C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington

“And Manoah said unto his wife, We shall surely die, because we have seen God. But his wife said unto him. If the Lord were pleased to kill us, he would not have received a burnt offering and a meat offering at our hands, neither would he have shewed us all these things, nor would as at this time have told us such things as these.”-Judges 13:22, 23.

The first remark arising out of the story of Manoah and his wife is this-that oftentimes we pray for blessings which will make us tremble when, we receive them. Manoah had asked that he might see the angel, and he saw him: in answer to his request the wonderful One condescended to reveal himself a second time, but the consequence was that the good man was filled with astonishment and dismay, and turning to his wife, he exclaimed, “We shall surely die because we have seen God.” Brethren, do we always know what we are asking for when we pray? We are imploring an undoubted blessing, and yet if we knew the way in which such blessing must necessarily come, we should, perhaps, hesitate before we pressed our suit. You have been entreating very much for growth in holiness. Do you know, brother, that in almost every case that means increased affliction? for we do not make much progress in the divine life except when the Lord is pleased to try us in the furnace and purge us with many fires. Do you desire the mercy on that condition? Are you willing to take it as God pleases to send it, and to say, “Lord, if spiritual growth implies trial, if it signifies a long sickness of body, if it means deep depression of soul, if it entails the loss of property, if it involves the taking away of my dearest friends, yet I make no reserve, but include in the prayer all that is needful to the good end. When I say, sanctify me wholly, spirit, soul, and body, I leave the process to thy discretion.” Suppose you really knew all that it would bring upon you, would you not pray, at any rate, with more solemn tones? I hope you would not hesitate, but, counting all the cost, would still desire to be delivered from sin; but, at any rate, you would put up your petition with deliberation, weighing every syllable, and then when the answer came you would not be so astonished at its peculiar form. Often and often the blessing which we used so eagerly to implore is the occasion of the suffering which we deplore. We do not know God’s methods. We set him ways which he does not choose to follow, even as John Newton confessed to have done when he asked that he might grow in grace. He says

“I hoped that in some favoured hour,

At once he’d answer my request,

And, by his love’s constraining power

Subdue my sins and give me rest.

Instead of this, he made me feel

The hidden evils of my heart;

And let the angry powers of hell

Assault my soul in every part.

Yea, more, with his own hand he seemed

Intent to aggravate my woe;

Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,

Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.”

This is the Lord’s way of answering prayer for faith and grace. He comes with rods of chastisement, and makes us smart for our follies, for thus alone can he deliver our childish spirits from them. He comes with sharp ploughshares and tears up the soul, for thus only can we be made to yield him a harvest. He comes with hot irons and burns us to the heart; and when we enquire, “Why all this?” the answer comes to us, “This is what you asked for, this is the way in which the Lord answers your requests.” Perhaps, at this moment, the fainting feeling that some of you are now experiencing, which makes you fear that you will surely die, may be accounted for by your own prayers. I should like you to look at your present sorrows in that light, and say, “After all, I can see that now my God has given to me exactly what I sought at his hands. I asked to see the angel, and I have seen him, and now it is that my spirit is cast down within me.”

A second remark is this-Very frequently deep prostration of spirit is the forerunner of some remarkable blessing. It was to Manoah and to his wife the highest conceivable joy of life, the climax of their ambition, that they should be the parents of a son by whom the Lord should begin to deliver Israel. Joy filled them-inexpressible joy-at the thought of it; but, at the time when the good news was first communicated, Manoah, at least, was made so heavy in spirit that he said, “We shall surely die, for we have seen an angel of the Lord.” Take it as a general rule that dull skies foretell a shower of mercy. Expect sweet favour when you experience sharp affliction. When God’s great wagons loaded down with blessings are coming to your door, you will full often hear beforehand the wheels rolling and rumbling horridly. You will think that it is the death-cart, mayhap, although it is your Father’s treasurewain that is coming to your door. Do you not remember, concerning the apostles, that they feared as they entered into the cloud on Mount Tabor? and yet it was in that cloud that they saw their Master transfigured; and you and I have had many a fear about the cloud we were entering, although we were therein to see more of Christ and his glory than we had ever beheld before. The cloud which you fear makes the external wall of that secret chamber wherein the Lord reveals himself. It is the thick veil which seems to shut out the light of day, but as we pass behind it into what seems the thick darkness we behold the bright light of the shekinah of God’s presence shining above the mercy seat. Trials come before comforts, like John the Baptist with his rough garment before Jesus the consolation of Israel: be therefore of good cheer.

Blessed be God for rough winds. They have blown home many a barque which else had sailed to destruction. Blessed be God for trial; it has been Christ’s black dog to fetch in many a sheep which else had wandered into the wolf’s jaws. Blessed be our Master for the fire: it has burnt away the dross. Blessed be our Master for the file: it has taken off the rust. Not in themselves considered are these things blessings, but they are often overruled to be so by the mighty hand of God, and they are frequently the harbingers of great favours yet to come. Before thou canst carry Samson in thy arms, Manoah, thou must be made to say, “We shall surely die.” Before the minister shall preach the word to thousands, he must be emptied and made to tremble under a sense of inability. Before the Sunday-school teacher shall bring her girls to Christ, she shall be led to see how weak and insufficient she is. I do believe that whenever the Lord is about to use us in his household, he takes us like a dish and wipes us right out and sets us on the shelf, and then afterwards he takes us down and puts thereon his own heavenly meat, with which to fill the souls of others. There must as a rule be an emptying, a turning upside down, and a putting on one side, before the very greatest blessing comes. Manoah felt that he must die, and yet die he could not, for he was to be the father of Samson, the deliverer of Israel and the terror of Philistia.

Let me offer a third remark, which is this-great faith is in many instances subject to fits. What great faith Manoah had! His wife was barren, yet when she was told by the angel that she should bear a child, he believed it, although no heavenly messenger had come to himself personally-so believed it that he did not want to see the man of God a second time to be told that it would be so, but only to be informed how to bring up the child: that was all. “Well,” says old Bishop Hall, “might he be the father of strong Samson, that had such a strong faith.” He had a strong faith indeed, and yet here he is saying in alarm, “We shall surely die, because we have seen God.” Do not judge a man by any solitary word or act, for if you do you will surely mistake him. Cowards are occasionally brave, and the bravest men are sometimes cowards; and there are men who would be worse cowards practically if they were a little less cowardly than they are. A man may be too much a coward to confess that he is timid. Trembling Manoah was so outspoken, honest, and sincere that he expressed his feelings, which a more politic person might have concealed. Though fully believing what had been spoken from God, yet at the same time this doubt was on him, as the result of his belief in tradition: “We shall surely die, because we have seen God.”

You know how many parallel cases there are in Scripture to this. Look at majestic Abraham, the very father of the faithful-a prince, I might call him, amongst believers; and yet he denies his wife, and says, “She is my sister.” These things do not prove that he had no faith: they only show that the strongest faith is mixed with unbelief, and that the best of men are men at the best. So, too, with mighty Elijah. When you see him on the top of Carmel pleading there with God, and bringing down the fire, and when you hear him cry, “Take the prophets of Baal: let not one escape,” and observe that man of iron, slaying them all at the foot of the hill, why you cannot believe it possible that he is the same trembler who flees from the face of Jezebel, and sits down under one of the desert junipers, and cries, “Let me die: I am no better than my fathers.” But it is so. It is ever so. God’s saints generally show their weakness in the very grace wherein their strength lieth, and this great believer, Manoah, is troubled with a miserable attack of doubt, which so masters him that he expects sudden death.

