C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come.”-Mark 4:26-29.

Last Lord’s-day morning our subject was the labourers upon God’s farm and their great Master; and then we tried to show how far human agency was necessary in the work of the gospel. We also saw how thoroughly all holy results depend upon God, for neither he that soweth nor he that watereth is anything, but God who giveth the increase. We have much the same subject this morning, only it goes a little deeper, and yet more fully shows how far the labourer can go, and how far he cannot go; where man may enter with holy industry, and where no human work can possibly intrude. Our subject on this occasion will mainly be the measure and limit of human instrumentality in the kingdom of grace. If we shall be taught of the Spirit of God we shall find this Scripture to be full of instruction upon the matter.

It is remarkable that the parable before us is peculiar to Mark. No other evangelist has recorded it, but we do not think any the less of it on that account. If it had been told to us four times we should have been glad to hear the repetition, and would have given it a fourfold attention; as it is told us but once, we will give the more earnest heed to a voice which speaketh once for all. We are glad that the Holy Spirit led Mark to reserve this pearl out of the many excellent things which our Lord said which have been lost. John tells us that if a record of all the works which Jesus did could have been preserved they would have made a library so large that scarce the world itself could have contained all the books. Many of the things that Jesus said floated about, no doubt, for a time, and were gradually forgotten, and we have to be thankful to the Spirit of God for perpetuating this choice similitude by the hand of his servant Mark. Preserved in the amber of inspiration, this choice instruction is of priceless value.

Here is a lesson for sowers,-for the labourers upon the farm of God. It is a parable for all who are concerned in the kingdom of God. It will be of little value to those who are in the kingdom of darkness, for they are not bidden to sow the good seed: “Unto the wicked God saith, what hast thou to do to declare my statutes?” But all who are loyal subjects to King Jesus, all who are commissioned to scatter seed for the Royal Husbandman, will be glad to know how the kingdom advances, glad to know how the harvest is preparing for him whom they serve. Listen, then, ye that sow beside all waters; ye that with holy diligence seek to fill the garners of your God,-listen, and may the Spirit of God speak into your ears as you are able to bear it.

We shall, first, learn from our text what we can do and what we cannot do. Let this stand as our first head.

“So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground”: this the gracious worker can do. “And the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how”: this is what he cannot do, it belongs to a higher power. Man can neither make the seed spring nor grow up, he is out of the field in that respect, and may go home “to sleep, and rise night and day.” Seed once sown is beyond human jurisdiction, and is under divine care. Yet ere long the worker comes in again:-“When the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle.” We can reap in due season, and it is both our duty and our privilege so to do. You see, then, that there is a place for the worker at the beginning, and though there is no room for him in the middle passage, yet another opportunity is given him further on when that which he sowed has actually yielded fruit.

Notice, then, that we can sow. Any man who has received the knowledge of the grace of God in his heart can teach others. I include under the term “man” all who know the Lord, be they male or female. We cannot all teach alike, for all have not the same gifts; to one is given one talent, and to another ten. Neither have we all the same opportunities, for one lives in obscurity and another has far-reaching influence. Yet there is not within the family of God an infant hand which may not drop its own tiny seed into the ground. There is not a man among us who needs to stand idle in the market-place, for work suitable to his strength is waiting for him. There is not a saved woman who is left without a holy task; let her do it and win the approving word.” She hath done what she could.” Something of sacred service is within the reach of everyone’s capacity, whether it be the mother in the family, the nurse-girl with the infant, the boy in the school, the workman at the bench, or the nurse at the bedside. Those with the smallest range of opportunities can, nevertheless, do something for Christ and his cause. The precious seed of the word of God is small as a grain of mustard-seed, and may be carried by the feeblest hand where it shall multiply a hundred-fold.

We need never quarrel with God because we cannot do everything if he only permits us to do this one thing; for sowing the good seed is a work which will need all our wit, our strength, our love, our care. Holy seed sowing may well be adopted as our highest pursuit, and be no inferior object for the noblest life that can be led. You will need heavenly teaching that you may carefully select the wheat, and keep it free from the darnel of error. We must even winnow out of it our own thoughts and opinions, for these may not be according to the mind of God. Men are not saved by our word, but by God’s word. We are bound to see that we know the gospel, and teach the whole of it. To different men we must, with discretion, bring forward that part of the word of God which will best bear upon their consciences; for much may depend upon the word being in season, and not a chance sentence thrown out at random. We shall have enough to do if we look well to the seed-basket, lest, peradventure, we should sow tares as well as wheat, or should cast good seed wantonly, where it can only feed evil birds.

Having selected the seed, we shall have plenty of work if we go forth and sow it broadcast everywhere, for every day brings its opportunity, and every company furnishes its occasion. “In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand.” “Sow beside all waters.” Imitate the sower in the parable, who was not so penny-wise that he would only cast the seed where, according to his judgment, all was good soil, but who, feeling that he had other work for his judgment besides the selecting of the soil, threw the seed right and left as he went on his way, and denied not a handful even to thorny and rocky soils. You, dear fellow-workers, will have enough to do if at all times, and in all places, as prudence and zeal suggest, you spread abroad the living word of the living Lord.

Still, wise sowers discover favourable opportunities for sowing, and gladly seize upon them. There are times when it would clearly be a waste to sow; for the soil could not receive it, it is not in a fit condition. After a shower, or before a shower, or at some such time as he that hath studied husbandry knows, then is the time to be up and doing. So while we are to work for God always, yet there are seasons when it were casting pearls before swine to talk of holy things; and there are other times when if we were slothful it would be a shameful waste of propitious seasons. Sluggards in the time for ploughing and sowing are sluggards indeed, for they not only waste the day, but throw away the year. If you watch for souls, and use hours of happy vantage, and moments of sacred softening, you will not complain of the scanty space allowed for agency. Even should you never be called to water, or to reap, your office is wide enough if you fulfil the work of the sower.

For little though it seem to teach the simple truth of the gospel, yet it is essential. How shall men hear without a teacher? The farm never brings forth a harvest without sowing. Weeds will grow without our help, but not so wheat and barley. The human heart is so depraved that it will naturally bring forth evil in abundance, and Satan is quite sure not to let it lie without a sowing of evil seed; but if ever a man’s soul is to yield fruit unto God the seed of truth must be cast into it from without. Servants of God, the seed of the word is not like thistledown, which is borne by every wind, nor like certain seeds wafted by their own parachutes here, there, and everywhere, but the wheat of the kingdom needs a human hand to sow it, and without such agency it will not enter into men’s hearts, neither can it bring forth fruit to the glory of God. The preaching of the gospel is the necessity of every age; God grant that our country may never be deprived of it. Even if the Lord should send us a famine of bread and a famine of water, may he never send us a famine of the word of God. Faith cometh by hearing, and how can there be hearing if there is no teaching? Scatter ye, scatter ye, then, the seed of the kingdom, for this is essential to the harvest. The spreading of the gospel is not a thing that ye may do or may not do, according to your pleasure, but it is a duty urgently needful, to be neglected at your peril. Ye can sow the seed, and the seed must be sown.

