Charles Spurgeon Collection: Spurgeon - C.H. - Sermons from Luke: 58 LUK 24:47 Christ's First and Last Subject

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Charles Spurgeon Collection: Spurgeon - C.H. - Sermons from Luke: 58 LUK 24:47 Christ's First and Last Subject



TOPIC: Spurgeon - C.H. - Sermons from Luke (Other Topics in this Collection)
SUBJECT: 58 LUK 24:47 Christ's First and Last Subject

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         Christ's First and Last Subject



August 19th, 1860

by

C. H. SPURGEON

(1834-1892)



"From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say,

Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at

hand"-Matthew 4:17.



"And that repentance and remission of sins should

be preached in his name among all nations,

beginning at Jerusalem"- Luk_24:47.



It seems from these two texts that repentance was the

first subject upon which the Redeemer dwelt, and that

it was the last, which, with his departing breath, he

commended to the earnestness of his disciples. He

begins his mission crying, "Repent," he ends it by

saying to his successors the apostles, "Preach

repentance and remission of sins among all nations,

beginning at Jerusalem." This seems to me to be a very

interesting fact, and not simply interesting, but

instructive. Jesus Christ opens his commission by

preaching repentance. What then? Did he not by this act

teach us how important repentance was-so important that

the very first time he opens his mouth, he shall begin

with, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

Did he not feel that repentance was necessary to be

preached before he preached faith in himself, because

the soul must first repent of sin before it will seek a

Saviour, or even care to know whether there is a

Saviour at all? And did he not also indicate to us that

as repentance was the opening lesson of the divine

teaching, so, if we would be his disciples, we must

begin by sitting on the stool of repentance, before we

can possibly go upward to the higher forms of faith and

of full assurance? Jesus at the first begins with

repentance,-that repentance may be the Alpha, the first

letter of the spiritual alphabet which all believers

must learn; and when he concluded his divine commission

with repentance, what did he say to us but this-that

repentance was still of the very last importance? He

preaches it with his first, he will utter it with his

last breath; with this he begins, with this he will

conclude. He knew that repentance was, to spiritual

life, a sort of Alpha and Omega-it was the duty of the

beginning, it was the duty of the end. He seemed to say

to us, "Repentance, which I preached to you three years

ago, when I first came into the world, as a public

teacher, is as binding, as necessary for you who heard

me then, and who then obeyed my voice, as it was at the

very first instant, and it is equally needful that you

who have been with me from the beginning, should not

imagine that the theme is exhausted and out of date;

you too must begin your ministry and conclude it with

the same exhortation, 'Repent and be converted, for the

kingdom of heaven is at hand.'" It seems to me that

nothing could set forth Jesus Christ's idea of the high

value of repentance, more fully and effectually than

the fact that he begins with it, and that he concludes

with it-that he should say, "Repent," as the key-note

of his ministry, preaching this duty before he fully

develops all the mystery of godliness, and that he

should close his life-song as a good composer must,

with his first key-note, bidding his disciples still

cry, "Repentance and remission of sins are preached in

Jesus' name." I feel then that I need no further

apology for introducing to your solemn and serious

attention, the subject of saving repentance. And oh!

while we are talking of it, may God the Holy Ghost

breathe into all our spirits, and may we now repent

before him, and now find those blessings which he hath

promised to the penitent.



With regard to repentance, these four things:-first,

its origin; secondly, its essentials; thirdly, its

companions; and fourthly, its excellencies.



I. Repentance-ITS ORIGIN.



When we cry, "Repent and be converted," there are some

foolish men who call us legal. Now we beg to state, at

the opening of this first point, that repentance is of

gospel parentage. It was not born near Mount Sinai. It

never was brought forth anywhere but upon Mount Zion.

Of course, repentance is a duty-a natural duty-because,

when man hath sinned, who is there brazen enough to say

that it is not man's bounden duty to repent of having

done so? It is a duty which even nature itself would

teach. But gospel repentance was never yet produced as

a matter of duty. It was never brought forth in the

soul by demands of law, nor indeed can the law, except

as the instrument in the hand of grace, even assist the

soul towards saving repentance. It is a remarkable fact

that the law itself makes no provision for repentance.

