C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington,

On Lord’s-day Evening, September 13th, 1863.

“I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree, Yet he passed away, and, lo, he was not: yea, I sought him, but he could not be found. Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace.”-Psalm 37:35-37.

We must never judge by appearances, for many things that we see with our eyes and hear with our ears are not really what they appear to us to be. Our senses, like everything else within us, are imperfect, so that it is safer to walk by faith than by sight. Especially is this the case with regard to God’s providential dealings with men. If we were to conclude, for instance, that all those who prosper in this world are peculiarly favoured of God, we should make a very great mistake; and if, on the other hand, like Job’s friends, we should imagine that all persons who are grievously afflicted and tried are suffering because they have grossly sinned, we should equally err. It is true that there sometimes are manifest judgments upon individuals, communities, and nations; but every trial or affliction is not a judgment, nor would it be right for us so to regard it. Yet the man who walks through the world with his eyes opened, and his understanding enlightened, must notice certain facts about which there can be no question, facts which are so important and so instructive that he will want other people also to notice them, and to learn the lessons they are intended to teach.

There are two facts mentioned in our text, and I am going to talk to you concerning them, coupling with them certain inferences and revelations which must not be separated from them. The first fact is concerning the wicked,-we have seen them in great power, spreading themselves like a green bay tree; yet they have passed away, and soon been forgotten. The second fact is concerning the righteous,-we have, not merely once, but many times, seen a godly man die, and from our own experience we can confirm the testimony of the psalmist, “the end of that man is peace.”

So let us for a while meditate upon the first fact, and the inference and revelation concerning it.

It is a fact that we have seen the wicked in great power, and that we have seen them suddenly cut off. Those of you who are much older than I am can remember the terror that was associated with the name of one who was for a while in great power, and who spread himself like a green bay tree, the branches whereof cast a baleful shade over most of the nations of Europe. Napoleon Buonaparte aimed at absolute sovereignty in France, and won it; and then he aimed at universal sovereignty over all his fellow-monarchs, and for a time it seemed as though there would be no human limit to his great power. You know how he waded through slaughter, and snatched crown after crown from other men to put upon his own head. But you also know how he led his vast army into Russia, and left the bulk of his followers to sleep in death beneath the snow, or to be devoured by wolves; and you remember how, afterwards, he met with men who could play the devil’s game of war more skilfully than even he could; and, in the end, the imperial eagle, that had torn so many others in pieces with its cruel talons, was chained for the rest of its life to the lonely rock of St. Helena. Who that saw Napoleon’s empire in the height of its glory could have imagined that it would melt away like a snowman in blazing sunshine? I grant you that its grandeur* has been somewhat revived in our day, but the failure of the “great” Napoleon should teach the whole race of mankind that, although a wicked man may be in great power, and may spread himself like a green bay tree, yet no greatness will permanently endure unless it is founded upon goodness and upon God.

There are some who have had great power because they have had great wealth. Many of us can recollect persons who seemed to have unlimited riches, which enabled them to exercise enormous power over their fellow-men. Solomon said that “money answereth all things,” and they certainly made it answer their ends. Everybody was obsequious to them; whole nations yielded up their treasures at the bidding of these multi-millionaires. They said to the North, “Give up,” and to the South, “Keep not back;” and gold and jewels, and articles of vertu, and works of art came pouring into their palaces and mansions; yet those very men were reduced to beggary ere they died, and at the same door where they had repelled poor Lazarus with scorn, they themselves stood as suppliants craving alms. I need not mention names; many of you can remember such men, who were in great power, and spread themselves like a green bay tree; yet they have passed away, and if you seek them, they cannot be found.

I find that the Hebrew has in it the idea of a tree indigenous to the soil, a tree that has never been transplanted; so David means that he had seen the wicked flourish like a tree whose roots had never been disturbed. You may have heard a rich man boastfully say, “My father lived in this house, and his father lived here before him; and through a long line of ancestors these estates have belonged to our family.” He had no trouble in his youth, and no labour in his manhood; he is the man who, in his prosperity, said, “I shall never be moved.” But he has been moved; the ancestral hall, of which he was so proud, has a new owner; those estates, which he surveyed with such manifest delight, have been sold to another family; and if you go to the district to-day, and ask anyone whom you meet, “Where is that rich man who used to own all these broad acres?” you will receive the reply, “Nobody knows;” and you may say, with the psalmist, “I sought him, but he could not be found.”

This has been the case with some who have gained honour among men. The bay tree was highly esteemed among the Greeks and Romans, and they crowned their heroes with wreaths made from its leaves, yet neither the wreath nor the honour lasted very long. So, if a man receives honour from his fellows, yet is all the while a wicked man, his honour is like the dissolving-view which appears upon the sheet, and quickly fades away,-or like the mirage of the desert which makes the burning sand look like a lake, but which only mocks all who run to drink from it,-or like the will-o’-the-wisp that frightens timid folk at night, but itself is without any enduring substance. So passes away the glory of this world, and so passes away the man who has honour among men, but who is without that grace which alone brings true honour, and glory, and immortality. I can say of more than one such man, “he passed away, and, lo, he was not: yea, I sought him, but he could not be found.” Have you not noticed, dear friends, how complete has been the disappearance of certain “great men” whose greatness has been founded upon wealth or upon sin? Every trace of them seems to have been destroyed; in the places where they used to live, nobody now remembers them; their escutcheons have been broken up by the battle-axe of time, and all their glory of heraldry has been burned in the fire. Why, as I am speaking of them, you can scarcely recall their names though they used to be as familiar as household words; their names were written in the sand, and time’s ever-rolling waves have utterly effaced them. If you seek them, you cannot find them.

