, will tell you that God is no more mirrored in his works than is the whole universe in a dewdrop. Earth is not broad enough to reflect the image of God. He doth not mirror himself in the sea, it is a glass too small to show the Deity; he cannot reveal his whole glory in the materialism of this poor world of ours, its axles would groan and crack beneath the weight of Deity. It is in Christ that Jehovah reveals himself more fully than in all nature, though you summon sun, moon, and stars, and read all their hieroglyphs, God is revealed in Christ in a way in which he cannot be in anything of time or of space.

Learn, then, that we get our best apprehensions of the Father through the Son. “He that hath seen me hath seen the Father.” It is only by Christ that we realise the Fatherhood of God. I do not believe any man has any idea of what the Fatherhood of God is till he knows Jesus Christ, as the first-born among many brethren, and knows the power of his atonement to bring us near to God. The common Fatherhood doctrine that God is the Father of us all, because he made us all, is not true in the most real and tender sense of Fatherhood. A potter makes ten thousand vessels, but he is not the father of one of them. It is not everything that a man makes that he is the father of, or if he be so called, it is only in a modified sense. We are God’s children when we are created anew in Christ Jesus; when regeneration has made us partakers of the divine nature. Sonship is no ordinary privilege common to all mankind, it is the high prerogative of the chosen; for what saith the Scripture: “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not.” When we are adopted into the divine family, then and not till then do we know God as the Father. As for unbelievers, they have not known the Father, for our Lord saith, “O righteous Father, the world hath not known thee.” He that hath seen Christ hath seen the Father, and only he; but the very essence of Christ is seen in his expiatory death, and therefore we can never grasp the Fatherhood of God till we have believed in the atonement of his Son. “Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father, but he that acknowledgeth the Son hath the Father also.” May we then realise the Father through knowing in very deed the Lord, for to a knowledge of the Father he is the only way.

Again, Jesus is the way to conscious acceptance with the Father. I know, my dear troubled friend, you feel this morning that you would give anything and everything if you could know that God had accepted you, and loved you, and that you were his dear child. Now, you can never know this until first you come to the cross, and see Jesus Christ dying there, as a substitute for you and for all who trust him. You trust him-your sins are on him, you are clear-the very next feeling of your soul will be, “I am not only pardoned in Christ, but I am accepted before God in Christ Jesus, for Christ’s sake, and as one with Christ I am now dear to God; and what is very marvellous, I am as dear to God as Jesus Christ himself is, I am brought as near as Christ is, I am what Christ is, for he who was once my representative in my sin, and bore the wrath for me, is now my representative in his glory, and has obtained favour and innumerable blessings for me.” This is a blessed thing. “The Father himself loveth you.” “Made nigh by the blood of Christ.” “Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.” The gift of Christ to us is a full proof of divine love, and wherever it is received it is the proof of God’s love to the receiver.

So, too, the way to have communion with the Father is the same. “Oh, how I long to talk with God,” saith one; “he seems to be a long way off, and the thick darkness shuts him out from me. O that I could speak with him, even though the only word I said were that of the returning prodigal: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee.” Beloved, when you see Jesus Christ who bore your sins in his own body on the tree, when you see him ascending up to heaven, you have access with boldness unto God, because Christ has entered within the veil and stands in the presence of God for you. You do talk with God when you draw near in Jesus Christ. Your conviction that all your sin is put away through him, that you are accepted through him, that you live in him as the member lives in the body, that he is your Covenant Head, and that his honours and glories are all reflected upon you, this assured belief brings you so near to God that as a man speaketh with his friend, even so do you commune with him. “Truly, our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.”

Again, we by Jesus come to resemble the Father. There is no way to get the likeness of the Father, except by learning God’s love in the person of his dear Son. Here, too, Christ is the way. You imitate Christ, and so become like the Father; you commune with Jesus Christ, and as you talk with him, his character sacredly operates upon yourself, and you are changed from glory to glory, as by the image of the Lord. I do believe, dear brethren, that the moment we forget Christ, and then seek after personal sanctification, we are trying to get to our journey’s end by declining to tread the road to it. It is, at least I find it so, impossible to grow in grace except by abiding evermore at the foot of the cross. When I know by faith, not by any other evidence than by faith, that Jesus loved me, and gave himself for me; when I see grace, magnified in sin, laid on him rather than on me, and see justice magnified, in that sin being put away by him; and when I see grace and justice together, clasping hands in solemn covenant to secure my soul against all fear of risk, then I feel that I am master over sin, then I feel my soul loves God, yearns after God, mounts up to God-and then it is she becomes more like God than she was before. So Christ is the way from sin, with all we can say of it, to the Father, with all the blessed things that flow from his throne.

What sort of way is Christ, and for what sort of people?

First, let me say he is the king’s highway, which means that he is the divinely-appointed way from sin to the Father. If we came to you, dear friends, who are seeking salvation, and told you of a way of mercy, you would naturally enquire, “Who said it was the way? Who appointed it?” And if we replied that it was appointed by the last Council at Rome, I should not wonder if you felt serious doubts about the matter, and questioned whether a council of men could infallibly determine the way of grace; but I have to tell you this day that Jesus Christ is “the way” of God’s appointment. Thus saith the word: “Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God; to declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus.” God the Father devised this plan of salvation by the transference of sin to Christ, and by the punishment of Christ the substitute, instead of us. It is clear to me that if God is satisfied with the way, I ought to be; if he, the aggrieved party, feels that Christ has finished the work, and that he can now justly forgive us, why need we raise questions? O God, if thou canst look at Jesus and be well pleased in him, surely I can; if thou art perfectly content with the sufferings and death of thy dear Son, surely I may be. Now, then, because it is the king’s highway, (I recommend you, my hearers, to be very clear here), if thou art trusting in Christ who is the way of divine appointment, if he were to fail thee, which he cannot do, “the blame would not lie with thee, but with him who appointed it. I speak reverently. But he has appointed a way which cannot fail, for he is infinite wisdom and infinite power.

Then, as the king’s highway it is an open way, I can come to it and need ask no man’s leave. If I am treading the king’s highway I cannot be a trespasser there. Poor sinner, Christ is the way from your sin to God, and you need ask nobody’s leave to come to God through Jesus Christ. “He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him.” “Him that cometh to me,” said he, “I will in no wise cast out.” Come thou and welcome, God appoints the way, and when he appoints the way, he puts it thus in 1 John 2:21, “And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” In order that any sinner in the whole world who wills to come to the Father by Christ, may pluck up courage and perceive that his sins have been laid on Jesus.