This seed should be sown often, for the times are such that one sowing may not suffice. Sow again and again, for many are the foes of the wheat, and if ye repeat not your sowing ye may never see a harvest. The seed must be sown everywhere, too, for there are no choice corners of the world that you can afford to let alone, in the hope that they will be self-productive. Ye may not leave the rich and intelligent under the notion that surely the gospel will be found among them, for it is not so: the pride of life leads them away from God. You may not leave the poor and illiterate, and say, “Surely they will of themselves feel their need of Christ.” Not so: they will sink from degradation to degradation unless you uplift them with the gospel. No tribe of man, no peculiar constitution of the human mind, may be neglected by us, but everywhere we must preach the word, in season and out of season. I have heard that Captain Cook, the celebrated circumnavigator, was in one respect an admirable example to us. Wherever he landed, in whatever part of the earth it might be, he took with him a little packet of divers English seeds, and he was often observed to scatter them in suitable places. He would leave the boat and wander up from the shore. He said nothing to anybody, but quietly scattered English seeds wherever he went, so that he belted the world with the flowers and herbs of his native land. Imitate him wherever you go; sow spiritual seed in every place that your foot shall tread upon. Some of you will before long be at the seaside, or amidst the mountains of Switzerland, or in some other regions of the earth, in the search of variety and beauty; carry the heavenly seeds with you, and be not satisfied unless in every place you let fall a grain or two that may bring forth fruit unto your God. This is what you can do; mind that you do it.

Let us now think of what you cannot do. You cannot, after the seed has left your hand, cause it to put forth life. I am sure you cannot make it grow, for you do not know how it grows. The text saith, “And the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how.” That which is beyond the range of our knowledge is certainly beyond the reach of our power. Can you make a seed germinate? You may place it under circumstances of damp and heat which will cause it to swell and break forth with a shoot, but the germination itself is beyond you. How is it done? We know not. After the germ has been put forth, can you make it further grow, and develop its life into leaf and stem? No; that, too, is out of your power. And when the green, grassy blade has been succeeded by the ear, can you ripen it? It will be ripened; but can you do it? You know you cannot; you can have no finger in the actual process, though you may promote the conditions under which it is produced. Life is a mystery; growth is a mystery; ripening is a mystery: and these three mysteries are as fountains sealed against all intrusion. How comes it that there is within the ripe seed the preparations for another sowing and another growth? What is this vital principle, this secret reproducing energy? Knowest thou anything about this? The philosopher may say that he can explain life and growth, and straightway he will, according to the ordinary process of philosophy, bamboozle you with terms which are less understandable than the ordinary talk of infants; and then he will say, “There is the whole matter! It is as clear as possible.” He cloaks his ignorance with learned jargon, and then calls it wisdom. To this day it still remaineth true of the growth of the commonest seeds,-“He knoweth not how.” The scientific man may talk about chemical combinations and physical permutations, and he may proceed to quote analogies from this and that; but still the growth of the seed remains a secret, it springs, “He knoweth not how.” Certainly this is true of the rise and progress of the word of God in the heart. It enters the soul, and roots itself ye know not how. Naturally men hate the word, but it enters and it changes the heart, so that they come to love it, but we know not how. Their whole nature is renewed, so that instead of producing sin it yields repentance, faith, and love, but we know not how. How it is that the Spirit of God deals with the mind of man, how he creates the new heart and the right spirit, how we are begotten again unto a lively hope, how we are born of the Spirit, we cannot tell. The Holy Ghost enters into us; we hear not his voice, we see not his light, we feel not his touch; yet he worketh an effectual work upon us, which we are not long in perceiving. We know that the work of the Spirit is a new creation, a resurrection, a quickening from the dead; but all these words are only covers to our utter ignorance of the mode of his working, with which it is not in our power to meddle. We do not know how he performs his miracles of love, and, not knowing how he works, we may be quite sure that we cannot take the work out of his hands. We cannot create, we cannot quicken, we cannot transform, we cannot regenerate, we cannot save.

This work of God having proceeded in the growth of the seed, what next? We can reap the ripe ears. After a season God the Holy Spirit uses his servants again. As soon as the living seed has produced first of all the blade of thought, and afterwards the green ear of conviction, and then faith, which is as full corn in the ear, then the Christian worker comes in for further service, for he can reap. “When the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle.” This is not the reaping of the last great day, for that does not come within the scope of the parable, which evidently relates to a human sower and reaper. The kind of reaping which the Saviour here intends is that which he referred to when he said to his disciples, “Lift up now your eyes, for behold the fields are white already to the harvest.” After he had been sowing the seed in the hearts of the Samaritans, and it had sprung up, so that they began to evince faith in him, the Lord Jesus cried, “The fields are white unto the harvest.” The apostle saith,” One soweth, and another reapeth.” Our Lord said to the disciples, “I sent you to reap that whereon ye bestowed no labour.” Is there not a promise, “in due season ye shall reap if ye faint not”?

Christian workers begin their harvest work by watching carefully to see when men evince signs of faith in Christ. They are eager to see the blade, and delighted to mark the ripening ear. They often hope that men are believers, but they long to be sure of it: and when they judge that at last the fruit of faith is put forth, they begin to encourage, to congratulate, and to comfort. They know that the young believer needs to be housed in the barn of Christian fellowship, that he may be saved from a thousand perils. No wise farmer leaves the fruit of the field long exposed to the hail which might beat it out, or the mildew which might destroy it, or the birds which might despoil it. Evidently no believing man should be left outside of the garner of holy fellowship, he should be carried into the midst of the church with all the joy which attends the home-bringing of sheaves. The worker for Christ watches carefully, and when he discerns that his time is come he begins at once to fetch in the converts that they may be cared for by the brotherhood, separated from the world, screened from temptation, and laid up for the Lord. He is diligent to do it at once, because the text saith, “immediately he putteth in the sickle.” He does not wait for months in cold suspicion; he is not afraid that he shall encourage too soon when faith is really present. He comes with the word of promise and the smile of brotherly love at once, and he says to the new believer, “Have you confessed your faith? Is not the time come for an open confession? Hath not Jesus bidden the believer to be baptized? If you love him, keep his commandments.” He does not rest till he has introduced the convert to the communion of the faithful. For our work, beloved, is but half done when men are made disciples and baptized. We have then to encourage, to instruct, to strengthen, to console, and succour in all times of difficulty and danger. What saith the Saviour? “Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I commanded you.”

The reaper is the man who gathers in the converts, and he fulfils an honourable and useful office. If I preach the gospel to-day, and some shall be converted, I shall be the sower; but if going home to the respective towns in which you live, you who have dropped in here as strangers, shall be received into the churches by your own pastors, they will be reaping what I have sown. I envy not my brother minister his success in gathering in the converts, but I rejoice with him. The sower and the reaper may well rejoice together, for our work is one, and we labour for one Lord.

Observe, then, the sphere of agency. We can introduce the truth to men, but that truth the Lord himself must bless; the living and growing of the word within the soul is the operation of God alone. When the mystic work of growth is done we are able to introduce the saved ones into the church. To bring them into the fellowship of the faithful is our work, and we must not fail to do it. For Christ to be formed in men the hope of glory is not of our working, that remains with God; but when Jesus Christ is formed in them, to discern the image of the Saviour and to say, “Come in, thou blessed of the Lord, wherefore standest thou without?” this is our duty and delight. To create the divine life is God’s, to cherish it is ours. To cause the hidden life to grow in secret is the work of the Lord; to see the uprising and perfecting of that life, and to rejoice in it is the work of the faithful, even as it is written, “when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come.”

This, then, is our first lesson; we see what we can do and what we cannot do.

Our second head is like unto the first, and consists of what we can know and what we cannot know.

First, what we can know. We can know when we have sown the good seed of the word that it will grow; for God has promised that it shall do so. Not every grain in every place; for some will go to the bird, and some to the worm, and some to be scorched by the sun; but as a general rule God’s word shall not return unto him void, it shall prosper in the thing whereto he hath sent it. This we can know. And we can know that the seed when once it takes root will continue to grow; that it is not a dream or a picture that will disappear, but a thing of force and energy, which will advance from a grassy blade to corn in the ear, and under God’s blessing will develop to actual salvation, and be as the “full corn in the ear.” God helping and blessing it, our work of teaching will not only lead men to thought and conviction, but to conversion and eternal life.