Some men have appeared to be “great” because their true character had not been discovered. They were playing a very crafty part in the drama of life; before the curtain, they appeared to be truthful, upright, even religious; but, behind it, they were rogues, thieves, liars, everything that was bad. Then, all of a sudden, the curtain was rent in twain, and they were revealed to all men as they had been all the while to the all-seeing eyes of God; and the whole world looked on, and wondered. There was a man who always wore a mask when he walked abroad, and everyone said, “What a beautiful sight it is to see such a man!” But, one day, the mask was broken, and all could plainly see the signs of leprosy on his brow; the deadly disease was there all the time, it was only hidden from the public gaze by the mask. Discovery has often trodden on the heels of sin; the guilty one has been caught redhanded, and swift justice has been meted out to the criminal. But suppose, sinner, that for years you conceal from your fellows your real character as so many others have done, God knows all about you, and his Word still contains the warning that Moses gave to the Reubenites and Gadites, “Be sure your sin will find you out.” Judas stood revealed at last as the son of perdition; his fellow-apostles did not suspect him even up to the night of the betrayal, but Jesus had known from the first that he had the heart of a traitor, and only awaited a convenient opportunity to sell his Master for thirty pieces of silver. Simon the sorcerer, who had “bewitched the people of Samaria, giving out that himself was some great one,” professed to believe in Jesus, and was even baptized; yet Peter had afterwards to say to him, “Thy heart is not right in the sight of God.… For I perceive that thou art in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity.” And, alas! both Judas and Simon Magus have many representatives even to this day.

Other “great” men have been laid low by some striking disaster. A man seems to climb up one of the tallest cedars of Lebanon, and to build his nest there, and you say to yourself, “How can that man ever be pulled down from such a height as that?” But the omnipotent hand lays hold of him, scatters his nest upon the ground, and ere long he and his nest are alike forgotten. Perhaps the man has built himself what he calls an impregnable castle, and in his marble halls he fondly hopes that no power can successfully attack him; but God has only to make a slight fissure in the earth’s surface, and the man and his castle and all that he has shall disappear even as the earth once before opened her mouth, and swallowed up Korah and all that appertained unto him. God hath many ways of putting down the mighty from their seats, and exalting them that are of low degree. An Eastern potentate could not sleep on a certain memorable night, and hence it came to pass that proud Haman was hanged on the gallows he had built for Mordecai the Jew, while the despised Mordecai was publicly proclaimed as the man whom the king delighted to honour. Mysterious have been the workings of God’s providence by which the mightiest monarchs and the most powerful princes have passed away so completely that they have been like the wicked man of whom David says, “I sought him, but he could not be found.”

If in no other way the wicked man is removed from his pinnacle of greatness, he passes away at the call of death. We need not say much about his death; but when he is gone to his final account, he has few, if any, to mourn his loss. He lived for himself, and he dies for himself; no sorrowing widows, whose poverty he has relieved, will keep his grave green with their grateful tears; no mourning children, whose ignorance he has dispelled by his instruction, will remember and revere his name; no sympathetic souls, turned from darkness to light through his instrumentality, will gratefully look up to him as their spiritual father.

I have thus called your attention to the fact that the wicked, who have been in great power, have passed away, and been forgotten. Now, what is the inference from this fact? I think a very safe inference is that, as these men failed to attain that which was the great end and object of their lives, they cannot have succeeded in that about which they were not at all concerned, namely, the everlasting interests of their never-dying souls. It is certainly fair to infer that, as they made such a lamentable shipwreck in this life, they made an even worse shipwreck in the world to come; and as they passed away from everything in which they took pleasure here, it is reasonable to infer that, whatever expectation and hope they may have cherished with regard to the next life, they are certain to have been totally and finally disappointed.

This, however, is not a mere matter of inference, for the teaching of divine revelation agrees with it, and confirms it. The wicked man, who was in great power here, in due course dies, and he wakes up in the next world to find himself only a feeble worm exposed to all the fury of divine wrath. He had servants and slaves on earth to do his bidding, but there are none to crouch at his feet now. He was held in honour in this world, but there are no praises or flatteries for him now. His wealth could at one time buy for him anything that his heart might wish, but he had to leave it all behind him; and even if he still possessed it, he could not purchase even a drop of water to cool his parched tongue. Nothing remains for him now but shame and everlasting contempt in that terrible prison-house where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. Throughout all heaven and hell there is nothing that can afford him even a moment’s solace; he has made an awful and an eternal failure of his whole life, and his dolorous cry is, “Lost! Lost! Lost!”

But, just in passing, though my text speaks specially of the wicked who are in great power, I must remind you that their doom will be the doom of all who believe not in the Lord Jesus Christ, whether they are in the higher or lower walks of life. So, dear friends, whoever and whatever you are, if you live only for this life, you too will pass away, and be forgotten here, but you will not be forgotten in the next world. Remember that “it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment;” and make the only fitting preparation for that judgment by repenting of sin, and trusting in him who died, “the Just for the unjust, that he might bring us unto God.” O man, play not with shadows; let not that which is the only real and substantial thing pass by thee unheeded! If thou must have something to play with, let it not be thine immortal soul; for though thou canst play thy soul into hell, thou canst never play it out, nor pray it out, nor weep it out, nor work it out. Once there, it is there for ever. Dost thou ask, “What is there that is real and substantial? What is there that will abide when all earthly glory has passed away?” Listen. “All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: but the word of the Lord endureth for ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.” So, my dear hearer, believe that gospel, lay hold on the hope set before you, trust in that blessed Saviour who died in the stead of sinners, put your eternal interests into the hands of the one Mediator between God and men; and then, with the apostle Paul, you will not be afraid to look forward even to the great day of judgment, but you will be able confidently to say, “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.” Man, woman, sinner, whoever or whatever thou art, give no sleep to thine eyes nor slumber to thine eyelids until thou canst truthfully say, “Jesus is my Saviour; my Beloved is mine, and I am his.”

Now, with great brevity, I pass on to the second fact, and the inference and revelation concerning it: “Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace.”

It is a fact that we have seen the righteous die, and that we know that their end is peace. It is a fact that those who are accounted perfect in the sight of God through the blood and righteousness of their Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and whose lives have been made upright through the effectual working of the ever-blessed Spirit, do end their earthly careers in peace, and then enter into that eternal peace which has no end. I am not speaking of dreams and fancies, but of facts that have happened in my own experience. Never shall I forget the death-bed of one, who had often walked with me many a weary mile to preach the gospel in country villages. I have told you before how I found him when he was near his end. His sight had so completely failed that not a ray of light entered his eyes; but, when he heard my voice, he sat up in the bed, and said to me, oh! so joyously,-

“And when ye hear my eye-strings break,

How sweet my minutes roll!

A mortal paleness on my cheek,

But glory in my soul!”