Again, it is a perfect way. “I am the way.” The way from sin to the Father by Christ is complete. It would not be complete unless it came down where you are, but it does. Where are you? Up to your throat in drunkenness? Where are you? Defiled by evil living? Soul, there is a road from where you are right up to the immaculate perfection of the blessed at God’s right hand, and that road is Christ. You have not to make a road to get to Christ, Christ comes to you where you are. The good Samaritan did not ask the wounded man to come to him, and promise that then he would pour in the oil and wine, but he came where he was and poured it in. Christ will come where you are. Saul of Tarsus did not go far to meet Christ. He was riding to the devil as fast as he could, but he was suddenly struck down, there and then where he was, and as he was, and Jesus spake life to him. He can do just the same with you. You think you have some preparations to make, some feelings to pass through, something or other to perform before you may believe that Christ has taken your sins; but all you can do to make yourself fit for Christ is to make yourself unfit; all your preparations are but foul lumber-put them all away. Thou must come as thou art, as a sinner, for Jesus came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance: “the whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick;” and if as thou art thou wilt come and take God’s way, and trust Jesus with all thy heart to save thee, thou wilt find he will prove to be the very Saviour thou needest, for he is so perfect a road that there is nothing needed at the beginning. And nothing will be needed at the end. Some have supposed that faith in the atoning sacrifice may carry us a certain way, and after that we must stand on another footing. God forbid I should say a single word against good works. Did I not the other Sabbath morning address you from these words, “Without holiness no man shall see the Lord”? But good works are not the way to heaven, in whole or in part; they are fruits of salvation; they are the sure products of those who are saved, but they do not save a man. A faith that produces no works will never save anybody; but that which saves men is not the work which comes from the faith, but the faith itself, the faith in Jesus Christ. The top and bottom, the beginning and end of salvation, lies in the Redeemer, and not in us. “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending,” saith the Lord. If you think that you are to patch up Christ’s robe of righteousness, or that Jesus is to begin and you are to complete, you know nothing of Christ, and need to be taught something of yourself. It must be all Christ or no Christ, all mercy or no mercy. Grace must lay the foundation, and grace must put on the topstone, or else there can be no salvation. “I am the way,” then, means that Christ is the way from where the sinner now is right up to where God is, and he that gets Christ shall come to the Father.

Christ is a free way. There is not a toll-bar at the entrance, nor all along the road. Many are afraid to come into this road to heaven, because they cannot pay the charges-but there are no charges whatever. Whosoever wills to have Christ may have him for the taking. He that will pay for Christ cannot have him at all. You may have him for the asking; he is freely given. The way in which to have Christ is the way in which you have water, that is, by drinking; receive Christ, for “unto as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to as many as believed on his name.” There are no legal conditions of salvation laid down anywhere. I know it is sometimes said that repentance and faith are conditions: from one point of view, and in one aspect, I might tolerate the term, but truly and really there is no bargain made between God and a sinner; it is never you do this and I will do that; it is always, “I will do this for you, and then you shall believe and repent as the result.” If faith be in one respect a condition, it is in another respect a gift of God, and though we are commanded to repent, yet Jesus is exalted on high to give repentance. So you, poor sinners, who have no repentance, or anything of your own, I bid you come to Jesus Christ for everything. He is the way, and the whole way. This is a free way-nothing to pay, nothing to do, nothing to be, nothing to bring, no merits, no deservings, no preparations; it is all of grace; all the gift of God to the very vilest of the vile. Oh, it does sometimes seem too big to be true, that all for nothing I a great sinner shall be saved; but when I think of what the Saviour is, that he is God, that he came from heaven, and became a man for my sake, that he, the God-man, Immanuel, was born and died, and bore the wrath of God, I can believe it; and, O my Lord, I dare no more add any of my drivelling merits to the worth of thy dear Son than of stitching some foul, infected rags from a dunghill to a garment made of wrought gold. How could I put any nothingness of mine, that only my folly calls anything, side by side with the ever-precious merits of thy dear Son?

Again, let me add, it is a permanent way. Jesus says, “I am the way-not a way for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, only, but for you; not for the apostles, and martyrs, and early saints, only, but for you.

“His precious blood

Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransom’d church of God

Be saved to sin no more.”

It is a way that never has been broken up, and never will be. All the floods of all his people’s sins have never made a swamp or bog-hole in this blessed way; all the earthquakes and upheavals of our rebellious natures have never made a gap or chasm in this glorious way. Straight from the very gates of hell, where the sinner is by nature, right up to the hill-tops of heaven, this glorious causeway runs in one unbroken line, and will for ever and for ever, till every elect one shall be gathered safe into the eternal home.

Let me add, it is a joyful way. You noted in the chapter we read that the redeemed are to return with songs, and everlasting joy is to be upon their heads. All believers in Christ as such are a happy and rejoicing people. “But,” saith one, “I have seen believers mourn!” That is because they wander from the way. If they continued simply trusting in the substitution of Christ, if they kept their eye on him, and on him only, they would know no sorrow. Where there is no sin there is no sorrow; and when the believer knows that he has no sin, for it is put away in Christ, then also he has no sorrow, but his peace is like a river, because his righteousness is as the waves of the sea. Dear heart, if thou wouldst be happy, come unto Christ, and abide with him.

Lastly, on this point, he is the only way. So is he the only way that you cannot be saved if you trust anywhere else. This way which God has planned of laying sin upon the Substitute, is such that it is the only possible way, and therefore God will not have you insult his wisdom and his grace by trying to patch up another. Do not try to find a way by thine own feelings or thine own works; there is no such a way. All these supposed ways will end in disappointment and in ruin. Jesus Christ is the one foundation, build on him. God help thee to say, “I will now cast myself flat upon Christ, having no confidence in myself; I will make him my confidence, he shall be my all in all.” If you have done that, you are a saved soul; go your way, and rejoice with joy unspeakable.

