Note well that in the seventeenth verse Paul had renounced the “wisdom of words.” He says that he was sent to preach the gospel, “not with wisdom of words, lest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect.” It is very clear, therefore, that there is an excellence, elegance, and eloquence of language which would deprive the gospel of its due effect. I have never yet heard that the cross of Christ was made of none effect by great plainness of speech, nor even by ruggedness of language; but it is the “wisdom of words” which is said to have this destroying power. Oh, dreadful wisdom of words! God grant that we may be delivered from making attempts at it, for we ought earnestly to shun anything and everything which can be so mischievous in its influence as to make the cross of Christ of none effect.

The “wisdom of words” works evil at times by veiling the truth which ought to be set forth in the clearest possible manner. The doctrine of atonement by blood, which is the essence of the preaching of the cross, is objectionable to many minds, and hence certain preachers take care not to state it too plainly. Prudently, as they call it,-craftily, as the apostle Paul would call it, they tone down the objectionable features of the great sacrifice, hoping by pretty phrases somewhat to remove the “offence of the cross.” Proud minds object to substitution, which is the very edge of the doctrine; hence theories are adopted which leave out the idea of laying sin upon the Saviour, and making him to be a curse for us. Self-sacrifice is set forth as possessing a high, heroic influence by which we are stimulated to self-salvation, but the Lord’s suffering as the just for the unjust is not mentioned. The cross in such a case is not at all the cross by which self-condemned sinners can be comforted, and the hardened can be subdued, but quite another matter. Those who thus veil an unwelcome truth imagine that they make disciples, whereas they are only paying homage to unbelief, and comforting men in their rejection of the divine propitiation for sin. Whatever the preacher may mean in his heart, he will be guilty of the blood of souls if he does not clearly proclaim a real sacrifice for sin.

Too often the “wisdom of words” explains the gospel away. It is possible to refine a doctrine till the very soul of it is gone; you may draw such nice distinctions that the true meaning is filtered away. Certain divines tell us that they must adapt truth to the advance of the age, which means that they must murder it and fling its dead body to the dogs. It is asserted that the advanced philosophy of the nineteenth century requires a progressive theology to keep abreast of it; which simply means that a popular lie shall take the place of an offensive truth. Under pretence of winning the cultured intellects of the age, “the wisdom of words” has gradually landed us in a denial of those first principles for which the martyrs died. Apologies for the gospel, in which the essence of it is conceded to the unbeliever, are worse than infidelity. I hate that defence of the gospel which razes it to the ground to preserve it from destruction.

The “wisdom of words,” however, is more frequently used with the intent of adorning the gospel, and making it to appear somewhat more beautiful than it would be in its natural form. They would paint the rose and enamel the lily, add whiteness to snow and brightness to the sun. With their wretched candles they would help us to see the stars. O superfluity of naughtiness! The cross of Christ is sublimely simple; to adorn it is to dishonour it. There is no statement under heaven more musical than this: “God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them”: all the bells that you could ring to make it more harmonious would only add a jingle jangle to its heavenly melody, which is in itself so sweet that it charms the harpers before the throne of God. The doctrine that God descended upon the earth in human nature, and in that nature bore our sins, and carried our sorrows, and made expiation for our transgressions by the death of the cross, is in itself matchless poetry, the perfection of all that is ennobling in thought and creed. Yet the attempt is made to decorate the gospel, as though it needed somewhat to commend it to the understanding and the heart. The result is that men’s minds are attracted from the gospel either to the preacher or to some utterly indifferent point. Hearers carry home charming morsels of poetry, but they forget the precious blood; they recollect the elaborate metaphors so daintily wrought out, but they forget the five wounds, and fail to look unto the Lord Jesus and be saved. The truth is buried under flowers. Brethren, let us cut out of our sermons everything that takes men’s minds away from the cross. One look at Jesus is better than the most attentive gazing at our gems of speech. One of the old masters found that certain vases which he had depicted upon the sacramental table attracted more notice than the face of the Lord, whom he had painted sitting at the head of the feast, and therefore he struck them out at once: let us, my brethren, do the same whenever anything of ours withdraws the mind from Jesus. Christ must ever be in the foreground, and our sermons must point to him, or they will do more harm than good. We must preach Christ crucified, and set him forth like the sun in the heavens, as the sole light of men.

Some seem to imagine that the gospel does not contain within itself sufficient force for its own spreading, and therefore they dream that if it is to have power among men it must either be through the logical way in which it is put-in which case all glory be to logic, or through the handsome manner in which it is stated-in which case all glory be to rhetoric. The notion is current that we should seek the aid of prestige, or talent, or novelty, or excitement; for the gospel itself, the doctrine of the cross, is in itself impotent in its hands and lame upon its feet, and must be sustained by outside power, and carried as by a nurse whithersoever it would go. Reason, elocution, art, music, or some other force must introduce and support it, or it will make no advance-so some injuriously dream. That is not Paul’s notion; he speaks of the cross of Christ as being itself the power of God, and he says that it is to be preached “not with wisdom of words,” lest the power should be attributed to the aforesaid wisdom of words, and the cross of Christ should be proven to have in itself no independent power, or, in other words, to be of none effect. Paul would not thus degrade the cross for a moment, and, therefore, though qualified to dispute with schoolmen and philosophers, he disdained to dazzle with arguments and sophistries; and, though he himself could speak with masterly energy-let his epistles bear witness to that-yet he used great plainness of speech, that the force of his teaching might lie in the doctrine itself, and not in his language, style, or delivery. He was jealous of the honour of the cross, and would not spread it by any force but its own, even as he says in the fourth and fifth verses of the second chapter of this epistle-“My speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power: that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.”

Having cleared our way of the wisdom of words, we now come to the word of wisdom. Paul preached the cross, and our first head shall be the word of the cross. Many give the cross a bad word, and so our second head shall be the word of its despisers concerning it, they called it foolishness: and then, thirdly, we will think upon the word applied to the cross by those who believe it; it is to them “the power of God.” O that the Holy Spirit may use it as the power of God to all of us this day.

First, then, we speak upon “the word of the cross.” I borrow the term from the Revised Version, which runs thus:-“The word of the cross is to to them that are perishing foolishness, but unto us who are being saved it is the power of God.” This is, to my mind, an accurate translation. The original is not “the preaching of the cross,” but “the word of the cross.” This rendering gives us a heading for our first division and at the same time brings before us exactly what the gospel is, it is “the word of the cross.”