It says, "This do, and thou shalt live; break my

command, and thou shalt die." There is nothing said

about penitence; there is no offer of pardon made to

those that repent. The law pronounces its deadly curse

upon the man that sins but once, but it offers no way

of escape, no door by which the man may be restored to

favour. The barren sides of Sinai have no soil in which

to nourish the lovely plant of penitence. Upon Sinai

the dew of mercy never fell. Its lightnings and its

thunders have frightened away the angel of Mercy once

for all, and there Justice sits, with sword of flame,

upon its majestic throne of rugged rock, never

purposing for a moment to put up its sword into the

scabbard, and to forgive the offender. Read attentively

the twentieth chapter of Exodus. You have the

commandments there all thundered forth with trumpet

voice, but there is no pause between where Mercy with

her silver voice may step in and say, "But if ye break

this law, God will have mercy upon you, and will shew

himself gracious if ye repent." No words of repentance,

I say, were ever proclaimed by the law; no promise by

it made to penitents; and no assistance is by the law

ever offered to those who desire to be forgiven.

Repentance is a gospel grace. Christ preached it, but

not Moses. Moses neither can nor will assist a soul to

repent, only Jesus can use the law as a means of

conviction and an argument for repentance. Jesus gives

pardon to those who seek it with weeping and with

tears; but Moses knows of no such thing. If repentance

is ever obtained by the poor sinner, it must be found

at the foot of the cross, and not where the ten

commandments lie shivered at Sinai's base.



And as repentance is of gospel parentage, I make a

second remark, it is also of gracious origin.

Repentance was never yet produced in any man's heart

apart from the grace of God. As soon may you expect the

leopard to regret the blood with which its fangs are

moistened,-as soon might you expect the lion of the

wood to abjure his cruel tyranny over the feeble beasts

of the plain, as expect the sinner to make any

confession, or offer any repentance that shall be

accepted of God, unless grace shall first renew the

heart. Go and loose the bands of everlasting winter in

the frozen north with your own feeble breath, and then

hope to make tears of penitence bedew the cheek of the

hardened sinner. Go ye and divide the earth, and pierce

its bowels with an infant's finger, and then hope that

your eloquent appeal, unassisted by divine grace, shall

be able to penetrate the adamantine heart of man. Man

can sin, and he can continue in it, but to leave the

hateful element is a work for which he needs a power

divine. As the river rushes downward with increasing

fury, leaping from crag to crag in ponderous cataracts

of power, so is the sinner in his sin; onward and

downward, onward, yet more swiftly, more mightily, more

irresistibly, in his hellish course. Nothing but divine

grace can bid that cataract leap upward, or make the

floods retrace the pathway which they have worn for

themselves down the rocks. Nothing, I say, but the

power which made the world, and digged the foundations

of the great deep, can ever make the heart of man a

fountain of life from which the floods of repentance

may gush forth. So then, soul, if thou shalt ever

repent, it must be a repentance, not of nature, but of

grace. Nature can imitate repentance; it can produce

remorse; it can generate the feeble resolve; it can

even lead to a partial, practical reform; but unaided

nature cannot touch the vitals and new-create the soul.

Nature may make the eyes weep, but it cannot make the

heart bleed. Nature can bid you amend your ways, but it

cannot renew your heart. No, you must look upward,

sinner; you must look upward to him who is able to save

unto the uttermost. You must at his hands receive the

meek and tender spirit; from his finger must come the

touch that shall dissolve the rock; and from his eye

must dart the flash of love and light that can scatter

the darkness of your impenitence. Remember, then, at

the outset, that true repentance is of gospel origin,

and is not the work of the law; and on the other hand,

it is of gracious origin, and is not the work of the

creature.



II. But to pass forward from this first point to our

second head, let us notice the ESSENTIALS of true

repentance. The old divines adopted various methods of

explaining penitence. Some of them said it was a

precious medicine, compounded of six things; but in

looking over their divisions, I have felt that I might

with equal success divide repentance into four

different ingredients. This precious box of ointment

which must be broken over the Saviour's heard before

the sweet perfume of peace can ever be smelt in the

soul-this precious ointment is compounded of four most

rare, most costly things. God give them to us and then

give us the compound itself mixed by the Master's hand.

True repentance consists of illumination, humiliation,

detestation, and transformation.



To take them one by one. The first part of true

repentance consists of illumination. Man by nature is

impenitent, because he does not know himself to be

guilty. There are many acts which he commits in which

he sees no sin, and even in great and egregious faults,

he often knows that he is not right, but he does not

perceive the depth, the horrible enormity of the sin

which is involved in them. Eye-salve is one of the

first medicines which the Lord uses with the soul.

