According to the judgment of Calvin, and some of the ablest commentators, there is a kind of pettishness in this verse. The context appears to imply that David had grown impatient under the chastening hand of God. Job, under similar circumstances, longed to accomplish as a hireling his day, and sought the repose of the grave, and so the Psalmist inquires how much longer he has to bear the ills and griefs of life, or when the goal shall be reached. But I am sure it is not for any of us to upbraid the Psalmist, for what is his impatience compared with ours? When I read of Elijah casting himself under the juniper tree, saying, “Let me die, I am no better than my fathers!”-should I wonder at the weakness of so great a man, it is only because he is great. No doubt that kind of weakness has seized us all, we have every now and then expressed a longing to depart: not so much, I fear, because of our eagerness to be with Christ, as because we have grown weary with the trials, the services, and the sufferings of this poor wilderness. Well, if we are the subjects of the same infirmity as these godly men of old, we must flee where they fled for strength to grapple with these infirmities and overcome them. We must look to the strong for strength, and pray God to work in us that ripe fruit of patience so rare and yet so precious, for it greatly glorifies God wherever it is brought forth.

David here asks the Lord to be his teacher. Observe the words, “Make me to know”; that is to say, “Instruct me, let me be the scholar, and do thou condescend to my ignorance and weakness, and teach me.” What, but did not David know his end? Did he not know the measure of his days? Was his frailty a secret that he could not discover? We may be sure that he knew it in part; knew it peradventure in that superficial manner in which many of us assent to moral and spiritual truths, with little understanding, and no appreciation. But he wanted to know it after a more perfect way; he would apprehend it with that spiritual enlightenment which God alone can communicate. Upon the biscuits at the china factories you have, perhaps, seen an impression produced; the inscription is to be there in future; that is like common knowledge. Have you afterwards seen that piece of china, when it has passed through the oven, has been baked, and comes forth with what you saw there superficially, baked into its very substance? Such should be our prayer, that what we know as upon the surface may be burned into our innermost consciences, may become indelibly a part of our own selves. Lord, not only make me to know, but make me to know by thine own divine art; burn it into me; make me to know mine end and the measure of my days.

Observe the condescension of God, that we are allowed to ask him to teach us such a lesson as our frailty. And mark the proof of our own ignorance, and our own forgetfulness, that we cannot even learn this lesson without God doth teach us. And must he make us to know? We need that our minds should be renewed, as it were, by a creative or a regenerating process; else we shall fail to discern the very simplest truths. Confessing our ignorance, let us go to God with the prayer of the Psalmist, and he will answer us.

There are, then, three things which the Psalmist wishes to know: his end, the measure of his days, and growing out of these, a just estimate of his own frailty. May the Lord teach us to profit while we meditate upon them!

Do we know this already? If you do, let your pure minds be stirred up by way of remembrance. The certainty of your end-try to know that by grasping the fact, and letting the truth of it affect your souls. Yes, I must die, unless the Lord should come, and I should be caught up together with the saints in the air. I must reach the terminus of this mortal life as other men, on the couch of weakness and the bed of death. I must die. There is no discharge in this war. There is no possibility of your having an everlasting life here. You don’t desire it if you are Christians; neither could you have it if you did desire it; a time will come when you must depart. Think, then, dear brethren-commonplaces will be useful to you. Let it pass over your soul, that for you the funeral bell must toll, for you the grave be digged, for you are the winding-sheet and the cerements of the tomb, for you “earth to earth, and dust to dust, and ashes to ashes,” as sure as you are a man. Being born mortal, you must die. The Lord make you to know this! You must die, not another for you; you must gather up your feet into the bed, and, like old Jacob, pass across the stream, the narrow stream of death. You, though now in the prime of life, or in the gaiety of childhood; you who have escaped so many accidents, and are now ripe and mellow in the quietude of old age; the dearest friend and companion cannot be a sponsor for you. When the call shall come, your pitcher must be broken at the fountain, and your wheel at the cistern, and you, in your own proper flesh and blood, must pass away, and your disembodied spirit must stand before God. Forget not, then, the certainty, or the personality of it.

It shall be conclusive, “Make me to know mine end.” It shall not be a halt, but a finale; not a starting on the road, but a termination of the great journey of life; “mine end,” mine end for all things beneath the sun, the end of my sin as far as this world is concerned, and the end of my service of Almighty God; the end of all my opportunities of doing good, of my occasions of getting good; mine end, so that whatever after is done under the sun, I shall have no share nor interest in it. The living know that they must die, but the dead know not anything; other saints walk over their graves, nations rise and fall, convulsions shake the most solid empires, all things change; but there, beneath the sod, they slumber on; their memory and their love are lost, alike “unknowing and unknown.” Certainly we shall come to an end; certainly I myself shall come to that end, and when my death comes, it will for this life and this mortal state be a veritable end which I cannot pass.

While musing on our end, the accompaniments of our end may well excite passing reflection. In all probability, brothers and sisters, though we know not what may come to us, our departure out of this life will be attended with the same langour and prostration we have witnessed in the case of others. We may expect the sick bed, the days of pain, and the sleepless nights which are the premonitions of decease. We may imagine for ourselves what we have so often seen among our kinsfolk and acquaintance, the family gathered in silent watchfulness, and the weeping children summoned to give the parting kiss, while the hot tears fall on the blanched cheeks of the departing. We can picture it all to our minds; it may be well we should, and make a rehearsal of it, too, for it is probable enough that so it may come. We are not sure that we shall take so deliberate a leave of the world. It may happen to us in the crowded streets; our end may come to us as we go by the way. That, however, rather strikes us as the course of nature, when there is the taking down of the tent, the folding up of the canvas, the putting away of each pin and pin-hold, and so we shall be removed as a shepherd’s tent. Then will come a leaving of all earthly things: your shutters will be put up by somebody else; your books will be no more kept by you; you will have struck the balance for the last time. Some other hand must go out to earn the children’s bread now that the father is gone. Some other woman’s tender care must watch over the little ones, now that the mother is no more. And the time must come when the rich man shall bid farewell to his parks and lawns, when he must bid farewell to his mortgages, to his bonds, his deeds, and his estates; and the poor man, who may, perhaps, find it as hard, must bid farewell to the cottage and the hearth, and all that made life dear to him. There will be a parting time for each of us, and the Lord make us to anticipate it! In connection with this, it is probable there will be many regrets to all of us. I hope when we come to die it will be no question as to whether we are saved or not. But even to a saved man, there arises this thought, “Oh! that I had glorified God more! Oh! that I had devoted of my substance, and of my time, and of my talents, more to my Master’s service! I can no more feed the hungry, or clothe the naked, or teach the ignorant. Oh! that those golden opportunities had been seized more eagerly, and employed more industriously by me; but now my time for service here is over, and I am mourning the scantiness of my life-work, and I cannot amend that which is faulty, or supply that which is lacking.” Our end, beloved, will be the end of all our Christian labour here below: no going to your Sunday School class any more; no coming again of the preacher to his rostrum; no standing here to admonish or to console. No more will the corner of the street listen to your voice, my brother, in your earnest evangelising; no longer can thy hand be outstretched to distribute the Word which tells of the great Saviour and the good Shepherd-our Lord Jesus Christ. On that bed you will be taking leave of all your Christian service, and if ought has been left undone, there will then be no opportunity to complete it. Depend upon it-and it is wise to look forward to the event-our end will be no child’s play. We may often smile and sing about death, and long for evening to approach, that we may rest with God; but it is at the same time a most solemn thing. The best way to deal with it is to die daily, to go down to Jordan’s brink and bathe every morning in that death-stream, till death shall be as familiar as life, till you shall come to think of it with daily expectation. Yet at times we almost wonder that we are lingering here, for we are expecting to be called away to dwell in the land of the living, where there is no more death, nor sorrow, nor sighing.