Verily, the end of that man was peace. There is a beloved brother, behind me on the platform, who went with me to see one of the members of this church who was dying of consumption. While we talked with her, she told us that her only fear was lest she might live, for she dreaded the temptations of living far more than the pangs of dying. A few hours after we saw her, she passed away from this world of sorrow and sin, and entered the land of everlasting peace; but the rapture with which she anticipated death almost made us exclaim, after the manner of Thomas, “Lord, let us die with her.” As we came away, we felt that hers was the happy lot, and that she was the one to be envied because she had gone to be “with Christ, which is far better.”

Look at the dying Christian, what blessed peace he has! He is at peace even with those who have been his enemies; he says to those around him that, if there are any who have done him harm, or said what was false concerning him, he not only freely forgives them, but his most earnest wish for them is that he may meet them all in heaven. He is at perfect peace concerning the past, for he knows that all his sins have been forgiven him for Christ’s sake, and that they will be remembered against him: no more for ever. He is full of peace in the present, even though he is near the end of his earthly life. His wife weeps, and well may she grieve at the thought of parting with such a godly husband; but he reminds her of that ancient promise, “Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me;” and of that inspired declaration, “A father of the fatherless, and a judge (or advocate) of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.” He looks at his dear children gathered around his bed, and although he would fain have lived longer for their sake, he knows that it is his Lord’s will that he should depart out of this life, so he does not repine. He commits into the hands of God his household, his business, and all that concerns him, and he says, “I have nothing more to do with them, I am dead to them all; and now I am only waiting until the messenger arrives to summon me into the presence of the King. As for the future, he is at peace concerning that also. He knows that it is a solemn matter to pass through death’s iron gate, but he is confident that Christ will come and meet him there, so he looks forward to the great transition without a tremor and without a murmur. He is fully aware that existence in a disembodied state is something very mysterious and awe-inspiring, but that mystery has no terrors for him, for he has the same assurance that Paul had when he wrote, “we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” He is not in the least troubled because the poor old worn-out tent is being taken down, for he knows that he is going to exchange it for one of the abiding mansions in his Father’s house. Indeed, he is so happy in the anticipation of going home that he begins to sing the very hymn that we afterwards sing at his funeral,-

“My Father’s house on high,

Home of my soul! how near,

At times, to faith’s foreseeing eye,

Thy golden gates appear!

“Ah! then my spirit faints

To reach the land I love,

The bright inheritance of saints,

Jerusalem above!

“ ‘For ever with the Lord!’

Father, if ’tis thy will

The promise of that faithful word

E’en here to me fulfil.

“So when my latest breath

Shall rend the veil in twain,

By death I shall escape from death,

And life eternal gain.”

The good man believes in the resurrection of the body, so he says, with Job, “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.” It is a blessed thing for such a man to die, and the many deaths of that happy kind that I have witnessed have made me also-

“Long for evening to undress,

That I might rest with God.”

What is the inference from all this? I think it is but fair to infer that if, in the pain, and agony, and weakness of death, the Christian has such perfect peace, surely his peace will be even more profound when he enters that blest world where “there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.” If, in this stormy world, he has such, peace of mind even amid the swellings of Jordan, surely there must be for him, in the life that is to come, stormless seas and cloudless skies, days that have no night and years which winter’s cold can never reach; and, truly, revelation confirms this inference. For a Christian, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. What it must be to be present with the Lord, no mortal tongue can fully tell; but we know that “his servants shall serve him: and they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign: for ever and ever.… And he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” What a change, beloved, it will be from all the strife and turmoil of this world to the perfect peace of the world to come! Here, you and I have to work, work, work, either with the sweat of the brow or the sweat of the brain,-and the latter is not the lighter of the two; but there, brain and brow shall both be perfectly at rest. Here, we are sometimes perplexed by the prosperity of the wicked; but there, we shall see that we have no cause to envy them. Here, we are often made to grieve over losses and crosses, adversities and afflictions; but there, we shall always be on the bright side of the hill; our dark night of sorrow and trial shall be for ever over, and our everlasting morning shall have come. Here, we are constantly losing some of our best friends, they pass away as sweet flowers wither and die; but there,-

“Oh, it will be joyful

When we meet to part no more!”

Here, we are plagued and tormented by sin; but there, “they are without fault before the throne of God.” Here, the fiery darts of the wicked one are continually flying all around us; but there, they are out of range of the devil’s most deadly artillery. Yet let no one of us sigh and cry for the wings of a dove, that we may fly away, and be at rest. In God’s good time, he will beckon us across the narrow stream of death; and till then, let us patiently wait and earnestly work for him who is all our salvation and all our desire.

Now, my hearers, I have set before you two men representing two very different classes,-those who have their portion in this life, and those whose inheritance is in the heavenly Canaan, the land of perfect peace and perfect bliss. What is the great object upon which your soul is set? To get on in this world, to make money, to win fame, honour, glory, power? Oh, that is a poor ambition; and if you could attain it all, your wreath of bay leaves would soon wither, and then what would you have left? “What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Profit him? It would be an eternal and irretrievable loss. Oh, seek not such “gain” as that; but “seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you;” in so far as God sees that it shall be for his glory and your own and others’ good for you to have them. May the Lord give you the grace to make the wise choice this very hour, for Jesus Christ’s sake! Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

PSALM 37

May the Spirit of God graciously apply this Psalm to our hearts, comforting us as no one else can! Is he not the Comforter, and what better cordial has he for our spirits than his own Word?

Verses 1, 2. Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.

Evil cannot last. It is a feeble plant, like the grass and weeds which the mower’s scythe soon cuts down, and leaves to wither in the blazing sunshine.

3, 4. Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.*

This is a most precious verse, its sweetness who can tell? Do not think first of the desires of thy heart, but think first of delighting thyself in thy God. If thou hast accepted him as thy Lord, he is thine; so delight in him, and then he will give thee the desires of thy heart.

5. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.

Give it over into God’s hands, and then confide in him as completely as a little child confides in its mother. “He shall bring it to pass.” It is quite certain that you cannot “bring it to pass,” so you will be wise if you leave it with him who can do what you cannot.

6. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.

Thou canst not make the light and the noonday; that is a work that is far beyond thy power; but thy God can give thee both light and noonday. He can clear thy character from any slander that may have befouled it, and he can crown thee with honour and glory in place of the contempt that is now cast upon thee.

7. Rest in the Lord,†-

That is the sweetest word of all: “Rest.” Go no further. Fret no more. Bear thy burdens no longer. Make this day a Sabbath to thy soul: “Rest in the Lord,”-

7. And wait patiently for him:-

Do not be in a hurry. The Lord has infinite leisure, so partake of it as far as thou canst: “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him:”-

7, 8. Fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass. Cease from anger,-

You cannot do that unless you “rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him.” Angry passions boil upon the fire of fretfulness; therefore, “cease from anger,”-

8, 9. And forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. For evil doers shall be cut off; but those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth.