Now, have any of you lately had such a fit as that upon you? Well, dear friend, do not indulge it. Let it be a fit, and let it come to an end, as no doubt it did with Manoah. He did not continue long in his fainting condition, but it was bad while it lasted. It is very bad when persons have fits every day, and worse still if they are always in fits. It will not do for us to begin to make excuses for our unbelief, or to allow ourselves to remain in depression of spirit. Our soul must not be suffered to lie cleaving to the dust. We must catechize our hearts, and say, “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? Why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance and my God.” Yet do not be surprised, or write your own condemnation, as though some strange thing had befallen you, for so hath it happened unto others, that though they have been strong in faith they have had strong misgivings at times.

Once again, another remark is that it is a great mercy to have a Christian companion to go to for counsel and comfort whenever your soul is depressed. Manoah had married a capital wife. She was the better one of the two in sound judgment. She was the weaker vessel by nature, but she was the stronger believer, and probably that was why the angel was sent to her, for the angels are best pleased to speak with those who have faith, and if they have the pick of their company, and the wife has more faith than the husband, they will visit the wife sooner than her spouse, for they love to take God’s messages to those who will receive them with confidence. She was full of faith, evidently, and so when her husband tremblingly said, “We shall surely die,” she did not believe in such a mistrustful inference. Moreover, though they say that women cannot reason, yet here was a woman whose arguments were logical and overwhelming. Certain it is that women’s perceptions are generally far clearer than men’s reasonings: they look at once into a truth, while we are hunting for our spectacles. Their instincts are generally as safe as our reasonings, and therefore when they have in addition a clear logical mind they make the wisest of counsellers.

Well, Manoah’s wife not only had clear perceptions, but she had capital reasoning faculties. She argued, according to the language of the text, that it was not possible that God should kill them after what they had seen and heard. Oh that every man had such a prudent, gracious wife as Manoah had! Oh that whenever a man is cast down a Christian brother or sister stood ready to cheer him with some reminder of the Lord’s past goodness, or with some gracious promise from the divine word. It may happen to be the husband who cheers the wife, and in such a case it is equally beautiful. We have known a Christian sister to be very nervous and very often depressed and troubled: what a mercy to her to have a Christian husband whose strength of faith can encourage her to smile away her griefs, by resting in the everlasting faithfulness and goodness of the Lord. How careful ought young people to be in the choosing of their partners in life! When two horses pull together how smoothly the chariot runs; but if one horse draws one way and the other pulls in the opposite direction, what trouble there is sure to be. Suppose Manoah had happened to have an unbelieving wife. Ah, Manoah, how your spirit would have gone down, down, down into despair, till you would have fulfilled your own sad prophecy. If he had been troubled with a wife like Mistress Job, and she had uttered some bitter saying just at the time when he was in anguish, how much more severe would his griefs have become. But Mistress Manoah was a believing woman, she argued out the question most discreetly, and her husband found peace again.

To-night, as God the Holy Spirit shall help us, we will take up the argument of Manoah’s wife, and see whether it will not also comfort our hearts. She had three strings to her bow, good woman. One was-The Lord does not mean to kill us, because he has accepted our sacrifices. The second was-He does not mean to kill us, or else he would not have shown us all these things. And the third was-He will not kill us, or else he would not, as at this time, have told us such things as these. So the three strings to her bow were accepted sacrifices, gracious revelations, and precious promises. Let us dwell upon each of them.

And, first, accepted sacrifices. I will suppose that I am addressing a brother who is sadly tried, and terribly cast down, and who therefore has begun to lament-

“The Lord has forsaken me quite

My God will be gracious no more.”

Brother, is that possible? Has not God of old accepted on your behalf the offering of his Son Jesus Christ? You have believed in Jesus, dear friend. You do believe in him now. Lay your hand on your heart, and put the question solemnly to yourself, “Dost thou believe on the Son of God?” You are able to say, “Yes, Lord, notwithstanding all my unhappiness, I do believe in thee, and rest the stress and weight of my soul’s interests on thy power to save.” Well, then, you have God’s own word, recorded in his own infallible Book, assuring you that Jesus Christ was accepted of God on your behalf, for he laid down his life for as many as believe in him, that they might never perish. He stood as their surety, and suffered as their substitute, is it possible that this should be unavailing, and that after all they may be cast away? The argument of Manoah’s wife was just this-“Did we not put the kid on the rock, and as we put it there was it not consumed? It was consumed instead of us; we shall not die, for the victim has been consumed. The fire will not burn us: it has spent itself upon the sacrifice. Did you not see it go up in smoke, and see the angel ascend with it? The fire is gone; it cannot fall on us to destroy us.” This being interpreted into the gospel is just this-Have we not seen the Lord Jesus Christ fastened to the cross? Have we not beheld him in agonies extreme? Has not the fire of God consumed him? Have we not seen him rising, as it were, from that sacred fire in the resurrection and the ascension, to go into the glory? Because the fire of Jehovah’s wrath had spent itself on him we shall not die. He has died instead of us. It cannot be that the Lord has made him suffer, the just for the unjust, and now will make the believer suffer too. It cannot be that Christ loved his church, and gave himself for it, and that now the church must perish also. It cannot be that the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all, and now will lay our iniquity on us too. It were not consistent with justice. It would make the vicarious sacrifice of Christ to be a nullity, a superfluity of cruelty which achieved nothing. The atonement cannot be made of none effect, the very supposition would be blasphemy. O, look, my soul, look to the Redeemer’s cross, and as thou seest how God accepts Christ; be thou filled with content. Hear how the “It is finished” of Jesus on earth is echoed from the throne of God himself, as he raises up his Son from the dead, and bestows glory upon him: hear this, I say, and as thou hearest, attend to the power of this argument,-If the Lord had been pleased to kill us, he would not have accepted his Son for us. If he meant us to die, would he have put him to death too? How can it be? The sacrifice of Jesus must effectually prevent the destruction of those for whom he offered up himself as a sacrifice. Jesus dying for sinners, and yet the sinners denied mercy! Inconceivable and impossible! My soul, whatever thy inward feelings and the tumult of thy thoughts, the accepted sacrifice shows that God is not pleased to kill thee.

But, if you notice, in the case of Manoah, they had offered a burnt-sacrifice and a meat-offering too. Well, now, in addition to the great, grand sacrifice of Christ, which is our trust, we, dear brothers and sisters, have offered other sacrifices to God, and in consequence of his acceptance of such sacrifices we cannot imagine that he intends to destroy us.

First, let me conduet your thoughts back to the offering of prayer which you have presented. I will speak for myself. I recall now, running over my diary mentally, full many an instance in which I have sought the Lord in prayer and he has most graciously heard me. I am as sure that my requests have been heard as ever Manoah could have been sure that his sacrifice was consumed upon the rock. May I not infer from this that the Lord does not mean to destroy me? You know that it has been so with you, dear brother. You are down in the dumps to-day, you are beginning to raise many questions about divine love; but there have been times-you know there have-when you have sought the Lord and he has heard you. You can say, “This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and delivered him from all his fears.” Perhaps you have not jotted down the fact in a book, but your memory holds the indelible record. Your soul has made her personal boast in the Lord concerning his fidelity to his promise in helping his people in the hour of need, for you have happily proved it in your own case. Now, brother, if the Lord had been pleased to kill you, would he have heard your prayers? If he had meant to cast you out after all, would he have heard you so many times? If he had sought a quarrel against you he might have had cause for that quarrel many years ago, and have said to you, “When you make many prayers I will not hear.” But since he has listened to your cries and tears, and many a time answered your petitions, he cannot intend to kill you.

