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JEWELS from JAMES
(Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell James)
You will die this year!
This is what the Lord says: “I am going to remove you from the face of the earth. You will die this year!” Jer_28:16
This may be the case with any one of the readers of the present address, and therefore every one of them should seriously reflect upon such a possibility.
This year you may die—for you must die some time—and that time may as likely come this year as any other.
This year you may die—because you have no revelation from God that you shall not.
This year you may die—because you are ever and everywhere exposed to the causes that take away life.
This year you may die—because life is the most uncertain thing in the world, and you have not the assurance of a single moment beyond the present.
This year you may die—for it is all but certain that many of the readers of this address will die this year —and why not you?
This year you may die, although there is now no indication of approaching death; for many during the past year have been cut off, and many during the present year will die, who may now seem very likely to live—and why not you?
How many, then, are the probabilities that before next new year's day, your place will be vacant in the family, at the scene of your daily occupation, and in the house of God! Ought not this to induce a habit of solemn, pensive, devout, practical, profitable, reflection. Bring home the thought. Take up the supposition, and say, “Yes, it is possible, by no means improbable, that I may die—this year!”
Are you really prepared for your latter end, by being a partaker of genuine faith, the new birth, a holy life, and a heavenly mind? Or are you a mere nominal professor, having a name to live, while you are dead?
Do you recognize in yourselves, and do others see in you, the marks of a state of grace? Put the question to your own hearts, ask yourselves, “What am I? Am I a spiritual, heavenly, humble servant of God? Am I really crucified with Christ, dead to the world, ripening for glory? Is there anything heavenly about me? Is my temper sanctified, my walk consistent?”
Is your soul in that state in which you would desire it to be found when death strikes? Are you, in your devotional habits, your temper, your general behavior, as you should be—with eternity so near? Would you desire to die—just as you are now?
How many false professors will be unmasked this year, and appear with astonishment and horror, as self-deceivers, formalists, and hypocrites! How many in reply to the plea, “Lord, Lord, I ate and drank in your presence”—will hear the dreadful response, “Depart from me, I never knew you!” and thus find there is a way to the bottomless pit—from the fellowship of the church! In whatever state you die this year—that you will be forever! The seal of eternal desting will be put upon you! Your last words in time, and your first in eternity, might be, “I must be what I am—forever!”
The grand secret is about to be revealed, whether you are a child of God—or a child of the devil! That next moment after death—which imagination in vain attempts to paint, is to arrive—and, waking up in eternity, you will shout with rapture, “I am in heaven!”—or utter with a shriek of despair, and surprise, the dreadful question, “What! Am I in hell forever!”
Ever walking on the precipice of eternity!
Reader! Did you ever, in serious moments, and in a serious manner, ask such questions as these:
What am I?
Where did I come from?
Who sent me here?
What is my business in this world?
What is to become of me when I die, and leave this present world?
Does not reason press such inquiries on your attention?
You find yourself in existence, possessing a rational soul; you know you cannot remain here long, and must soon go and lie down in the grave with your forefathers. But does your history end there? Is there no world beyond the tomb? There is! You are not only mortal, but immortal.
Immortality! What a word! What a thing! Did you ever ponder the idea? A deathless creature—with an everlasting existence! Such is your soul. You are ever walking on the precipice of eternity—and any moment you may fall over it!
Eternal duration alone, apart from the consideration whether it is to be spent in torment or in bliss—is a solemn idea. You are to live somewhere—forever!
Should this matter be allowed to lie forgotten among the thousand unconsidered subjects? Should it be treated with indifference, excite no reflection, produce no concern? Ought you not to be concerned? Going on step by step to eternity—should you not pause, ponder, and say, “Where am I going?”
For a person to realize that he is immortal, and yet to care nothing about where he is going to spend eternity, is the most monstrous inconsistency in the universe!
Can any man know...
how holy God is, how evil a thing sin is, how great a blessing salvation is, how glorious heaven is, how dreadful hell is, how solemn eternity is, and not not be concerned about his eternal soul?
Astounding spectacle! A rational creature, anxious about a thousand things, yet not concerned about the eternal soul! Agitated, perplexed, inquisitive about little matters of mere passing interest, which the next day will be forgotten; and yet neglecting that great subject, which swallows them all up, as the ocean does the drops of rain that fall upon it.
Your health, your property, your prospects, your friends, anything, everything, but your soul, and your soul's salvation, seizes and carries you away!
Did you ever weigh the import of that most awful of all words—hell?
Death is a dreadful monosyllable! From the cold touch of that 'last enemy' all rational beings recoil with horror.