Jesus touches the eye of the understanding, and the man

becomes guilty in his own sight, as he always was

guilty in the sight of God. Crimes long forgotten start

up from the grave where his forgetfulness had buried

them; sins, which he thought were no sins, suddenly

rise up on their true character, and acts, which he

thought were perfect, now discover themselves to have

been so mixed with evil motive that they were far from

being acceptable with God. The eye is no more blind,

and therefore the heart is no more proud, for the

seeing eye will make a humble heart. If I must paint a

picture of penitence in this first stage, I should

portray a man with his eyes bandaged walking through a

path infested with the most venomous vipers; vipers

which have formed a horrible girdle about his loins,

and are hanging like bracelets from his wrists. The man

is so blind that he knows not where he is, nor what it

is which he fancies to be a jewelled belt upon his arm.

I would then in the picture touch his eyes and bid you

see his horror, and his astonishment, when he discovers

where he is and what he is. He looks behind him, and he

sees through what broods of vipers he has walked; he

looks before him, and he sees how thickly his future

path is strewed with these venomous beasts. He looks

about him, and in his living bosom looking out from his

guilty heart, he sees the head of a vile serpent, which

has twisted its coils into his very vitals. I would

try, if I could, to throw into that face, horror,

dismay, dread, and sorrow, a longing to escape, an

anxious desire to get rid of all these things which

must destroy him unless he should escape from them. And

now, my dear hearers, have you ever been the subject of

this divine illumination? Has God, who said to an

unformed world, "Let there be light," has he said, "Let

there be light" in your poor benighted soul? Have you

learned that your best deeds have been vile, and that

as for your sinful acts they are ten thousand times

more wicked than ever you believed them to be? I will

not believe that you have ever repented unless you have

first received divine illumination. I cannot expect a

blind eye to see the filth upon a black hand, nor can I

ever believe that the understanding which has never

been enlightened can detect the sin which has stained

your daily life.



Next to illumination, comes humiliation. The soul

having seen itself, bows before God, strips itself of

all its vain boasting, and lays itself flat on its face

before the throne of mercy. It could talk proudly once

of merit, but now it dares not pronounce the word. Once

it could boast itself before God, with "God, I thank

thee that I am not as other men are"; but now it stands

in the distance, and smites upon its breast, crying,

"God be merciful to me a sinner." Now the haughty eye,

the proud look, which God abhorreth, are cast away, and

the eye, instead thereof, becomes a channel of

tears-its floods are perpetual, it mourneth, it

weepeth, and the soul crieth out both day and night

before God, for it is vexed with itself, because it has

vexed the Holy Spirit, and is grieved within itself

because it hath grieved the Most High. Here if I had to

depict penitence, I should borrow the picture of the

men of Calais before our conquering king. There they

kneel, with ropes about their necks, clad in garments

of sackcloth, and ashes cast about their heads,

confessing that they deserve to die; but stretching out

their hands they implore mercy; and one who seems the

personification of the angel of mercy-or rather, of

Christ Jesus, the God of mercy-stands pleading with the

king to spare their lives. Sinner, thou hast never

repented unless that rope has been about thy neck after

a spiritual fashion, if thou hast not felt that hell is

thy just desert, and that if God banish thee for ever

from himself, to the place where hope and peace can

never come, he has only done with thee what thou hast

richly earned. If thou hast not felt that the flames of

hell are the ripe harvest which thy sins have sown,

thou hast never yet repented at all. We must

acknowledge the justice of the penalty as well as the

guilt of the sin, or else it is but a mock repentance

which we pretend to possess. Down on thy face, sinner,

down on thy face; put away thine ornaments from thee,

that he may know what to do with thee. No more anoint

thine head and wash thy face, but fast and bow thy head

and mourn. Thou hast made heaven mourn, thou hast made

earth sad, thou hast digged hell for thyself. Confess

thine iniquity with shame, and with confusion of face;

bow down before the God of mercy and acknowledge that

if he spare thee it will be his free mercy that shall

do it; but if he destroy thee, thou shalt not have one

word to say against the justice of the solemn sentence.