We also can know, because we are told so, that the reason for this is mainly because there is life in the word. In the word of God itself there is life, for it is written-“The word of God is quick and powerful,”-that is, “living and powerful.” It is “the incorruptible seed which liveth and abideth for ever.” It is the nature of living seeds to grow, and the reason why the word of God grows in men’s hearts is because it is the living word of the living God, and where the word of a king is there is power. We know this, because the Scriptures teach us so. Is it not written, “Of his own will begat he us by the word of truth”?

Moreover, the earth, which is here the type of the man, “bringeth forth fruit of herself.” We must mind what we are at in expounding this, for human hearts do not produce faith of themselves; they are as hard rock on which the seed perishes. But it means this,-that as the earth under the blessing of the dew and the rain is, by God’s secret working upon it, made to take up and embrace the seed, so the heart of man is made ready to receive and enfold the gospel of Jesus Christ within itself. There is a something congruous in the earth to the seed which is sown in it, so that the seed is adopted and nourished by the soil. Just so is it by the heart of man when God makes it honest and good ground. Man’s awakened heart wants exactly what the word of God supplies. Moved by a divine influence the soul embraces the truth, and is embraced by it, and so the truth lives in the heart, and is quickened by it. The man’s love accepts the love of God; man’s faith wrought in him by the Spirit of God believes the truth of God; man’s hope wrought in him by the Spirit of God lays hold upon the things revealed, and so the heavenly seed grows in the soil of the soul. The life comes not from you who preach the word, but it is placed within the word which you preach by the Holy Spirit. The life is not in your hand, but in the man himself who is led to take hold upon the truth by the Spirit of God. Salvation comes not from the personal authority of the preacher, but through the personal conviction, personal faith, and personal love of the hearer. You, the sower, are thus taught by the parable that spiritual life and growth are of God, and come by the seed and the soil far more than by you. So far as the truth is concerned, its intrinsic power is the same whoever preaches it. It is not because such and such a divine, whom God has blessed, tells out the gospel, that therefore it lives in men’s hearts. Oh, no; it is because of the truth itself, and because of the hearts themselves which receive the truth by the secret working of God’s blessed Spirit. So much as this we may know, and is it not enough for all practical purposes?

Still, there is a something which we cannot know: a secret into which we cannot pry. I repeat what I have said before, you cannot look into men’s inward parts and see exactly how the truth takes hold upon the heart, or the heart takes hold upon the truth. Many have watched their own feelings till they have become blind with despondency, and others have watched the feelings of the young till they have done them rather harm than good by their rigorous supervision. In God’s work there is more room for faith than for sight. The heavenly seed grows secretly. You must bury it out of sight, or there will be no harvest. Even if you keep the seed above ground, and it does sprout, you cannot discover how it grows; even though you microscopically watched its swelling and bursting, you could not see the inward vital force which moves the seed. Behind the veil which conceals the secret working of God in the mysteries of natural life and growth you cannot pry; and as for the divine life in man, it must for ever be hidden from all mortal eyes. The result of it you shall be able to see, and something about the way of its development you shall be able to know; but the actual modus operandi, the secret and innermost mystery of the new birth, it shall not be given to you to perceive. Thou knowest not the way of the Spirit. His work is wrought in secret, and thou canst not tell whence he cometh or whither he goeth. “Explain the new birth,” says somebody. “My answer is, “Experience the new birth, and you shall know what it is.” There are secrets into which we cannot enter, for their light is too bright for mortal eyes to endure. O man thou canst not become omniscient, for thou art a creature, and not the Creator. For thee there must ever be a region not only unknown but unknowable. So far shall thy knowledge go, but no further; and thou mayest thank God it is so, for thus he leaves room for faith, and gives cause for prayer. Cry mightily unto the Great Worker to do what thou canst not attempt to perform, that so, when thou seest the salvation of men, thou mayest give him all the glory evermore.

Thirdly, our text tells us what we may expect if we work for god, and what we may not expect. According to this parable we may expect to see fruit. The husbandman casts his seed into the ground, and the seed springs and grows, and he may expect a harvest. I wish I could say a word to stir up the expectations of Christian workers; for I fear that many work without faith. If you have a garden or a field, and you sow seed in it, you would be very greatly surprised and grieved if it did not come up at all; but many Christian people seem quite content to work on, and they never reckon upon result so much as to look for it expectantly. This is a pitiful kind of working-pulling up empty buckets by the year together. Surely I must either see a result for my labour and be glad, or else, failing to see it, I must be ready to break my heart if I be a true servant of the great Master. We ought to expect results: if we had expected more we should have seen more, but a lack of expectation has been a great cause of failure in God’s workers.

But we may not expect to see all the seed which we sow spring up the moment we sow it. Sometimes, glory be to God, we have but to deliver the word, and straightway men are converted: the reaper overtakes the sower, in such instances, but it is not always so. Some sowers have been diligent for years upon certain plots of ground, and apparently all has been in vain, till at the last the harvest has come, a harvest which, speaking after the manner of men, had never been reaped if they had not persevered to the end. This world, as I believe, is to be converted to Christ; but not to-day, nor to-morrow, peradventure not for many an age; but the sowing of the centuries is not being lost, it is all working on towards the grand ultimatum. A crop of mushrooms may soon be produced, but a forest of oaks will not reward the planter till generations of his children have mouldered into the dust. It is ours to sow, and to hope for quick reaping; but still we ought to remember that “the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain,” and so must we. We are to expect results, but not to be dispirited if we see them not to-day or on the morrow.

We are also to expect to see the good seed grow, but not always after our fashion. We are nearly all of us like children, for still there are not many fathers, and like children we are apt to be impatient. Your little boy sowed mustard and cress yesterday in his little garden. This afternoon Master Johnny will be turning over the ground to see if the seed is growing. There is no probability that his mustard and cress will come to anything, for he will not let it alone long enough for it to grow. So is it with hasty workers; they must see the result of the gospel directly, or else they will leave off, and distrust the blessed word. Although the people may have taken the word into their minds and may be considering it, certain preachers are in such a hurry that they will allow no time for thought, no space for counting the cost, no opportunity for men to consider their ways and turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart. All other seeds take time to grow but the seed of the word must grow before the speaker’s eyes like magic, or he thinks nothing has been done. Such good brethren are so eager to produce blade and ear there and then, that they roast their seed in the fire of fanaticism, and it never lives at all. They make men think that they are converted, and thus effectually hinder them from coming to a saving knowledge of the truth. I am solemnly convinced that some men are prevented from being saved by being told that they are saved already, and by being puffed up with a notion of perfection when they are not even broken in heart. Perhaps if such people had been taught to look for something deeper they might not have been satisfied with receiving seed on stony ground; but now they are content with that which comes of seed sown on unbroken rocks, they exhibit a rapid development, and an equally rapid decline and fall. Let us believingly expect to see the seed grow; but let us look to see it advance after the manner of the preacher,-firstly secondly, thirdly; first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. You are in a hurry, my brother, but it were better to exhibit the patience of principle than the heat of passion. Let all men be in a hurry to be saved, but let those who are preaching the truth be content to see men convinced of sin, delivered from self-confidence, enlightened as to the grace of God, and thus led by sure steps to faith. Some of the best of Christians do not know the exact point at which they were converted; it was a gradual process, from green blade to ripe ear, and they cannot tell exactly when the actual fruit of faith was formed in them. Some of the most thoughtful minds are not jerked on a sudden into religion, but are brought gradually into light, even as the noon of day draweth on by degrees. With many there is at first nothing but a little blade, you cannot tell whether it is not grass and grass only; their feeling looks like a natural emotion caused by the fear of hell, and this might lead to nothing effectual. Then follows a little belief, so formed as to be like the wheat-ear of faith, and yet it may be only a notion: it takes time with such persons before they show the full corn of assured faith in Jesus. Growth is often, if not generally, gradual, and shall we wish to alter God’s method of working? We may expect the seed to grow, but every soil is not equally sharp and speedy, and we must not demand of God that he shall work uniformly after the same rate of speed.