Then, again, it will be well for us to be made to know our end in all its results. Although it is called our end, yet surely it is, strictly speaking, a great beginning, a more true beginning, I was about to say, even than our first birth. The moment a man dies, then enters he upon the most solemn part of his existence. Make me, Lord, to know what it will be after this my departure; what will then happen to me. Come, let me reflect. My soul must wing her way without the body up to the throne of God, and there at once receive the preliminary sentence, the forecast of the sentence of the last tremendous day. “Committed for trial,” to lie in durance vile without the body till the resurrection trump, or be admitted into glory, such as that glory can be without the body, until the Lord Jesus Christ shall descend from heaven with a shout, and the trump of the archangel, and the voice of God. Which will it be with me? Ask this, dear hearers, and ask thy God to make thee to know which it shall be-thy spirit rejoicing in the presence of Christ thy Saviour, far from the world of grief and sin, with God eternally shut in; or shall it be thy spirit mocking amongst kindred miserables in the pit that hath no bottom, where the iron key is turned, and through the door of which there can be no escape? Which shall it be with thee? When thou thinkest of thine end, remember one of these must be thy portion, heaven or hell. Then comes the day of judgment and of the resurrection. The clarion, clear and shrill, shall be such as waketh man, not for battle, nor sleepers for the fray; it shall wake the long-buried from their silent graves, and they shall rise from sea and land an exceeding great multitude; then shall the great white throne be set, and the books be opened. This is the end God will have you to know. Oh! seek to know it. When that book is opened, and Christ shall read with eyes of fire, and with a voice of thunder, what shall the Lord award you? Will he turn to the page and say, “Blotted out with my blood are all the transgressions that were once recorded here, and, therefore, there is nothing now to read, except that which is the award of my chosen. I was hungry, and thou gavest me meat; I was thirsty, and thou gavest me drink; sick and imprisoned, and thou ministeredst unto me; come ye blessed”; or will it be to see the page turned over, and to hear the voice declare, “I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat; thirsty, and ye gave me no drink”? Will it be a record all of sin, and not of virtue, with the accompanying sentence, “Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire”? “Lord, make me to know mine end,” and let not mine end be to be banished for ever with the wicked; gather not my life with sinners, nor my soul with bloody men; cast me not away from thy presence; banish me not from thy mercy; shut me not up in the lowest pit; condemn me not to eternal destruction from the presence of the Lord. “Make me to know mine end,” and let this be the end, to be with Christ where he is, to behold his glory, the glory which thou gavest him from before the foundation of the world.

It seems to me that, when David prayed that he might be made to know his end, he well knew these were the accompaniments; but the way in which he wished to be made to know them was that he might be made to believe in them firmly, so as to realise them vividly, look upon them, not as fictions, myths, and traditions, but as realities; that he might be made to know them, so as to meditate upon them, to have his mind exercised constantly about them; that he might be made to know them so as to be prepared for them, and to set his house in order, because he must die, and not live, preparing to meet his God; and, above all, that he might know his end, by having a full assurance of being saved in Christ Jesus, so that his end should be everlasting peace. “Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.” Oh! that we might, while mentioning such men, become such men ourselves, and know that our end shall be peace through Jesus Christ! Now, in the second part of the prayer, David says:-

It is a very humbling thing to recollect that our days have a measure. In the Latin there is a proverb, “As poor men count their sheep,” and it is only because we are so poor in life, that we are able to measure our days. God’s days are not to be counted. “Thy generations, who can tell, or count the number of thy years? from everlasting to everlasting thou art God.” “The measure of our days.” Ask in prayer that you may be made to know this. I will just give some outlines, like a drawing-master’s sketch on the blackboard. How insignificant the measure of my days; what a very little time I have to live after all. If seventy years be my term, of what small account they are! Perhaps you have stood sometimes by a sand-cliff, as I did the other day, looking at alternate layers of shells, one above another; I should think at least one hundred feet thick of shells of a modern sort, succeeded by thin layers of sand. Now, this must undoubtedly have been formed by the gradual deposit of some ancient sea, but how long must it have taken to have composed a rock of one hundred feet thick of white shells and sand? Well, but that is only a comparatively small layer of this earth. We go a little deeper, and we find sandstones and limestones, which must have taken, if the laws of nature have been at all in other times as they are now, not thousands, but even millions of years to form, by the gradual deposit of the ocean. You go deeper still, and at last you come to rocks made by fire, and the geologist is most reasonably led to the conclusion that this world, as it now stands, must have existed several millions of years, because it has taken so long a time to collect these various deposits. I know as I stood poking my stick into this sand and shells, I felt as if I had shrivelled into a little ant, and less even than a tiny animalcule which had scarcely come into this world when it was driven away, and there were these rocks looking at me, and saying, Where wert thou when we were formed? When the waving ocean was washing up these shells, where wert thou? But now take your mind away from this world, and recollect that some beings dear to us are older than this world; for when this world was made, the morning stars sang and shouted for joy. Oh! ye angels-what infants we must seem in comparison with your age! Where wert thou when Gabriel first flew upon his errand, swift as lightning? Where wert thou when sin made Lucifer, sun of the morning, descend swift beneath the wrath of God into the shades of darkness which are reserved for him for ever? What is your life when once compared with the period of life which cherubim and seraphim have seen? Oh! but what are cherubim and seraphim compared with God. When, in this great world, sun, moon, and stars had not begun, God was as great and glorious as he is now; and when the whole of this creation shall be rolled up like a worn-out scroll, he will be the same-no older in a myriad myriad years than he is now; for with him there is no time:-

“He fills his own eternal Now,

And sees our ages pass.”