Thus we see what kind of way it is, but for what sort of people is it made? Hurriedly in these two or three words, I reply, for all sorts of people. Christ is the way to heaven for anybody and everybody who is led to walk therein. Christ is the way to heaven for thee, poor wanderer, though thou hast sought the theatre and music hall, and worse places, to drive away thy melancholy. Come to Jesus, for he is the way to peace, the very way for a wanderer like you. Christ is the way for exiles, for banished ones, for those who have not seen the face of God for many a day, though once they rejoiced in him. Backslider, if you would get back to your God, Christ is the way.

Christ is the way for captives. You, who hear your chains clanking about you to-day, who feel as if you never would be free, take heart, take heart, there is a way of escape yet, and Christ is that way. Make a desperate push for it, and say, “I will throw myself into his arms, if he reject me I shall be the first one, but I will even go and rest on the bloody sacrifice of that dear Son of God, who sweat great drops of blood because of my heavy sins, my heavy, heavy sins.

Christ is the way, let me add, for the poorest of the poor. Our Master, when he makes a feast, sends us out to bring in men from the highways and hedges, highwaymen and hedgebirds, those who have not a house or a friend of their own. Ye who are lowest of the low and vilest of the vile, ye who are all but in hell, and are condemned already, ye who lie at hell’s dark door, bound in affliction and iron, shut out from mercy, as ye think, Christ is the way for you; for all who long to escape from sin; for all who would come to God; for all who have a desire after mercy or eternal life. The great trumpet is blown, and may they come that are ready to perish, may the most needy and abject, and lost, and self-condemned, say, “I will come now and trust in Jesus who died the just for the unjust to bring us to God.”

The last point is, how we make Christ our way, and whether he is our way now.

How do we make Christ our way? Why, as we make any other way our way? We hear a man say, “This is my way.” How does he make that his way? Has he got the title-deeds of it? Has he a charter from his Majesty? No, nothing of the sort. The way in which I shall make the Clapham-road my way after I have done preaching is by getting into it; and the way in which Christ becomes a sinner’s way is simply by going to Christ. That is all. You have no legal rights, no forms or ceremonies to go through, you have but to come to the king’s highway by trusting Christ, and Christ is yours. “But may I,” says one, “without any warrant come and trust Christ?” What warrant do you want? The only warrant is God’s permission, and you have a great deal more than that, you have God’s command, Which is more than a permission, for he hath said, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature; he that believeth and is shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned.” In believing you do what that gospel warrants by its command. “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,” is God’s word; you certainly have a right to do what God commands you to do, so that your right to trust Christ lies in God’s command. He says he will save you through what Christ has done. Will you believe him? Will you believe him so as to trust to-day in what Christ has done? If you do not, you make God a liar; if you do, you glorify God by believing his testimony, and you glorify his Son by trusting in his work, and you are saved.

Now, in order to keep the way your own, all you do is to continue in it. How do you keep any other way as your own? By any charter, by any fresh right that you had not at first? No, not at all. “This is my way,” say I, as long as I still keep to that way; if I turn the other way I cannot say that it is my way, at least nobody would believe a way to be my way if I went in a contrary direction. If I leap over the hedge and go off in another direction and say, “This is my way,” I lie. Man alive, that is your way which you go, your possession of the way lies in your keeping the way. So now, Christian, Christ continues yours by the same way in which he became yours; that is, by your still trusting him, not by anything you do, or are by yourself, or in yourself. Because Jesus lives you live also, not because of anything you do. “The just shall live by faith,” not by any other means. You are not to begin in the Spirit and then be made perfect in the flesh; you are not to begin to walk by confidence in Christ and afterwards go on to walk by confidence in your own evidences and graces. Your evidences and graces will always shine best when you think the least of them, and always will be brightest with God when you look most at his dear Son, and not at them. If you ever take your best virtues and sanctifications and make them a ground of hope, you are building on that which will crumble beneath you in the time of trial; but as long as you keep to this, “Still a sinner, but still washed in the blood; still in myself guilty, but no guilt of mine imputed to me, all laid on my Substitute; still my best prayers, my best hymns, my almsgivings, my preachings, my all, all defiled-but yet I am clean through him that washes my feet and makes me clean in his most precious blood.” This is the way to live, the way to live evermore, not only as a beginner, but when you are advanced in grace-the way to live when you are becoming a mature matron or veteran soldier, and the way when you come to die. It is especially, then, in those last moments that we fling everything away but just what Christ has done. We might have been troubling ourselves a great deal before about marks, evidences, and so on; but when it comes to the last, we are like the good man who, on his dying bed, tried to pick out what was good and what was bad of his own doings, but he said he was a long while judging them, but they were so much of a muchness that be at last tied them all up in one bundle and flung them over, and rested on Christ alone. That is the very best thing for us all to do even now:-

“None but Jesus, none but Jesus,

Can do helpless sinners good.”

This will not make you unholy but holy. If you believe this, you will seek to honour and glorify God with all your might, and when you have done all, you will feel that you are unprofitable servants, and into his dear arms you will cast yourselves, and pray that the hands that were pierced may still embrace you and keep you safe in death and in eternity.

Now, the question to finish with is this, “Is Christ my way to-day?” Oh, I know many of you could rise up and say, “Yes, he is, he is all my salvation and all my desire:-

“Nothing in my hands I bring,

Simply to the cross I cling.”

“My God, thou knowest all things; thou knowest my soul’s only reliance is on thy dying, thy risen, thy ever-living Son, who is my hope, my all.

But, perhaps, there are some here who are not in this way, because they do not even know it. I believe there is no doctrine so little known in England as the gospel; while a great many doctrines are preached, and very properly so, and the precepts are preached, yet there are hearers who have heard for years, and yet do not know this fundamental, essential doctrine of the gospel-that God laid sin on Christ that he might take sin off from us, and punished him that he might be just and yet the justifier of the ungodly. If you have never heard it before you have heard it now; you will not perish, therefore, with that excuse. If you put aside that way of salvation, it will not be because you have never heard it. If you perish, there will be no excuse for you.