We may expect also to see the seed ripen. Our work will lead up by God’s grace to real faith in those he hath wrought upon by his word, and Spirit, but we must not expect to see it perfect at the first. How many mistakes have been made here. Here is a young person under impression, and some good sound brother talks with that young person and asks profound questions. He shakes his experienced head, and knits his furrowed brows. He goes into the corn-field to see how the crops are prospering, and though it is early in the year, he laments that he cannot see an ear of corn; indeed, he perceives nothing but mere grass. “I cannot see a trace of corn,” says he. No, brother, of course you cannot; for you will not be satisfied with the blade as an evidence of life, but must insist upon seeing everything at full growth at once. If you had looked for the blade you would have found it; and it would have encouraged you. For my own part, I am glad even to perceive a faint desire, a feeble longing, a degree of uneasiness, or a measure of weariness of sin, or a craving after mercy. Will it not be wise for you, also, to allow things to begin at the beginning, and to be satisfied with their being small at the first? See the blade of desire, and then watch for more. Soon you shall see a little more than desire; for there shall be conviction and resolve, and after that a feeble faith, small as a mustard seed, but bound to grow. Do not despise the day of small things. Do not examine the new born babe about Calvinism in its different shades, to see whether he is sound after your idea of soundness; ten to one he is a long way off sound, and you will only worry the dear heart by introducing difficult questions. Speak to him about his being a sinner, and Christ a Saviour, and you will in this way water him, so that his grace in the ear will become the full corn. It may be that there is not much that looks like wheat about him yet, but by-and-by you shall say, “Wheat! ah, that it is, if I know wheat. This man is a true ear of corn, and gladly will I place him among my Master’s sheaves.” If you crush the blades, where will the ears come from? If you cut off the green ears, where will the ripe ones be? Expect grace in your converts, but do not look to see glory in them just yet. It is enough if you see heaven begun: do not look to see it complete in them here below.

Expect, then, brethren-for you may expect it-to see a harvest, but do not expect to find every seed springing up. “There,” says one. “that is a discouraging word.” It may be so, but it is a true word. There is an old worldly proverb which saith, “Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall never be disappointed.” I do not believe in that proverb, but I believe in a moderate form of it: “Blessed are those who do not expect what is unreasonable, for they will not get it.” If you young people who begin to work for God expect that every word you speak will be useful to all who hear it, it will not happen, and you will grow discouraged; therefore I would raise your expectation as high as truth permits, and no higher. I would have you climb to the top of the ladder; but if I encourage you to go any higher you will soon be going down the other side, under the notion that you are ascending. I never like to see a man expecting what he will not obtain. Now, I know that some of our seed will fall among thorns, and some in stony places, and I do not despair when it happens to be so. I do not expect when I preach the gospel that everybody who hears it will receive it, because I know it will be a savour of life unto life to some, and of death unto death to others. I pull the net in, hauling away with all my might; but I know that when it comes to shore it will contain some queer things that are not fish, which will have to be thrown away, and I am heartily glad that there will also be in it a cheering number of good fishes. The results of our ministry in these days will be mixed, even as they were when Paul preached, and some believed and some believed not; we must be prepared for that, and yet I bid you let your expectations be very large, for you may have sixty or a hundred-fold of fruit from the seed if God be with you, and that will abundantly repay you, even if the crows and the worms should eat their share of the grain.

The last head is this, what sleep workers may take, and what they may not take; for it is said of this sowing man, that he sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed springs and grows up he knoweth not how. They say a farmer’s trade is a good one because it is going on while he is abed and asleep; and surely ours is a good trade, too, when we serve our Master by sowing good seed, for it is growing even while we are asleep.

But how may a good workman for Christ lawfully go to sleep? I answer, first, he may sleep the sleep of restfulness born of confidence. You are afraid the kingdom of Christ will not come, are you? Who asked you to tremble for the ark of the Lord? Afraid for the infinite Jehovah that his purposes will fail? Shame on you! Your anxiety dishonours your God. You degrade him by a suspicion of his failing. Shall Omnipotence be defeated? You had better sleep than wake to play the part of Uzzah. Rest patiently, God’s will will be done, and his kingdom will come, and his chosen will be saved, and Christ shall see of the travail of his soul. Take the sweet sleep which God gives to his beloved, the sleep of perfect confidence, such as Jesus slept in the hinder part of the ship when it was tossed with tempest. The cause of God never was in jeopardy, and never will be; the seed sown is insured by omnipotence, and must produce its harvest. In patience possess your soul, and wait till the harvest comes, for the pleasure of the Lord must prosper in the hands of Jesus.

Also take that sleep which leads to a happy waking of joyful expectancy. Get up in the morning and feel that the Lord is ruling all things for the accomplishment of his own purpose. Look for it. If you do not sleep you certainly will not wake up in the morning refreshed, and ready for more work. If it were possible for you to sit up all night and eat the bread of carefulness you would be unfit to attend to the service which your Master appoints for the morning; therefore take your rest and be at peace, and work with calm dignity; for the matter is safe in the Lord’s hands.

Take your rest because you have consciously resigned the work into God’s hands. After you have spoken the word resort to God in prayer, and commit it into God’s hand, and then do not fret about it. It cannot be in better keeping-leave it there.

But do not sleep the sleep of unwatchfulness. The farmer sows his seed, but he does not therefore forget it. He has to mend his fences to keep the cattle out; it may be he has to drive away birds, to remove weeds, or to prevent floods. While he is not sitting down to watch the growth, he has plenty else to do. He never sleeps the sleep of indifference or even of inaction; for each season has its demand upon him. He has sown one field, but he has another to sow. He has sown, but he has also to reap; and if reaping is done, he has something else to do. He has never done; for in one part or other of the farm he is needed. His sleep is but an interlude that gives him strength to continue in his occupations. Consider that the parable teaches us that we have not to intrude into the domain of God; but with regard to the secret working of truth upon man’s mind, we are to take our rest, and go on our way, serving our day and generation according to the will of God.

I want you, dear brethren and sisters, to come to that point this morning. “Lord, this is thy work. Lord, thou canst do thine own work. Lord, do thine own work-we entreat and beseech thee to do it. Lord, help us to do our work, both at the beginning of the chapter and at the end of the chapter, confident that thou wilt not fail in the middle of the chapter; but that thou wilt do thy work. Help us to exercise faith in thee, and to go about our labour in the confidence that thou art with us, and we are workers together with thee.” Up, brethren, to the mountain, to the brow of Carmel this afternoon, up there and pray that God will send a shower of heavenly rain by his Spirit. Up, Elijah; put your head between your knees and cry till you are certain that the cloud, though it be little at first as a man’s hand, will cover all the earth and water the land with blessing. Up and pray that God would sweep away all the doubts which, like locusts, devour the church to-day, and all love of sin and all rejection of Christ, that at this hour, even at this hour, God may glorify himself by the feeble hand of his sower while he scatters the seed. I beg your prayers, my dear and faithful friends, this afternoon, and this evening, that the word of the Lord may be divinely victorious. I stand back that God may work, and then come forward that God may work through me, and to him be praise for ever. Amen.

HEART-DISEASE CURABLE

A Sermon

Delivered on Lord’s-day Morning, June 19th, 1881, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted.”-Isaiah 61:1.