Such a stripping does the Holy Spirit give, when he

works this repentance, that men sometimes under it sink

so low as even to long for death in order to escape

from the burden which soul-humiliation has cast upon

them. I do not desire that you should have that terror,

but I do pray that you may have no boasting left, that

you may stop your mouth and feel that if now the

judgment hour were set, and the judgment day were come,

you must stand speechless, even though God should say,

"Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire in hell."

Without this I say there is no genuine evangelical

repentance.



The third ingredient is detestation. The soul must go a

step further than mere sorrow; it must come to hate

sin, to hate the very shadow of it, to hate the house

where once sin and it were boon companions, to hate the

bed of pleasure and all its glittering tapestries, yea,

to hate the very garments spotted with the flesh. There

is no repentance where a man can talk lightly of sin,

much less where he can speak tenderly and lovingly of

it. When sin cometh to thee delicately, like Agag,

saying, "Surely the bitterness of death is past," if

thou hast true repentance it will rise like Samuel and

hew thy Agag in pieces before the Lord. As long as thou

harbourest one idol in thy heart, God will never dwell

there. Thou must break not only the images of wood and

of stone, but of silver and of gold; yea, the golden

calf itself, which has been thy chief idolatry, must be

ground in powder and mingled in the bitter water of

penitence, and thou must be made to drink thereof.

There is such a loathing of sin in the soul of the true

penitent that he cannot bear its name. If you were to

compel him to enter its palaces he would be wretched. A

penitent cannot bear himself in the house of the

profane. He feels as if the house must fall upon him.

In the assembly of the wicked he would be like a dove

in the midst of ravenous kites. As well may the sheep

lick blood with the wolf, as well may the dove be

comrade at the vulture's feast of carrion, as a

penitent sinner revel in sin. Through infirmity he may

slide into it, but through grace he will rise out of it

and abhor even his clothes in which he has fallen into

the ditch (Job_9:31). The sinner unrepentant, like the

sow, wallows in the mire; but the penitent sinner, like

the swallow, may sometimes dip his wings in the limpid

pool of iniquity, but he is aloft again, twittering

forth with the chattering of the swallow most pitiful

words of penitence, for he grieves that he should have

so debased himself and sinned against his God. My

hearer, if thou dost not so hate thy sins as to be

ready to give them all up-if thou art not willing now

to hang them on Haman's gallows a hundred and twenty

cubits high-if thou canst not shake them off from thee

as Paul did the viper from his hand, and shake it into

the fire with detestation, then, I say, thou knowest

not the grace of God in truth; for if thou lovest sin

thou lovest neither God nor thyself, but thou choosest

thine own damnation. Thou art in friendship with death

and in league with hell; God deliver thee from this

wretched state of heart, and bring thee to detest thy

sin.



There lacks one more ingredient yet. We have had

illumination, humiliation, and detestation. There must

be another thing, namely, a thorough transformation,

for-

"Repentance is to leave

The sins we loved before,

And show that we in earnest grieve

By doing so no more."



The penitent man reforms his outward life. The reform

is not partial, but in heart, it is universal and

complete. Infirmity may mar it, but grace will always

be striving against human infirmity, and the man will

hate and abandon every false way. Tell me not,

deceptive tradesman, that you have repented of your sin

while lying placards are still upon your goods. Tell me

not, thou who wast once a drunkard, that thou hast

turned to God while yet the cup is dear to thee, and

thou canst still wallow in it by excess. Come not to me

and say I have repented, thou avaricious wretch, whilst

thou art yet grinding thine almost cent, per cent, out

of some helpless tradesman whom thou hast taken like a

spider in thy net. Come not to me and say thou are

forgiven, when thou still harboureth revenge and malice

against thy brother, and speaketh against thine own

mother's son. Thou liest to thine own confusion. Thy

face is as the whore's forehead that is brazen, if thou

darest to say "I have repented," when thine arms are up

to the elbow in the filth of thine iniquity. Nay, man,

God will not forgive your lusts while you are still

revelling in the bed of your uncleanness. And do you

imagine he will forgive your drunken feasts while you

are still sitting at the glutton's table! Shall he

forgive your profanity when your tongue is still

quivering with an oath? Think you that God shall

forgive your daily transgressions when you repeat them

again, and again, and again, wilfully plunging into the

mire? He will wash thee, man, but he will not wash thee

for the sake of permitting thee to plunge in again and

defile thyself once more. "Well," do I hear you say, "I

do feel that such a change as that has taken place in

me." I am glad to hear it, my dear sir; but I must ask

you a further question. Divine transformation is not

merely in act but in the very soul; the new man not

only does not sin as he used to do, but he does not

want to sin as he used to do. The flesh-pots of Egypt

sometimes send up a sweet smell in his nostrils, and

when he passes by another man's house, where the leek,

and garlic, and onion are steaming in the air, he half

wishes to go back again to his Egyptian bondage, but in

a moment he checks himself, saying, "No, no; the

heavenly manna is better than this; the water out of

the rock is sweeter than the waters of the Nile, and I

cannot return to my old slavery under my old tyrant."