But there are some who do not believe this plan to be divine, when they hear it and understand it, they scout it; some will say it is inconsistent with the pursuit of morality; others will say it is fantastic or unjust; one will say this and another that; but though the cross of Christ be to them that perish foolishness, to us who are saved, it is the wisdom of God and the power of God, and God forbid we should preach any other gospel to you. Some there are who even hate it, they will gnash their teeth at the idea of being pardoned through the merit of another, their righteous self feels indignant at being insulted by being put right out of the market. Ah, cast not thy soul away out of mere hate to God, but kiss him whom God has made King this day, and trust in him who is priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec, to put away the sin of man by his own great sacrifice. Come now to him and take the atonement and the peace which he brings. Some are not saved because they are too fearful to come this way, but to such I would speak very gently. The bruised reed he will not break, the smoking flax he will not quench. Let not your sense of sin make you think little of my Master. You are a great sinner, but he is a greater Saviour. Do not say that you have matched Christ, or overmatched him. Come, Goliath sinner, the Son of David can conquer thee or save thee yet: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Think of David, how foully he had transgressed, yet with all the lust-stains, and the murder-spots upon him, he had faith enough to say, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” And so shall you be whiter than snow, when once the bloody sacrifice of Christ in all its merit has become yours, as it may this very morning if you simply trust in him. May my God the Eternal Spirit, may my God the blessed Father, may my God, even Jesus the Son, draw many reluctant hearts now, and his shall be the praise. Amen.

THE SPUR

A Sermon

Delivered on Lord’s-day Morning, July 31st, 1870, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.”-John 9:4.

If this ninth chapter of John is intended to be a continuation of the history contained in the eighth, as we think it is, it brings before us a very extraordinary fact. You will observe in the eighth chapter that our Lord was about to be stoned by the Jews; he therefore withdrew himself from the circle of his infuriated foes, and passed through the crowd, not I think in a hurried manner, but in a calm and dignified way, as one not at all disconcerted, but wholly self-possessed. His disciples, who had seen his danger, gathered round him while he quietly retreated. The group wended their way with firm footsteps till they reached the outside of the temple. At the gate there sat a man well known to have been blind from his birth; our Saviour was so little flurried by the danger which had threatened him, that he paused and fixed his eye upon the poor beggar, attentively surveying him. He stayed his onward progress to work the miracle of this man’s healing. If it be so that the two chapters make up but one narrative, and I think it is, though we are not absolutely sure, then we have before us a most memorable instance of the marvellous calmness of our Saviour while under danger. When the Jews took up stones to stone him, he did not needlessly expose his life, but after he had withdrawn a very little space from the immediate danger, he was arrested by the sight of human misery, and stood still awhile in all calmness of heart to do a deed of mercy. Oh, the divine majesty of benevolence! How brave it makes a man! How it leads him to forget himself, and despise danger, and become so calm that he can coolly perform the work which is given him to do! I think I see our Saviour thus considerate for others, and unmindful of himself. May I add that there is a lesson here to us not only for imitation but for consolation! If he while flying from his enemies still stops to bless the blind, how much more will he bless us who seek his face now that he is exalted on high, and is clothed with divine power and glory at the right hand of the Father! There is nothing to hurry him now, he is exposed to no danger now; send up your prayer, breathe out your desires, and he will reply, “According to your faith, so be it unto you.”

Reading this cure of the blind man, one is struck again with the difference between the disciples and the Master. The disciples looked at this man, blind from his birth, as a great enigma, a strange phenomenon, and they began, like philosophers, to suggest theories as to how it was consistent with divine justice that a man should be born blind. They saw that there must be a connection between sin and suffering, but they could not trace the connection here; so they were all speculating upon the wonderful problem before them, which they knew not how to solve. Suggestively reminding us of theorists upon another difficulty which never has been explained yet, namely, the origin of evil. They wanted to sail upon the boundless deep, and were anxious that their Master should pilot them; he had other and better work to do. Our Lord gave them an answer, but it was a short and curt one. He himself was not looking at the blind man from their point of view, he was not considering how the man came to be blind, but how his eyes could be opened. He was not so much meditating upon the various metaphysical and moral difficulties which might arise out of the case, but upon what would be the best method to remove from the man his suffering, and deliver him from his piteous plight; a lesson to us, that instead of enquiring how sin came into the world, we should ask how can we get it out of the world; and instead of worrying our minds about how this providence is consistent with justice, and how that event can tally with benevolence, we should see how both can be turned to practical account. The Judge of all the earth can take care of himself; he is not in any such difficulties that he needs any advice of ours; only presumptuous unbelief ever dares suppose the Lord to be perplexed. It will be much better for us to do the work of him that sent us, than to be judging divine providence, or our fellow men. It is ours, not to speculate, but to perform acts of mercy and love, according to the tenor of the gospel. Let us then be less inquisitive and more practical, less for cracking doctrinal nuts, and more for bringing forth the bread of life to the starving multitudes.

Once again, as a prefatory remark, our Lord tells us the right way of looking at sorrow and at sin. It was a dreadful thing to see a man shut out from the light of the sun from his very birth, but our Saviour took a very encouraging view of it; his view of it was nothing at all desponding, nothing that could suggest complaining; it was most encouraging and stimulating. He explained the man’s blindness thus: “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.” The man’s calamity was God’s opportunity. His distress was an occasion for displaying divine goodness, wisdom, and power. I see sin everywhere-in myself, in others, in this great city, in the nations of the earth, and very conspicuously sin and suffering in this thrice accursed war; but what shall I say of it? Sit down and wring my hands in utter despair? If so, I shall be incapable of service. Nay, if I would do good, as Jesus did, I must take his bravely hopeful view of things, and so keep my heart whole, and my loins girt ready for work. The Master’s view of it is that all this mischief furnishes, through the infinite benevolence of God, a platform for the display of divine love. I remember in the life of Dr. Lyman Beecher, he tells us of a young convert who, after finding peace with God, was heard by him to say, “I rejoice that I was a lost sinner.” Strange matter to be glad about, you will say, for of all things it is most to be deplored; but here was her reason: “Because God’s infinite grace, and mercy, and wisdom, and all his attributes, are glorified in me as they never could have been had I not been a sinner and had I not been lost.” Is not that the best light in which to see the saddest things? Sin, somehow or other, desperate evil as it is, will be overruled to display God’s goodness. Just as the goldsmith sets a foil around a sparkling brilliant, even so the Lord has allowed moral and physical evil to come into this world to cause his infinite wisdom, grace, power, and all his other attributes, to be the better seen by the whole intelligent universe. Let us look at it in this light, and the next time we see suffering we shall say, “Here is our opportunity of showing what the love of God can do for these sufferers.” The next time we witness abounding sin let us say, “Here is an opportunity for a great achievement of mercy.” I suppose great engineers have been very glad of Niagara, that they might span it, very glad of the Mont Cenis that they might bore it, very glad of the Suez Isthmus that they might cut a canal through it, glad that there were difficulties that there might be room for engineering skill. Were there no sin there had been no Saviour; if no death, no resurrection: if no fall, no new covenant; if no rebellious race, no incarnation, no Calvary, no ascension, no second advent. That is a grand way of looking at evil, and marvellously stimulating. Though we do not know, and perhaps shall never know the deepest reason why an infinitely gracious God permitted sin and suffering to enter the universe, yet we may at least encourage this practical thought-God will be glorified in the overcoming of evil and its consequences, and therefore let us gird up our loins in God’s name for our part of the conflict.