All things are present to him; we are carried away as with a flood; but he sits serene, neither age nor time change him. “Lord, make me to know the measure of my days”; help me to fall down in my utter insignificance before thy throne, adoring thine eternal majesty:-

“Great God, how infinite art thou,

What worthless worms are we;

Let the whole race of creatures bow,

And pay their praise to thee.”

While seeking to know the measure of our days, let the great importance that attaches to them stand out distinctly before us, for on this link our everlasting destiny is hung. It is this life which, so far as we are concerned, decides the next. In this life a believer, then a life of glory, and happiness, and immortality; in this life an unbeliever, then in the next life, in the world to come, everlasting punishment from the hand of God. This thought makes even this little life swell to wondrously great proportions. Here is a man next door to a worm, and yet next door to God; born but yesterday, and yet his existence will go on perpetually with God, for man shall not die. So momentous, and yet so insignificant; so magnificent, and yet so minute is the measure of my days.

“Lord, make me to know the measure of my days”-the certainty of that measure. God has appointed that you shall not die before the time; you shall certainly not live beyond it. That thread shall be cut off in its due season.

“Plagues and death around me fly,

Till he wills, I cannot die.”

While I admonish you to remember the certainty, let me urge you to reflect upon the uncertainty of it, as far as you are concerned. You may live other twenty, thirty, or forty years, or you may not live as many seconds; you may be spared for the next fifty years, and still taking part in life’s battle, or it may be that ere the clock has ticked again, you may be like a warrior taking his rest. Certain to God, but uncertain to you. It is well, in thinking of our days, to recollect they will be quite long enough for us if God helps us to use them well. Life is very short, but a great deal may be done. Our Lord Jesus Christ, in three years, saved the world. Some of his followers in three years have been the means of saving many and many a soul. It was a short life that Luther had to do his great work in. If I remember rightly, he was hard upon fifty before he began to preach the truth at all, a hopeful sign for some of you who have wasted your young days; so there have been men of sixty that have yet achieved a life’s work before they had slept and gone their way. After all, time is long or short as you like to make it so. One man lives a hundred years and dies a worldling, and yet another man, through God’s grace, puts forth as much energy in two or three years as if he were a thunder-bolt launched from the hands of God, and he leaves his name amongst imperishable memorials. Your life will be long enough to achieve great things, if God will help you to recollect, in measuring your days, that they will be quite short enough for the enterprise you have in hand. You will only have finished the picture when the master palsies the arm and makes you drop the pencil, and you will only have completed the day’s work when the shadow shall have fallen, and you shall go home to your rest. Work with all your might, but don’t work despondingly; there is time enough for your soul to glorify God. Do thy piece of the great work, though it be but a hair’s breadth you are suffered to perform, and though it be as nothing in the presence of him whose mighty deeds are shown through all generations. Shall I need to say anything more about measuring our days, except that it may be a painful recollection for us to remember that, if they are not longer days, it is the prevalence of sin that made it necessary to shorten them. We might have lived to the age of Methuselah, but the Antediluvian fathers so filled the earth with violence that God sent a flood and swept them all away. It is a great mercy that men don’t live too long. Where were progress, if the old men of two hundred years ago were here to obstruct it? Where the chance for reform, if the vested interests of avarice were permitted to accumulate without any check? Now, however, the old blood is constantly superseded by fresh blood, and the stream of life is kept purer by the passing away of the old conservative element, which, when here, was exceedingly good in its season, but must give place to the influx of a spring tide more adapted to the growth of the times. Thank God, the great infidels don’t live for ever; who would have wished to have a Voltaire for ever stalking about this world? What a mercy that his was but a short life! What would you think if you had a Tom Paine blustering against Almighty God five hundred years at a stretch? A mercy it is that even good men don’t live here for ever, because their temptations would so accumulate in the recollection of years of service, that self-righteousness would become inveterate, hero worship an established idolatry, and dogmatism a nuisance without abatement. I grant you experience might come in to modify some of the evils, for so the grace of God can do anything-but there would be at least a natural tendency to perpetuate corruptions. We don’t measure, I am afraid, our own years in some respects, as we are wont to do those of others. Some have to thank themselves that their lives are short; sins of their youth lie in their bones, and as we remember our days, we may provoke very painful recollections as to past sin, be checked as to all future folly, and desire henceforth to walk in holiness and fear in the service of God until our days be ended. To number our days seems to me to mean, “not let them run away and be wasted.” Hours ought to be counted; we sleep too much, some of us; we spend too much time at the table; too much in idle talk. Lord, help us to measure out our days, count them as they fly, and even the odd five minutes, those little pieces of time which we think we may idle away-much may be accomplished with them if we really set our minds as in the sight of eternity to employ the scraps, for God. “Lord, teach me to know the measure of my days.” But my time has failed, and therefore I must have but one or two words about the third point. David prays that he might know his fraility:-

I must come to that end soon. I am coming to it now. Lord, make me to know that I am so frail that I may die at any time, early morning, noon, night, midnight, cockcrow. I may die in any place; if I am in the house of sin, I may die there; if I am in the place of worship, I may die there. I may die in the street: I may die while undressing to-night. I may die in my sleep; die before I get to my work to-morrow morning. I may die in any occupation. But God grant I may never die a blasphemer. I may die with the cup of communion at my lips; I may die preaching; I may die singing. In all, grant I may die as I wish to die, doing thy service for the love of Christ by the power of thy spirit. Perhaps, as I stand here and readily speak, the arrow is on its way; soon may the hand be stretched, and dumb the mouth that lisps this faltering strain. Oh! may it never intrude upon an ill-spent hour, but find me wrapt in meditation, and hymning my great Creator, or serving my fellow-man with love to God, or in some way so labouring that it shall not come to me as a thief in the night, but shall find me watching, ready for his advent. And this is what David meant. “Make me to know my end”; it may come at any time, but let me be always ready for it. Make me to know the measure of my days with the same object. My days are measured; these days may be few; they may be very few; I may have come to the last one. The pilgrimage of life is a very solemn one. It reminds me of a caravan proceeding forward in a track; some know it, some of the travellers have forgotten it; but on the road which they are pursuing, there is a deep gulf or chasm, and some in the front part of the caravan have fallen into the gulf already; others are proceeding; in some cases they can hear the shrieks and cries of those who have fallen into the chasm on ahead. But here, in the darkness, in the rear of the caravan, there may be many others indulging in such sparks of fire as they have kindled; they are sounding the tabret, and the cymbal, and making merry still; though everyone of them is going onwards towards the same precipice over which their comrades, who led the way, have already fallen. There they go, onward, onward, onward, in the darkness, till they come to that fatal step which will plunge them into the world unknown. God has led thee to this tabernacle well in health, and strong, but thy next step may be into eternity. Beware, then, that thou lay hold on the hand which was once crucified, lest, when thou slip, there be none to hold thee up, and, when thou fall, there be none to rescue thee, and thou fall through the black and cheerless darkness for ever and ever, lost, lost, lost, beyond hope of rescue. God forbid this for his mercy’s sake. Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