Again, you brought to him, years ago, not only your prayers but yourself. Remember that glad hour when you said,

“Now, O God, thine own I am;

Now I give thee back thine own;

Freedom, friends, and health, and fame,

Consecrate to thee alone;

Thine I live, thrice happy I!

Happier still if thine I die.”

You gave yourself over to Christ, body, soul, spirit, all your goods, all your hours, all your talents, every faculty, and every possible acquirement, and you said, “Lord, I am not my own, but I am bought with a price.” Now, at that time did not the Lord accept you? You have at this very moment a lively recollection of the sweet sense of acceptance you had at that time. Even now your heart sings,

“Lord in the strength of grace

With a glad heart and free,

Myself, my residue of days,

I consecrate to thee.”

Though you are at this time sorely troubled, yet you would not wish to withdraw from the consecration which you then made, but on the contrary you declare,

“High heaven, that heard the solemn vow,

That vow renewed shall daily hear,

Till, in life’s latest hour, I bow,

And bless in death a bond so dear.”

Now, would the Lord have accepted the offering of yourself to him if he meant to destroy you? Would he have let you say, “I am thy servant and the son of thy handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds”? Would he have permitted you to declare as you can boldly assert to-night, “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus,” delighting to remember the time of your baptism into him, whereby your body, washed with his pure body, was declared to be the Lord’s for ever. Would he enable you to feel a joy in the very mark of your consecration, as well as in the consecration itself, if he meant to slay you? Oh, surely not! He does not let a man give himself up to him, and then cast him away. That cannot be.

Some of us, dear friends, can recollect how, growing out of this last sacrifice, there have been others. The Lord has accepted our offerings at other times too, for our works, faith, and labours of love have been owned of his Spirit. There are some of you, I am pleased to remember, whom God has blest to the conversion or little children whom you have tried to teach for Jesus. You have some in heaven whom you brought to the Saviour, and there are others on earth whom you can look upon with great joy because God was pleased to make you the instrument of their conviction and their after conversion. Some of you, I perceive, are ministers of the gospel, others of you preach at the corners of the streets, and there have been times in your lives-I am sure that you wish they were ten times as many-in which God has been pleased to succeed your efforts, so that hearts have yielded to the sway of Jesus. Now, you do not put any trust in those things, nor do you claim any merit for having served your Master, but still I think they may be thrown in as a matter of consolation, and you may say, If the Lord had meant to destroy me, would he have enabled me to preach his gospel? Would he have helped me to weep over men’s souls? Would he have enabled me to gather those dear children like lambs to his bosom? Would he have granted me my longing desire to bear fruit in his vineyard, if he did not mean to bless me? Surely he will not let me be like Judas, who preached the gospel and betrayed his Master. But, having accepted me and given me joy in my work, and success in it, he will continue with me and help me even to the end. As Mr. Wesley well puts it-

“Me, if purposed to destroy

For past unfaithfulness,

Would God vouchsafe to employ

And still so strangely bless?”

Those are comparatively small things, but sometimes small things help our small minds. Little fishes are sweet, and little diamonds are precious, and so little evidences may let in a great deal of peace. They may at least help us while we are looking out for something better, so that we may rise out of our troubles and grasp the higher joys.

So much upon the first point. Mistress Manoah argued that, if God had accepted their offerings, he did not mean to kill them; and there is our argument to-night, for he has accepted the great sacrifice of Christ, and then he has accepted the sacrifices which his grace has enabled us to offer, and therefore he does not mean to kill us.

“Who said he did?” says somebody. Well, the devil has said that numbers of times. He is a liar from the beginning, and he does not improve a bit. He will have the impudence to say this to you when you have just been in the presence of Christ. As you come fresh from the closet he will meet you outside the door, and he will tell you that the Lord has utterly forsaken you, for there are no bounds to his falsehood. Reply to him, if he is worth replying to at all, in the language of our text.

But now, secondly, the second argument was that they had received gracious revelations. “If the Lord were pleased to kill us, he would not have shewed us all these things.”

Now, what has the Lord shown you, my dear brother? I will mention one or two things.

First, the Lord has shown you, perhaps years ago, or possibly at this moment he is showing you for the first time-your sin. What a sight that was when we first had it. Some of you never saw your sins, but your sins are there all the same. In an old house, perhaps, there is a cellar into which nobody goes, and the windows are always kept shut. There is a wooden shutter: no light ever comes in. You live in the house comfortably enough, not knowing what is there; but one day you take a candle, and go down the steps, and open that mouldy door, and when it is opened, dear me! What a damp, pestilential smell! How foul the floor is! All sorts of living creatures hop away from under your feet. There are growths on the very walls-a heap of roots in the corner, sending out those long yellow growths which look like the fingers of death. And there is a spider, and there are a hundred like him, of such a size as cannot be grown, except in such horrible places. You get out as quickly as ever you can. You do not like the look of it. Now, the candle did not make that cellar bad; the candle did not make it filthy. No, the candle only showed what there was. And when you get in the carpenter to take down that shutter which you could not open anyhow, for it had not been opened for years, and when the daylight comes in, it seems more horrible than it did by candle-light, and you wonder, indeed, however you did go across it with all those dreadful things all around you, and you cannot be satisfied to live upstairs now till that cellar downstairs has been perfectly cleansed. That is just like our heart; it is full of sin, but we do not know it. It is a den of unclean birds, a menagerie of everything that is fearful, and fierce, and furious-a little hell stocked with devils. Such is our nature; such is our heart. Now, the Lord showed me mine years ago, as he did some of you, and the result of a sight of one’s heart is horrible. Well does Dr. Young say, “God spares all eyes but his own, that fearful sight, a naked human heart.” Nobody ever did see all his heart as it really is. You have only seen a part, but, when seen, it is so horrible that it is enough to drive a man out of his senses to see the evil of his nature.

Now, let us gather some honey out of this dead lion. Brother, if the Lord had meant to destroy us, he would not have shown us our sin, because we were happy enough previously, were we not? In our own poor way we were content enough, and if he did not mean to pardon us, it was not like the Lord to show us our sin, and so to torment us before our time, unless he meant to take it away. We were swine, but we were satisfied enough with the husks we ate; and why not let us remain swine? What was the good of letting us see our filthiness if he did not purpose to take it away? It never can be possible that God sets himself studiously to torture the human mind by making it conscious of its evil, if he never intends to supply a remedy. Oh no! A deep sense of sin will not save you, but it is a pledge that there is something begun in your soul which may lead to salvation; for that deep sense of sin does as good as say, “The Lord is laying bare the disease that he may cure it. He is letting you see the foulness of that underground cellar of your corruption, because he means to cleanse it for you.” So, dear brethren, if the Lord had meant to kill us he would not have shown us such things as the infamy of our nature and the horror of our fall; but since he has revealed to us our nakedness and poverty he desires to clothe and enrich us.