From which I gather, first, that the cross has one uniform teaching, or word. We are always to preach the word of the cross, and the cross hath not many words, but one. There are not two gospels any more than there are two Gods: there are not two atonements any more than there are two Saviours. There is one gospel as there is one God, and there is one atonement as there is one Saviour. Other gospels are not tolerated among earnest Christians. What said the apostle, “If we or an angel from heaven preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be candidly heard and quietly fraternized with.” Nothing of the sort. I will quote the Scripture. Paul saith, “Let him be accursed.” He has no more tolerance than that for him, for Paul loved the souls of men, and for to tolerate spiritual poison is to aid and abet the murder of souls. There is no gospel under heaven, but the one gospel of Jesus Christ. But what about other voices and other words? They are not voices from heaven, nor words from God, for he hath not in one place spoken one thing, and in another place another; neither is it according to the spirit of the gospel that there should be one form of gospel for the first six centuries, and then another mood of it for the nineteenth century. Is it not written, “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever”? If the atonement were in progress, if the great sacrifice were not complete, then I could understand that there should be progress in the preaching of it; but inasmuch as “It is finished” was pronounced by Christ upon the tree, and then he bowed his head and gave up the ghost, there can be no further development in the fact or in the doctrine. Inasmuch as the word of the Lord which describes that atonement is so complete that he that addeth thereunto shall have the plagues that are written in this book added unto him, I gather that there is no such thing as a progressive word of the cross, but that the gospel is the same gospel to-day as it was when Paul in the beginning proclaimed it. The word of the cross, since it is the express word of God, endureth for ever. Generations of men come and go like yearly growths of the grass of the field, but the word of the Lord abideth evermore the same in all places, the same to all nationalities, the same to all temperaments and constitutions of the mind. “Other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid.”

From that word I gather, next, that the doctrine of the atonement is one word in contradistinction from many other words which are constantly being uttered. We preach Christ crucified, and his voice from the cross is, “Look unto me and be ye saved”; but another voice cries aloud, “This do and thou shalt live.” We know it, it is the voice of the old covenant which the Lord Jesus hath removed, taking away the first covenant that he may establish the second. The doctrine of salvation by works, salvation by feelings, salvation by outward religiousness, is not the word of the cross, which speaketh in quite another fashion. The call to salvation by works is a strange voice within the fold of the church, and the sheep of Christ do not follow it, for they know not the voice of strangers. The word of the gospel speaketh on this wise-“The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart: that is, the word of faith, which we preach; that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.” “Believe and live” is the word of the cross.

Much less do we regard the word of ceremonialism and priestcraft which still lingers among us. We had thought it was a dull echo of the dead past, but, alas, it is a powerful voice, and is constantly lifting up itself. Priestcraft is crying, “Confess to me and thou shalt have forgiveness. Perform this ceremony, and undergo the other rite, and thou shalt receive a sacred benediction through men ordained of heaven.” This voice we know not, for it is the voice of falsehood. He that believeth in Christ Jesus hath everlasting life: we are complete in him, and we know nothing of any priest save that one High Priest, who, by his one sacrifice, hath perfected for ever them that are set apart. Voices here and there are heard like mutterings from among the tombs; these are the maunderings of superstition, saying, “Lo, here,” and “Lo, there,” and one man hath this revealed to him, and another that; but to none of these have we any regard; for God hath spoken, and our preaching henceforth is nothing but “the word of the cross,” which is none other than the word of the crucified Son of God who loved us and gave himself for us.

Brethren, let us hear this word of the cross, for in effect my text says, “Let the cross speak for itself.” That is to be our preaching. We bid reasoning and speculation hold their tongues that the cross itself may speak. We let the cross speak its own word.

First, it cries aloud, God must be just. The dreadful voice of justice in its certainty and severity rings through the world in the sighs and cries and death-groans of the Son of the Highest. Jesus has taken man’s sin upon himself, and he must die for it, for be sin where it may, God must smite it. The Judge of all the earth must do right, and it is right that sin should involve suffering. Supreme justice must visit iniquity with death: and therefore Jesus on the cross, though in himself perfectly innocent and unspeakably lovely, must die the death, deserted by his Father because the iniquity of us all has been made to meet upon him. The cross cries unto the sons of men, “Oh, do not this abominable thing which God hates, for he will by no means spare the guilty.” God must make bare mine arm, and bathe his sword in heaven to smite sin wherever it is found, for he smites it even when it is imputed to his only Son! The cross thunders more terribly than Sinai itself against human sin. How it breaks men’s hearts to hear its voice! How it divides men from their sins, even as the voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon and rends the rock in pieces! If God smites the perfect One who bears our sin, how will he smite the guilty one who rejects his love?

Let the cross speak again, and what does it say with even louder voice? God loves men, and delights in mercy. Though he loveth righteousness and hateth wickedness, yet he loves the sons of men, so much so that he gives his only Begotten to die that sinners may live. What more could God have done to prove his love to mankind? “God commendeth his love to us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” The love within that glorious deed needs no telling, it tells itself. God had but one Son, one with himself by mystic union, and he sent him here below to take our nature, that, being found in fashion as a man, he might die on our behalf, made sin for us that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him might not perish, but have everlasting life.” The word of the cross is, “God is love”; he willeth not the death of the sinner, but that he turn unto him and live.

What next does the cross say? Mark, we are not speaking of the crucifix. The crucifix represents Christ on the cross, but he is not on the cross any longer, he has finished his sacrificial work and has ascended to his glory. If he were still on the cross he could not save us. We now preach the cross as that on which he died who now liveth and reigneth full of ability to save. Let the bare cross speak, and it declares that the one sacrifice is accepted and the atonement is complete. Sin is put away, the work of reconciliation is accomplished, and Jesus hath gone up on high unto his Father’s throne to plead for the guilty. Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more, death hath no more dominion over him: he is risen for our justification, and we are accepted in him.

“No more the bloody spear,

The cross and nails no more,

For hell itself shakes at his name,

And all the heavens adore.”

Let the cross speak and it tells of ransom paid and atonement accepted. The law is magnified, justice is satisfied, mercy is no longer bound by the unsatisfied demands of judgment. “God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation,” which also is the word of the cross.

When we let the cross speak still further we hear it say-Come and welcome! Guilty sons of men, come and welcome to the feast of mercy, for God hath both vindicated his law and displayed his love, and now for the chief of sinners there is free and full forgiveness to be had-to be had for nothing, for the cross gives priceless blessings without price: “Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” Free pardon, free justification, perfect cleansing, complete salvation, these are gifts of grace bestowed upon the unworthy so soon as they believe in Christ Jesus and trust themselves with him. This is the word of the cross; what more can we desire to hear? We may be forgiven in a way which shall not violate the claims of justice. God is just, and yet the justifier of him that believeth. He is merciful and just to forgive us our sins. Oh that I knew how to be quite still, and to let the cross itself speak out with its matchless tones of mercy and majesty, love and blood, death and life, punishment and pardon, suffering and glory. It speaks in thunder and in tenderness. If we will but listen to what it hath to say it is a word by which the inmost heart of God is revealed.

Now speak I yet further the word of the cross, for in the name of him that did hang upon the cross I call for faith in his atonement. The death of Christ was no ordinary matter: the dignity of his nature made it the event of the ages. He who died on the cross was very God of very God, as well as man, and his sacrifice is not to be neglected or rejected with impunity. Such a divine marvel demands our careful thought and joyful confidence. To do despite to the blood of the Son of God is to sin with a vengeance. God demands faith in his Son, and especially in his Son dying for our sakes. We ought to believe every word that God has spoken, but above all the word of the cross. Shall we doubt the good faith and love of God when he gives his Son a hostage for his word, and offers up the Only-begotten as the token of his grace! Oh, men, whatever ye trifle with, disregard not the Son of God! Whatever presumption ye commit, yet trample not upon the cross of Jesus. This is the highest thought of God, the centre of all his counsels, the topmost summit of the mighty alp of divine lovingkindness. Do not think little of it or turn away from it. I beseech you, nay command you, in the name of him that liveth and was dead, look to the dying Saviour and live: if ye do not so ye shall answer for it in that day when he shall come upon the clouds of heaven to avenge him of his adversaries. Thus have I set before you the word of the cross; may the Holy Ghost bless the message.