PSALM 90

“A prayer of Moses, the man of God.” It is well to know the author, because it helps you to an understanding of the psalm. Remember that Moses lived in the midst of a pilgrim people who were dwelling in tents, journeying towards Canaan. He lived in the midst of a people doomed to die in the wilderness. Only two of them, Moses himself not one of them-only two of those that came out of Egypt were to be permitted to enter into the promised land. You may expect, therefore, to find much that is sombre about this psalm, and yet there is much that is very restful, trustful, about it. If it is the prayer of Moses, it is the prayer of a man of God.

Verse 1. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.

Thy chosen people have dwelt in thee. Thou art their rest, their refuge, their comfort, their home. It is just the same now as in the days of Moses. God’s people have no dwelling-place for their souls, but their God. They are happy when they get to him. In him they dwell at ease.

2. Before the mountains were brought forth,

Before they were born like infants, gigantic as they are.

2. Or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.

Everything else changes. Thou dost not. We lose our comforts. We dwell, as it were, in tents which are taken down, and removed; but there is no change in thee. Beloved brethren, you know this truth; but do you enjoy it? I think there is no sweeter food for the soul than the doctrine of the immutability of the eternal existence of God-God that cannot die and cannot change-that is, and always is, God. Oh! he is our confidence and joy! As for men, what are they?

3. Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.

He has only to speak-no need to take the scythe and mow us down. He does but say, “Return, ye children of men,” and we go back to the dust.

4. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.

A thousand years is a very long period in human history. If you fly back and try, in your knowledge of history, to recollect what the world was a thousand years ago, it seems a long, long time ago; but to God, who ever liveth, all the age of the world must seem but as the twinkling of an eye. What are a thousand years to thee, thou glorious one, before whom the past is present, and the future is as now?

5. Thou carriest them away as with a flood.

Men stand, as they think, firmly; but as the best built buildings are swept away by a torrent-trees, cattle, everything dispersed before the impetuous outburst-so, great God, dost thou carry men away as with a flood.

5, 6, They are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.

Have you ever watched a field of grass when in full bloom? There is, perhaps, no more beautiful sight. What variety of colours in the flowers, which are the glory of the grass! And then you come by, and the mower has done his work, and there it all lies. It has been withered by the sun’s heat. Just such are we. Our generations fall before the scythe of death as falls the grass. And it is done at once. “In the morning it flourisheth: in the evening it is cut down.”

7. For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled.

Whenever God’s anger does break forth against a people, it must consume them! Oh! what a blessing it is if you and I know that his anger is turned away, and he comforts us. Then we are not troubled by it any longer. Do not apply these words to yourselves. They belong to the Israelites in the wilderness, who were dying, consumed by God’s anger, and troubled by his wrath. But as for us who believe in Jesus Christ, we have love, instead of anger, and the sure mercies of David, instead of wrath, and in this we may rejoice.

8. Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.

And what was the result of that, but that they all had to die? Their carcases fell in the wilderness. Oh! if you are a believer in Jesus Christ, this text is not true to you-does not belong to you. Here is another that belongs to you-“Thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back.” He has not set them in the light of his countenance, but he has cast them into the depths of the sea; and you stand acquitted, justified, beloved. And yet there may be some here who feel their sins to-night, and know that God is looking at their sin. Do you know, dear friend, there is no hope for you but one, and that is written in the Book of Exodus: “When I see the blood, I will pass over you.” If you do but put your trust in the blood of Jesus Christ, God will turn away his eyes from your sins and look upon the blood of Jesus Christ. Yea, the blood of Jesus shall blot out your sins, and you shall rejoice.

9, 10. For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our years as a tale that is told. The days of our years are threescore years and ten: and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

It is well to have such a sense of our mortality upon us as this psalm suggests, and yet it is better still to recollect that we are immortal-that, when we die after the flesh, we shall not die, but live in Christ, world without end. Life is cut off, and it is like a string that holds a bird by the leg: we fly away. Which way? If we are God’s own we fly away above yon clouds. We reach the eternal fields where we shall sing for ever and ever.

11. Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.

Dread is God’s anger, indeed. Who knows it? None of us do. The lost in hell begin to know it, but it will need eternity for them to learn it all. Oh! I charge everyone here who is unpardoned never to attempt to learn what God’s anger means. It will be an awful lesson. The power of that anger! Why, when it is let loose against a man, even in this life, in a measure it crushes him. But what the power of that anger must be, who can tell?

12. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

Count how many days have gone. Will not the time past suffice us to have wrought the will of the flesh? You cannot tell how few remain, but still, if you live to the longest period of life, taking that for granted which you may not take for granted, how little remains! Oh! that we might, by the shortness of life, be led to apply our hearts unto wisdom, so as to live wisely. And what is the best way of living wisely, but to live in Christ, and live to God?

13. Return, O Lord, how long?

It is an earnest prayer, full of grief. The prophet of Israel, Moses, was attending one continual funeral. Wherever the tribes halted, they formed a cemetery, and buried another legion of their dead. I do not wonder that he prays, “Return, O Lord, how long?”

13, 14. And let it repent thee concerning thy servants. O satisfy us early with thy mercy: that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

If they be but few, help us to live happily in them. Grant us the art of thy grace of knowing thyself, the source of happiness, that we may drink of bliss to the full.

15. Make us glad according to the days wherein thou hast afflicted us, and the years wherein we have seen evil.

Give us measure for measure-sweets in bounty, according to the bitterness. Surely God has done more than this to some of us. We can bless his name because his love has abounded, and he has made our cup to run over with his goodness.

16. Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children.

We will do the work, and the next generation shall have the glory. We will be content to wait, plodding on. Jesus will come by and by. “Let thy work appear to us; thy glory to our children.”

17. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us:

That, if we must go, we may do something that will live, that we may not have lived in vain. “Establish thou the work of our hands upon us.”

17. Yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.

It is my daily prayer. My heart goes up to heaven often that the work that is done in this place may never pass away, but that God would make it such a work of true and real grace, that it may abide until the Lord himself shall come. We may expect it if we seek it at his hands. “Yea, the work of our hands, establish thou it.”

RIGHT-HAND SINS

A Sermon

Published on Thursday, July 16th, 1914.

delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

On Lord’s-day Evening, June 27th, 1868.

“And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off.”-Mark 9:43.

Salvation is by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. It is not of works, neither can it be procured by human merit. It is the free gift of God, through the atoning sacrifice of Christ, to every soul that believeth. But what is salvation? Salvation is, in short, deliverance from sin, deliverance from the guilt of it, from the punishment of it, from the power of it. If, then, any man is saved, he is delivered from the reigning power of sin. It is not possible, therefore, that any man should have salvation, and yet continue in the indulgence of sin. Jesus Christ came to open a hospital for sin-sick souls, not that they might remain sick in a hospital, but might go out of it healed. He came, not to take men to heaven with their sins about them, but to purge them from their sins, and so make them fit to enter heaven. Hence, Jesus Christ is the severest of all moralists, and while he and his followers denounce all trust for salvation in merit, they equally declare that no man is a saved soul who tolerates any known sin. All the gospel declares this. In all its parts it implies this, and that he cannot, and ought not to, consider himself to be saved, and cannot truly be said to be saved, while he lives in the indulgence of evil propensities as he did aforetime. We shall not at all, therefore, come into conflict with the doctrines of grace, while we preach to you the strongest claims of Christ upon our hearts and lives through his Word. We shall have to urge upon you the most strenuous giving up of sin, and that which leads to sin; but this, not as a means of salvation, but as a result of faith, and as an evidence that salvation is truly possessed. As the sign and token, the proof and the earnest of the good work of the Holy Ghost within the soul. We shall begin, therefore, with this short assertion, which will serve as our first point of thought:-

Everything which offends God ought to offend us.

You notice the text saith, “If thy hand offend thee.” We might read it, “Make thee to offend God.” The two expressions ought in our experience to mean the same thing, for everything which offends God does offend every truly gracious heart. That short statement will serve as a touch-stone for us all to know, whether we are reconciled to God or not, for, remember, if thou truly lovest God, it must be so, that that which is hateful to him will be hateful to thee. Where two hearts are bound together in the bonds of love, they are quite sure to endeavour to remove everything out of the way that would cause pain to either. Thou canst not love me if thou wouldest favour mine enemies. Thou canst have no affection for me, if thou wouldest delight to thrust before me that which vexes my spirit and grieves my heart. True love feels a sympathy with the person loved, and learns to put away that which is obnoxious. Now say, heart, dost thou put away from thyself that which God hates-hating it because he hates it; not so much because thy fellow-Christians dislike it, or because the public judgment would go against it; but dost thou hate evil because it is detestable in the sight of God? If so, then thou hast a clear mark that thou lovest God, and be thankful for the grace which has put thy heart into such a temper.

Again, if that which offends God offends us, then we may congratulate ourselves that there is some degree of conformity between God and us. All the saints are to be made like unto God. It was in God’s image that man was first made: he lost that image by his sin, but that image is to be restored by the work of the Holy Spirit. If thou dost, even now, in thy soul, war against that which God loathes, if thou strive and cry after that which God loves, then is between God and thee, at any rate, some degree of likeness. Thou art like him in thy hatred of evil-like, not in degree, but yet still in substance. Thou art like God in thy love towards that which is lovely, and good, and pure-not like him in degree, I say again, yet still in the matter of fact there is some likeness between God and thy soul.

Then there is one other thought that ought to cheer thee. If thou canst honestly answer this question, if that which offends God offends thee, then there is some communion between God and thy soul; and though it may be a question with thee, and thou sayest, “Will God in very deed speak with such a one as I am? Will he reveal himself to his servant, and show himself gracious to such a worm as I?”-he has done it, and he is doing it, and this practical proof of his communion is better far than half the raptures and the joys which may be but the fruit of men’s carnal excitement, whereas this solid gold of holiness is full and true proof that the hand of the Lord has been laid upon thee. Settle this, then, my beloved brother or sister, in your heart from this day forth:-“If there be a good man in this world, if God loves him, I must love him; if there be a good doctrine preached anywhere, though I may scarce understand it, yet if God loves it, I must believe it and rejoice in it; if there be any providential dispensation that is really of God’s mind, then let it be my mind; oh! Spirit of God, bring me to love what God loves, not only to acquiesce in his will, but to rejoice in his will; and Lord, teach me to hate what thou hatest; if there be those in this world whose company thou wouldest not have, for they blaspheme, and rail, and speak lightly of holy things, help me to shun their company; if there be a song that Christ’s ear would not hear, let my ears refuse to hear it; if there be any sight that a holy God would not gaze upon, let not me gaze upon it, but may I seek only to love that which would approve itself to the pure mind of Christ, and to be offended, heartily and naturally-without any twisting of myself towards it-at everything that is at enmity with God. That stands as the first thought. Now, let us pass on. In the carrying out of this rule:-

Every saved man will find that there are many sins which offend God which must be very summarily dealt with.

That which offends God, offends the soul. That is the first step. Then the next step is-deal with it as an offence: deal with it with vigour: deal with it in a summary manner; as the text puts it, “If thy hand offend thee, cut it off.” There are sins which are very dear to men. I shall not attempt to give a catalogue of them. We are so differently constituted, that the sin which might bewitch you, might not fascinate me, and the sin into which I should be likely to fall might not be that to which you would be so liable. We have all some besetting sins. We may fall into all sins, but some men are more disposed to certain offences than others.

Now, if thou hast any wrong thing that has hitherto been dear to thee, like thy right hand, thy right eye, thy right foot, thou art, according to this text, to deal with it, and to deal with it at once.

Some sins appears to men to be necessary to them. “What shall I do without my right hand?” In certain trades and lines of business, the habit of telling white lies, or the indulgence of certain company, may seem as if it were absolutely necessary. “How can I get my daily bread, unless I do so and so, as others do? We must live”: and so on. Well, if the thing be wrong, even though it appear to be necessary to thy livelihood as the right hand is to the body, yet thou art still to deal with it, for thou and thy sins must part, or God and thou must part. There can be no salvation to one that harbours sin, and if sin be not given up, hope must be given up, for into heaven no man shall come who hugs his sins. Some sins, then, are dear, and some sins seem useful.