But he has shown us more than this, for he has made us see the hollowness and emptiness of the world. There are some here present who, at one time, were very gratified with the pleasures and amusements of the world. The theatre was a great delight to them. The ball-room afforded them supreme satisfaction. To be able to dress just after their own fancy, and to spend money on their own whims, were the very acme of delight; but there came a time when across all these the soul perceived a mysterious handwriting, which being interpreted ran thus:-“Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.” These very people went to the same amusements, but they seemed so dull and stupid that they came away saying, “We do not care a bit for them. The joys are all gone. What seemed gold turns out to be gilt; and what we thought marble was only white paint. The varnish is cracked, the tinsel is faded, the colouring has vanished. Mirth laughs like an idiot, and pleasure grins like madness.” I have known persons in that condition of mind seek after still more stirring pleasures. They have thought that, if they went a step farther, till what was mere amusement came to be vice, perhaps they might find something there. They have tried it, till they have drained all the cups of the devil’s banquet, and found them sickening as lukewarm water, insipid, and even nauseous. Satiety has come upon them, and they have been weary of life. Now, brethren, the Lord has taught many of us this in different ways, even those of us who have never gone very far into worldly amusements; and so we have learned that there is nothing round the spacious globe that can satisfy a hungry soul. We, too, have heard the words, “Vanity of vanities: all is vanity,” sounding in our hearts; and now do you think that, if the Lord had meant to kill us, he would have taught us this? Why, no; he would have said, “Let them alone, they are given unto idols. They are only going to have one world in which they can rejoice; let them enjoy it.” He would have let the swine go on with their husks if he had not meant to turn them into his children, and bring them to his own bosom. I think I told you once of a story which illustrates this, of a good wife-a good Christian woman-who had been converted. Her husband remained a godless and licentious man. Nevertheless, her gentleness and patience were surpassing, and one night, while out in a drinking party, her husband made a boast that there was not one of them that had such a wife as he had. He said she was far too religious, but for all that there was never such a woman; “and if I were to take you now,” said he, “ten of you, home to supper to-night, though it is past twelve, she would provide for you, receive you with a smile, and never say a syllable by way of complaint.”

They did not believe it, and so they went down to the house. She was sitting up past midnight, weary, and the wicked husband said he had brought in his friends and he wished them to have some supper. She had to forage very carefully, and make the best of what there was in the house, and she begged the gentlemen to have a little patience and wait; the meal might not be quite served as she should like to have it, since the servants were in bed, but still she would do her best. She managed well, the company sat down at the table, the lady treated them most graciously, and the husband had won his bet. Then they asked her how it was that she could bear with such treatment, and act so nobly. Bursting into tears, when they pressed her again and again, she answered, “I have long prayed for my dear husband, and anxiously desired his salvation, but I am afraid he never will be saved, and so I have made up my mind to make him as happy as possible while he is here, fearing he will have no happiness hereafter.” Now do you not think that God would act on that principle with you and with me if he meant to leave us to perish? Would he not allow us to have the enjoyment of this world at any rate? But because he has taught us that this world is a mockery and a cheat, I gather that he will not destroy us.

But he has taught us something better than this-namely, the preciousness of Christ. Unless we are awfully deceived-self-deceived, I mean-we have known what it is to lose the burden of our sin at the foot of the cross. We have known what it is to see the suitability and all-sufficiency of the merit of our dear Redeemer, and we have rejoiced in him with joy unspeakable and full of glory. If he had meant to destroy us he would not have shown us Christ.

Sometimes also we have strong desires after God! What pinings after communion with him have we felt! What longings to be delivered from sin! What yearnings to be perfect! What aspirations to be with him in heaven, and what desires to be like him while we are here! Now these longings, cravings, desirings, yearnings, do you think the Lord would have put them into our hearts if he had meant to destroy us? What would be the good of it? Would it not be tormenting us as Tantalus was tormented? Would it not, indeed, be a superfluity of cruelty thus to make us wish for what we could never have, and pine after what we should never gain? O beloved, let us be comforted about these things. If he had meant to kill us, he would not have shown us such things as these.

I shall have no time to dwell upon the last source of comfort which is what the Lord has spoken to us-many precious promises. “Nor would he have told us such things as these.” At almost any time when a child of God is depressed, if he goes to the word of God and to prayer, and looks up, he will generally get a hold of some promise or other. I know I generally do. I could not tell you, dear brother, to-night, what promise would suit your case, but the Lord always knows how to apply the right word at the right time; and when a promise is applied with great power to the soul, and you are enabled to plead it at the mercy-seat, you may say, “If the Lord had meant to kill us he would not have made us such a promise as this.” I have a promise that hangs up before my eyes whenever I wake every morning, and it has continued in its place for years. It is a stay to my soul. It is this-“I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.” Difficulties arise, funds run short, sickness comes; but somehow or other my text always seems to flow like a fountain-“I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.” If the Lord had meant to kill us, he would not have said that to us.

What is your promise to-night, brother? What have you got a hold of? If you have not laid hold of any, and feel as if none belonged to you, yet there are such words as these, “This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” and you are one. Ah, if he had meant to destroy you, he would not have spoken a text of such a wide character on purpose to include your case. A thousand promises go down to the lowest deep into which a heart can ever descend, and if the Lord had meant to destroy a soul in the deeps, he would not have sent a gospel promise down even to that extreme.

I must have done, and therefore I should like to say these two or three words to-night to you who are unconverted, but who are troubled in your souls. You think that God means to destroy you. Now, dear friend, I take it that if the Lord had meant to kill you, he would not have sent the gospel to you. If there had been a purpose and a decree to destroy you, he would not have brought you here. I am glad to see unconverted people here on Thursday nights. When souls begin to love week-night services I always think that there is a something good in them towards the Lord God of Israel. Now you are sitting to hear that Jesus has died to save such as you are. You are sitting where you are bidden to trust him and be saved. If the Lord had meant to slay you I do not think he would have sent me on such a fruitless errand as to tell you of a Christ who could not save you. I think, on Thursday nights especially, I may hope that I have a picked congregation whom God intends to bless. Besides, some of you have had your lives spared very remarkably. You have been in accidents on land or on sea-perhaps in battle and shipwreck. You have been raised from a sick bed. If the Lord had meant to destroy you, surely he would have let you die then; but he has spared you, and you are getting on in years; surely it is time that you yielded to his mercy and gave yourself up into the hands of grace. If the Lord had meant to destroy you, surely, he would not have brought you here to-night, for, possibly, I am addressing one who has come here, wondering why. All the time that he has been sitting here he has been saying to himself, “I do not know how I got into this place, but here I am.” God means to bless you to-night, I trust, and he will, dear friend, if you breathe this prayer to heaven,-“Father, forgive me! I have sinned against heaven and before thee, but for Christ’s sake forgive me! I put my trust in thy Son.” You shall find eternal life, rejoicing in the sacrifice which God has accepted. You shall one of these days rejoice in the revelations of his love, and in the promises which he gives you, and say as we say to-night, “If the Lord were pleased to kill us he would not have showed us all these things.” The Lord bless you for Christ’s sake. Amen.

Portion of Scripture read before Sermon-Judges 13.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-734, 738.

RETREAT IMPOSSIBLE

A Sermon

delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington

“I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.”-Judges 11:35.