We have the unpleasant task, in the second place, of listening to the word of its despisers. They call the doctrine of the atonement “foolishness.” Numbers of men call the doctrine of salvation by the blood of Christ “foolishness.” It is most assuredly the wisdom of God, and the power of God, but they stick at the first assertion and will not acknowledge the wisdom of the wondrous plan, it is therefore no wonder that they never feel its power. No, it is foolishness to them; a thing beneath their contempt. And why foolishness? “Because,” say they, “see how the common people take it up. Everybody can understand it. You believe that Jesus is a substitute for you, and you sing with the poorest of the poor-

‘I do believe, I will believe

That Jesus died for me;

And on the cross he shed his blood

From sin to set me free.’ ”

“There,” say they, “that’s a pretty ditty for educated men. Why, the very children sing it, and are able to believe it, and talk of it. Psha, it is sheer foolishness! We don’t want anything so vulgar and commonplace. Don’t you know that we take in a high-class review, and read the best thought of the times? You don’t suppose we are going to believe just as common ploughboys and servant girls may do?” Ah me! How mighty wise some people think themselves! Is every truth which can be understood by simple minds to be thrown aside as foolishness? Is nothing worth knowing except the fancy thinking of the select portion of humanity? Are the well-known facts of nature foolishness because they are open to all? Is it quite certain that all the wisdom in the world dwells with the superfine gentlemen who sneer at everything and take in a review? These superficial readers of superior literature, are they the umpires of truth? I wish that their culture had taught them modesty. Those who glorify themselves and sneer at others are usually not wise, but otherwise; and those who call other people fools may be looking in the glass, and not out of the window. He who is truly wise has some respect for others, and the profoundest respect for the word of God.

But why is it that you count the gospel of the cross to be foolishness? It is this: because this religion of ours, this doctrine of the cross, is not the offspring of reason, but the gift of revelation. All the thinkers of the ages continued to think, but they never invented a plan of salvation in which divine justice and mercy should be equally conspicuous. The cross was not in all their thoughts. How could it be? As a thought it originated with the infinite mind, and could have originated nowhere else. The doctrine of the cross is not a speculation, but a revelation: and for this reason the learned ones cannot endure it. It is God telling men something which they could not else have known, and this suits not the profound thinkers, who cannot bear to be told anything, but must needs excogitate everything, evolving it from their inner consciousness, or from the depths of their vast minds. Now, inasmuch as nothing can come out of a man that is not in him, and as the supreme love of God never was in such an unlovely thing as an unregenerate man, it happens that the doctrine of atonement never originated with man but was taught to him by God at the gates of Eden. The plan which blends vengeance and love, was never invented by human imagination. Since man has such an aversion to the great atonement, he could not have been the author of the idea, and he was not the author of it; God alone reveals it in language that babes may understand and therefore carnal pride calls it “foolishness.”

Besides, the carnal man thinks it foolishness because it makes him out to be a fool, and you may take my word for it that anything which proves either you or me to be a fool will at once strike us as being very foolish. Our conscience is dull, and therefore we retaliate upon those who tell us unpleasant truth. “Why, am I nobody after all? I, bound in the best black cloth, and wearing a white cravat? So religious and so respectable, so thoughtful, so studious, so profound, am I to be nobody? Do you dare to say to me, ‘Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom’! My dear sir, you cannot know what you are talking about. Why, I am a professor, a philosopher, a doctor of divinity, and therefore you cannot really mean that I am to receive truth as a little child! Such talk is foolishness.” Of course they say so. We always reckoned that they would say so. I have rejoiced when I have read the sceptical papers, and have seen how they sneer at the old-fashioned gospel. The Bible said that carnal men could not receive spiritual things; how truthful is its statement! It is written, “There shall come in the last days scoffers.” Here they are, hastening to prove by their conduct the things which they deny. One is grieved that any should scoff, and yet in a measure we are rejoiced to find such confirmation of truth from the lips of her enemies. As long as the world lasts ungodly men will despise a revelation which they are unable to understand; it is beyond their sphere, and therefore its preachers seem to be babblers and its doctrines to be foolishness.

But, in very deed, it may well seem foolishness to them, for it treats on subjects for which they have no care. If I were able to explain to a general audience how to make unlimited profit upon the Stock Exchange, or in some other market, all the world would listen with profound attention; and if I put my point clearly I should be pronounced a really clever preacher, a man well worth hearing; but when the sermon is only about the word of God, and eternity, and the soul, and the blood of Jesus-most people turn on their heel; they are not sure that they have souls, and they refuse to argue upon the supposition of a future existence, which is an old wife’s fable to them. As for eternity their philosophy has no room for it, and they do not concern themselves about it. One said in argument the other day, “I believe I shall die like a dog.” I could give him no better reply on the spur of the moment than to say, “If I had known that you were a dog I would have brought you a bone.” As I had the notion that he would live for ever I came to talk to him upon subjects suitable to an immortal being, but as I found out that he was going to die like a dog, what could I do for him but provide such cheer as the creature could enjoy? These men call the gospel foolishness because they look after the main chance, and care more for the body than for the soul. One of their wise men said, “Why do you preach so much about the world to come, why not preach about the world which now is? Teach these people how to ventilate their sewers, that is a much more needful matter than their believing on Jesus.” Well, sanitary matters are important, and if any of you feel that you have nothing to live for but ventilating sewers I wish you would live at a great rate, and get it done as quickly as you can. Meanwhile, as we are convinced of the need of other things besides drainage, and as many of us expect soon to take our happy flight to a place where there are no sewers to ventilate, we shall look into those things which concern our future life, seeing they also fit us for the life which now is.

They call the word of the cross foolishness, because they regard all the truths with which it deals as insignificant trifles. “Soul!” say they, “what matters whether we have a soul or not? Sin-what is it but the blunder of a poor creature who knows no better?” Of all things, the eternal God is the greatest trifle to unbelieving men. It is merely a name to swear by, that is all. They admit that there may be a great master force in nature, or an energy co-extensive with the existence of matter, hence they allow Theism or Pantheism, but they will not endure a personal God whom they are bound to obey. Theism and pantheism are only masks for atheism. These men will have no personal God who loves them, and whom they love. God is a nonentity to them, and therefore when we speak of God as real, and sin as real, and heaven as real-and God knoweth they are the only real things-then straightway they mutter “Foolishness.” As for us, we deplore their folly, and pray God to teach them better. Having entered by a new birth into the realm of spiritual things we know the reality and power of the word of the cross.