This text receives great lustre from the fact that it was one of the passages which the Saviour read when he entered into the synagogue at Nazareth and preached on the Sabbath-day. It is as fresh as ever, and we may still say of it, “This day is this Scripture fulfilled in your ears.” It is no small privilege that we poor under-shepherds should be permitted to take the same text as “that great Shepherd of the sheep.” Our care must be to point to him in it. I intended to have preached from these words in Luke 4:18, but when I looked at the Revised Version and found that the words were not there at all I was somewhat startled. I began to ask whether the omission was a correct one or not; and, without making pretence to scholarship, I feel convinced that the revisers are acting honestly in leaving it out. It was not in the original manuscript of Luke, but probably some pious person added it with the intention of making the quotation more complete. Whatever the intention may have been, and however natural the added words may appear, it is a pity that the unknown brother ventured to improve that which was perfect from the beginning. After revolving in my mind the fact, which I accept, that the passage was not written by Luke in his record, I have, I think, discovered the reason. When our Saviour unrolled the Book of Isaiah he read from it; but we are not certain that he read any one passage through. According to the Jewish law it was allowed in the prophets for the reader in the synagogue to skip, as we call it, to make selections, and read here a passage and there a passage, as he aimed at bringing out his subject. As the words are given in our Authorized Version you will notice that the portion of Scripture is not exactly like the prophetic words in Isaiah 61, and that one sentence at least must have been taken from another part of the prophetic book. The Saviour did read from Isaiah 61, but he also quoted other portions of Isaiah, probably taking a verse here and a verse there, and blending them in one, just as sometimes when I wish to give you a connected narrative I read on in a chapter, say to verse eight, and then miss a piece to verse sixteen, and again run on to verse twenty-four, and miss a few verses again. The Saviour gave a resumé of texts which stood near each other upon the roll, and Luke records those upon which our Lord dwelt in his sermon.

“But,” say you, “why, then, if it be so, did he omit the words which describe him as sent ‘to bind up the broken-hearted’?” It may possibly have been his intention to leave out all allusion to healing. They were all looking out for him to work miracles of healing that day, and, therefore, he either omitted the sentence for the moment or else he did not dwell upon it; for I take it that Luke is not giving us exactly the Scripture, but the sense of it, and those points in the Scripture upon which the Saviour enlarged. He probably gives us notes of those sentences which were both read and expounded, and the Lord may have purposely refused to expound even if he read the sentence before us: “He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted.” I say they were looking to him to work miracles of healing, and he did not mean to gratify them. We are told that “he could not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief.” He did not intend to exhibit himself as a mere wonder-worker, and hence but lightly touched upon the sentence about healing till further on, when he saw, as he read their hearts, that they noticed the omission, and he therefore said to them, “Ye will surely say, Physician, heal thyself,”-which, being paraphrased, may run thus,-“You either did not read that passage, or else you lightly treated it, and yet a part of the Messiah’s business is to heal the sick.”

He perceived that by his own silence he had called their attention to the Scripture, and that they were ready to quote it against him by the challenge, “Physician, heal thyself. Do for your own family and city what you are said to have done at Capernaum.” Our Lord paid no attention to claims based upon his dwelling in the place, for he knows no claim but that of mercy. He intended to exercise his sovereignty, and therefore he reminded them that healing was not sent to the lepers that were in Israel, but was sent only to Naaman, who had nothing to do with Israel, but was one of that Syrian nation which opposed and oppressed Israel.

Possibly he gave them nothing about healing that day, because he knew that they were not broken-hearted. He who reads men’s hearts knew that they were captives to their unbelief, blinded by prejudice, and fettered by sin, and therefore he said, “He hath sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord;” but the tenderest part of the gospel being inapplicable to their case, he would not mention it in their hearing at that time. He would not cast it like a pearl before swine; but reserved it until they should lament their sin and adopt another mood. This, it strikes me, is the reason why the passage is not mentioned in the original gospel of Luke; and, if so, the omission is most instructive. Take heed lest you also should miss the sweetest word of the gospel through being in an unfit state to receive it.

Concerning the fact of difference between the Revised and the Authorized Versions, I would say that no Baptist should ever fear any honest attempt to produce the correct text, and an accurate interpretation of the Old and New Testaments. For many years Baptists have insisted upon it that we ought to have the Word of God translated in the best possible manner, whether it would confirm certain religious opinions and practices, or work against them. All we want is the exact mind of the Spirit, as far as we can get it. Beyond all other Christians we are concerned in this, seeing we have no other sacred book; we have no prayer book or binding creed, or authoritative minutes of conference; we have nothing but the Bible; and we would have that as pure as ever we can get it. By the best and most honest scholarship that can be found we desire that the common version may be purged of every blunder of transcribers, or addition of human ignorance, or human knowledge, that so the word of God may come to us as it came from his own hand. I confess that it looks a grievous thing to part with words which we thought were part and parcel of Luke; but as they are not in the oldest copies, and must be given up, we will make capital out of their omission, by seeing in that fact the wisdom of the great Preacher, who did not speak upon cheering truths when they were not needed, and might have overlaid his seasonable rebuke.

Although we have not the sentence in Luke we have it in Isaiah, and that is quite enough for me. Indeed, if it were not in Isaiah, it is yet in other parts of the word. Its meaning pervades the Bible: it is the very genius and spirit of the Old and New Testaments, that the Messiah is sent to heal the broken-hearted. The gospel comes that the miseries of men may be assuaged, that the despair of the troubled may be cheered, and that joy may glitter on all sides like the dew of the morning when the sun ariseth.

I pray that the commission of Jesus Christ may be fulfilled this day to all the broken-hearted ones to whom the word of this message shall come. I hope there are none here who claim a right to healing; for, if so, the Lord will not listen to them. He will do as he wills with his own; for it is written, “He will have mercy on whom he will have mercy.” The men of Nazareth claimed it in the synagogue that day, because he had lived among them, and so Jesus did not speak of healing them. Jesus giveth freely, but if any man demandeth aught of him as his due, he is jealous for his crown rights, and will pay no regard to such insulting demands. His healing work is not of debt, but of grace; not granted to presumptuous demands, but frankly bestowed as a free gift.

Now turn to the text. “He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted.” Here are three matters for consideration: heart wounds; heavenly healing; and an honoured Healer.

First, let us think upon heart wounds. Many in this world live with broken hearts. Bad is a broken limb of any kind; bruised and wounded flesh is hard enough to bear; but when the fracture is in the heart, it is a sad business. Of all cases of distress, these are the most pitiable, and yet they are very frequently despised. When a man’s spirit is cowed, and his heart is crushed, and he is despairing and utterly wretched, others get away from him, for he is dreary company. As the herd leaves the wounded stag to bleed and die alone, so do men instinctively avoid the society of those who are habitually gloomy. Their own desire after happiness leads men to escape from the miserable. Be joyful and you shall attract; be sorrowful and you will scatter. Job truly says, “He that is ready to slip with his feet is as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease.” The careless, the giddy, the superficial look with horror upon those whose thoughtfulness rebukes them; while the prosperous and happy view them with reluctance because they remind them of sorrows which else they might forget. God has smitten some men, and their hearts are sore broken beneath his rod, therefore do their fellows hide their faces from them and despise them. Many blame them, and say they ought to shake off their gloom, and make an effort to be brave. I know not all they say; but certain it is that among the despised and rejected of men we find a company who carry with them heart-breaks day and night.