Their turn will come in due time. It comes last, but then it comes to last, for there is nothing to come after the last.

10. For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be: yea, thou shalt diligently consider his place, and it shall not be.

The house in which he lived, or the place that was called by his name, is often destroyed.

11, 12. But the meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace. The wicked plotteth against the just,-

That has been the style of things from the beginning; and the old serpent’s seed will be like the old serpent, and he “was more subtle than any beast of the field.” “The wicked plotteth against the just,”-

12, 13. And gnasheth upon him with his teeth. The Lord shall laugh at him:-

He plots against the Lord’s people, but “the Lord shall laugh at him,”-

13-18. For he seeth that his day is coming. The wicked have drawn out the sword, and have bent their bow, to cast down the poor and needy, and to slay such as be of upright conversation. Their sword shall enter into their own heart, and their bows shall be broken. A little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked. For the arms of the wicked shall be broken: but the Lord upholdeth the righteous. The Lord knoweth the days of the upright: and their inheritance shall be for ever.

He gives them an eternal portion by an everlasting covenant.

19. They shall not be ashamed in the evil time: and in the days of famine they shall be satisfied.

There is nothing that they can get, but God will give them what they cannot get themselves. He will ransack heaven and earth to find food for his people: “In the days of famine they shall be satisfied.”

20-23. But the wicked shall perish, and the enemies of the Lord shall be as the fat of lambs: they shall consume; into smoke shall they consume away. The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again: but the righteous sheweth mercy, and giveth. For such as be blessed of him shall inherit the earth; and they that be cursed of him shall be cut off. The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord:-

Even his “steps”-the little movements of his life,-not only his great plans and his ambitious projects, but “the steps of a good man are ordered by Jehovah;”-

23. And he delighteth in his way.

He loves to see him walk, even as parents delight to watch the first tottering steps of their little children, so that he, who “taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man,” taketh pleasure in the ways of his people.

24. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down:-

For a while, it may seem as if he had been finally defeated; things may seem to go altogether wrong with him; but, “though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down;”-

24, 25. For the Lord upholdeth him with his hand. I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.

And we also can still speak of the faithfulness of Jehovah. He who took care of his people in David’s day has not changed since then. We have not seen the righteous forsaken.

26. He is ever merciful, and lendeth; and his seed is blessed.

God has a special regard for the children of believers. Grace does not run in the blood, but it often runs side by side with it. The God of Abraham is the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, and the God of Joseph, and the God of Manasseh and Ephraim.

27-29. Depart from evil, and do good; and dwell for evermore. For the Lord loveth judgment, and forsaketh not his saints; they are preserved for ever; but the seed of the wicked shall be cut off. The righteous shall inherit the land, and dwell therein for ever.

I have frequently remarked to you that, although the wolf is very strong and fierce, and the sheep is very weak and timid, yet there are more sheep in the world than there are wolves; and the day will come when the last wolf will be dead, and then the sheep shall cover the plains and feed upon the hills. Weak as the righteous often are, they “shall inherit the land” when the wicked shall have been cut off from the earth.

30. The mouth of the righteous speaketh wisdom, and his tongue talketh of judgment.

That which is down in the heart will come up into the mouth; and you may rest assured that men are fairly judged by the common current of their conversation.

31-33. The law of his God is in his heart; none of his steps shall slide The wicked watcheth the righteous, and seeketh to slay him. The Lord will not leave him in his hand, nor condemn him when he is judged.

How dreadful it would be for the godly man if the Lord were to leave him in the hand of the wicked! You remember how David sought to avoid that calamity when he had to choose famine, pestilence, or the sword of his enemies. “Let me fall,” said he “into the hand of the Lord; for very great are his mercies; but let me not fall into the hand of man.” Let us thank God that, even if we should get into the hand of the ungodly, the Lord will not leave us there, nor condemn us when we are judged.

34-37. Wait on the Lord, and keep his way, and he shall exalt thee to inherit the land: when the wicked are cut off, thou shalt see it. I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and, lo, he was not: yea, I sought him, but he could not be found. Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace.

There is no end to that man, for he is to endure world without end. In any sense in which there is an end to him, his end is everlasting peace.

38, 39. But the transgressors shall be destroyed together: the end of the wicked shall be cut off. But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble.

Have you not proved it so, dear brethren and sisters in Christ? I know that you have had times of trouble, but has not God been your strength in a very peculiar way in all such times?

40. And the Lord shall help them,-

He is and he shall ever be their Helper: “The Lord shall help them,”-

40. And deliver them: he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him.

That is the point;-not because of any merit of theirs, nor because of any skill of theirs, but “he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him.” So, Lord, help us to trust in thee! Amen.

GOD’S FIREBRANDS

A Sermon

Published on Thursday, January 19th, 1911,

delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”-Zechariah 3:2.*

It may be well to explain these words, for, simple as they are, a few words of exposition may be useful to open up the metaphor, and enforce the thrilling truth that underlies it.

There is mention of a fire. A cry of “Fire!” has something fearful in it. When a fire begins to get the upper hand with us, it is terrible in its destructiveness. The fire here meant is more awful than any flame that makes havoc of matter, and its devastations are ten thousand times more appalling. It is the fire of sin. It blazed in the heart of an angel, and he became a devil. Its sparks fell into the bosom of mother Eve, and into the heart of father Adam, and paradise was burned up, and the world became a wilderness. Sin is a fire which destroys the comfort of mankind here, and all the joy of mankind hereafter. It is a flame which yields no comfortable warmth. The sinner may dance in the light of it for a moment, but in sorrow will he have to lie down in it for ever. Woe unto those who have to make their bed in this fire, to dwell with these consuming flames for a term that knows no ending!