Now, brethren, I say of these gentlemen who pronounce the gospel foolishness that you need not take much notice of them, because they are not capable witnesses, they are not qualified to form a judgment upon the subject. I do not depreciate their abilities in other respects, but it is certain that a blind man is no judge of colours, a deaf man is no judge of sound, and a man who has never been quickened into spiritual life can have no judgment as to spiritual things. How can he? I, for instance, have felt the power of the gospel, and I assert that I have done so. Another man declares that I am not speaking the truth. Why not? Because he has not himself felt that power. Is that sound reasoning? Have you not heard of the Irishman who, when five men swore that they saw him commit a theft, made answer that he could produce fifty people who did not see him do it. Would there have been any force in that negative evidence? And what if all the world except two men should say, “We do not feel the power of the cross,” would that be any evidence against the fact asserted by the two? I trow not. Two honest men who witness to a fact are to be believed, even though twenty thousand persons are unable to bear such witness. The unspiritual are incapable witnesses; they put themselves out of court, for at the outset they assert that they are not cognizant of those things concerning which we bear testimony. Their assertion is that they never were the subjects of spiritual influences, and we quite believe what they say; but we do not believe them when they go further, and assert that therefore what we have seen, and tasted, and handled is all a delusion. Concerning that matter they are not capable witnesses.

And I beg you to notice that those who call the gospel of the cross folly are themselves, if rightly looked at, proofs of their own folly and of the sad results of unbelief. The Christians in Paul’s days felt that the gospel had emancipated them from the bondage of idolatry and vice, and when they heard others that were captives under these delusions telling them that the emancipating force was foolishness, they looked at them, and smiled at the absurdity of the statement. They noticed that such men were themselves perishing. What a calamity it is for a man to be perishing! A house is unoccupied, its floor is untrodden, its hearth knows no genial glow. It suffers from neglect, it is perishing. Men who are not living to God are missing the end of their being, and like deserted houses are falling into ruin: they are perishing. While unoccupied by good, such minds are surrounded by powers of evil. Yonder is a tree, I have seen many such: around its trunk the ivy has twisted itself, grasping it like a huge python, and crushing it in its folds. The tree is perishing, its very life is being sucked out by the parasite that grasps it. Multitudes of men have about them lusts and sins, and errors that are eating out their life-they are perishing. Their souls and characters are as timber devoured by dry rot, it remains in the fabric of the house, but it is perishing. Ungodly men are devoured by their own pride, eaten up by self-confidence. Unbelieving men are comparable to a ship that is drifting to destruction: it has snapped its cable, it is nearing the rocks, it will be broken to pieces, it is perishing! Those that believe not in Jesus are drifting towards a sure immortality of misery, they are daily perishing; and yet while they perish, they condemn the means of rescue. Fancy drowning mariners mocking at the life-boat! Imagine a diseased man ridiculing the only remedy. That which we have tried and proved they call “foolishness”: we have only to answer them, “Ye are yourselves, as ye remain captives to your sins, the victims of foolishness. Ye are yourselves, as ye waste your lives, as ye drift to destruction, proofs that the foolishness is not in the cross, but in you that reject it.” The preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness, but to nobody else. O that their hearts were changed by the power of the word, then would they see all wisdom in the word of the cross.

We come, in the third place, to notice the word of those who believe. What do they say of the cross? They call it power, the power of God. The more we study the gospel the more we are surprised at the singular display of wisdom which it contains; but we will not say much upon that point, for we are not qualified to be judges of wisdom. But we do say this, the word of the cross is power; it has been the power of God to us, it has worked upon us as nothing else has ever done. Its work upon many of us has been so remarkable that even onlookers must have been surprised at it.

The phenomenon of conversion is a fact. Men and women are totally changed, and the whole manner of their life is altered. It is of no use to deny the fact, for instances of it come before us every day; unbelievers become devout, the immoral become pure, the dishonest become upright, the blasphemous become gracious, the unchaste become holy. Evil ways are on a sudden deserted, and penitents struggle towards virtue. We see persons in all ranks of society undergoing a radical transformation,-self-satisfied people are humbled by the discovery of their unworthiness, and others who were steeped in immorality renounce their vicious pleasures and seek happiness in the service of God. How do you account for this? We who are the subjects of such a change account for it in this way,-it is wrought by the doctrine of the cross, and the power which accomplishes the change is the power of God. No force less than divine could have effected so great a change. The word of the cross has delivered us from the love of sin: no sin is now our master, we have broken every fetter of evil habit. We fall into sin, but we mourn over it, and hate the sin, and hate ourselves for committing it. We have been clean delivered from the bondage of corruption, and made free to serve the Lord. We have also been delivered from the dread which once bowed us down, a horrible dread which held us in bondage, and made us tremble before our Father and our friend. We thought hardly of God and fled from him; from this we are now delivered, for now we love him and delight in him, and the nearer we can approach him the happier we are.

We have been delivered, also, from the power of Satan. That evil prince has great power over men, and once we were led captive at his will. Even now he attacks us, but we overcome him through the blood of the Lamb. We are also daily delivered from self and from the world, and from all things that would enthral us. We are being saved; yea, we are saved. Every day a saving force is operating upon us to set us free from the thraldom of corruption. This we feel and know. We are bound for the kingdom, and nothing can keep us back: we are bound for purity, for ultimate perfection: we feel eternal life within us, urging us upward and onward, beyond ourselves and our surroundings. We sit here like eagles, chained to the rock by the feebleness of our bodies, but the aspiration within us tells us that we are born to soar among pure and glorified spirits. We feel that heaven is born within us,-born by the word of the cross through the Spirit. We could tell the histories of some here present, or, better still, they could tell them themselves, histories of changes sudden but complete, marvellous but enduring, changes from darkness to light, from death to life. How gladly could we detain you with details of our being upheld when our temptations have been almost overwhelming, and kept pressing forward in Christ’s service when we had been altogether without strength had not the word of the cross poured new energy into us. We have been ready to die in despair until we have looked to the cross, and then the clouds have yielded to clear shining. A sight of the bleeding Saviour, and a touch of his hand have made us men again, and we have lifted up our heads as from among the dead. Under the power of the cross we still advance from strength to strength: there is power in the word of the cross to make a man grow into something nobler than he ever dreamed of. We shall not know what we shall be till we shall see our Lord and Saviour as he is.

Why, brethren, the power with which God created the world was no greater than the power with which he made us new men in Christ Jesus. The power with which he sustains the world is not greater than the power by which he sustains his people under trial and temptation; and even the raising of the dead at the end of the world will be no greater display of divine power than the raising of dead souls out of their spiritual graves. These wonders of power are being performed in our own experience every day of the week, entirely through the cross. I appeal to you who are truly converted, were you converted through the wisdom of man? I appeal to you that are kept from sinning, are you led towards holiness by the power of elocution, of rhetoric, or of logic? I appeal to you who are despairing, are you ever revived by musical words and rhythmical sentences? Or do you owe all to Jesus crucified? What is your life, my brethren, but the cross? Whence comes the bread of your soul but from the cross? What is your joy but the cross? What is your delight, what is your heaven, but the Blessed One, once crucified for you, who ever liveth to make intercession for you? Cling to the cross, then. Put both arms around it! Hold to the Crucified, and never let him go. Come afresh to the cross at this moment, and rest there now and for ever! Then, with the power of God resting upon you, go forth and preach the cross! Tell out the story of the bleeding Lamb. Repeat the wondrous tale, and nothing else. Never mind how you do it, only proclaim that Jesus died for sinners. The cross held up by a babe’s hand is just as powerful as if a giant held it up. The power lies in the word itself, or rather in the Holy Spirit who works by it and with it.