In Jephthah’s case there were good reasons for going back. He had made a rash vow, and such things are much better broken than kept. If a man makes a vow to commit a crime his vow to do so is in itself a sin, and the carrying out of his vow will be doubly sinful. If a man’s vowing to do a thing made it necessary and right for him to do it, then the whole moral law might be suspended by the mere act of vowing, for a man might vow to steal, to commit adultery, or to murder, and then say, “I was right in all those acts, because I vowed to do them.” This is self-evidently absurd, and to admit such a principle would be to destroy all morality. You have, first of all, no right to promise to do what is wrong; and then, secondly, your promise, which is in itself wrong, cannot make a criminal act to be right. If you have come under a rash vow, you must not dare to keep it. You ought to go before God and repent that you have made a vow which involves sin; but as to keeping the sinful vow, that were to add sin to sin. “But,” saith one, “would it not be sin to break my vow?” I reply, there was great sin in making it; and there will probably be some measure of sin connected with your breaking it, for few human actions are perfect; but to keep your evil vow would certainly be sin, and you must not commit the greater sin to avoid the less sin which perhaps may be involved in the breach of your foolish promise. I think it would have been well if Jephthah, though he had opened his mouth before God, had gone back when it involved, as I think it did, so dreadful a necessity as that of sacrificing his own innocent, only child. His having sworn to do it did not make it right: it was just as wrong. If he really did slay her, it was a horrible action, dramatize or disguise it as you may. He had no right to make the dangerous promise; he had still less right to carry it out after he had made it, if it led to such terrible consequences.

But now I am going to speak about other openings of the mouth to God, in which there is no ill; openings of the mouth which need never be regretted, which certainly never can be recalled, and of which we may rightly say, before the living God, in the strength which he gives us, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.”

My sermon will not have much to do with some of you. You have not opened your mouth to God, or made any sort of promise; but you remain as you were, far off from him, and negligent of his claims. I do not envy you. Your being under no obligation from any resolution of your own does not prevent your being under just as much natural obligation to God on account of your being his creatures and therefore subjects under his law. I sometimes hear of people who say, “You know I do not profess anything,” and after that assertion they appear to feel at liberty to say and do whatever they like. Now, if we heard of certain persons entrusted with our business that they had not acted honestly, what should we think of it if one man among them should rise up and say, “Don’t blame me. You know I never professed to be honest.” What would that mean? It would mean that he is a confessed and acknowledged thief. Suppose a man were to say, “Well, I never profess to be truthful,” what is he? He is an acknowledged liar. And he who says, “Ah, I never made any vows or promises, neither do I pretend to serve the Lord,” acknowledges himself to be a godless man. He is living in the daily robbery of God, defrauding him of his rights: he is living in direct and avowed rebellion against the King of kings. He is living without a hope for the hereafter-without grace in his soul for the present, and without glory in prospect for the future. Ah, friend, although the things I may have to say at this time may not directly bear upon you, yet the very fact that they do not bear upon you should make you think, and weigh, and consider, and ponder your ways as to the place which you now occupy. You are, by your non-profession and non-avowal of Christ, making a confession of being on the opposite side; for he that is not with him is against him, and he that gathereth not with him scattereth abroad.

But now I speak to my own brethren and sisters in Christ Jesus. Dear friends, there are three things which I would bring to your practical remembrance; first, what we have done: we have opened our mouth unto the Lord. Secondly, what we cannot do: “I cannot go back”; and, thirdly, what we must do: there are some things that we must seek after if we are to be able to hold on and to act faithfully to our profession.

First, then, what we have done. “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord.”

We have opened our mouths before the Lord, first, by confessing our faith in Jesus Christ. I have said, and most of you upon whom I am looking have also solemnly said, before others, “I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ with all my heart. Let others believe what they will and trust in what they please:

‘My hope is fixed on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.’ ”

We are troubled by no question of our Lord’s power to save, or of our interest in his salvation, but we have testified outright, as a matter-of-fact which we feel in our own souls, that we believe that Jesus died for us, and that he is all our salvation and all our desire. We have opened our mouth to that in the most decided manner, and we are continually doing so in various ways.

We have also avowed and declared before the living God that we are Christ’s disciples and followers. If any one should ask us, “Art thou one of them? Dost thou consort with Jesus of Nazareth?” We would gladly answer, “Yes.” However short we come of perfect obedience to his commands, yet his will is our rule. We call him “Master” and “Lord,” and when we read about the disciples of Christ we think of ourselves as belonging to them. Blessed Master, how glad we are to own that we are indeed thy disciples. We are not ashamed to acknowledge that we have opened our mouth unto thee, to believe all thy teachings, and to obey all thy commands.

We have opened our mouth to the Lord, next, because as we believe in Jesus Christ, and take him to be our Master, so we have admitted the Redeemer’s claims to our persons and services, and have resolved to live for him alone all our days. We have made a dedication of ourselves to his service, declaring that we are not our own, but bought with a price. Some of us did this years ago; and-

“High heaven that heard the solemn vow,

That vow, renewed, has often heard,”

and shall hear it again. We do profess that nothing that we have is ours, but our goods, our hours, our talents, and ourselves are all marked with the broad arrow of the King. We are the perpetual heritage of the Lord, to be his for ever, and never to serve self again, or the world, or the flesh, or any, save Jesus.

We have also cast in our lot with his people. We belong to their fraternity heart and soul. We are not ashamed of them either. It is some years ago with some of us since we came forward and asked to have our names enrolled with the despised people of God, and we opened our mouth to the Lord that we would take part and lot with his people-that if they were abused we would take a share of the abuse, that if they had sorrows we would help to bear their burdens, and if they had joys we only hoped that we might be worthy to enjoy the crumbs of their table. We craved to be numbered with the citizens of that noble city, the New Jerusalem, and we requested to share the portion of Zion’s blessed but tried inhabitants, whether they held fast or festival, suffered siege or enjoyed triumph. We asked to have it said of us that we were born there, and when we were asked if we would forego the world and all its allurements to become heirs of the better country we stood up before the Lord and declared that it was even so.

In all these things we have, as Christian people, opened our mouths unto the Lord, have we not? Now, if you ask me when you did so, I shall have to mention several occasions.

Some of us opened our mouths in this respect to the Lord in a very solemn way in private. We made our dedication to God a solemn deed performed in a distinct and formal manner. We took time about it, thought it over, and then did it deliberately and definitely. Some have even written out an act of solemn dedication, and signed it. Others, perhaps, more wisely, have refrained from writing it, lest it should become a bondage to their spirits, but they have, nevertheless, made a formal act of transfer of themselves, and all that they had, to the Lord. At any rate, whether we did it formally or not, we can say,

“’Tis done! The great transaction’s done,

I am my Lord’s, and he is mine.”

There was a time when once for all we gave up the keys of the city of Mansoul, and surrendered to the Lord absolutely, that he might be ours, and that we might be his for ever and ever.