There is, further, mention of a brand. Nothing can be more suitable to burn in the fire than a brand. It is not a branch just taken from the tree, fresh and full of sap; it is a brand,-dry, sere timber, fit for the burning; it is not a mass of stone or iron, but a combustible brand. And what does this indicate but man’s natural heart, which is so congenial to the fire of sin? Our heart is like the tinder, and Satan has but to strike the spark, and how readily does the spark find a nest within our bosom! As the firebrand fits the fire, so does the sinner fit in with sin. When sin and the sinner come in contact, it is “Hail fellow, well met!” They are boon companions. The sinner’s heart is the nest well prepared, and sins are the foul birds which come to nestle there. Not to go a step without a particular application, it will be well for us all to understand that we are ourselves like the brands; there is a fitness between us and sin; if we burn in the fire of sin, it is no wonder; with our fallen nature, it is no greater marvel that we should be instigated by sin than that the firebrand should kindle in the flame.

Beyond the distinct allusion to a fire and a brand, we read of a brand in the fire. Nor is it merely a brand hitherto lying upon the heap, to be by-and-by put upon the flames; it is “a brand plucked out of the fire.” It has been in the fire. Does not this portray our condition,-not only congenial for the fire of sin, but actually burning and blazing in it? We began very early. Disobedience to parents, angry tempers, petty falsehoods, many sorts of childish obstinacies and wrongdoings,-all these were like the first catchings on fire of the brand. We have blazed away the reverse of merrily since then; some have become charred with sin, till their very bodies contain the marks of that tremendous fire, while in every case the soul receives a charring and blackening from the flame. Not one of us has been able, even with godly training and Christian parentage, to escape from burning to some extent in this fire. Alas! alas! for those who are even now in it!

There is a fair side to the picture; it is not altogether gloomy. While we have a fire, and a brand, and a brand in the fire, we also have, blessed be God! a brand plucked out of the fire. Sinners these, who, though they have still within them the propensity to sin, are no longer in the fire of sin. They have been taken away from it. They sin through infirmity, but wilful sin they do not commit. Their nature has been changed. They have received the renewing grace of God. The fire that once burned within them has been quenched. They recollect, to their grief and sorrow, the mischief that sin did to them, but it is not doing them the same mischief now. They are delivered from the body of sin and death.

Still, the force of the passage seems to lie in the words “plucked out of.” You may sit down on the settle by the hearth in one of those good old country fire-places where they still burn the logs, and perhaps a brand drops out upon the hearth, where it flames a little while, and then goes out. This is not a picture that we can appropriate, for there never was an instance known of a man by himself dropping out of the fire of sin. Alas! we love it too well. “The burnt child dreads the fire,” says the proverb; but we are like the silly moth that flies at the candle, and singes its wings, yet still uses those wings to mount up again into the flame; and if it falls, all full of pain and torment, with burnt legs, and with almost all its wing gone, it struggles, it pants, it labours to get into the fire again. Such is man. He loves the fire which is his destruction. In youth, we put our finger into the flame. We feel that it is burnt, yet again we put our hand into it. Then, in after years, we persist deliberately till that sin has consumed us from head to foot, and we lie down in our grave with our bones filled with disease,-foul fruit of the sins of our youth, our very corpses in their mortality bearing witness to the corruption of our morals.

Albeit the Christian is relieved of that peril, he does not escape by his own free will. He is plucked out of it. To be plucked out, there needs a hand quick to rescue. You know that pierced hand, and how it burnt itself when it was thrust into the hot coals to pluck us out like brands from the burning. It was no use waiting till we dropped out, for we should never have done so; there was no hope of that. With all the appliances of grace and of judgment, the two together could not bring us out. But effectual vocation did it, when the Spirit of the living God took the firebrand in his hand, and without asking it whether it would or not, by the sweet and irresistible compulsions of divine grace plucked the brand out of the fire. Now, every believer in the Lord Jesus is a trophy of the strength as well as of the mercy of God. It took as much omnipotence to snatch him from the fire as it needs to make a world, and every believer may feel that he is a brand plucked from the fire.

This question, as it appears to me, will bear three renderings; first, it may be looked upon as an exclamation of wonder: “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” Secondly, as an enquiry or hope: “Is not this a brand”-this one particularly,-“plucked out of the fire?” And, in the third place, it is certainly a defiance for us, assured of our safety, to throw into the face of Satan, the accuser: “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

The text bears the sense of wonderment: “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

It was said of Joshua, the high priest. There was such astonishment at his preservation that, with hands uplifted, the question was asked, “Is not this man just like a firebrand snatched from among the glowing coals?” Nor is this marvel confined to Joshua. I believe this is a matter of wonder in the case of every saved sinner. Was there ever a man saved by grace who was not a wonder? Is not every Christian conscious that there is some peculiarity about his own salvation which makes it marvellous? If you cannot all chime in with “Yes,” I must at least lead the chorus, in which an overwhelming multitude will join, confessing that it was so with myself. For a long while, I could not believe that it was possible that my sins could be forgiven. I do not know why, but I seemed to be the odd person in the world. When the catalogue was made out, it seemed to me that, for some reason, I must have been left out. If God had saved me, and not the rest of the world, I should have wondered indeed; but if he had saved all the world except me, that would have seemed to be according to the common course, and a right course, too. And now, being saved by grace, I cannot help saying, “Yes, I am a brand plucked out of the fire!” And does not each believer say the same? Why, look at the believer. He is fallen, lost, and yet, though lost in his first parent, he is saved in Christ. The believer’s own nature is depraved like that of other men, and yet, contrary to nature, he is made a new creature. As though Niagara were suddenly made to leap upwards instead of falling downwards, our nature, so mighty for sin, has been suddenly turned into the opposite direction, and we have been constrained to seek after grace and holiness.

Out of the state of our natural depravity we have been plucked, so that every man who is delivered from its sway may well say, “Am not I a brand plucked out of the fire?” Each Christian, knowing his own heart, and having a special acquaintance with his own peculiar besetting sin, feels as if the conquest of his own will by the grace of God were a more illustrious trophy of that grace than the conquest of a thousand others. I can well understand that none of us will yield the palm, in heaven to any other as to our indebtedness to the mercy of God. You may sing, and sing loudly, each one of you, and each one say “I owe more to God’s grace than any other owes;” but there is not one of us who will concede the point. We shall each strike up our own peculiar note, and louder yet, and louder yet, and louder still our notes of gratitude will rise to the seventh heaven “unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, to whom be glory and dominion for ever and ever.” Each Christian, then, for some reason, will feel that he is peculiarly “a brand plucked out of the fire.” I envy not the feeling of any believer who should dispute this. May you and I be more thoroughly baptized into the spirit of humility, that with deeper gratitude we may feel how peculiarly we are indebted to the grace of God!