Brethren, believe in the power of the cross for the conversion of those around you. Do not say of any man that he cannot be saved. The blood of Jesus is omnipotent. Do not say of any district that it is too sunken, or of any class of men that they are too far gone: the word of the cross reclaims the lost. Believe it to be the power of God, and you shall find it so. Believe in Christ crucified, and preach boldly in his name, and you shall see great things and gladsome things. Do not doubt the ultimate triumph of Christianity. Do not let a mistrust flit across your soul. The cross must conquer; it must blossom with a crown, a crown commensurate with the person of the Crucified, and the bitterness of his agony. His reward shall parallel his sorrows. Trust in God, and lift your banner high, and now with psalms and songs advance to battle, for the Lord of hosts is with us, the Son of the Highest leads our van. Onward, with blast of silver trumpet and shout of those that seize the spoil. Let no man’s heart fail him! Christ hath died! Atonement is complete! God is satisfied! Peace is proclaimed! Heaven glitters with proofs of mercy already bestowed upon ten thousand times ten thousand! Hell is trembling, heaven adoring, earth waiting. Advance, ye saints, to certain victory! You shall overcome through the blood of the Lamb.

THE MINSTREL

A Sermon

Delivered on Lord’s-day Morning, August 7th, 1881, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

The text is a somewhat singular one, but I hope it will suggest a profitable idea.

“But now bring me a minstrel. And it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.”-2 Kings 3:15.

Elisha needed that the Holy Spirit should come upon him to inspire him with prophetic utterances. “Holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.” We need that the hand of the Lord should be laid upon us, for we can never open our mouths in wisdom except we are under the divine touch. Now, the Spirit of God works according to his own will. “The wind bloweth where it listeth,” and the Spirit of God operates as he chooseth. Elisha could not prophesy just when he liked; he must wait until the Spirit of God came upon him, and the Spirit of God could come or not even as he pleased. Elisha had noticed that the Spirit of God acted upon him most freely when his mind was restful and subdued. He found himself best prepared for the heavenly voice when the noise within his soul was hushed, and every disturbing emotion was quieted. Having ascertained this fact by observation he acted upon it. He could not create the wind of the Spirit, but he could set his sail to receive it, and he did so.

At the particular time alluded to in the text Elisha had been greatly irritated by the sight of Jehoram, the king of Israel, the son of Ahab and Jezebel. In the true spirit of his old master, Elijah, the prophet let Jehoram know what he thought of him; and having delivered his soul, he very naturally felt agitated and distressed, and unfit to be the mouthpiece for the Spirit of God. He knew that the hand of the Lord would not rest upon him while he was in that state, and therefore he said, “Bring me a minstrel.” The original Hebrew conveys the idea of a man accustomed to play upon the harp. Listening to the dulcet tones which were produced by a skilful harper, who very likely sang one of David’s psalms to the music, the prophet waited awhile, and then the hand of the Lord came upon him. Under the influence of minstrelsy his mind grew quiet, his agitation subsided, his thoughts were collected, and the Spirit of God spake through him. It was a most commendable thing for him to use the means which he had found at other times helpful, though still his sole reliance was upon the hand of the Lord. It would seem from a passage in the First Book of Samuel that Elisha was not the only prophet who had found music helpful, for we read, “Thou shalt meet a company of prophets coming down from the high place with a psaltery, and a tabret, and a pipe, and a harp, before them; and they shall prophesy.” Elisha, like his predecessors, only used a natural means for putting himself into readiness for receiving supernatural help.

Let us see if we can bring forth the practical lesson which this incident may teach us.

First: here is a lesson to those who wish to serve God, and to speak in his name. Let us strive to be in a fit state for the Lord’s work. If we know of anything that will put our mind into such a condition that the Spirit of God is likely to work upon us and speak through us, let us make use of it. Elisha cried, “Bring me a minstrel”; let us also say-bring me that which will be helpful to me. The harper could be of no service to Elisha for bringing him inspiration; but by putting him into a calm, equable state of mind he prepared him for the heavenly communication, and removed from his soul that which would have hindered the divine working.

It is very evident that we, too, like the prophet, have our hindrances. We are at times unfit for the Master’s use. Our minds are disarranged, the machinery is out of order, the sail is furled, the pipe is blocked up, the whole soul is out of gear. The hindrance in Elisha’s case came from his surroundings. He was in a camp; a camp where three nations mixed their discordant voices; a noisy, ill-disciplined camp, and a camp ready to perish for thirst. There was no water, and the men-at-arms were perishing; the confusion and clamour must have been great. Prophetic thought could scarcely command itself amid the uproar, the discontent, the threatening from thousands of thirsty men. Three kings had waited on the prophet; but this would not have disconcerted him had not one of them been Jehoram, the son of Ahab, and Jezebel. What memories were awakened in the mind of Elijah’s servant by the sight of the man in whom the proud dame of Sidon and her base-minded consort lived again. Naboth’s vineyard must have come to his mind, and the stern threat of Elijah-“The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel.” “For there was none like unto Ahab, which did sell himself to work wickedness in the sight of the Lord, whom Jezebel his wife stirred up.”

Elisha acted rightly, and bravely. When he saw Jehoram coming to to him for help, he challenged him thus-“What have I to do with thee? Get thee to the prophets of thy father, and to the prophets of thy mother.” When the king humbly and with bated breath confessed that he saw the hand of Jehovah in bringing the three kings together, the prophet scarcely moderated his tone, but exclaimed, “As the Lord of hosts liveth, before whom I stand, surely, were it not that I regard the presence of Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah, I would not look toward thee, nor see thee.” It was fit that he should be in that temper; the occasion demanded it. Still it was not a fit preface to the inward whisper of the Spirit of God, and the prophet did not feel ready for his work: the circumstances were not soothing or elevating, and so he said, “Bring me a minstrel.” Do you not occasionally find yourself in an unhappy position? You have to preach, or to teach a class in school, or to carry an edifying word to a sick person; but everything distracts you. What with noise, or domestic trouble, or sinful neighbours, or the railing words of some wicked man, you cannot get into a fit frame of mind. You have had a duty to do which has caused you much pain and disquietude, and you cannot get over it, for everything conspires to worry you. Little things grieve great minds. The very sight of some individuals will throw a preacher off the rails. I know that the height of the pulpit, the thinness of the audience, the sleepiness of a hearer, or the heaviness of the atmosphere, may put the preacher’s heart out of tune, and incapacitate him for the blessing. Yes, we have our hindrances even as Elisha had.

Elisha’s hindrances lay mainly in his inward feelings: he could not feel the hand of the Lord upon him until the inner warfare had been pacified. He burned with indignation at the sight of the son of Jezebel, and flashed words of flame into his face, and, as I have already said, he was justified in so doing; but still the excitement marred the holy peace in which he usually lived, and he did not feel in a right condition to speak in the name of the Lord. Anger, even if it be of the purest kind, is a great disturber of the heart; it ruffles all our garments, and makes us unfit to minister before the Lord. I know of nothing that is more likely to put a man out of order for the communications of the Spirit of God than indignation. Even though we may be able to say, “I do well to be angry,” yet it is a very trying emotion. The unruffled lake reflects the skies, but if it be tossed with tempest even the purest water becomes a broken mirror; even thus in the quiet of the soul the thoughts of God’s Spirit are reflected, while in the rush of indignation they are broken and confused.