Some sins, again, seem to be parts of our very selves. “I give up that habit?” says one; “If that were relinquished, I should be, indeed, a very different man from what I am, but I cannot give it up; it is impossible; the Ethiopian might sooner change his skin, or the leopard his spots.” And yet, friend, even if it be impossible, it must be done. Another power than thine must come to the rescue, for that sin of thine must go, and the sooner the better if thou art to be saved.

Now, observe Christ’s word about this right-arm sin, which seems so dear, so needful, and so much a part of the man himself. What does he say? “If thy hand offend thee”-strap it up? Well, some have said, “I will take a vow not to fall into such a sin as that.” “If thy hand offend thee”-secure it within certain bounds and limits, so that it shall only act up to a certain extent, but shall go no farther-fetter it, chain it? “If thy hand offend thee”-swathe it in bands, keep it from doing mischief? No! but hear the Master’s sharp and, at its first sound, cruel word, “Cut it off!” In the gospel according to Matthew, he puts it, “Cut it off, and cast it from thee,” as though, even after it were cut off and the vital union were dissolved, yet still even the thought of it becomes detestable. “Cut it off, and cast it from thee.” You perceive it is a thorough-going action: it is a vigorous action: it is a final action, for, after the man has cut off his arm, he cannot put it on again: after he has plucked out his right eye, and cast it from him, he cannot have it restored again: and after the right foot has been cut off, it cannot grow there again. It is a final sentence of separation between the man and his sin.

Now, I put it to some of you to-night, who have been thinking about going to heaven; but you never will get there, whilst you are what you are. You are accustomed to drink, perhaps. Now, it is no use your dallying with that sin, saying, “I will keep it within bounds!” Off with it, sirs! and cast it from you. Those pots of yours must be turned upside down. The damnable habit must be relinquished, or it will certainly be your destruction. It is of no use for a man to say, “I have been unchaste, but I will keep that sin within limits.” There is no such thing as keeping the devil in a cage. Cut it off, and cast it from you! Then there is your pride. It is in vain for you to say, “I will be somewhat humble; I will be somewhat resigned,” and so on. Cut it off, man; cut it off, and cast it from thee! It must be thorough work-a clean severance between thee and sin. Ah! these are hard tidings, and many will turn on their heel, and go their way, and say, “We cannot endure this,” but, as the Lord liveth, the pearly gates can never open to any of you who keep your sins. All your iniquities shall be forgiven you; though you have blasphemed and have even committed murder, there is pardon for you if you hate those sins and leave them, and Christ will help you to hate them if you trust him. He will give you grace to quit them, but if you hug those sins, you may prate about faith in Christ, and you may lie about experience in grace, but to such things as real faith and true experience, you are, and must be, utter strangers, unless sin, with stern resolution, be given up-not so much as one sin hugged, or indulged, or loved. “Must a man be perfect, then?” Sir, a man must desire to be perfect. “But he cannot be perfect.” Sir, he can be perfect in intention, if not in fact, and there is a deal of difference between the sin of misadventure, and of infirmity, and the wilfully wicked sin of some men. Alas! there are always men who can excuse their sins by the sins of God’s people. They eat up the sins of God’s people as they eat up bread: they make a sweet morsel of it. But the genuine child of God, if he sinneth, hates himself for it. The evil that he would not, that he does, but his heart is right. He would do good perfectly if he could, and he pants and longs to be delivered from sin. His heart does not go after his idols: he has given them up, cast them away by God’s grace, and, if he could, he would never take their names upon his lips again.

Let that second point sink deep into the souls of all who would be saved. Sins that offend must be given up, and given up at once. Now, in the next place:-

There are some things which cause us to offend, and if we are true Christians, we shall not hesitate to give them up. Now, I am about to address those who are really in Christ Jesus. There are certain matters which to believers are very risky and dangerous, and if they love Christ, they must give them up.

I think I know some who, I trust, are the Lord’s people, but they are very fond of a certain class of company: there are attractions to them in certain pleasures. Now, if thy would but look at their own hearts, they would find that this company is a snare to them. They are kept from week-night services; they have little zeal for God’s glory now. Prayer is not kept up as it ought to be, kept up after such meetings as they sometimes hold. And yet the society is very fascinating, and not altogether in itself to be condemned, but the tendecies are, to this soul at any rate, exceedingly detrimental. The man is backsliding, and he certainly gets nothing to help his growth in grace in that society. All he gets there is evidently to the bad, and has an evil tendency. Now, what ought the Christian in such a case to do? He ought without hesitation to give up such society. I have no right to be constantly found where I cannot grow in grace. I have no right to find happiness in associations which are dangerous to my soul, which drive away the Holy Spirit, and break my communion with Christ. Off with that right arm, then! “Oh! but it will seem so painful to give up that society; it would be like losing a right arm!” Well, but it would be a grand thing to lose an arm for Christ. Those are not altogether the most ignoble soldiers who come back from battle maimed; nay, their scars are their honour, and for a Christian to have to sacrifice some dear connection, to have to give up standing and position, to receive the cold shoulder, to have the wink of the eye, to have the unkind word for Christ, should be counted for an honour. We should be willing to do and bear it. Nay, without the slightest hesitation, we should feel that there is no connection to be compared with communion with Christ, no society for a single second to be put in the scales with walking near to him, and so, off with the right arm, and keep close to Christ.

It sometimes happens that things which are right, and good, and desirable may be causes of offence. Yes, there may come a time when a man’s good name and reputation may have to be given up. I believe that a Christian minister had better, once for all, as soon as ever he sets out earnestly preaching the gospel, make up his mind to give up his reputation. It is very hard to be accused of this, and that, and the other-some unknown crime to which you were never tempted: to have your words wrested and your motives misconstrued; but every faithful servant of Christ ought to go in for that, and reckon upon that, and settle that at first. Mr. John Wesley, I think, once said in the pulpit that he had been accused now of every crime in the whole catologue of sin, except drunkenness, and he did not know that anyone had accused him of that, whereat some wicked blasphemer in the crowd accused him of it to his face, and Mr. Wesley lifted up his hands and said, “Now this day is fulfilled the word of the Master wherein he said, ‘Woe is unto you when men shall speak well of you, but blessed are ye when they shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake and the gospel’s.’ ” Why, in the old times, the old days of the Covenanters, the old times of the Puritans, there were found plenty of the followers of Christ who would keep close to him if they could keep their reputations and their characters; but those were the brave men who would be counted the offscouring of all things, be set down for fanatics, levellers, and I know not what besides, but who declared that for the truth, for Christ, and for his cause, they could bear it all. I was reading yesterday the famous sentence of excommunication which Cargill declared against Charles the Second, in which he cast him out of the Church of God and brought all his crimes against him; and went to the block for having so done. He, and Alexander Petrie, and such, were wont to say that they would die a thousand deaths sooner than admit that any king could be head of the church, or put the crown on any head, except the head of Christ Jesus the Lord. In such times, and in other times as well, the most of men are cravens: they must keep a reputation: they must not oppose themselves too much to popular opinion. They must, if they can, sail with the current. Oh! child of God, if thy reputation be ever a snare to thee, off with that right hand of thine, and be willing to be called a dog or a devil, if Christ can get the greater honour out of thee.