Though this is the case universally, there are instances so uncommon that they excite surprise in the minds of all who hear of them. In the cases of extraordinary conversion, one of the first is the salvation of the extremely aged. Imagine a person here who has lived to be seventy or eighty years old, and all this time his heart has never heard the sigh of repentance, and never felt the joy of pardon. You have lived only to cumber the ground all these years, and you are still an enemy to God; while on the borders of the grave you have no hope of heaven. O soul, your case is very sad! It were enough to make angels weep, if weep they could, to think that such an one as you, after so many years of longsuffering, should not be melted thereby. Now, suppose the Lord should appear to you to-night, and say to you, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee. I took thee into the house of prayer to-night on purpose that the Word might come with power to thy soul, and I have this to say to thee,-Come now, and let us reason together: though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” What sayest thou, thou hoary Jacob, but without Jacob’s faith, leaning upon thy staff, would it not be a wonder if now thou shouldst begin to love the Lord, and begin to believe in Jesus? Oh, may God give thee grace to do so, and then I am sure thou wilt say to thy kinsfolk and acquaintance, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

There have been instances of persons converted at the most advanced age. There was one who went, I believe, to hear Mr. Toplady preach the very day when he was aged a hundred. He had been a constant neglecter of the house of God, but when he arrived at the age of a hundred, attracted by the fame of Mr. Toplady, who was an exceedingly popular, as he certainly was a highly evangelical preacher, and happened to be preaching in the town where the man lived, he said he would go on that day to hear him, that he might recollect his birthday. He went, and that day God in his grace met with him. I remember, too, the instance of a man who was converted by a sermon which he heard Mr. Flavel preach, and which was blessed to him eighty-three years after he had heard it, when he was at the age of ninety-eight. The Word came with power to his soul after all that interval of time. Just as he was on the borders of the tomb, he was made to enter into eternal life. May the God of infinite mercy give such a blessing to aged ones here, and they will be brands plucked out of the fire!

Remarkable, too,-I might almost say exceptional,-is the conversion of people who have been accustomed to hear the gospel from their youth up, who, though not, perhaps, absolutely aged, have nevertheless been for years receiving gospel privileges without any result. They have been lying at Bethesda’s pool, with its many porches, now for forty or fifty years. Oh! there are some such here. You have not heard me all that time. Some other ministry has, in times past, fallen upon your ear, and perhaps our own voice is now familiar to you through your having heard it these ten or twelve years. You listened to it at first with attention. You were riveted for a little while. Then it grew to be an ordinary thing; and though still you give the preacher a fair hearing, there is very little of that drinking in of the Word which there once seemed to be. Some of you, perhaps, will almost go to sleep here now. I wish sometimes that you were elsewhere; perhaps another voice would make your ears to tingle; you know my voice full well. It is quite possible for a minister to preach too long to any one set of people, if they get so accustomed to the tones of his voice that they are never aroused. The “click, click” of the mill gets to be so customary to the miller that he goes to sleep. Over in Bankside, I am told, when a man is first put inside a boiler while the rivets are being fastened, he cannot stop long, the noise is so dreadful; but, after a time, the boilermaker gets so used to the horrible din that he can almost go to sleep inside. Well, now, so it really is under any ministry when the people get gospel-hardened. The same sun which melts wax hardens clay. The influences which tend to make some people better make other people a great deal worse. Some of you have thus trifled with your own conscience. Should you be saved to-night, you would be brands plucked out of the fire; and may we not hope that you shall be? Will not some of us pray for it?

Further still, and apparently the wonder increases, there have been cases of gross sinners in which this marvel has been still more exciting. It is a merciful thing that God forgives drunkenness. Some of those who have wallowed in it have been saved. We sometimes talk of a man being “as drunk as a beast,” but who ever heard of a beast being drunk? Why, it is more beastly than anything a beast ever does. I do not believe that the devil himself is ever guilty of anything like that. I never heard even him charged with being drunk. It is a sin which has no sort of excuse; those who fall into it generally fall into other deadly vices. It is the devil’s backdoor to hell, and everything that is hellish; for he that once gives away his brains to drink is ready to be caught by Satan for anything. Oh! but while the drunkard cannot have eternal life abiding in him while he is such, is it not a joy to think of the many drunkards who have been washed and saved? This night, there are sitting here those who have done with their cups, who have left behind them their strong drink, and who have renounced the haunts of their debauchery. They are washed and cleansed; and when they think of the contrast between where they used to be on Sunday night and where they are now, they give an echo to the question, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

Very frequently, where this sin comes, blasphemy is added to it; and how many we have, who, though now saved by grace, were once fearful swearers, and could defy the God that made them to destroy them, or to inflict the most horrible judgments upon them, which it were a shame even to mention! But almighty grace takes the swearer, and says to him, “You shall curse no longer, for I have blessed you; I do not intend that you should imprecate curses on yourself; you shall now begin to plead with me for saving mercy!” Many, many, many such, whose tongues might well have rotted in their mouths through blasphemy, have been cleansed by Jesu’s blood; and the tongue can now sing that once could curse, and the lips can now pray that once could utter oaths. “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” Oh! you are here, Jack, are you? You can swear. Sometimes, when you are at sea, you roll out an oath or two; and when you are on shore, you know what you are; but may my Master meet you, and may he once for all transform you, and put his Holy Spirit to dwell in you, instead of the seven devils that are there now; and then you will say, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

Can we pass over the case of some who have given themselves up to sin, to work it with greediness? Alas! how men turn aside with scorn from the harlot in the street, and they think of her as though she must be consigned to the seventh hell, albeit that they themselves, perhaps, are viler still! But how shall we give a preference to one sinner rather than to another, when it must take two to commit this iniquity? But, alas! we know that, in London, our streets abound with those whose very names seem to make the cheek of modesty to mantle with a blush. Well, should there be such an one strayed in here,-sister,-for thou art a sister still,-the Lord Jesus receiveth sinners, and though thou hast sinned very foully, “there is forgiveness with him that he may be feared;” and his voice still says, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Whoever you may be that have fallen into these polluting sins which do such terrible mischief, and which bring down God’s anger upon men, yet still the heart of God melts with pity to the chief of sinners, and he cries, “How can I give thee up?” and lets the lifted thunder drop. Oh! when such are saved,-and there are scores, and scores, and scores, to our knowledge, now rejoicing in Christ, who have found peace in this house, though once the chief of sinners,-when such are saved, we say of each one of them, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