Thus much by way of preface. Now I shall invite you, this morning, and may God assist you while I invite, to consider first of all, the Master Worker; and, secondly, ourselves as workers under him.

The text is a portrait of the Great Master Worker. We will read it again: “I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.”

And first observe, this Master Worker takes his own share in the work-“I must work”-I, Jesus, the Son of Man, for two or three years working here on earth in public ministry, I, I must work. There is a sense in which all gospel work is Christ’s. As the atoning sacrifice, he treads the wine-press alone; as the great Head of the church, all that is done is to be ascribed to him; but in the sense in which he used these words, speaking of his human nature, speaking of himself as tabernacling among the sons of men, there was a portion of the work of relieving this world’s woe, and scattering gospel truth among men, that he must do, and nobody else could do. “I must work.” “I must preach, and pray, and heal, even I, the Christ of God.” In salvation, Jesus stands alone; in life-giving he has no human co-worker; but in light-giving, which he refers to in the fifth verse: “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world”-in light-giving he has many companions. Though anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows in this respect, yet is it true that all his saints are the light of the world, even as Jesus Christ while in the world was the world’s light. There were some to be cured by him who could not be cured by Peter, or James, or John, some to have the good news brought to them who must not receive it from any lip but his own. Our Lord when he became the servant of servants took his share in the common labours of the elect brotherhood. How this ought to encourage us! It is enough for the general if he stands in the place of observation and directs the battle; we do not usually expect that the commander shall take a personal share in the work of the conflict; but with Jesus it is not so, he fought in the ranks as a common soldier. While as God-man, Mediator, he rules and governs all the economy of grace, yet as partaker of our flesh and blood he once bore the burden and heat of the day. As the great Architect and Master Builder he supervises all; yet there is a portion of his spiritual temple which he condescended to build with his own hands. Jesus Christ has seen actual service, and actually resisted unto blood, amid the dust and turmoil of the strife. This made Alexander’s soldiers valiant, it is said, because if they were wearied by long marches Alexander did not ride, but marched side by side with them; and if a river had to be crossed in the teeth of opposition, foremost amidst all the risk was Alexander himself. Let this be our encouragement-Jesus Christ has taken a personal share in the evangelisation of the world, has taken not only his own part as Head, and Prophet, and High Priest, and Apostle, in which he stands alone, but has taken his part amongst the common builders in the erection of the New Jerusalem. “I must work the work of him that sent me.”

Note, next, that our Lord laid great stress upon the gracious work which was laid upon him. “I must work the work of him that sent me, whatever else is not done I must do that. The work allotted me of God, I must as his servant faithfully do. The Jews may be close at my heels, their stones may be ready to fall upon me, but I must fulfil my life-work; I must open blind eyes, and spread the light around me. I can forget to eat bread, I can forget to find for myself a shelter from the dews that fall so heavily at night, but this work I must do.” Beyond all things the Redeemer felt a constraint upon him to do his Father’s will. “Wist ye not that I must be about, my Father’s business?” “The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up.” Everything in life yielded in the Saviour’s case to his master passion. There were some works our Saviour would not do. When one asked him to speak to his brother to divide the inheritance, though that might have been a useful thing, yet Christ did not feel a call to it, and he said, “Who made me a judge and a divider over you?” But when it came to the work of giving light, that he must do. This was the spécialité of his life; to this he bent all his strength. He was like an arrow shot from a bow, speeding not towards two targets, but with undivided force hurrying towards one single end. The unity of his purpose was never for a moment broken; no second object ever eclipsed the first. Certain works of grace, works of benevolence, works of light-giving, works of healing, works of saving, these he must do; he must do them, his own part of them he must perform.

He rightly describes this work as the “work of God.” Note that. If ever there lived a man who as man might have taken a part of the honour of the work to himself, it was the Lord Jesus; and yet over and over again he says, “The Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works.” As man he is particularly careful to set us the example of acknowledging constantly that if any work be done by us it is the work of God through us; and so though he says “I must work,” notice the next words, “the works of him that sent me.” They are still my Father’s works when most they are mine. Though I must work them, yet shall they still be ascribed to him, and he shall derive honour from them. My brethren, if I do not say much about this in respect to Christ, it is because it seems so much more easy to apply this to us than to him, and if so easily applied, let it be humbly and practically remembered by us to-day. My brother, if thou shalt win a soul by thy work, it is God’s work; if thou shalt instruct the ignorant, thou dost it, but it is God that doeth it by thee if it be rightly done. Learn to acknowledge the hand of God, and yet do not draw back thine own. Learn to put out thine own hand, and yet to feel that it is powerless unless God make bare his arm. Combine in thy thoughts the need of the all-working God and the duty of thine own exertion. Do not make the work of God an excuse for thine idleness, neither let thine earnest activity ever tempt thee to forget that power belongeth unto him. The Saviour is a model to us in putting this just in the right form. It is God’s work to open the blind eye; if the eye has been sealed in darkness from the birth no man can open it, God must do it; but yet the clay and the spittle must be used, and Siloah’s pool must be resorted to, or the light will never enter the sightless eye. So in grace, it is God’s to illuminate the understanding by his Spirit, it is his to move the affections, his to influence the will, his to convert the entire nature, his to sanctify, and his to save; yet thou, O believer, art to work this miracle; the truth thou shalt spread will illuminate the intellect, the arguments thou shalt use will influence the affections, the reasons thou shalt give will move the will, the precious gospel thou shalt teach will purify the heart; but it is God who doeth it, God indwelling in the gospel. See thou to this, for only as thou seest these two truths wilt thou go to thy work aright. I must work personally, and this holy work must be my special business, but I must do it in a right spirit, humbly feeling all the while that it is God’s work in and through me.