Then many of you, beloved friends, opened your mouth to the Lord in baptism. Searching his word, you saw there clearly that as many as believed were baptized. You read of the eunuch to whom the question was put, “Dost thou believe in the Lord Jesus Christ? for if thou believest with all thy heart thou mayest;” and then on confession of his faith he was baptized. I have opened my mouth unto the Lord in that manner. I remember the solemn occasion when I went into the river, with multitudes of people as witnesses on either bank, to mark my burial with the Lord in the water: and, though I have not the remotest confidence in outward form or ceremony, yet often has my soul recalled that day when I did before men and angels and devils declare myself to be the servant of the living God, and was therefore buried in water in token of my death to all the world, and then raised from it as the emblem of my newness of life. Oh, to be always faithful to what we then did, when, coming forward of our own accord, we declared that we were dead with Christ, that we might also live with him.

We have opened our mouth unto the Lord since then, full often when we have come to the communion table. The solemn sitting down at the table of communion, when others have to go away, or can only look on-the separation which is made in that act-is a declaration on your part, beloved, that you belong to the Lord Jesus Christ, that he is become your meat and your drink, that you feed at his table, and are his servants. There is something very solemn about the communion service, it ought never to be lightly entered upon, and when you have been attending to that ordinance in remembrance of him you should feel, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord in a very special manner by sitting at the table with his people.”

Besides that, how often have we opened our mouth before God in hymn-singing. I am afraid that we do not always think enough about what we say when we sing. But what solemn things you have sung. Did you not sing the other day-

“And if I might make some reserve,

And duty did not call,

I love my God with zeal so great

That I would give him all”?

And did you not sing-

“Had I ten thousand hearts, dear Lord,

I’d give them all to thee:

Had I ten thousand tongues, they all

Should join the harmony.”

Ah, you have opened your mouth very widely unto the Lord in song.

And so, too, in prayer, both in the closet and in public. We say great things to God in supplication: do we always come up to what we say? Are we always of the mind of Jephthah, who said, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.” Do we remember those vows which our soul in anguish made when we drew near to God in the bitterness of our Spirit, and poured out our complaint before him?

But ah, beloved, very specially I may speak of some here present who are my partners in the work and ministry of the church for her Lord. We who bear public testimony, “we have opened our mouths unto the Lord, and cannot go back.” You who teach classes in the school, you who try to tell the gospel to other men in the workshop, you who talk of Jesus Christ even to your children-remember that you have committed yourselves. While you are trying to speak to others you make avowals for yourselves which bind you to present truth and future fidelity. As for me, whither could I flee from my Master’s presence? Whither could I go from his service? Should I desert his ministry, unto what part of the earth could I go to hide myself? Somebody would remember this face which has been seen by so many thousands: the very tones of my voice would betray me, and men would point me out as an apostate from my Lord. Jonah might flee to Tarshish, but if I went to Tarshish some one or other would know me and pronounce my name as soon as I set foot upon the soil. I must fight this battle through now, retreat is out of the question. “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord” so often, and before so many, that I am bound by a myriad ties, nor would I wish to be bound with one the less, but daily with more and more. But, beloved friends, do remember that in proportion as your religion gains publicity, and in proportion as, by teaching others, you tacitly or avowedly declare your faith in the gospel, in that proportion you have opened your mouth unto the Lord, and it is not possible that you should go back without deep disgrace and dire destruction.

Now, it is worth our remembering after what fashion we have done this. I have shown you that we have opened our mouth unto the Lord, and I have shown you the occasions when we have done so, but in the very manner of the deed there has been practical force. We have done this voluntarily. We have opened our mouth to the Lord without any compulsion. The little child, you know, who according to the Prayerbook is made a member of Christ and a child of God, and so on, has nothing to do with the business, and is in no way responsible for what others choose to promise without its leave; but you and I did willingly what we did. We came forward and said, “Let me be baptized, for I am a believer in Jesus. Let me be united with the church, for I am one of the Lord’s redeemed.” We said to the Lord Jesus Christ, “I am cheerfully and willingly thy servant.” We took upon ourselves the bonds of a Christian profession because we loved to do so. Well, then, if we have done this voluntarily, there is the strongest reason why we should not go back from our own chosen position as the Lord’s own disciples.

And we did this very solemnly. Oh, to some of you it was indeed a devout action when you avowed yourselves on the Lord’s side. Many were the prayers and praises which preceded and followed it. Shall such solemnity be made into a falsehood? Shall the weeping and the supplication be proven to have been base hypocrisy?

I hope also that we did it very deliberately, counting the cost, looking round about, and seeing what it meant, and understanding what we were doing. We did not reckon upon a smooth path; we did not consider that we should gain crowns without crosses, or win victories without fightings; and we have found it much as we expected. We passed through the wicket-gate, and entered on the road to the celestial city, knowing that there were dragons to encounter, giants to fight, hills to climb, rivers to swim, and swamps to ford. We set out with considerable knowledge of what we were doing and what it involved, and we were not thereby prevented from decidedly and deliberately declaring ourselves to be on the Lord’s side. Are we now going to confess ourselves to have been fools and dupes? Will we now tell our Lord that his service is hard and worthless?

Most of us made our profession publicly. We had many onlookers. We cannot forget that when we began the race a cloud of witnesses surrounded us, and have ever since kept us in full survey. If there is a little speck in our character they are sure to point it out. Never cat watched a mouse as the lynx-eyed world watches the Christian. How it magnifies and multiplies the faults of believers, and cries, “Aha! aha! so would we have it,” the moment it finds the slightest trip or mistake. Well, we have opened our mouth to the Lord before multitudes, and shall we recant and deny the faith? Men and angels and devils know that we belong to the Lord Jesus Christ. We have declared it before all with whom we have come into contact, not always in so many words, but I hope in our actions, by the decided stand that we have taken up for God and for Christ, and for truth, and for holiness, and for the fear of God in the land.

But the weight of it all lies in this,-“We have opened our mouth unto the Lord.” It is not what we promised the church, though in becoming members of it we have promised to fulfil the mutual duties of Christians. It was not what we promised to the minister, though, in the very fact of becoming members of a church of which he is the pastor, we have a Christian duty towards him. It was not what we promised one another, though we all owe something to each other. But we have opened our mouth to the Lord. If a man must trifle, let him trifle with men, but not with God. If promises to men may be lightly broken-and they should not be, yet let us not trifle with promises made to God. And if solemn declarations ever can be forgotten-which they should not be-yet not solemn declarations made to God. Beware, oh! beware of anything like levity in entering into covenant with the Most High. If a man should measure his footsteps and weigh his words when he appears before an earthly monarch, how much more when he stands before the King of kings, who is also Judge of quick and dead. There let thy words be few and guarded, but when thou hast once spoken them, and lifted thy hand to heaven, let thy promise stand, and do thou keep it faithfully, saying, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.”