Or, what if you have even worn the felon’s dress? What if you have ever plunged into such sin that the very thought of it makes your ears to tingle? What if the darkness of the night could tell of such hideous crime that the brightness of day seems all too good for such an offender as you have been; still, the rivers and floods of divine mercy can break forth, and rise above the loftiest Alps and Andes of iniquity. The deluge of the Saviour’s pardoning grace shall mount to twenty cubits upwards, until the tops of the mountains of sin are covered, and you, the chief of sinners, shall have it said of you, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

We have gone a good length in the way of wonderment, yet one wonder, I think, is greater than all these. I have almost ceased to wonder when the swearer is converted, or when the harlot is saved; not because it is a mighty act of grace, but because it is common enough to be often repeated. God’s mercy is extended very freely to such sinners as these; but there is a wonder which I do not often see. I do see it, though not often; I wish I could. It is, when a self-righteous religious man gets saved.

“What,” say you, “do you mean by that?” Why, I mean those good people who go to church and chapel regularly, have family prayers, and say their own prayers, and think themselves upright. They will not confess that they have sinned, except in the mere complimentary way in which they are accustomed to say that they are “miserable sinners”, though they do not look very miserable. Peradventure, I address some such now, who felt, while I was preaching to the sinner, as if their dainty holiness was quite shocked. They are double-distilled in their refinement, they are unutterably holy and free from hypocrisy, their heart all the while loathing the plan of salvation, and rejecting the grace of God, because they believe that they are as good as they need be. To talk to them of crying, “God be merciful to me a sinner,” is to insult them. Have they not been baptized? Have they not been confirmed? Have they not gone through all the means? All must be right with them, they are so good; who could think of finding fault with them?

Now, if ever such people as these are saved from this terrible disease of self-righteousness, we should have to say indeed, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” And, nowadays, it is getting so common that it ought to be a subject of prayer with God’s people that God would deliver this land from the spreading miasma, the Romanism, alias Puseyism, which has covered it almost everywhere. If a man wants to make sure of everlasting wrath, let him fall into the deep ditch of Puseyism, for the abhorred of the Lord do fall therein. You may get out the common sinner, but those who wrap themselves about with vestments and fine garments of ceremony, who shall reach these? The hocus-pocus of the priesthood, the gewgaws, the ceremonies, the mummery which they designate worship,-these things form the refuge of lies behind which they hide themselves, and the true gospel of the blessed God is scarcely heard. What with their chantings and intonings, how can the still small voice of the gospel be heard? Through the dim smoke of incense, and the glare of gorgeous vestments, how shall Christ have a hearing? The Man of Nazareth alone is he who can save sinners. May he, in his mighty power to save, rend away these rags of Rome from before his cross, and let the naked beauty and simplicity of the gospel shine out again! Once more may we have to say, in the words of Cowper,-

“Legible only by the light they give,

Stand the soul-quickening words, ‘believe and live.’ ”

With more brevity than the preacher likes, though with perhaps as much amplitude as will be pleasant to yourselves, we shall now take the text by way of enquiry or hope. Our time has so far gone that I can only hint at what I meant to say.

When a sinner’s eye is suffused with tears, and the sorrowful cry breaks forth, “Alas! woe is me!” you may then say, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” for the tear of sorrow for sin is a blessed omen of mercy’s dawning. May mercy reach her noontide soon! And when, alone, the knee is bent, and the whispered prayer goes up, “Jesus, Master, pity me; save me, or I die,” the angels recognize the penitent’s prayer. They say, “Behold, he prayeth!” and then they feel that this is “a brand plucked out of the fire.” The tear of penitence and the prayer of the seeking soul are evidences of the working of almighty grace.

And when the poor soul at last, driven by necessity, throws itself fiat at the foot of the cross, and rests its hope wholly and alone on Jesus, then we may say of it, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

And when, in the midst of many a conflict and soul-struggle, the heart flings away its idols, and resolves to love Christ, and vows in his strength to be devoted to his service, we may say again with pleasure, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

I would invite you to think over these signs of grace, and if you see them in yourselves, may you ask the question, and be able to answer it with joy, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”

Do you not catch the idea of the text? There stood Joshua, the high priest, there stood the angel of the Lord, and there stood Satan. The adversary began to attack Joshua, but the angel of the Lord said to him, “ ‘The Lord rebuke thee, O Satan; even the Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem rebuke thee: is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?’ What hast thou to do with him? If God has plucked him out of the fire, thou canst never put him in again. Seeing God has plucked him out of the fire, go thou thy way, and mind thine own business! Thou hast nothing to do with this saved soul, this elect vessel, this one whom God has chosen, in whom the Spirit’s power has shown itself. He has plucked him out of the fire; go thy way, Satan! and leave this soul alone.”

It is a defiance, full of majesty and grandeur. It reflects a gorgeous lustre on the past. “God saved that soul,” says the angel to Satan. “Why did he do it? Why, because he chose him, because he ordained him unto eternal life, because everlasting love had set itself upon him. What hast thou to do with him? If God has chosen him, dost thou think that thou canst undo the divine decree? Canst thou reverse the counsels of the Most High, or dash in pieces the settled purposes of the infinite mind? Go thy way! God hath snatched him from the fire, determined to save him. Go thou, and think not to frustrate that divine design!”

Nor less did the angel seem to dart a look forward. If God had plucked him from the fire, why did he do it? To let him go back again? Will God play fast and loose with men? Does he pluck brands out of the fire to thrust them into the flame again? Absurd! Preposterous! Why has he plucked this brand out of the fire? Why, to keep it from ever being burned. That brand, taken out of the fire, shall be exhibited in heaven as a proof of what God’s almighty grace can do; and therefore the angel says to the devil, “Get thee gone! What hast thou to do with this man? God means to save him, so canst thou destroy him? God has done that which is the earnest and pledge of his perfect eternal safety; dost thou think that thou canst thwart God’s resolution and intention?”

Now, beloved brethren and sisters in Christ, do realize in yourselves this precious thought, each one of you. If the Lord has changed thee, if, indeed, thou art a brand plucked out of the fire, why shouldst thou fear the temptation which now assails thee? Dread not all the temptations that may attack thee. Weak as thou art, the God who has done so much for thee cannot leave thee now. He will not leave his purpose half accomplished. He will not be disappointed. He will to the end carry on his work till he brings you up to heaven. Why, I think some of you, who were very great offenders, ought often to take comfort from your conversion. You can say, “What a change there is in me! How far beyond anything I could ever have wrought in myself! It must have been God’s work.