What wonder that they are frequently avoided. Common humanity calls us to help those who are injured in limb, and if there be an accident in the street a crowd will soon be gathered, and human kindness will exhibit itself; but if there be breakage of the heart, sympathy is soon exhausted, and love itself grows weary of her hopeless efforts to console. Those who are taught of God will help the broken-hearted, but human sympathy is soon worn out because it is conscious of its inability to succour. You can set a limb, and the bones will grow; but what can we do in the resetting of a fractured heart? So, not liking to attempt the impossible, not caring to be continually baffled, it seems to be natural even to good men to be little anxious for the company of the desolate. Thus these unhappy ones are doomed to sigh out, “Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness.” I am afraid the story of Job is more often repeated than we think. When men do come to comfort the forlorn they often become embittered by their conscious failure, and begin to upbraid, till the poor tortured creature cries out in agony, “Miserable comforters are ye all.” Therefore is the case of the broken-hearted a very hard one, because they are often despised and avoided. Happy is it for them that the Lord Jesus was sent to heal the broken-hearted.

Apart from this, it is exceedingly painful to have a broken heart. The heart is the centre of sensation, and hence its being broken involves the acutest of pangs. Sorrow hangs over the spirit in clouds which cannot be dispelled. Not only is their cup filled with sadness, but they sit by wells of sorrow. They have long forgotten the palm trees of Elim, and they are filled with the bitter waters of Marah. They rest not day nor night; how can they? No pain of the flesh can at all equal heaviness of heart. Give me all the aches and pains which my body can endure, but spare me the heart-ache: break me alive on the wheel, but let me not live to be broken-hearted, unless it be from the grand cause of penitence. “A wounded spirit who can bear?” When the arrows penetrate the soul, then the life-blood becomes as liquid fire, and the man is a mass of misery.

Besides, it weakens us, for when the heart is wounded the source of strength is impaired. A man who hath a strong heart can do anything. However weak, and feeble, and crippled, and diseased he may be in body, yet if he keeps up his spirits he can laugh at all his pains; but if the heart be crushed, what can he do? what can he hope? what can he endure? When fear is in the heart, the grasshopper becomes a burden, they that look out of the windows are darkened, and the keepers of the house do tremble. Far worse than the infirmities of old age are the miseries of a broken heart.

Ordinarily a broken heart is utterly incurable. How many times have I had to learn this lesson to my own deep humiliation. It has been my happy, happy lot to speak to broken-hearted ones and see them gradually rise to be of good cheer when my Lord has spoken through me; but apart from his presence, I have argued, pleaded, explained, and persuaded, but all in vain. I have been almost dragged down into the wretchedness from which I hoped to rescue my fellow-man; for the sympathy I have felt for the desponding has well-nigh made me despond myself. What a variety of advice physicians give, and what is the good of it all? “Take a journey,” they say, “into foreign lands; see new cities, or amuse yourself among the Alps.” Yes, but if the man carries out with him a heart weary of life, he is apt enough to bring it back with him; and what good hath he gained? “Attend the baths; resort to the best physicians; use electricity; try strong exercise.” This is all very well, for the body may need strengthening, or purifying, or arousing, or resting, but if the secret of the disease is a broken heart, and the hammer of God has smitten it, all the physicians in the world can be of no service: it shall end as with her of old, who spent all her living upon physicians and was nothing better, but rather grew worse. There is a cure for this grievous malady of which we shall speak full soon; but there is none in Gilead, or in the whole of nature’s fields. Earthly pleasures and precepts are physicians of no value. Their ointments and their liniments, their outward oils and inward medicines are all of no avail to reach the core of our being and restore the heart. Magicians may charm never so wisely, but they cannot charm the hemlock from the furrows of the soul. When the heart is broken who can rivet the shattered fragment? If there had been a remedy anywhere else, the Lord Jesus would not have left heaven to heal; but inasmuch as he came on this errand, depend upon it nobody else could have performed it.

This heart-break in the end will be fatal, if it be not healed. We are frequently reading of men who fall dead suddenly, and the certificate states that they died of disease of the heart. That is a way which physicians have of saying that they do not know what ailed the deceased. The heart is very much like Africa, a region unexplored. Mentally and spiritually it is so, and when the heart is broken true life is well-nigh gone. Existence ceases to be desirable when the spirits fail. Such morbid minds say with Job, “My soul chooseth strangling rather than life.” God grant that none may be so wicked and foolish as to end their own lives, and thus leap into the fire to escape the heat. Doubtless many have gone down to the grave, melted away in tears, dissolved in woe. Unhappy those who live refusing to be comforted, and die rejecting the one good and great Physician, who could heal them. May none of you be of that unhappy company. It is a sad story, this tale of the broken-hearted one; but in many a house it is well known. I invite you, beloved, if you do not know the disease, to pray that you never may; and if you have any friends afflicted with it, be very tender and gentle with them. I recollect the impression made upon my young heart, as a child, when I was taken to a house where there was a sad lady, always dressed in black, who said that she had committed the unpardonable sin. I remember the horror that I felt as I sat in the room with her, and wanted from very fear to get away, thinking she must be a dreadfully wicked woman. Yet she may have been one of the most gracious of Christians, and it is probable that she came out into the light again ere she departed this life. These crushed ones are often the best of people. The fairest of our lilies are often broken at the stalk. Our ripest fruit is visited by the worm. Thank God, they shall yet have beauty for ashes, and the oil of joy for mourning. Sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

We will now, for a little while, speak upon the heavenly healing. The Lord Jesus Christ has come into the world to bind up the broken-hearted, and surely it means all the broken-hearted. I do not think we have any right to restrict texts of Scripture, as we very often do, to square them to our theological systems. In this case you will hear the passage interpreted to mean the spiritually broken-hearted, and then people look within to see whether their pains are spiritual, and thus they are kept from going to Christ. I do not mind revised versions provided they really get at the original, but I do not mean to let you revise the version by putting in such qualifying words as you may think fit. What a host of revised versions we have! Everybody has one of his own. Certain texts which will not fit into our system must be planed and cut down. Have you never seen the hard work that some brethren have to shape a Scripture to their mind? One text is not Calvinistic, it looks rather like Arminianism: of course it cannot be so, and therefore they twist and tug to get it right. As for our Arminian brethren, it is wonderful to see how they hammer away at the ninth of Romans: steam-hammers and screw-jacks are nothing to their appliances for getting rid of election from that chapter. We have all been guilty of racking Scripture more or less, and it will be well to have done with the evil for ever. We had better far be inconsistent with ourselves than with the inspired word. I have been called an Arminian Calvinist or a Calvinistic Arminian, and I am quite content so long as I can keep close to my Bible. I desire to preach what I find in this Book, whether I find it in anybody else’s book or not; and as I do not find “spiritually” in my text, I shall take the liberty of giving a wide range to this broken-heartedness.

Many are broken-hearted from a sense of guilt. This is the best form of broken-heartedness in the world; when the hammer of God’s law comes down with its ten strokes, and every commandment pounds the heart to powder, it is well. When a man once hears the law of God proclaimed from burning Sinai with voice of thunder he ceases to trifle and is sore afraid. He learns that God is angry with the wicked every day; “if he turn not he will whet his sword, he hath bent his bow and made it ready,” his heart fails him as he hears this terrible declaration. Then is a man in bitterness as one that mourneth for his only son, even for his firstborn. Oh, that I should ever have lived to make my God my enemy, that ever I should have been so base, so ungrateful to my best friend! Oh, cursed heart, to have loved its idols and have hated the Most High! Some of us knew in the days of our conviction what it was to hate the light of day, and to dread the darkness of night, to long for our bed that we might sleep, and yet to toss there restlessly upon a pillow harder than Jacob’s stone. O sin! sin! sin! If its weight be once felt, if the terrors of God once break loose upon an awakened conscience, the misery reaches to agony, and the agony nears to death. But, beloved, our Lord Jesus has come to heal the anguish of the conscience by declaring that there is forgiveness with God that he may be feared, and by showing how God can be just and yet the justifier of sinners who believe. Thus is it written, “The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin”: “He that believeth in him is not condemned.” Whenever the Lord Jesus is believingly received the heart-break of remorse is ended, and the sinner rests at the foot of the cross. When the Holy Spirit applies the blood of atonement, the blood of the heart’s wound ceases to flow. The griefs of Jesus end our grief; his death is the death of our despair. Substitution is the charming word which opens the gate of hope. This form of heart-break, if it be present here this morning, is my Lord’s own specialité; in dealing with this he is altogether at home, for he delighteth in mercy. I have seen him apply the liniments to the wounds with tender, downy-fingered hand, swathing the limb with bands so soft, and yet so strong, that the gash has closed never to open again. So speedy and so sure is his surgery that the broken heart has begun to sing as soon as he has touched it. Do it again, great Master; do it at this very hour. Say, poor sinner, “Lord, do it unto me.” He can heal when all others have failed. He can heal you now.