Doubtless, also, the prophet’s spirits were depressed. He saw before him the king of Edom, an idolater; the king of Israel, a votary of the calves of Jeroboam; and Jehoshaphat, the man of God, in confederacy with them. This last must have pained him as much as anything. What hope was there for the cause of truth and holiness when even a godly prince was in alliance with Jezebel’s son? This burdened the heart of the man of God. Everything was wrong, and going worse and worse. The warnings of Elijah and his own teachings seemed to go for nothing; the honour of God was forgotten, and the cause of evil triumphed.

Moreover, the servant of God must have been the subject of a fierce internal conflict between two sets of thoughts. Indignation and pity strove within his heart. His justice and his piety made him feel that he could have nothing to do with two idolatrous kings; but pity and humanity made him wish to deliver the army from perishing by thirst. Like a patriot, he sympathized with his people; but, like a prophet, he was jealous for his God. The men of Judah and Israel, whatever they might be in character, were the Lord’s people by covenant; he could not let them die: yet they had broken that covenant, and how could he help them? The prophet was perplexed, and his heart grew heavy. How can we do the Lord’s work when we are cast down in spirit? The joy of the Lord is our strength, and when we lose it our hands are feeble. When the heart is torn with inner conflict how can we speak words of comfort to those who are weary? We have need to escape from this inward strife before we can become sons of consolation to others. While rent with conflicting feeling, there was no rest in the prophet’s spirit; and the hand of the Lord did not come upon him. Most wisely he did not attempt to speak in the name of the Lord, but sought for a means by which his excitement could be allayed. In the face of many hindrances we shall be wise if we imitate him. When we feel ourselves cumbered with much serving we shall act discreetly if we pause in it, and take Mary’s place, for awhile, at least, and sit at Jesus’ feet; or, if the service must be done at once, it will be well to use the readiest means for preparing the mind for doing it. It may be that some simple natural means will be helpful, and, if so, we must not be so ultra-spiritual as to disdain to cry, “Bring me a minstrel.” It is often pride which makes us decline the use of natural means. David went against Goliath in the name of the Lord, but he took his sling and his stone with him; even our Lord, who could open men’s eyes with a word, did not refuse to use clay, or to send his patient to the pool of Siloam to wash. If you and I are out of order we must do our best to get right. If I go to do the Lord’s work with a vexed or distracted mind, I shall do it badly. Perhaps I shall do more harm than good. I shall spill the cup of consolation if I am all in a tremble myself. God’s servants should serve their Master well: the best we can render falls short of his deservings; but it would be a pity to do less than our very best. Occasionally we are quite out of form, we cannot think, or feel, or speak aright; we have to confess that we are all in confusion, and, what is worse, we dare not even expect God to come and help us till we are in a less excited condition. I know what I mean better than I can tell you. Some of our brethren are always even and calm, but others of us go dangerously up and sadly down, and are at times unfit either to receive the heavenly word or to convey it to others. At such times let us remember our text. The prophet said, “Bring me a minstrel. And it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.”

But what are our helps when we are pressed with hindrances? Is there anything which in our case may be as useful as a harp? “Bring me a minstrel,” said the prophet, for his mind was easily moved by that charming art. Music and song soothed and calmed, and cheered him.

“Through every pulse the music stole,

And held high converse with his soul.”

On the wings of melody his mind rose above the noisy camp, and floated far away from the loathed presence of Jehoram; the melting mystic strain laid all his passions asleep, and his soul was left in silence to hear the voice of the Lord. Well did Luther say, “Music is the art of the prophets, the only art that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us.”

Among our own helps singing holds a chief place; as saith the apostle, “Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord.” Note how he connects it with peace in his epistle to the Colossians: “Let the peace of God rule in your hearts … teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.” “I cannot sing,” says one. You need not sing as sweetly as Asaph and Heman, and other sweet birds of paradise whose names we read in Scripture; but we should all sing better if we sang more. Those with cracked voices would be kind if they would not sing quite so loudly in the congregation, for they grievously disturb other people; but they might get alone and have good times with themselves, where nobody could complain of their strong voices and lusty tones. It is good to sing praises unto the Lord, and a part of its goodness lies in the comfort which it brings. It is not without significance, that after supper, before our Lord went to his great sacrifice, he sang a hymn. Did not even he find refreshment in that holy exercise? My mind dwells sweetly on a season which I have often mentioned to you when a new lie had been forged against me, a lie of peculiar bitterness, and it vexed me. I was never particularly pleased at being slandered, though I have had my fair share of it. Well, I went alone awhile, and sung over to myself in my own poor way,-

“If on my face, for thy dear name,

Shame and reproaches be,

I’ll hail reproach, and welcome shame,

If thou remember me.”

By that means the sting was removed, and I felt merry again. “Bring me a minstrel:” the restoring means may be a little thing, but if you do not look to the linchpin of a cartwheel the wheel may come off, and down will go the cart, and what is the poor horse to do then? If you can get your mind right again by such a simple thing as singing, pray do not neglect it.

Suppose, however, that singing has no such power over you; let me recommend to you the quiet reading of a chapter of God’s word. Go upstairs and open the Book, and think upon a few verses. If you are much perplexed, read that blessed chapter which begins, “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.” Those verses act like a charm upon many minds: many and many a time a storm has subsided into a calm by the reading of those words. Some such passage read quietly will often operate as the harper acted upon Elisha. If time be pressing, see what is the text for the day in the almanack; or choose out some one precious promise which in other days was sweet to you. It is wonderful the effect of a single verse of Scripture when the Spirit of God applies it to the soul. There is music to a miser in the jingling of his money bag: but what music can equal this-“All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose”? If you are in poverty, what melody lies in this: “Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.” What power would come upon the soul to calm and quiet it, and make it ready for the hand of God, if we would grasp a single line of Scripture and suck the honey out of it till our soul is filled with sweetness.

You will find it equal to bringing a minstrel, and perhaps even more efficient, if you will get alone to pray. That horrible Rabshakeh’s letter-you read it, and then you wished you had never seen it. You put it behind the glass, but you fetch it out again, and read it again, and cry, “What a trial is this! who can bear it?” There is a kind of basilisk power in an abominable letter, so that you feel compelled to read it again and again. Can you not break the spell? What is the wisest course? Go upstairs, open it wide, spread it before the Lord, and say, “O Lord, thou hast seen letters like this before; for thy servant Hezekiah showed thee one.” I would say of every sorrow, “Pray over it.” An old divine, after he had heard a young minister preach a poor discourse, said to him, “Sir, I beg you to try and pray that sermon over.” He replied that he could not pray it over. Now, a sermon that cannot be prayed over ought never to be preached at all, and a trouble that you cannot pray over is a trouble which you ought not to have. It must be a grief of your own making; it cannot be a trial of God’s sending. Tell the Lord your affliction, and the bitterness of it will be past, and you will go back to your daily service calm and quiet, fitted for the hand of the Lord to be laid upon you. Men will wonder whence your joy has come, and what makes your face to shine. The secret is that you have waited on the Lord, and renewed your strength.