“ ‘And can he have taught me to trust in his name,

And thus far have brought me to put me to shame?’ ”

The whole end to which we drive is this,-May God enable us all to see that our salvation is in him! Jonah had to go into the whale’s belly to learn that grand axiom of theology, and the most of us had to be sorely beaten before we found out that “salvation is of the Lord.” If thou knowest this, look to the Lord for it. Repose thyself on him now, and thou shalt be his for aye; thou shalt dwell on high; thy place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks; and thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty; they shall behold the land that is very far off.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

JOB 1

Verse 1. There was a man in the land of Uz,

Job was a man indeed; a true man, a man of the highest type, for he was a man of God.

1. Whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright,-

Job was thoroughly true and sincere, and in this sense he “was perfect and upright,”-

1. And one that feared God, and eschewed evil.

He had both sides of a godly character, a love of God and a hatred of sin.

2. And there were born unto him seven sons and three daughters.

Job was highly favoured in having such a family of sons and daughters.

3. His substance also was seven thousand sheep, and three thousand camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she asses, and a very great household; so that this man was the greatest of all the men of the east.

Job was not a poor man, yet he was a man of God;-one of those “camels” that manage to go through “the eye of a needle.”

4. And his sons went and feasted in their houses, every one his day; and sent and called for their three sisters-

Who were very modest and retiring, and would not have gone to the feast if they had not been sent for; but their brothers were kind and thoughtful, as all good brothers will be.

4, 5. To eat and to drink with them. And it was so, when the days of their feasting were gone about, that Job sent and sanctified them,

Job did not go to the feast; perhaps he felt too old, his character was too staid for such a gathering, and he had higher joys, that were nearer his heart than any earthly feast could be.

5. And rose up early in the morning, and offered burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said, It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually.

He thought, “Perhaps, in their rejoicing, unholy thoughts may have intruded; they may have been unguarded and lax in their conduct. They may not have fallen into any gross sin; but, in their feasting, they may have sinned against God, therefore I will offer sacrifices for them.” “Thus did Job continually.” Not only occasionally, but every day, he sacrificed upon his altar unto God, and so sought to keep his household right before Jehovah.

6. Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them.

Into heaven? Oh, no! The presence of God is very widespread, and there was no need to admit the evil spirit again into heaven in order that he might be present before God.

7. And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou?

God is Satan’s Master, so he asks him where he has been. I wonder whether, if the Lord were to put that question to everybody here, “Whence comest thou?” each of us could give a satisfactory answer to it.

7. Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

Uneasy, restless, ever active, like a roaring lion “seeking whom he may devour.” Ah! we little know how near Satan is to us now; and even in our hours of prayer, when we are nearest to God, he may come and assail us.

8. And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job,*-

“He is an example to you; he may well chide you; he is so obedient, and you are so rebellious: ‘Hast thou considered my servant Job,’ ”-

8, 9. That there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said,-

We may be certain that, if there had been anything bad in Job, Satan would have found it out, and brought it against him. However excellent a man is, though there are none like him on earth, you can find fault with him if you want to do so. Satan found fault with Job because he had prospered, and his friends afterwards found fault with him because he did not prosper; so you can make anything into a blot on the character of men if you have a mind to do so. “Satan answered the Lord, and said,”-

9, 10. Doth Job fear God for nought? Hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side?

The black dog of hell had been prowling around to see where he could get in, so he knew that there was a hedge right round Job, and round his house and all that he had. Notice how the devil insinuates that Job feared God for what he could get out of him. “His love is cupboard love,” says Satan; “he is well paid by providence for his reverence to God.”

10. Thou hast blessed the work of his hands,-

Even the devil dared not deny that Job was a working man, or say that he had come by his estate by oppression or plunder. No; he said to God, “Thou hast blessed the work of his hands,”-

10, 11. And his substance is increased in the land. But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.

Oh, what mischief Satan can imagine against the righteous! The mercy is that, although he is mighty, he is not almighty; he is very malicious, but there is One who is far wiser and stronger than he is, who can always circumvent and overpower him.

12-15. And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord. And there was a day when his sons and his daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house: and there came a messenger unto Job, and said, The oxen were plowing, and the asses feeding beside them: and the Sabeans fell upon them, and took them away; yea, they have slain the servants with the edge of the sword; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

Job had not wronged these Sabeans; they were plunderers on the lookout for spoil; and when Satan moved them, they came and stole the patriarch’s oxen and asses, and slew his servants.

16. While he was yet speaking,-

As if to give Job no time to rally his faith and encourage his heart,-

16. There came also another, and said, The fire of God is fallen from heaven, and hath burned up the sheep, and the servants, and consumed them; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

This calamity must have distressed Job all the more because “the fire of God” had burnt up the sheep that he was accustomed to offer in sacrifice to Jehovah, and the blow had seemed to come directly from God himself, as it was lightning that had destroyed both sheep and shepherds too. Poor Job had not time to recover from that shock ere the next blow fell upon him:-

17. While he was yet speaking, there came also another, and said, The Chaldeans made out three bands, and fell upon the camels, and have carried them away, yea, and slain the servants with the edge of the sword; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

He had not time to think before the heaviest stroke of all came:-

18, 19. While he was yet speaking, there came also another, and said, Thy sons and thy daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house: and, behold, there came a great wind from the wilderness, and smote the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young men, and they are dead; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

Satan had arranged to bring on the patriarch’s troubles so quickly one after another as to utterly overwhelm the good man; at least, so the devil hoped it would prove; yet it did not.

20. Then Job arose,-

With all his burden on him, he arose,-

20. And rent his mantle, and shaved his head,-

He did not pull his hair out as a Pagan, or a maniac, or a person delirious through trouble might have done; but he deliberately “rent his mantle, and shaved his head,”-

20. And fell down upon the ground, and worshipped,-

Grand old man, how bravely does he play the man here! He “fell down upon the ground, and worshipped,”-

21. And said, Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither:

That is, to the womb of Mother Earth.

21. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.*

I think these are the grandest words in the whole record of human speech. Considering the circumstances of the man at the time, that he should thus speak was, I think, a miracle of grace.

22. In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.