“When wounded sore the stricken soul

Lies bleeding and unbound,

One only hand, a piercèd hand,

Can salve the sinner’s wound.”

Another brokenness of heart is felt by those who regard themselves as outcasts. Few of you have ever felt that dreadful weight upon the soul, as dreadful as a millstone about the neck. The woman whose sin may not be in God’s sight more gross than that of others is yet regarded by society as utterly fallen and defiled,-a thing to be flung from hand to hand, and cast on the dunghill as a faded flower. Words cannot describe the shudder which passes over the mind of one betrayed and deceived when she perceives that she is henceforth numbered with castaways. A like thing happens to the man who has been guilty of embezzlement, or some other form of dishonesty. He is found out, prosecuted by his employer, set before the court, and sent to prison to be henceforth a branded criminal. Ah me! How dreadful must be the waking up on the first morning in a prison cell. He who was once courted will henceforth be shunned: he is a broken man without a character, marked by all as an offcast. Ah, poor man, poor woman, Jesus receives sinners such as you. Some of us have known what it is to feel as if we were shut out from hope and from the mercy of God. We thought that he would not hear our cries; it was of no use for us to pray, so our fears told us; God could not have mercy upon such gross trangressors, he must leave us to ourselves and to our sins. We thought that he had set us up to be the targets of his arrows, and to stand, like Pharaoh, the monuments of his wrath against the proud. Yet were our fears all false, for our Lord Jesus, who came to bind up the broken-hearted, has bound up all our wounds, and we are happy in him. Fallen ones, he will restore you and give you rest. It is the glory of the Christian church that it receives into its brotherhood the fallen and the outcasts as soon as they repent. The world offers no room for repentance, but in the church all are penitents. When Jesus forms the centre of a church there will be a ring of sinners attracted. Do we not read, “Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him”? Never did he drive them back, but he welcomed them: “This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.” Listen, poor crushed one! However low you may have fallen, come to Jesus, for he will not cast you out. Come to his true servants, for it will be their joy to restore you. When the gates of respectability are shut the gates of mercy and Christian love are still open. Return, O wanderer; a welcome awaits you. Jesus will make you whiter than snow. Though you may well believe that he asks himself concerning you, “How shall I put thee among the children?” yet he will do it, for he lifteth the beggar from the dunghill.

“That Christ will receive him no sinner need fear,

The poorer the wretch the welcomer here;

Though you may be outcast and banished afar,

Your welcome is certain, come just as you are.”

Another brokenness of heart is that of utter helplessness, in which a man feels that he is too feeble to fight the battle of life. He is not only given up by others, but he has given himself up. He floats like a deserted vessel, derelict, water-logged, abandoned. Sin has beset him, he has given way to temptations, and now Satan binds him fast. Perhaps he has backslidden from the profession of religion and brought great dishonour upon the name of Christ, and now he cries, “My last end will be worse than the first. I have crucified the Lord afresh, and shall die in my sins. I neglected the means of grace, I became slack in prayer, I turned my face away from God, and now he has left me, and I cannot get back again.” Alas, for men who are bound with such fetters; the iron enters into their souls. There are some here who did run well; what did hinder them that they should not obey the truth? They have gradually slipped back, back, back, till now it is a question with them whether they ever knew the grace of God in truth at all. They are grieved to have it so, and long to be restored; but despair holds them. My gracious Lord Jesus Christ comes to you, backsliders, who are filled with your own ways, who labour and are heavy laden with the fear that you are cast away for ever, and he says, “Return, ye back-sliding children.” He will help you to return. He will draw you and you shall run to him. The love of Jesus has not changed; he loves even to the end. He will not cast away a soul that looks to him. O taste and see that the Lord is good. Return to him this morning. He will receive you graciously and love you freely, and you shall render to him again the calves of your lips as once you used to do; for Jesus healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.

Many are broken in heart because they are afflicted so heavily. When sickness first comes to our door and we are new to it, it is a very unwelcome guest. New pains are sharp, fresh griefs appear intolerable; for as yet the bullock is unaccustomed to the yoke. By-and-by we bear our woes more patiently, but at the first the man afflicted with a disease which he knows will bring him to his grave is sadly cast down; the man who sees business ebbing away, and foresees bankruptcy, and perhaps destitution, is crushed. Brother, if you receive Jesus Christ into your heart, he will ease you by teaching you a sweet submission to the divine will; he will tell you that “all things work together for good to them that love God;” he will explain to you the doctrine of providence; he will make you to consider the end of the Lord, for he is very pitiful even in his sharpest dispensations: and he will supply you with such strength of grace that you will be able to endure pain or poverty. Thus will he support you, till your heart shall become strong, and you shall bravely face the afflictions and conflicts of life.

Some are broken-hearted through bereavement. One laments, “I have lost my wife.” Another bemoans herself, “I have lost my husband;” or a third cries, “My mother is gone;” or a fourth with motherly tenderness mourns the dearest child that ever nestled in a woman’s bosom. “Alas,” cries each one, “I can never survive the stroke!” We have all endured sorrow, but bereavements are a sharp sword. Friends can do little to fill up the great gap which death has made. Ah, it is indeed an aching void which is left in an affectionate heart when the dear object of love is torn away. The best of people in this respect suffer most. Herein is comfort from Jesus. The blessed doctrine of the resurrection cheers the darkness of the sepulchre. Jesus says, “Thy brother shall rise again.” The blessed thought of the eternal felicity of those that we fain would have detained below is a sweet recompense for their loss. We remember our Lord’s prayer,-“I will that they also whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory.” Sometimes in prospect of losing our beloved ones we pull very hard earthward, and cry, “Father, I will that they be with me where I am.” Did you ever feel a pull the other way, and start, and look to see who pulls heaven-ward. You watch and see that it is Jesus praying, “Father, I will that they be with me where I am.” Whenever Christ and you come to cross, purposes I know you will yield, for you will gladly own that the dear ones are more Christ’s than yours. Let them go. Jesus, we can part with all for thee. It is no parting, when we know that our beloved are with thee. Thus doth Jesus, who himself wept for Lazarus, heal broken hearts whose joy is buried with those they loved so well.

There are many other forms of this disease. I have known hearts to be thoroughly broken by desertion. One whom you loved and trusted proves false, and the early love of a true heart is broken like a potter’s vessel. What desolation fills many a soul that once was blithe as the birds; for treachery wasteth like the scourge of war. When a choice friend betrays you, or a professed brother in Christian work, who ought to have held up your hands, weakens and opposes you, it is a blow upon the heart as when a bone is broken by the hammer. Yet is there consolation; for he who had his Judas and bitterly cried, “He that cateth bread with me hath lifted up his heel against me,” and he knows how to bind up such a broken heart, for he becomes a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, and he makes us feel in the sweet tenderness and faithfulness of his divine companionship that we are not alone, for the Lord is with us. He is better unto us than ten friends. So long as his smile makes sunshine on our way, Ahithophel may join our enemies, and Judas may sell us for silver; but we are secure, for he will make the wrath of man to praise him, and neutralize its gall by the sweetness of his company.