There may be insinuations of Satan, but his soul

rejects them, and agonizes to cast them out. His very

heart longs to be free from every sin, and if he could

be perfect he would. There is not one sin he would

spare. If you want to give him pleasure, you need not

ask him to go to your haunt of debauchery; it would be

the greatest pain to him you could imagine. It is not

only his customs and manners, but his nature that is

changed. You have not put new leaves on the tree, but

there is a new root to it. It is not merely new

branches, but there is a new trunk altogether, and new

sap, and there will be new fruit as the result of this

newness. A glorious transformation is wrought by a

gracious God. His penitence has become so real and so

complete that the man is not the man he used to be. He

is a new creature in Christ Jesus. If you are renewed

by grace, and were to meet your old self, I am sure you

would be very anxious to get out of his company. "No,"

say you, "no, sir, I cannot accompany you." "Why, you

used to swear"! "I cannot now." "Well, but," says he,

"you and I are very near companions." "Yes, I know we

are, and I wish we were not. You are a deal of trouble

to me every day. I wish I could be rid of you for

ever." "But," says Old Self, "you used to drink very

well." "Yes, I know it. I know thou didst, indeed, Old

Self. Thou couldst sing a song as merrily as any one.

Thou wast ringleader in all sorts of vice, but I am no

relation of thine now. Thou art of the old Adam, and I

of the new Adam. Thou art of thine old father, the

devil; but I have another-my Father, who is in heaven."

I tell you, brethren, there is no man in the world you

will hate so much as your old self, and there will be

nothing you will so much long to get rid of as that old

man who once was dragging you down to hell, and who

will try his hand at it over and over again every day

you live, and who will accomplish it yet, unless that

divine grace which has made you a new man shall keep

you a new man even to the end.



Good Rowland Hill, in his "Village Dialogues," gives

the Christian, whom he describes in the first part of

the book, the name of Thomas Newman. Ah! and everyman

who goes to heaven must have the name of new-man. We

must not expect to enter there unless we are created

anew in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath

before ordained that we should walk in them. I have

thus, as best I could, feeling many and very sad

distractions in my own mind, endeavored to explain the

essentials of true repentance-illumination,

humiliation, detestation, transformation. The endings

of the words, though they are long words may commend

them to your attention and assist you to retain them.



III. And now, with all brevity, let me notice, in the

third place, the COMPANIONS of true repentance.



Her first companion is faith. There was a question once

asked by the old Puritan divines-Which was first in the

soul, Faith or Repentance? Some said that a man could

not truly repent of sin until he believed in God, and

had some sense of a Saviour's love. Others said a man

could not have faith till he had repented of sin; for

he must hate sin before he could trust Christ. So a

good old minister who was present made the following

remark: "Brethren," said he, "I don't think you can

ever settle this question. It would be something like

asking whether, when an infant is born, the circulation

of the blood, or the beating of the pulse can be first

observed"? Said he, "It seems to me that faith and

repentance are simultaneous. They come at the same

moment. There could be no true repentance without

faith. There never was yet true faith without sincere

repentance." We endorse that opinion. I believe they

are like the Siamese twins; they are born together, and

they could not live asunder, but must die if you

attempt to separate them. Faith always walks side by

side with his weeping sister, true Repentance. They are

born in the same house at the same hour, and they will

live in the same heart every day, and on your dying

bed, while you will have faith on the one hand to draw

the curtain of the next world, you will have

repentance, with its tears, as it lets fall the curtain

upon the world from which you are departing. You will

have at the last moment to weep over your own sins, and

yet you shall see through that tear the place where

tears are washed away. Some say there is no faith in

heaven. Perhaps there is not. If there be none, then

there will be no repentance, but if there be faith

there will be repentance, for where faith lives,

repentance must live with it. They are so united, so

married and allied together, that they never can be

parted, in time or in eternity. Hast thou, then, faith

in Jesus? Does thy soul look up and trust thyself in

his hands? If so, then hast thou the repentance that

needeth not to be repented of.