But enough upon what we have done, for we want our full strength of thought to dwell upon what we cannot do. “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.” That is to say, having once become Christians we cannot apostatize from the faith. We feel that we cannot, and God’s servants in all ages have proved that they cannot. Men have threatened them, “You shall go to prison if you do not go back,” but they have said “We cannot.” And they have gone to prison, and they have said, like John Bunyan, “I will lie there till the moss grows on my eyelids, but I cannot-I cannot do other than God bids me.” The enemy has said, “If you do not leave Christ you shall be stretched on the rack,” and that means the pulling of every bone from its fellow: but in defiance of torture they have replied “We cannot go back: we can rather bear the rack.” Poor women, like Anne Askew, have been racked most cruelly, but they could not go back. Then the enemies of the Lord have sworn, “We will burn you quick to the death.” The saints have accepted that challenge also, and they have burned, and triumphed in the burning, clapping their blazing hands; for they could not go back. The young people in the old city of London, over the water there, went down to Smithfield in the early morning to see their pastor burned; and when they came home and their mother said, “What went you for?” the boys replied, “We went to learn the way.” They wanted to know how to burn when their turn should come! Brave sons of brave sires! God’s servants always have known how to burn, but they have not known how to turn. They have lifted their hand to the Lord, and if it involved losses, and crosses, and torture, and torment, and death, they could not go back. No, sir, if you can go back, you never knew Christ! If you can go back, he never marked the cross-mark on your heart, he never baptized you into his death; for, if he had so done a sacred impulse would be upon you, and you must go forward. As though you were a thunderbolt launched from the omnipotent hand you must go on, and burst through every opposition till you reach the end towards which God’s eternal might is speeding you. You cannot go back.

Moreover, if we are right at heart we feel that we have lifted our hand to the Lord, and we cannot go back, even by temporary turnings aside. I do not mean that we do not do so, sadly too often; the Lord have mercy upon us for it. But it ought to be our solemn declaration that we cannot go back. Somebody says to you when you enter the workshop, “Ah, you are one of those fools of Christians.” The devil tempts you to say that you are not, or at any rate to be very quiet about it. Do not fall into cowardly silence, but say at once, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back. I am in for it now. Whatever it means, I am enlisted and will never desert.” Sometimes the temptation is, “Come with me, young man, come with me, young woman-to such and such questionable place of amusement.” “Shall I go? Perhaps I shall not get much hurt.” Stand still and say, “No, I have opened my mouth to the Lord and I cannot go back, even if I had the desire to do so. I have committed myself to the pursuit of holiness, and I cannot go back to the foolish pleasures of sin.” I like you young people to make a very straightforward profession of your faith, because it may be the means of keeping you in the hour of temptation; you will say to yourself, “The vows of the Lord are upon me; how can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?” I heard one say once, “I could not join the church because I should feel it such a tie.” “Ay, but,” I replied, “Brother, it is the sort of tie you need to feel.” A profession of our faith in Jesus ought to be a very strong cord of love to hold us to that which is good, we ought to feel that the sacrifice is bound to the horns of the altar, but this bondage is true liberty to us, and pleasant to us, and it should be our desire to be bound faster and faster as long as we live. “I cannot go back” is an inability of the most desirable kind.

The enemies of your soul will attempt to persuade you to forsake the Lord, they will try ridicule and threats and bribes, but be you as a deaf man and hear them not. If you have really opened your mouth to God with all your heart, you cannot go back; the divine life within you will laugh to scorn all efforts of the foe. Baffled and discouraged, they will soon give up their wicked endeavours: they will see that it is of no use to tempt such an one as you are, your steadfastness and patient endurance will drive them from the field.

But there are some of you that make a profession, who attempt compromises, and go a little way with the world. If you go a furlong with the world you will soon go a mile I will give you a sentence to recollect:-“That man who is only half Christ’s is altogether the devil’s.” Do remember that. He who is only half a Christian is altogether an unbeliever. As half clean is unclean, so half converted is unconverted, and half a saint is wholly a sinner. You cannot say to the world, “Hitherto thou shalt go, but no further,” it is greedy, and seeks to win the whole man. To its imperious demands give a stern denial, saying, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.”

Now, what are our reasons why we cannot go back?

The first reason is that if we did go back we should show that we have been altogether false until now. You profess to be believers in Jesus Christ, you say that you have been born again, that you have received that inward principle which liveth and abideth for ever; if you go back to the world and to sin, you say to all mankind, “I made a hypocritical profession. I was a mere formalist. The root of the matter was not in me.” You cannot say that; for you know you love the Lord. Even when you are in a doubting mood, you know you love Jesus. Though you question yourselves over and over again, you know that you love your Master. If you hear anybody finding fault with him, are you not sorely grieved? Oh, yes, it brings the blood into your cheeks, and you say, “I cannot bear to hear him spoken against.” You thought that you did not love him, but the enemy provokes you to feel that you do love him. You do love him; you cannot say that you do not. Can you? And yet if you went back it would be tantamount to a declaration that all your former life had been a falsehood.

You cannot go back, dear friend, because that were to act most basely. Have you been bought with the precious blood of Christ, and will you go away from him? Did he die upon the cross for you, and will a little buffeting cause you to desert him? What! Did he fetch you up out of the horrible pit and out of the miry clay by his own death, and will you forsake him, and choose sinful ease and the praises of a wicked world? Oh, it were baseness, abominable baseness, for a soul who once has tasted of his wondrous love, and seen him in his glory and death throes to desert Christ. No, no, no; we cannot be so base as this, God helping us.

To go back from that for which we have opened our mouth to the Lord were to incur frightful penalties: for there is no judgment so great as that which is pronounced upon the apostate. If they have tasted of the heavenly gift and the powers of the world to come-“if these shall fall away, it is impossible to renew them again unto repentance.” “Salt is good, but if the salt has lost its savour wherewith shall it be seasoned? It is henceforth good for nothing but to be trodden under foot of men.” You know how many passages there are in which it is positively asserted that if a child of God did deliberately and totally apostatize, his restoration would be utterly impossible-not difficult, but impossible. This is one of the greatest proofs of the doctrine of the final perseverance of the saints, since there is no man in a condition in which it is impossible to save him, and yet any man would be in such a state if he apostatized. Therefore true believers shall not apostatize, but shall stand fast, and shall be kept even to the end. Yet, could they totally apostatize, they could never be restored again: the greatest remedy having already failed, there would remain no other. On the supposition that the power of the Holy Spirit and the cleansing influence of the blood of Jesus could not preserve the man from falling back into his unregenerate state, what else could be done for such? If regeneration fails-what then? If the incorruptible seed which liveth and abideth for ever can die-what then? Oh, we cannot go back! To go back is death, shame, eternal ruin.

And to go back would be so unreasonable. Why should I leave my Lord? Why should I let my Saviour go? In my heart of hearts I cannot think of a reason why I should forsake my Master. Do I seek pleasure? What pleasure is equal to that which he can give me? Do I seek gain? What gain could there be if I lost him? Do I seek ease? Ah, to leave him were to forfeit eternal rest. To whom should we go? That was a forcible question of the disciples when the Master enquired, “Will ye also go away?” They replied, “To whom can we go?” Ah, to whom can we go? If you give up the religion of Jesus Christ, what other religion would you have? If you were to give up the pleasures of godliness, what other pleasures would you have? “Oh,” says one, “we could go into the world.” Could you? Could you? If you are a child of God you are spoiled for the world. Before you became a Christian you could have done very well in the world, but now you know too much to be happy there. While the sow is a sow, the mud is good enough for her. Turn that sow into an angel, and if the angel has no place in heaven, where shall it go? It cannot go back to the sty. What could it do there? The wash of the trough was good enough for the sow, but the angel has eaten heavenly food. It cannot roll in the mire, nor consort with swine, it must have heaven or nothing. If you can go back to the world you will go back to the world; but if you are a child of God you cannot go back, because grace has so changed your nature that you would not be in an element in which you could exist.