Our Lord, in this portrait of himself, as the Master-worker, is clearly seen as owning his true position. He says, “I must work the work of him that sent me.” He had not come forth from the Father on his own account. He was not here as a principal, but as a subordinate, as an ambassador sent by his king. His own witness was, “I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.” He often reminded his hearers in his preaching that he was speaking in his Father’s name, and not in his own name; as, for instance, when he said, “The words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself.” He took upon himself the form of a servant. “The Spirit of the Lord,” saith he, “is upon me; for he hath anointed me.” God gave him a commission, and gave him the grace to carry out that commission, and he was not ashamed to confess his condition of service to the Father. Though in his divine nature God over all, blessed for ever, whose praises ten thousand times ten thousand harpers are rejoiced to sound upon that glassy sea, yet as the Mediator he stooped to be sent-sent, a commissioned agent from God, a servant to do Jehovah’s bidding. Because he was such, it beloved him, as a servant, to be faithful to him that sent him; and Jesus felt this as a part of the divine constraint, which impelled him to say, “I must work;” ‘I am a sent man; I have to give an account to him that sent me.’ O brethren and sisters, I wish we all felt this; for as the Father sent Christ, even so hath Christ sent us; and we are acting under divine authority as divine representatives, and must, if we would give in our account with joy, be faithful to the communion with which God has honoured us by putting us in trust with the gospel of Christ. No man shall serve God aright if he thinks he stands upon an independent footing. It is recognising your true position that will help to drive you onward in incessant diligence in the cause of your God.

But, dwelling very briefly on each of these points, I must remind you that our Lord did not regard himself merely as an official, but he threw a hearty earnestness into the work he undertook. I see indomitable zeal glowing like a subdued flame in the very centre of the live coal of the text. “I must work the work of him that sent me.” Not, “I will,” “I intend,” “I ought,” but “I must.” Though sent, yet the commission was so congenial to his nature, that he worked with all the alacrity of a volunteer. He was commissioned, but his own will was his main compulsion. Not of constraint, but willingly the Lord Jesus became a Saviour. He could not help it; it was within his very nature a sacred necessity that he must he doing good. Was he not God, and is not God the fountain of benevolence? Doth not Deity, perpetually like the sun, send forth beams to gladden his creatures? Jesus Christ, the God Incarnate, by irresistible instinct must be found bestowing good. Besides, he was so tender, so compassionate, that he must needs be blessing those that sorrowed. He felt for that blind man. If the blind man lamented his darkness, yet not more than the Saviour lamented it for the poor sufferer’s sake. The eyes which Christ fixed on that man were eyes brimming with tears of pity. He felt the miseries of humanity. He was not flinty hearted, but tender, and full of compassion towards all suffering sons of men. Our Saviour therefore was self-impelled to his gracious labours. His love constrained him, he must do the work that he was sent to work. It is a right thing when a man’s business and inclinations run together. You put your son apprentice to a trade which is not congenial to his tastes, and he will never make much of it; but when his duty and his own desires run in the same channel, then surely he is likely to prosper. So with Jesus; sent of God, but not an unwilling ambassador, coming as cheerfully and joyously as if there had been no constraint, but his own voluntary wish, he cries in gracious enthusiasm, “I must, I must.” No man does a really good and great work till he feels he must. No man preaches well but he who must preach. The man sent of God must come under irresistible pressure, even like the apostle of old, who said, “Though I preach the gospel, I have nothing to glory of: for necessity is laid upon me, yea, woe is unto me if I preach not the gospel.” Or like the eloquent Eliphaz in the book of Job, who spoke last but best, and only spake at all because he felt like a vessel wanting vent. Our Saviour became so grand a worker because within his spirit desire kindled and burned, and flamed, till his nature was all aglow; he was like a volcano in full action which must pour forth its fiery flood, though in his case the lava was not that which destroys, but that which blesses and makes rich.

Once again, another point in the Saviour as a worker, he clearly saw that there was a fitting time to work, and that this time wouId have its end. In a certain sense Christ always works. For Zion’s sake he doth not rest, and for Jerusalem’s sake he doth not hold his peace in his intercessions before the eternal throne. But, my brethren, as a man, preaching, and healing, and relieving the sick on earth, Jesus had his day, as every other man, and that day ended at the set time. He used a common Eastern proverb, which says that men can only work by day, and when the day is over it is too late to work; and he meant that he himself had an earthly lifetime in which to labour, and when that was over he would no more perform the kind of labour he was then doing. He called his lifetime a day; to show us that he was impressed with the shortness of it. We too often reckon life as a matter of years, and we even think of the years as though they were of extreme length, though every year seems to spin round more swiftly than before; and men who are growing grey will tell you that life seems to them to travel at a much faster rate than in their younger days. To a child a year appears a lengthened period; to a man even ten years is but a short space of time; to God the Eternal a thousand years are but as one day. Our Lord here sets us an example of estimating our time at a high rate, on account of its brevity. It is but a day thou hast at the longest. That day, how short! Young man, is it thy morning? Art thou just converted? Is the dew of penitence still trembling upon the green blade? Hast thou just seen the first radiance which streams from the eyelids of the morning? Hast thou heard the joyous singing of birds? Up with thee, man, and serve thy God with the love of thine espousals! Serve him with all thine heart! Or hast thou known thy Lord now so long that it is noon with thee, and the burden and heat of the day are on thee? Use all diligence, make good speed, for thy sun will soon decline. And hast thou long been a Christian? Then the shadows lengthen, and thy sun is almost down. Quick with thee, man, let both thine hands be used. Strain every nerve, put every sinew to the stretch. Do all at all times, and in all places, that thine ingenuity can devise, or thy zeal can suggest to thee, for the night cometh wherein no man can work. I love to think of the Master with these furious Jews behind him, yet stopping because he must do the work of healing, because his day was still unended. He cannot die, he feels, till his day is over; his time is not yet come, and if it were he would close his life by doing one more act of mercy; and so he stops to bless the wretched, and afterwards passes on his way. Be ye swift to do good at all times. “Be ye stedfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.” Knowing that the time is short, redeem the time, because the days are evil; press much into little by continuous diligence. Glorify thy God greatly while the short taper of thy life burns on, and God accept thee as he accepted his Son.