It may be you will find fittest help in Christian association. I commend this to those believers who are seldom fit for God to use because they are morose and fault-finding. You ought to say, “Bring me a minstrel:”-find me some praying sister whom I may talk with, or find me some genial brother who rejoices in the Lord, and let me converse with such.” It may be that the Master will join you and make a third, and then shall your heart be glad. Much misery is caused by Christians attempting to go to heaven alone. You remember how Mr. Bunyan describes Christian as journeying alone at first; he soon picked up with Hopeful, and then he was more cheery. As for Christiana and Mercy, and the family, they scarcely could have gone on pilgrimage at all if it had not been for Mr. Greatheart: but when they all went in company, with Mr. Greatheart to lead the band, they could sing all the way to the gates of the Celestial City. You, my friend, who are hindered in the service of Christ, might often be put right, so that God could use you, if you would become a companion of all them that fear God, and of them that keep his precepts. Holy converse acts as a minstrel to the spirit.

What is the duty that arises out of this? It is this: if you get into a bad state, don’t stick there. “Ah,” says one, “it is very close weather, and I feel depressed, so that the Spirit of God does not work upon my mind.” Then cry at once, “Bring me a minstrel.” Do not say “I cannot help being stupid.” You need not be: at least, not more so than you are by nature. You may get out of your dulness by making an effort, and you ought to make it. Did I not hear you say, “Everybody has gone away for a holiday, and I cannot leave my work. Trade is dull, and so am I”? But you need not be dull. Why should you always be heavy? You say, “I do not feel fit to go to my class,” or, “I do not feel fit to preach.” Should you, therefore, cease from the work of the Lord? By no means. Rouse yourself. Think of the way in which God has aforetime helped you, and use the same means again. While you are helping yourselves God will help you, and the hand of the Lord will come upon you.

Do not give way to feelings which unhinge you. Fight against them and cry with David, “Why art thou cast down, O my soul?” Still, do not rush into God’s service in an unfit condition. Resort to such means as are within reach for calming the lower faculties, and then the Spirit of God will move upon your higher powers. Act rationally. Use your best judgment and most prudent endeavours, or we shall suspect that you have no particular wish to do the Lord’s work, or fancy that anything is good enough for your God. Say to yourself, “Being in an unsuitable condition, I cannot expect God to use me. I must therefore get right. Here is my harp, but every string is out of tune. I cannot expect the Holy Spirit to play upon it until it is put in order. What can I do to help myself in this matter, for that I will do, and thus prove the sincerity of my prayer when I ask God the Holy Spirit to help me.”

This, then, is the first lesson, and I am sure there is real practical teaching in it, though some superior persons may despise it.

My second word is to those who have not yet found the Lord. We should use every means to obtain the touch of the Divine hand. There are some here present who do not yet know whether they are believers in Christ or not: and I am sure I cannot tell them. I hope they are believers, for they are sincerely desirous of eternal salvation, but sometimes I am afraid they are not, for they do not appear to understand the meaning of the finished work of Christ. What are those, who are earnestly seeking the Lord, to do? There is but one answer, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” Faith is the one and only course commanded. But some one replies, “Alas, I cannot get at that.” But, my friend, you must get at it, or perish. Without faith it is impossible to please God.

Still, to help you, let me urge you to do this which lies near at hand: if you cannot feel that the Spirit of God will bless you as you are, call for some minstrel, who may aid you in your search after the blessing. If there be any subordinate means which may be helpful, use it with a view to the higher and better thing. I would first say-If you feel that you have not the faith which you ought to have, use what faith you have. It is wonderful what an immense amount of possibility lies in a mustard seed of faith. It is a very small, tiny thing; but sow it, and it will grow. You have not enough faith to believe that Christ will save you, but you have enough to feel sure that Christ can save you. That is something: hold to it and follow it out to its fair conclusions. If a man has not money enough to pay for a week’s provisions, let him not starve; but let him spend what he has, hoping that more will come. Have you a small dust of faith? use that, and it will multiply.

If you want to feel the hand of the Lord, I would next say, Go and hear a sound, earnest, lively preacher. I am advising you to do as I acted myself. I was muddled, and could not exercise faith, and so I resolved to obey that other precept, “Hear, and your soul shall live”

If you long for faith, listen to the preacher who preaches the gospel most simply and most forcibly. Perhaps you say, “I have been listening to a very clever minister, a very intellectual minister, and his word has never been blessed to my soul.” Then shift your place, and say, “Bring me a minstrel;” for then it may be that the hand of the Lord may be upon you. It is better to go a hundred miles to hear a faithful minister than to listen to a man from whom you get no good because he happens to preach near you. Men go many miles to a skilful physician, or a healing fountain. When we are in earnest to find Christ we shall have the sense to go where he is most honoured and most spoken of.

“But suppose I have attended such a ministry, and have found no good; what shall I do? Why, the Scripture says, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” Still, if you cannot get at this for the moment, attend earnest meetings where souls have been converted, and many have been brought to Jesus’ feet. Trust not to preachers or meetings; but, still, go where the rain is falling, and there may be a drop for you. If a ministry is blessing others, resort to it, praying, “O Lord, bless me.” Our immediate need is the hand of the Lord, and we may be made ready to receive it by hearing the gospel; therefore let us diligently incline our ear to the heavenly word.

Let me also advise you to read gracious books. Ask Christian people what writings were blessed to their conversion, and carefully study the same. There is no book for saving souls like the Bible. Say, “Bring me a minstrel,” and read the Scriptures again and again. The Lord Jesus feedeth among the lilies: get among the beds of lilies, and you will find him there. Oh, how many have found Christ when they have been searching the Scriptures to see “whether those things were so.”

I would also strongly recommend you to get a good deal alone. You poor souls, who cannot find Christ, and do not seem to understand what it is to believe in him, should think much, and meditate much, upon Jesus and his cross. David said, “I thought on my ways, and turned my feet unto thy testimonies.” If you want a minstrel, think of your sin, your sin against your God, till it breaks your heart; then think of Christ, his nature, his work, his love, his deeds of mercy: think of the Holy Spirit, and his power to renew, regenerate, comfort, sanctify: think over those precious truths of the word of God, which are set there on purpose to be beacons to light souls to Christ, and while you are thinking of these it shall be to you as when the minstrel played, and the hand of the Lord came upon his prophet. Get much alone; but still recollect there is no hope for you if you trust in being alone, or trust in reading the Scriptures, or trust in hearing, or trust in anything but Christ. What you want is the hand of Jesus laid upon you: one touch from him, and you will be made whole. If you can but touch the hem of his garment, virtue shall come out of him to you. I am merely mentioning these things because sometimes they lead up to the one thing, and when a man is in earnest to obtain the one thing needful, he will be willing to attend to anything by which he will be likely to attain it, and to attend to any secondary means which God has blessed in the case of others. He will be willing to be taught by a child, if peradventure God will bless him in that manner. He will say, “Bring me a minstrel;” “Bring me a good book;” “Bring me a godly minister;” “Bring me a Christian man accustomed to speak to troubled hearts;” “Bring me an aged Christian whose testimony shall confirm my spirit, and be the means of working faith in me: for I must get to God; I must get salvation. Tell me, tell me, where Christ is to be obtained, and I will find him if I ransack the globe to discover him.” I do not believe any person who has desires to find Christ will seek in vain. I am certain that when people hunger and thirst after Christ they shall be filled, and when they say, “We will do anything by which we may be led to Jesus,” they are not far from the kingdom of heaven, and the Holy Spirit is at work in them.