To some professors, their love of profit becomes a snare. I need not say many things about that. If there be any profits that you get in business that are not honest profits, I do charge you before the living God, have nought to do with them, but let the Christian man’s business be conducted with such uprightness that he could afford to have it proclaimed as with the sound of trumpet at the market-cross, for only such business is fit for Christian men. So if there is anything about thy trading that would not stand the test of the most searching investigation, cut it off: cast it from thee: what hast thou to do with it, thou child of God?

So, too, with very much besides, which I have not time to mention. There are a thousand things we might plead for, concerning which much might be said, but if these things, though they may be indifferent in themselves, should to any of us prove a preventive of our serving Christ, they become sins to us. Even if they are allowable to others we have no right to touch these doubtful things. That which is not of faith is sin; that is to say, that which you cannot do, believing it to be right, even if it be right, is sin to you. You have got to know in your own soul that it is according to the commandment, or else, as a child of God, you have no right to touch it, or go near it.

May I urge upon my dear brethren, the members of this church, to avoid all places where they give Satan the advantage. In a battle it is a great thing for a general to fix his position. I do not think I should be inclined often to expose myself to the fire of a battery across a plain where the shots were constantly flying, and I do pray you young people, and old people, too, never to be afraid of being too precise, but to be afraid of being too lax. This is a day in which the stern regulations of the Puritans are cast overboard, and perhaps rightly so, some of them; but let us not go to the opposite extreme, but rather when we feel that anything comes to be a temptation to us, let us away with it, and away with it without a moment’s repining or demur-off with the right arm, the right foot, and out with the right eye.

One thing there is which I have often to preach a little sermon about, to myself. There is a tendency in some of us, especially those of us who have heavy constitutions, to have a love of ease, and we have to drive ourselves on with a whip to constant industry. But it must be done, we must do it. Whitfield used to call out against the gouty doctor. That minister who takes things easily will be a-cursed of God at the last. I believe there is no man whose condemnation will be more dreadful than that of an easy-living minister. We are bound to be the best of men, to spend and be spent in the Master’s cause. The love of ease is the temptation of many, many Christians. Their love of retirement is really indolence. They get into the back ranks of the Christian army, and enjoy all the good things of the Church, out of a love of self. I am sure many do. We ourselves like spiritual ease. We do not like being stirred up too much. We do not like a little self-examination. Are there not hundreds of Christians who do not dare to look at their own souls? They are obliged to live at secondhand, hoping it is all right, but as to a thorough ransacking of their spirits, they have not gone through that by the year together. It won’t do, my brethren. We must cut off this easy kind of Christianity. The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and only the violent will win it. A heart-searching contention against sin, and revenge against iniquity in our own souls, must be carried out, for men will not go to heaven sleeping. These are not times in which you will be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease. He that would win the heavenly race must run for it. He that would get to heaven must fight for it. The Lord stir us up, and deliver us from this right-arm sin of self-confidence and love of carnal ease. The Lord help us to work for his cause while we have any strength left, and to rest in the rest which he hath prepared for us on the other side of Jordan. Now I come to a close.

I shall speak first to you unconverted people about the giving up of sin.

“It is not a very pleasant operation, that of cutting off the right arm,” says one; “I cannot do it; I do not like that amputation.” Listen awhile, man. Did you never have a friend that had a broken leg? Did you never go to see him in the hospital? You recollect that the doctor told you that the leg would mortify, and when the man heard that, what did he say? Did he object to have it taken off just above where it was mortifying? He was told that if it were not taken off, the whole body would perish, and was he not very thankful, indeed, when the surgeons came and removed the diseased limb?

There may be some here who have even passed through that themselves: you were glad enough to lose the arm or leg to save your life. But, man, that sin of yours is a mortified part of your soul, your spiritual manhood. It must be given up: it will send mortification through thy whole self if it be not cut off. Is there anything cruel in Christ’s demanding that it should be removed? Nay, it is the dictate of generous and kindly wisdom. Submit thyself to it, and ask the Holy Spirit to take away thy darling sin, and make it distasteful to thee. You will soon die, and if you die with that sin unrepented of, you can have no question about where you will go. If you have any question about it, our Lord’s words that I read to you told you three times over that you will be cast “into hell fire, where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched.” I am not going to dwell upon those words by way of explaining them. What they mean I trust you never may know, but if you ever should begin to know, you will continue to know for ever and ever, “where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched,” as some say it is. Oh! beware lest thou run that risk! Now, man, suppose thou shouldest keep thy cups, keep thy bad company, keep thy lusts, keep thy self-righteousness, and find thyself in hell, it will be poor consolation to thee. Ah! instead of consolation, it will be another tongue for remorse, another tooth for the adder of despair. What, did you sell your soul for that little dance, for that night of revelry, for that week’s debauch? What, would you sell your soul for that unchaste delight, or for that wild maniac shriek of pleasure? Ah! how you will curse yourselves, and tear your hair, and wish that you had ne’er been born, and played the fool so horribly with your immortal soul! Let, let the sin go, let the sin go! If a man were drowning with a golden belt about his loins, and could not swim because the gold was heavy, how quickly would he seek to unbind the belt; how gladly would he feel it sink in the flood, and himself begin to strike out and swim. Man, may God’s grace help thee to ungird that belt of sin, or pleasure, or whatsoever it may be, and give up all, that thou mightest swim for eternal life through Jesus Christ.

And now, Christians, this word to you. I have hinted that there are some things that you will have to give up, in order that you may grow in grace, and serve your Master. I will not keep you, but there are two or three things I have to say to you. Remember, that what you ever have to give up for Christ, it will be sweet to give up, and his precious society and approval will be a perfect recompense. No man ever lost by Christ in the long run. Nay, talk of giving up-are not those things most our own that we give up to him? Have we not felt it to be far sweeter to drink the gall-cup than to drink the wine-cup, if we have made the exchange to glorify his name? Ah! if the love be right, sacrifice will be the truest gain.