Thus much upon Christ, the Master Worker.

Now I shall want your earnestness while I try to speak of ourselves as workers under him.

Here I must go over much the same ground, for first I must call to your remembrance that on us there rests personal obligation. Singular, distinct, personal obligation, “I must work;” “I,” “I must work the works of him that sent me.” We are in danger nowadays of losing ourselves in societies and associations. We had need labour to maintain the personality of our consecration to Christ Jesus. The old histories are very rich in records of deeds of personal daring; we cannot expect modern warfare to exhibit much of the same, because the fighting is done so much by masses and so much by machinery; even thus, nowadays, I am afraid our mode of doing Christian work is getting to be so mechanical, so much en masse, that there is barely room in ordinary cases for personal deeds of daring and singular acts of valour. Yet, mark you, the success of the church will lie in this last; it is in each man’s feeling, “I have something to do for Christ, which an angel could not do for me, that the strength of a church must lie under God. God has committed to me a certain work which, if it be not done by me, will never be done. A certain number of souls will enter heaven through my agency; they will never enter there in any other way. God has given his Son power over all flesh to give eternal life to as many as he has given him, and Christ has given me power over some part of the flesh, and by my instrumentality they will get eternal life, and by no other agency. I have a work to do, and I must do it. Dear brethren and sisters, our church will be grandly equipped for service when you all have this impression, when there is no casting the work on the minister, nor on the more gifted brethren, nor leaving all to be done by distinguished sisters, but when each one feels, “I have my work, and to my work I will bend my whole strength, to do it in my Master’s name.”

Now observe, secondly, the personal obligation in the text compels us to just such work as Christ did. I explained to you what it was. We are not called meritoriously to save souls, for he is the alone Saviour, but we are called to enlighten the sons of men. That is to say, sin is not known to be sin by many. Our teaching and example must make sin to appear sin to them. The way of salvation by the substitutionary sacrifice of Christ is quite unknown to a large part of mankind; it is ours simply and incessantly to be telling out that soul-saving story. This work must be done whatever we leave undone. Some men are spending their time in making money, that is the main object of their lives; they would be as usefully employed probably if they spent all their lives in collecting pins or cherry-stones. Whether a man lives to accumulate gold coins or brass nails, his life will be equally grovelling, and end in the same disappointment. Money-making, or fame-making, or power-getting, are mere pieces of play, mere sports and games for children; the work of him that sent us is a far nobler thing. It is permanent gain if I gain a soul; it is lasting treasure if I win the Lord’s approval; I am for ever richer if I give a man one better thought of God, if I bring to a darkened soul the light from heaven, or lead one erring heart to peace. If one spirit hastening downward to hell is by my means directed to a blissful heaven, I have done some work worth doing. And such work, brethren, we must do, whatever else we leave undone. Let us make all else in this world subservient to this which is our life work. We have our callings, we ought to have them, the man who will not work, neither let him eat; but our earthly calling is not our life-work. We have a high calling of God in Christ Jesus, and this must have the pre-eminence; poor or rich, healthy or sick, honoured or disgraced, we must glorify God. This is necessity; all else may be, this must be. We resolve, sternly resolve, and desperately determine, that we will not throw away our lives on trifling objects, but by us God’s work must and shall be done; each man will do his own share, God helping him. May the ever blessed Holy Spirit give us power and grace to turn our resolves into acts.

Let us not forget the truth which I declared to you before, namely, that it is God’s work which we are called upon to do. Let us look to the text again. “I must work the work of him that sent me.” I can discover no greater motive for earnestness in all the world than this, that the work I have to do is God’s work. There is Samson-the strength which lies in Samson is not his own, it is God’s strength. Is that therefore a cause why Samson should lie still and be idle? Nay, but it is a mighty sound of a trumpet to stir the blood of the hero to fight for the people of God. If the strength of Samson be not the mere force of thew and muscle, but force given him of the Almighty One, then up with thee, Samson, and smitten be the Philistine! Slay again thy thousands! What! Darest thou sleep with God’s Spirit upon thee? Up, man! To sleep if thou wert but a common Israelite were treason to thy country, but when God is in thee and with thee, how canst thou be idle? Nay, put forth thy strength and rout thy foes!

When Paul was in Corinth, and God wrought special miracles by his hands, so that handkerchiefs which were taken from his body healed the sick, was that a reason why Paul should withdraw himself to some quiet retreat and do nothing? To my mind there appears to be no more potent argument why Paul should go from house to house and lay his hands on all around, and heal the sick. So with thee-thou hast the power to work miracles, my brother. The telling out of the gospel, accompanied by the spirit of God, works moral and spiritual miracles. Because thou canst work these miracles, shouldst thou say, “God will do his own work”? Nay, man, but right and left, at all times and in all places, go thou and tell out the soul-saving story, and God speed thee! Because God works by thee, therefore work thou.

A small vessel, lying idle in dock, without a freight, is a loss to its owner; but a great steam-ship, of many hundred horse-power, cannot be suffered to remain unemployed. The greater the power at command, the more urgently are we bound to use it. The indwelling power of God is put forth in reply to faith and prayer, shall we not labour to obtain it? The fact that the church’s work is God’s work rather than hers, is no cause why she should indulge in sloth. If she had only her own strength, she might waste it with less of crime; but having God’s strength about her, she dares not loiter. God’s message to her this morning is, “Awake, awake; put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.” Would God that this message might come to every heart, so that all of us would arise, because God is in our midst.