Thirdly, we should more abundantly use holy minstrelsy. Saints and sinners, too, would find it greatly to their benefit if they said, “Bring me a minstrel.” This is the world’s cry whenever it is merry, and filled with wine. The art of music has been prostituted to the service of Satan. Charles Wesley well said,-

“Listed into the cause of sin,

Why should a good be evil?

Music, alas! too long has been

Press’d to obey the devil.

Drunken, or lewd, or light, the lay

Flow’d to the soul’s undoing;

Widen’d, and strew’d with flowers the way

Down to eternal ruin.”

It is for us to use singing in the service of God, and to make a conquest of it for our Redeemer. Worldlings want the minstrel to excite them; we want him to calm our hearts and still our spirits. That is his use to us, and we shall do well to employ the harper to that end.

Let us give instances: I will suppose that this morning you were thinking about coming up to the assembly of God’s people, and you felt hardly up to the mark. It would have been wise to do as I did this morning. I read at family prayer the eighty-fourth Psalm, “How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.”

What a sweet piece of Sabbath minstrelsy it is! How often have we been quieted and prepared for sanctuary worship by Psalm 122:-

“How did my heart rejoice to hear

My friends devoutly say,

‘In Zion let us all appear

And keep thy holy day!’ ”

When the house is full of trouble, and your heart is bowed down, is it not well to say-“Bring me a minstrel, and let him sing to me the twenty-seventh Psalm. ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.’ ” You need not confine the harper to that one strain; for David has written many psalms for burdened hearts. It is wonderful what provision God has made of sacred minstrels to play us up out of the depths into the heights if we will but make a right use of them.

I will suppose you are in a state of alarm; it may be there is a thunderstorm, or possibly a disease is stalking through the land. Did you ever sing in such times that forty-sixth Psalm: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah. There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall help her, and that right early.” Such music is like the breath of heaven. How comforting are the words of the ninety-first Psalm when diseases are abroad, or when the thunder rolls through the sky: “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.” I remember being in a family one night when I was but a lad, when everybody in the house, strong men though some of them were, trembled and were afraid. A child was upstairs and must be brought down; but no one dared to pass by the window on the staircase. Well do I remember fetching down the child, awed but not alarmed, and then I sat down and read aloud the ninety-first Psalm, and saw how it quieted both men and women. Ah, my brethren, David as a musician is one of a thousand; we need no other minstrel. The word of God hushes the tempest of the soul, and refreshes the heart with a celestial dew. “Bring me a minstrel,” but let him sing us one of the songs of Zion.

Do you ever get depressed in spirit, beloved friends? I fear you do; and are you ever troubled because you seem to have more affliction than anybody else? Have you watched the wicked and seen them prosperously sailing while you have been tossed to and fro on a raging sea of troubles? Do you want to get peace to your mind by the power of the Holy Spirit? Then say, “Bring me a minstrel;” and let him sing that thirty-seventh Psalm, “Fret not thyself because of evildoers.” Or if you would have a change from the thirty-seventh, turn the figures round, and let him sing the seventy-third, and the notes will run thus: “Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart. But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped.” You will not be long before you will rise to the note-“Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.”

Happily, you are not always depressed: there are times of great joy with you, and then you long to have communion with God. If you wish to have fellowship with Jesus, you will find it helpful to say, “Bring me a minstrel;” and when he asks, “What shall I sing?” say to him, “Sing the Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s.” Then shall you find utterance for your heart in some such canticles as these: “Tell me, O thou whom my soul lovest, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon; for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?” Possibly your tongue will take up notes like these: “As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.” “My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies. Until the daybreak, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of division.” The whole book is full of utterances which may seem strange to worldly minds, but which exactly suit those who know the Well-beloved. Read that third verse of the eighth chapter of the Song. Did you ever sing it? “His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.” “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.”

When we come to die we will breathe our last breath to music. Then will we say, “Bring me a harper,” and like Jacob and Moses we will sing ere we depart. Our song is ready. It is the twenty-third Psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

This is the kind of minstrel for me. Say you not so, my brethren? When you are in trouble or distress, will you not remember your songs in the night? If such be the strain, I am of the same mind as Martin Luther, whose words I have copied out to read to you. His language is always strong. Luther speaks thunderbolts. “One of the finest and noblest gifts of God is music. This is very hateful to the devil, and with it we may drive off temptations and evil thoughts. After theology I give the next place and highest honour to music. It has often aroused and moved me so that I have won a desire to preach. We ought not to ordain young men to the office of preacher if they have not trained themselves and practised singing in the schools.” That is pretty strong. I fear many would not have been preachers if they must first have been singers. Still, there is a power about song; and to sing the praises of God in psalms such as those I have read to you is most consoling.

Suppose you have done with the minstrelsy which I have now mentioned, there is next the music of gospel doctrine, I confess to you that, when depressed in spirit, I love a bit of thorough Calvinistic doctrine. I turn to Coles on Divine Sovereignty, and relish his plain speaking upon sovereign grace. The doctrine of election is noble music: predestination is a glorious hallelujah. Grace abounding, love victorious, truth unchanging, faithfulness invincible: these are melodies such as my ear delights in. The truth of God is fit music for angels. The harps of the redeemed never resound with more noble music than the doctrines of grace. Every truth has its melody, every doctrine is a psalm unto God. When my heart is faint, “Bring me a minstrel,” and let him sing of free grace and dying love.

If these do not charm you, fetch a minstrel from experience. Think how God has dealt with you in times of sorrow and darkness long gone by, and then you will sing, “His mercy endureth for ever.” That one hundred and third Psalm might last a man from now till he entered heaven, he need not change the strain,-“Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name.” He may keep on chanting it until his song melts into the hymn of the angels, and he adds another voice to the chorus of the redeemed above.

If you want music, there is yet a sweeter store. Go fetch a minstrel from Calvary. Commend me for sweetness to the music of the cross. At Calvary I hear one piece of music set to the minor key, which has bred more joy beneath the skies than all else. Hear it: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Jesus deserted is the comfort of deserted souls: Jesus crying, “Why hast thou forsaken me?” is the joy of the spirit that has lost the light of God’s countenance. That grave and solemn note can lift despair into delight.

But if you want another hymn of the cross to be sung with the accompaniment of the high-sounding cymbals, or with trumpet and sound of cornet, let me commend you to this other song of the cross, “It is finished.” All music lies there. Condensed into those three words you have the harmonies of eternity, the melodies of the infinite. Angels themselves when on their loftiest key did never sing a canticle so sweet. “Consummatum est” is the consummation of song. “It is finished”; sin is blotted out, reconciliation is complete, everlasting righteousness is brought in, and believing souls are saved. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Till the day break, and the shadows flee away, “Bring me a minstrel,” and let us sing unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, to him be glory, for ever and ever. Amen.

Portions of Scripture read before Sermon-Psalm 136; 2 Kings 3:1-15.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-136 (Song II.), 166, 229.