Besides, reflect-Christians are losers to be gainers. The farmer loses his wheat as he scatters it broad upon the soil, but then he expects the harvest. The money that is invested and put out, the merchant has it not, but then it is making gain for him, and he expects to receive it with its interest. So whatever we give up for Christ will come back to us with blessed interest in that land where to have been maimed for Christ will be nobility, where to have suffered for Christ will enrol us amongst the peerage of the skies; where to have died for Christ will make us brightest of the bright, amidst the fair ones fairest of the fair. Oh! never stand questioning and parleying about anything in which Christ is concerned, but pray the Holy Ghost to keep thee from this day forward close at the heels of the Master, casting aside every weight and every sin that doth beset thee, and every earthly thing that doth attract thee, and only desiring his name to be sweet upon thy tongue, and his praise to be reflected in thy whole character. God grant it may be so with you, my dear brethren, until Christ cometh. Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

MATTHEW 18:1-22

Verse 1. At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?

The question we have sometimes heard asked in other forms, “Which is the highest office; which form of service shall have the greatest honour?” As if we were courtiers and were to take our positions according to precedent.

2. And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them.

They all wondered what he was going to do. The little child was no doubt pleased to find itself in such happy company.

3. And said, Verily I say unto you,

“And said, Verily I say unto you”-to you, men or women, who think no small things of yourselves, and are wanting to know which is greatest, implying that you, each one, think yourself pretty good as it is.

3. Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

Someone said to me this morning, “This is a growing day.” “Ah!” I said, “I hope we shall all grow spiritually.” “Which way?” said he; “smaller or larger?” Let it be smaller, brethren; that will be the surest way of growth certainly. If we can become much less to-day, we shall be growing. We have grown up, as we call it; let us grow down to-day, and become as little children, or else we shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

4. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

The lower down, the higher up. In a certain sense the way to heaven is downward in our own esteem certainly. “He must increase; I must decrease.” And when that straight-backed letter “I,” which often becomes so prominent, vanishes altogether, till there is not an iota of it left, then we shall become like our Lord.

5. And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.

The humblest and the least in the family of divine love, if received, brings with that reception the same blessing as the reception of Christ.

6. But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me,

It does not mean put him out of temper by his taking his silly offence, but shall cause him to sin, shall make him stumble, shall scandalise him-whosoever shall do that.

6. It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.

If you have the revised version, you will see in the margin that it is an ass millstone-not a common millstone, which women used to turn, but a bigger stone, which was turned by an ass, in a mill which thus was of a larger kind altogether. The very heaviest conceivable doom were better than to be a stumbling block in the way of the very least of God’s people. Yet I have known some say, “Well, the thing is lawful, and if a weak brother does not like it, I cannot help it; he should not be weak.” No, my dear brother; but that is not the way Christ would have you talk. You must consider the weakness of your brother; all things may be lawful to you, but all things are not expedient, and if meat make your brother to offend, eat no meat while the world standeth. Remember, we must, after all, measure the pace which the flock can travel by the weakest in the flock, or else we shall have to leave behind us many of the sheep of Christ. The pace at which a company must go, must depend upon how fast the weak and the sick can travel-is it not so?-unless we are willing to part company with them, which I trust we are not willing to do. So let us take care that we cause not even the weakest to stumble by anything that we can do without harm to ourselves, but which would bring harm to them. Then I am not sure if it would harm the weakest, whether it would not harm us also, because we are not as strong as we think we are; and, perhaps, if we took a better measure, we might put ourselves among the weakest, too.

7, 8. Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh! Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee:

Get rid of that which is most useful to you, most necessary to you, rather than be led astray by it, and made to sin-for.

8. It is better for thee to enter into life halt or mained, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire.

Remember that is the word of Jesus-“everlasting fire”-not the word of some of those coarse, cruel theologians that you hear a great deal about now-a-days, but the word of Jesus Christ, the Master himself. You cannot be more tender than he; to pretend to be so, will only prove us to be very foolish.

9. And if thine eye offend thee,

So needful to thy pleasure, and to thy knowledge, and to thy guidance; yet if it make thee sin,

9. Pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire.

Better to be but a maimed believer than to be an accomplished unbeliever; better to be an uncultured saint than a cultured modern thinker; better that thou lose an eye, or lose a hand, than lose thy faith in God and his word, and so lose thy soul and be cast into hell fire.

10. Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones;

So apt to do so; when a man appears to have no perfect knowledge, no large pretentions, we are so apt to think, “Oh! he is a nobody.”

10. For I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.

There is an angel to watch other each child of God; the heirs of heaven have those holy spirits to keep watch and ward over them. These sacred intelligencies, who watch over the people of God, do at the same time behold God’s face. They do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word, and beholding his face all the while. And if these little ones are thus honourably attended by the angels of God, never despise them, They may be dressed in fustian, they may wear the very poorest of print, but they are attended like princes; therefore, treat them as such.

11. For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost.

Another reason why you must not despise them. “How think ye?” Put on your considering cap, and think a minute.

12-14. How think ye? if a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray? And if so be that he find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth more of that sheep, than of the ninety and nine which went not astray. Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish.

Nor shall they. Christ has come on purpose that He may find them out, and find them out he will; and having an hundred, whom his Father gave him, he will not be satisfied with ninety-and-nine, but the whole hundred shall be there. Now, as if to show us that we are not to despise the very least in the family, nor even the most erring, he brings it personally home to us.

15. Moreover if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone: if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother.

Do not say, “You must come to me.” Go to him; he has trespassed against you; it is a personal affair; go and seek him out. It is useless to expect the person who does the injury to try and make peace. It is the injured one who always has to forgive, though he has nothing to be forgiven; it always comes to that, and it is the injured one who should, if he be of the mind of Christ, be the one to commence the reconciliation.

16, 17. But if he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established. And if he shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church: but if he neglect to hear the church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican.

Quit his company; he has despised the last tribunal. Now you must leave him. Be not angry with him. Freely forgive him, but quit him.

18. Verily I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

Where the church acts rightly, it has the solemn sanction of God; this lesser tribunal on earth shall have its decrease sanctioned by the great tribunal above. Hence it becomes a very serious matter, this binding and loosing which Christ has given to his Church.

19-20. Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

It is not a large church, therefore, that is girded with the wonderful power of prayer, but even two or three. Christ will not have us despise one; he will not have us despise two or three. Who hath despised the day of small things? On the contrary, measure by quality, rather than by quantity; and even if the quality fail, measure by love, rather than by some rule of justice that you have set up.

21. Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?

He thought he had opened his mouth very wide when he said that.

22. Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Unto seventy times seven.

I do not wonder that we read in another place that the disciples said, “Lord, increase our faith.” For it needs much faith to have so much patience, and to continue still to forgive.