There is another sweet thing which always goes with

repentance, just as Aaron went with Moses, to be

spokesman for him, for you must know that Moses was

slow of speech, and so is repentance. Repentance has

fine eyes, but stammering lips. In fact, it usually

happens that repentance speaks through her eyes and

cannot speak with her lips at all, except her

friend-who is a good spokesman-is near; he is called,

Mr. Confession. This man is noted for his open

breastedness. He knows something of himself, and he

tells all that he knows before the throne of God.

Confession keeps back no secrets. Repentance sighs over

the sin-confession tells it out. Repentance feels the

sin to be heavy within-confession plucks it forth and

indicts it before the throne of God. Repentance is the

soul in travail-confession delivers it. My heart is

ready to burst, and there is a fire in my bones through

repentance-confession gives the heavenly fire a vent,

and my soul flames upward before God. Repentance,

alone, hath groanings which cannot be

uttered-confession is the voice which expresses the

groans. Now then, hast thou made confession of thy

sin-not to man, but to God? If thou hast, then believe

that thy repentance cometh from him, and it is a godly

sorrow that needeth not to be repented of.



Holiness is evermore the bosom friend of penitence.

Fair angel, clad in pure white linen, she loves good

company and will never stay in a heart where repentance

is a stranger. Repentance must dig the foundations, but

holiness shall erect the structure, and bring forth the

top-stone. Repentance is the clearing away of the

rubbish of the past temple of sin; holiness builds the

new temple which the Lord our God shall inherit.

Repentance and desires after holiness never can be

separated.



Yet once more-wherever repentance is, there cometh also

with it, peace. As Jesus walked upon the waters of

Galilee, and said, "Peace, be still," so peace walks

over the waters of repentance, and brings quiet and

calm into the soul. If thou wouldst shake the thirst of

thy soul, repentance must be the cup out of which thou

shalt drink, and then sweet peace shall be the blessed

effect. Sin is such a troublesome companion that it

will always give thee the heartache till thou hast

turned it out by repentance, and then thy heart shall

rest and be still. Sin is the rough wind that tears

through the forest, and sways every branch of the trees

to and fro; but after penitence hath come into the soul

the wind is hushed, and all is still, and the birds

sing in the branches of the trees which just now

creaked in the storm. Sweet peace repentance ever

yields to the man who is the possessor of it. And now

what sayest thou my hearer-to put each point personally

to thee-hast thou had peace with God? If not, never

rest till thou hast had it, and never believe thyself

to be saved till thou feelest thyself to be reconciled.

Be not content with the mere profession of the head,

but ask that the peace of God which passeth all

understanding, may keep your hearts and minds through

Jesus Christ.



IV. And now I come to my fourth and last point, namely,

the EXCELLENCIES of repentance.



I shall somewhat surprise you, perhaps, if I say that

one of the excellencies of repentance lies in its

pleasantness. "Oh"! you say, "but it is bitter"! Nay,

say I, it is sweet. At least, it is bitter when it is

alone, like the waters of Marah; but there is a tree

called the cross, which if thou canst put into it, it

will be sweet, and thou wilt love to drink of it. At a

school of mutes who were both deaf and dumb, the

teacher put the following question to her pupils:-"What

is the sweetest emotion"? As soon as the children

comprehended the question, they took their slates and

wrote their answers. One girl in a moment wrote down

"Joy." As soon as the teacher saw it, she expected that

all would write the same, but another girl, more

thoughtful, put her hand to her brow, and she wrote

"Hope." Verily, the girl was not far from the mark. But

the next one, when she brought up her slate, had

written "Gratitude," and this child was not wrong.