Brethren, notice in the text our obligation resulting from our position. We are all sent as Jesus was, if we are believers in Christ. Let us feel our obligation pressing upon us. What would you think, of an angel who was sent from the throne of God to bear a message, and who lingered on the way or refused to go? It was midnight, and the message came to Gabriel and his fellow songsters, “Go and sing o’er plains of Bethlehem, where shepherds keep their flocks. Here is your sonnet, Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, good will towards men.” Could you conceive that they halted, that they wished to decline the task? Impossible with such music, and with such a commission given from such a Lord! They sped joyously on their way. Your mission is not less honourable than that of the angels. You are sent to speak of good things, which bring peace and good will to men, and glory to God. Will you loiter? Can you longer be dumb? Nay, as the Lord Jesus sends you, go forth, I pray you, go at once, and with joy tell out the story of his love. I could conceive an angel being almost tempted to linger, if sent to execute vengeance, and to deluge fields with blood for the iniquity of nations. I dare not think that he would hesitate even then, for these holy spirits do the Lord’s bidding most unquestioningly; but if the mission be of mercy the loving spirit of an angel would leap for joy, and be quickened by the sweetness of the errand as well as by the commission of his Lord. We, too, sent of God, if sent on hard service, are bound to go; but if sent on so sweet a service as the proclaiming of the gospel, how can we tarry? What, to tell the poor criminal shut up in the dungeon of despair that there is liberty, to tell the condemned that there is pardon, to tell the dying that there is life in a look at the crucified One-do you find this hard? Do you call this toil? Should it not be the sweetest feature of your life that you have such blessed work as this to do? If to-night when the day is over, when you are in your chamber alone, you should suddenly behold a vision of angels who should speak to you in celestial accents and nominate you to holy service in the church, you would surely feel impressed by such a visit. But Jesus Christ himself has come to you, has bought you with his blood, and has set you apart by his redemption. You have confessed his coming to you, for you have been baptised into his death, and declared yourself to be his; and are you less impressed by Christ’s coming than you would have been by an angel’s visit? Rouse thee, my brother, the hand of the Crucified hath touched thee, and he hath said, “Go in this thy might.” The eyes that wept over Jerusalem have looked into thine eyes, and they have said with all their ancient tenderness, “My servant, go and snatch dying sinners like brands from the burning, by publishing my gospel.” Wilt thou be disobedient to the heavenly vision, and despise him that speaketh to thee from his cross on earth and from his throne in heaven? Blood-washed as thou art, blood-bought as thou art, give thyself up more fully than ever thou hast done to the delightful service which thy Redeemer allots thee. Bestir thyself and say, “I even I, must work the work of him that sent me while it is day.”

You little know what good you may do, my brethren, if you always feel the burden of the Lord as you ought to do. I was led to think of that fact from a letter which I have here, which did my heart good as I read it. I daresay the dear friend who wrote it is present-he will not mind my reading an extract. He had fallen into very great sin, and though often attending at this Tabernacle, and being frequently stirred in heart, his conversion was not brought about till one day riding by railway to a certain town, he says, “I entered into a compartment in which were three of the students of the Tabernacle College. Although I did not know them at first, the subject of temperance was introduced by myself. I found two of them were total abstainers, and one was not. We had a nice friendly chat, and one of the abstainers asked me if I enjoyed the pardon of my sins and peace with God. I told him I regularly attended the Tabernacle, but I could not give up all my sins. He then told me how, in his own case, he had found it very desirable to be much in prayer and communion with God, and how he was thus kept from many besetting sins. I concluded my business in the town, and was returning homeward. I was rather dull, as I had no money with me to pay for my ride home, and consequently had to walk all the way. I heard some singing at a little chapel; I entered, and was invited to a seat; it was H-Baptist Chapel. It turned out that these three students with whom I had come in the train some few hours before were there, and it was an occasion of deep concern to many, as one of the students, who was their pastor, was taking his farewell of his flock that evening, and many were in tears, himself also. I asked one of the students to pray for me; he did so, and I tried to lift up my whole heart to God, and, as it were, leave all my sins outside; but I found them a ponderous weight. At last I believed in Jesus, and exercised a simple faith such as I never knew before. I became quite contrite and humiliated; I found the Lord there, he is sweet to my soul; God has for Christ’s sake forgiven me all my sins. I am happy now. I shall ever pray for the students at the Pastors’ College, and never, I hope, begrudge my mite for the support of the same. God be praised for the students!”

See ye thus that a casual word about Christ and the soul will have its reward. I heard once of a clergyman who used to go hunting, and when he was reproved by his bishop, he replied that he never went hunting when he was on duty. But he was asked, “When is a clergyman off duty?” And so with the Christian, when is he off duty? He ought to be always about his Father’s business, ready for anything and everything that may glorify God. He feels that he is not sent on Sunday only, but sent always, not called now and then to do good, but sent throughout his whole life to work for Christ.

But I must finish. The greatest obligations seem to me to lie upon each one of us to be serving Christ, because of the desperate case of our ungodly neighbours. Many of them are dying without Christ, and we know what their end must be, an end that hath no end, a misery that hath no bounds. Oh, the woe which sin causes on earth! But what is that to the never-ending misery of the world to come!

Our time in which to serve the Lord on earth is very short. If we would glorify God as dwellers on earth, we must do it now. We shall soon ourselves be committed to the grave, or they whom we would fain bless may go there before us. Let us then bestir ourselves! I felt much weight on my mind yesterday, from the consideration that we, as a nation, are enjoying peace, an unspeakable blessing-the value of which none of us can rightly estimate. Now, if we do not make, as a Christian church, the most earnest endeavours to spread abroad the gospel in these times of peace, before long this nation may also be plunged in war. War is the most unmitigated of curses, and among its other mischiefs, it turns the mind of the people away from all religious thoughts.

Now while we have peace, and God spares this land the horrors of war, ought not the church of God to be intensely eager to use her opportunities? The night cometh, I know not how dark that night may be. The political atmosphere seems heavily charged with evil elements. The result of the present conflict between France and Prussia may not be what some would hope, for it may again crush Europe beneath a despot’s heel. Now, while we have liberty-a liberty which our sires bought at the stake, and sealed with their blood, let us use it; while it is day let us work the works of him that sent us; and let each man take for his motto the succeeding verse to my text, “As long as I am in the world I am the light of the world.” Take heed that thy light be not darkness. Take heed thou conceal it not. If it be light, take heed that thou despise it not, for if it be never so little a light, it is what God has given thee, and as much as thou wilt be able to give God a joyful account of. If thou hast any light, though it be but a spark, it is for the world thou hast it; for the sons of men it is lent thee. Use it, use it now, and God help thee.

O that our light as a church, would shine upon this congregation! How do I desire to see all my congregation saved! Let believers be more in prayer, more in service, more in holiness, and God will send us his abundant blessing, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Portions of Scripture read before Sermon-Nehemiah 3 and John 8:51-59; 9:1-7.