There is no reason for apostasy; all the reasons lie the other way. “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back,” for this reason-that I have no inclination that way. Brethren, some of us have been Christians these five-and-twenty years, and we are glad of it. You know that in the army they have short-time soldiers and long-time soldiers. When I enlisted in Christ’s army, I did not go in to enlist for a quarter of a year, and then have a new ticket; but I enlisted for life. But suppose my Master were to say to me, “Now, you have had some five-and-twenty years of it: you may now go home and cease from being one of my soldiers.” “Ah, my Master, where should I go? Do not discharge me.” If he were still to say, “You are out of your time, and may go home,” I would tell him that I would not leave him in life or death. If I were put out at the front door I would come in at the back. Ah, my Lord, what anguish has that question stirred, whether I would also go as others have done. Go? Thou hast fastened me to thy cross and driven in the nails. I cannot go. Go? I am dead, and buried with thee; and thy rich grace has made me part and parcel of thyself by indissoluble union. “Who shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord?” No, if I were discharged to-day, I would enlist again directly. The man who is married to a good wife thinks to himself, “If I had to marry again to-morrow morning, she should be the bride, and happy would we be.” And so, if we had our choice to make again, we would choose our dear Lord over again, only with much more eagerness and earnestness than we did at first.

Dear friends, we have opened our mouth to the Lord, and we cannot go back because we are so happy as we now are. A man does not turn his back upon that which has become his life and his joy, he is bound to it by the bliss which he derives from it. Can the Swiss forget his country when he listens to the home music which he heard as a child amidst his native hills? Does not the home-sickness come over him so that he longs to be among the Alps again? Does not the Englishman, wherever he wanders, whether by land or sea, feel his heart instinctively turn to the white cliffs of Albion, and does he not say that with all her faults he loves his country still? Who would cease to be that which he loves to be? And so, now, our joy in Christ is great, and we cannot wish to be divided from him. Why should we? Shall the star desert the sphere in which it shines, or the fish the sea in which it lives? Shall the eagle abhor the craggy rock on which he builds his nest, or the angel shun the heaven in which he dwells? No, beloved, we cannot go back. Our joy holds us fast to our Lord.

And then, besides that, we cannot go back from what we have said, for divine grace impels us onward. There is a secret power more mighty than all other forces called the force of grace, and this has captured us. When the temptation comes to go back to Egypt, and we recollect the garlic,-that strong-smelling garlic, and the cucumbers,-those spongy, watery cucumbers, and we recollect the onions,-those pungent onions, the thought of going back to the fleshpots again comes upon us like a man of war; but mighty grace soon puts it down, drowns the desire in tears of repentance, and makes us loathe ourselves to think that we should be such fools as to think more of fleshpots than of manna, and more of cucumbers than of Canaan. Again we resolutely press forward towards Canaan, blushing to think that we should have in heart turned back into Egypt. Grace will not let us return to our old bondage.

And there is another that holds us. It is he with the hands nailed to the tree. Whenever he is revealed in us we feel that we cannot go back. A sight of him with his face to the world’s opposition, his face to the devil, his face to death, his face to hell, his face towards the wrath of God, and going through it all with boundless courage, makes us feel that we must go forward too, even till we enter into his rest. Brethren, by all these arguments we are moved to testify each one for himself, “I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.”

Now, the last thing of all is that, if this is the case, there is something which we must do. What we must do is this-if there is a present sacrifice demanded of us we must make it directly, “I have opened my mouth to the Lord: I cannot go back.” Now, if there is anything in your business, and you cannot be a Christian if you do it, abjure it at once and for ever. Do not question about it, and do not ask a friend what you shall do, but follow conscience. If you know the thing is right, do it. Do not ask mother, or brother, or the wisest man that ever lived; consult not with flesh and blood, but follow Jesus at all hazards. Do not take time for second thoughts, but do it, and have done with it. Oh, I have known Christians palter as to what they ought to do: their duty has been plain enough, but they have not liked it, and so they have wished for somebody to tell them that they might be Christians, and yet do wrong: to get some sort of excuse from the judgment of others they have gone fishing about to this and that minister, misrepresenting the circumstances to some extent, to gain the judgment they desired, till at last they have forged a sort of dispensation for sin from some good man’s opinion, and then they have cheated their conscience by saying, “I feel much relieved. I can do it now, for I have consulted a gracious man, and he thinks I may.” No consultation can be required where duty is plain.

“Oh, sir, but the sacrifice is great.” If it were a thousand times greater, that does not enter into the question. Duty is imperative, and let it be done. If your doing right will make yourself and your children poor, so must it be. It were better that you were poor and yet maintained your integrity and continued in the service of God than that you should roll in riches by violating your conscience. Say, “I cannot go back”: make the sacrifice, and go on.

If you are to do this, however, you must ask for more grace; and, dear brethren, wherever there is an ugly piece in the road, since you cannot go back, all you have to do is to ask the Lord to assist you over it, for you must go through it, and this can only be done by his strength. Recollect that your abiding faithful to the end does not depend upon yourself. You have to do it; but the Holy Spirit is to find you strength to do it. The negro said, “Massa, if the Lord say to Sambo, ‘Sambo, jump through the brick wall,’ I will jump. It is the Lord that will make me go through; but Sambo must jump.” So it is with persevering in the face of difficulty and trouble. If you are bidden to a hard duty, and it involves sacrifice and hardship, do not hesitate, but advance unflinchingly; it is the Lord who bids you do it, and if the Lord bids you go through the brick wall he will make a hole in it for you, or make it soft for you, or in some way or other make you equal to the occasion. Yours it is to go through; do not stand back because of your own weakness, but let faith lay hold on the divine strength.

One other admonition to Christian people is this-burn the boats behind you. When the Roman commander meant victory he landed his troops on the coast where he knew there were thousands of enemies, and he burned the boats, so as to cut off all chance of retreat. “But how are we to get away if we are beaten?” “That is just it,” said he; “we will not be beaten; we will not dream of such a thing.” “Burn the boats”-that is what you Christian people must do. “Make no provision for the flesh.” Let the separation between you and the world be final and irreversible. Say, “Here I go for Christ and his cross, for the truth of the Bible, for the laws of God, for holiness, for trust in Jesus; and never will I go back, come what may.”

This is the right spirit. The Lord send it among us more and more! It is the spirit of martyrs. You want it, you converted working men-you want the spirit of martyrs. I know how your workmates jest, and jeer, and torment you. Well, do not think yourself hardly done by, but play the man, and bear it all, and say to yourself, “I did not quite reckon on this, but it does not matter; I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back if it costs me everything.”

I will not talk to you longer; for what, after all, brethren, can religion cost us compared with what our salvation cost our Lord? What is it to go forward if we compare it with the glory that is beyond? A pin’s prick, that is all; and then you will be in heaven. Oh, to stand amongst the glorified!-to hear the Master say, “Well done!” One might die a thousand deaths to get those two syllables, if there were nothing else-“Well done!” To enjoy his smile, to share his crown, to stand amongst his palm-bearing hosts, and participate in his glory-this is worth all the difficulty and sacrifice involved in going forward, and ten thousand times more. Therefore accept this closing word. Forward, my brothers-forward! Whatever lies before you-the Red Sea or the rage of earth and hell combined-if God calls you, forward to it! He will bear you through to the glorious end. The Lord be with you, for Christ’s sake! Amen!

Portion of Scripture Read before Sermon-Judges 11:1-39.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-661, 674, 668.