I am certain that there is no form of broken heart present but what there is medicine for it in the Word of God, and in Jesus who is the word. The leaves of this tree are for the healing of nations. Christ Jesus brings a cure-all to those who are else incurable. In his dispensary there are remedies compounded by divinest art which will touch the heart and act upon it like a charm, till it shall throb with pleasure as much as it now palpitates with anguish. This is no quackery. His is a scientific system of surgery which has borne the test of ages, and has been proved by the experience of countless sufferers to be infallible. Here we stand, ourselves, living witnesses of his skill. He hath bound us up, and we are now saved from heartache, and made to praise him with our whole heart.

Our third theme is the honoured physician, and this is the central point of the text. Jesus saith, “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted.” Observe, first, that this honoured Physician gives personal attendance to the broken-hearted. He says, “He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted.” Daniel said, “My God hath sent his angel and shut the lions’ mouths;” but as for you broken-hearted ones, you receive personal attendance from your Lord. The Lord hath sent Jesus Christ himself because the task needs a divine hand. The Lord’s servants without their Lord can do no more than the staff of Elisha did when Gehazi laid it upon the dead child, but there was neither voice nor hearing. The great prophet himself is coming, and wonders will be seen among us. He is here at this moment in his own proper person, and he will not fail in any case that is brought to him. Many a great physician has so much practice that he is compelled to take a partner or an assistant, but my Lord is able to do all his work, and none can interfere in it. Jesus himself personally, with his own pierced hands, continues to bind up the broken-hearted. Does not this fact tend to comfort you already? If Jesus undertakes to uplift you it will be done. He is the consolation of Israel, appointed to comfort all that mourn. Come, old Simeon, take him up in your arms, and forget the infirmities of age! Come, widowed Anna, and give thanks to God for him who is the husband of the lonely heart! He will himself wipe all tears from the eyes of his people, and he will do it now. O you who in your youth are bearing the yoke of grief, and declare that your life is blighted, say so no more; for Jesus comes to help you, even he himself. Remember the record, “Then were the disciples glad when they saw the Lord:” the same sight shall gladden you.

This physician is fully qualified. He is called Christos, or Christ, which signifies anointed; “The Lord hath anointed me.” I am sure that Jesus can cure broken hearts, because God has given him the Spirit, even the Comforter, to rest upon him without measure, that his words may drop with the oil of comfort. O, trust him now. He has all the fitness for his work that God can give him. He is complete, and we are complete in him. A broken heart needs oil to be poured into its wounds, and “Christ” is an oily name: he is christened a Saviour, anointed a healer. The good Samaritan poured in oil and wine; but here is heavenly oil in the hands of one who is himself the health of our countenance.

As if this were not enough, notice that our Lord is commissioned. “He has sent me,” he says. First, “anointed me”; then, “sent me.” Our Lord said to the blind man, Go and wash in the Pool of Siloam, which is, being interpreted, sent. How I wish that you who are broken-hearted would go and wash in this pool, and find comfort in the blessed fact that the anointed is sent of God to you. The Great Father thought so much of you that he sent a special messenger to heal you; yea, sent the best one there was in heaven, to be a missionary to you. No other was fit to be second to him; but God emptied heaven of its superlative glory and sent his own Son down below that he might bind up broken hearts. I cannot imagine a failure of this Messiah-the sent one. This is the Shiloh for whose salvation Jacob waited, looking for him who should be sent. This is the Apostle, or sent one of our profession, sent on purpose that he might comfort all the heirs of sorrow. Jesus is carrying on a mission, a mission for the desolate. He is a missionary to the forlorn, commissioned to commiserate, appointed to relieve. Observe, then, his qualifications and his commission. He bears a diploma of the highest value. He is the royal physician; surgeon in ordinary to all bleeding hearts; O that you would put your mournful cases into his hands.

Remember also what he is in person and character, and I think you will at once say, “I will submit my broken heart to him, that he may heal me.” For Jesus, your Physician, is one who knows heartbreak by having felt it. He said, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death.” I will tell you one of the most terrible tormentors in the world, excelling even an Inquisitor,-it is an unfeeling comforter. Save me from a man who comes to console me wearing a face of marble and a heart of stone. His words put grit into your wounds, or what if I say-salt? Job knew this dreadful affliction. Look, then, at the reverse of the picture: the surest comforter is one who is touched with a feeling of our infirmity, seeing he was tempted in all points like as we are. “No,” says the broken heart, “Christ never knew my pain.” Ah, but he did. What is it? That you have been slandered? Jesus cries, “Reproach hath broken my heart.” Is it that you are forsaken by friends? Is it not written, “Then all the disciples forsook him and fled”? Is it that you are forsaken by God? Did not Jesus cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me”? Is it that your cup is bitter? Did he not pray thrice that the cup might pass from him, and still the cup was not removed? He leads you through no darker rooms than he went through before, and in all he is so tenderly sympathetic with you that he is the best Physician you can desire.

Besides, how gentle he is, as a mother with her child; meek and lowly in heart, considerate, tender; there was never one like to him. He hath soft fingers for sore places, sweet liniment for sharp cuts, and precious balm for bleeding wounds. The oil with which he was anointed hath both perfume and unguency about it; it is so sweet that those who are far away may perceive it, and it is so rare an unguent that it works its way and touches wounds which nothing else could reach. Jesus hath great skill in bringing light into the dreary recesses of darkened minds.

Oh that you knew my Master. If you had seen him as my broken heart saw him on my first spiritual birthday, when I heard the word that saith, “Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth”;

I say, if you had seen him as I then saw him you would have rushed to his feet for healing. I was at the ends of the earth: I thought I was ready to slip over the bounds altogether, and sink into the abyss; but in obedience to his command, I looked. It was the dim look of a half-blinded eye; I looked through my tears, but hardly hoped to see him. Still I looked: I turned my eyes that way, and I resolved that if I were lost it should be lying at Jesus’ feet. I believed he was able to save me, and I left myself with him, and he has done great things for me, to which I cheerfully bear witness. He keeps on blessing me, and he will complete his work ere long. I know whom I have believed, and I rest in him. O dear hearts that are breaking, I wish you would do as I did: I would to God the same grace would lead you at once to fall at my Lord’s feet. Swoon away into Christ’s arms. Do not try to get stronger: be weaker, if weaker you can be. Be nothing, and let him be your all: die into his life.

Come, broken-hearted ones, do not try to bind yourselves up: you will only wound yourselves the more. Do not look for comfort into the black and horrible abyss of your own nature, but look to him whom God hath sent. Get right away from what you are to what he is. Have you a legion of devils in you? He is the devils’ Master, and can turn them all out at once. Does the very Satan seem to hold you in his grip? He who of old hath fought the fiend and vanquished him will lead your captivity captive and take the prey from the mighty. If you must despair, despair yourself into Christ: I mean by that self-despair which is the next of kin to humble faith in Jesus drop into his hand. Faint upon Christ’s bosom and lie there in happy helplessness. May the Lord disable you for anything else, and lead you to believe in his Anointed. God has sent you Jesus; will you not admit him? He is able to save to the uttermost them that come unto God by him. Come, then, at once and believe in him whom God hath sent.

Portions of Scripture read before Sermon-Isaiah 61, Luke 4:16-30 (Revised Version).