Another one, when she brought up her slate, had written

"Love," and I am sure she was right. But there was one

other who had written in large characters,-and as she

brought up her slate the tear was in her eye, showing

she had written what she felt,-"Repentance is the

sweetest emotion." And I think she was right. Verily,

in my own case, after that long drought, perhaps longer

than Elisha's three years in which the heavens poured

forth no rain, when I saw but one tear of penitence

coming from my hard, hard soul-it was such a joy! There

have been times when you know you have done wrong, but

when you could cry over it you have felt happy. As one

weeps for his firstborn, so have you wept over your

sin, and in that very weeping you have had your peace

and your joy restored. I am a living witness that

repentance is exceeding sweet when mixed with divine

hope, but repentance without hope is hell. It is hell

to grieve for sin with the pangs of bitter remorse, and

yet to know that pardon can never come, and mercy never

be vouchsafed. Repentance, with the cross before its

eyes, is heaven itself; at least, if not heaven, it is

so next door to it, that standing on the wet threshold

I may see within the pearly portals, and sing the song

of the angels who rejoice within. Repentance, then, has

this excellency, that it is very sweet to the soul

which is made to lie beneath its shadow.



Besides this excellency, it is specially sweet to God

as well as to men. "A broken and a contrite heart, O

God, thou wilt not despise." When St. Augustine lay a-

dying, he had this verse always fixed upon the

curtains, so that as often as he awoke, he might read

it-"A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not

despise." When you despise yourselves, God honours you;

but as long as you honour yourselves, God despises you.

A whole heart is a scentless thing; but when it is

broken and bruised, it is like that precious spice

which was burned as holy incense in the ancient

tabernacle. When the blood of Jesus is sprinkled on

them, even the songs of the angels, and the vials full

of odours sweet that smoke before the throne of the

Most High, are not more agreeable to God than the

sighs, and groans, and tears of the brokenhearted soul.

So, then, if thou wouldest be pleasing with God, come

before him with many and many a tear:



"To humble souls and broken hearts

God with his grace is ever nigh;

Pardon and hope his love imparts,

When men in deep contrition lie.



He tells their tears, he counts their groans,

His Son redeems their souls from death;

His Spirit heals their broken bones,

They in his praise employ their breath."



John Bunyan, in his "Siege of Mansoul," when the

defeated townsmen were seeking pardon, names Mr. Wet-

eyes as the intercessor with the king. Mr. Wet-

eyes-good Saxon word! I hope we know Mr. Wet-eyes, and

have had him many times in our house, for if he cannot

intercede with God, yet Mr. Wet-eyes is a great friend

with the Lord Jesus Christ, and Christ will undertake

his case, and then we shall prevail. So have I set

forth, then, some, but very few, of the excellencies of

repentance. And now, my dear hearers, have you repented

of Sin? Oh, impenitent soul, if thou dost not weep now,

thou wilt have to weep for ever. The heart that is not

broken now, must be broken for ever upon the wheel of

divine vengeance. Thou must now repent, or else for

ever smart for it. Turn or burn-it is the Bible's only

alternative. If thou repentest, the gate of mercy

stands wide open. Only the Spirit of God bring thee on

thy knees in self-abasement, for Christ's cross stands

before thee, and he who bled upon it bids thee look at

him. Oh, sinner, obey the divine bidding. But, if your

heart be hard, like that of the stubborn Jews in the

days of Moses, take heed, lest,-



"The Lord in vengeance dressed,

Shall lift his head and swear,-

You that despised my promised rest,

Shall have no portion there."



At any rate, sinner, if thou wilt not repent, there is

one here who will, and that is myself. I repent that I

could not preach to you with more earnestness this

morning, and throw my whole soul more thoroughly into

my pleading with you. the Lord God, whom I serve, is my

constant witness that there is nothing I desire so much

as to see your hearts broken on account of sin; and

nothing has gladdened my heart so much as the many

instances lately vouchsafed of the wonders God is doing

in this place. There have been men who have stepped

into this Hall, who had never entered a place of

worship for a score years, and here the Lord has met

with them, and I believe, if I could speak the word,

there are hundreds who would stand up now, and say,

"'Twas here the Lord met with me. I was the chief of

sinners; the hammer struck my heart and broke it, and

now it has been bound up again by the finger of divine

mercy, and I tell it unto sinners, and tell it to this

assembled congregation, there have been depths of mercy

found that have been deeper than the depths of my

iniquity." This day there will be a soul delivered;

this morning there will be, I do not doubt, despite my

weakness, a display of the energy of God, and the power

of the Spirit; some drunkard shall be turned from the

error of his ways; some soul, who was trembling on the

very jaws of hell, shall look to him who is the

sinner's hope, and find peace and pardon-ay, at this

very hour. So be it, O Lord, and thine shall be the

glory, world without end.



Provided by:



Tony Capoccia

Bible Bulletin Board

internet: hyperlink

Box 318

Columbus, NJ 08022