But death is only as the dark, heavy, iron-covered door of the prison, which opens to, while it conceals, the sights and sounds of the dungeon. Oh that first moment after death! what disclosures, what scenes, what feelings come with that moment! That moment must come—
and it may come soon!
Immorality, whether public or private, if it spreads through society, and especially through the rising generation, will be a canker to all that is great, glorious, and free, in this noble nation; and England's flag, floating so loftily and proudly, will be dragged down into the mud, and trampled underfoot by a swinish generation!
Be thankful, be humble, be consistent, be watchful. There is no logic so convincing, no rhetoric so persuasive, as the power of uniform and conspicuous excellence. Add to the substance of your moral worth, the brightest polish of an amiable disposition, and all the kindnesses of life. Be courteous, generous, benevolent, cheerful, active and useful.
One life to spend
“This one thing I do. Forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Php_3:13 - Php_3:14)
There are many secondary and subordinate ends of life, but there can be only one that is supreme. The salvation of the immortal soul, and a preparation for heaven, form the great end of man's life upon earth.
Man has but one life to spend, and he should be careful, anxiously careful, yes almost painfully careful, not to throw it away upon an undeserving object. Think of his coming to the close of his brief and troubled sojourn in this world with the melancholy confession, “Life with me has been a lost adventure!” We would help you to guard against this catastrophe, and assist you so to select your object, and lay your plan, that after a prosperous, happy, and useful life, even death itself—instead of being the wreck of your hopes, shall prove the consummation of your hopes, and be your eternal gain.
Our one thing, our chief end of life, is the same as Paul's, the pursuit of glory, honor, immortality; our hope is the possession of eternal life. There it is before you in all its simplicity, and, we may add, in all its sublimity.
True piety
True piety will be the guide of our youth, the comfort of our manhood, and the staff of our old age. If we succeed in life, it will preserve us from the snares of prosperity.
And if we fail, it will be our solace in adversity. Should we be exposed to the temptations of bad company, piety will be our shield; or, if we should dwell much alone, it will be the comforter of our solitude. Piety will guide us in the choice of a companion for life, sweeten the cup of marital happiness, and survive the severance of every earthly tie. It will refresh us with its cooling shade amidst the heat and burden of life's busy day, be the evening star of our declining years, and our lamp in the dark valley of the shadow of death, and then rise with us as our eternal portion in the realms of immortality.
True piety will guard you from the snares to which youth are ever and everywhere exposed. It will...
comfort you in sorrow, cheer you in solitude, guide you in perplexity.
The low state of piety among professors
Ah, my friend, let me tell you in the beginning of your career, that you cannot expect too little from man—nor too much from God.
Many are discouraged by witnessing the low state of piety among professors. They hear little from the lips of many Christian professors, but, “What shall we eat and drink? How shall we be adorn ourselves? What is the news of the day?”
They see so much worldly-mindedness, so much imperfection of temper, so many things unworthy of the Christian character, that they can scarcely believe there is reality in religion, and are sometimes ready to give it all up as a mere name. Nay, from some of these very professors they receive plain hints that they are too concerned, too precise, too earnest and urgent.
How far people may go
It is amazing, how far people may go, and not be really converted. They may have many and deep religious impressions, many and strong convictions; they may have much knowledge of their sinful state, and a heavy and burdensome sense of their guilt; they may look back upon their past lives and conduct with much remorse; they may be sorry for their sins; and may desire to be saved from the consequences of them, being much alarmed at the prospect of the torments of hell.
Was not Judas convinced of sin, and did not he weep bitterly and confess his sin, and was not he filled with remorse? Was not Cain convinced of sin? I have known many people, who at one time appeared to be more deeply impressed with a sense of sin, and to have stronger convictions and remorse, than many who were truly converted—and yet they went back again to the world and sin. Nor is a detestation of sin always a true sign of conversion. Unconverted people may even wish to be delivered from the fetters of those corrupt lusts, which have long held them fast; for there are few notorious sinners, who do not frequently hate their sins, and wish and purpose to reform. Yes, people may sometimes desire to be delivered from all sin; at least they may desire it in a certain way, because they think that it is necessary in order to be saved from hell.
And as conviction of sin may exist without conversion, so may religious joy. The stony ground hearers “heard the word, and with joy received it,” and yet they had “no root in themselves, and endured only for a while.”
The Galatians had great blessedness at one time, which the apostle was afraid had come to nothing. Multitudes rejoiced in Christ when he made His entrance into Jerusalem, who afterwards became His enemies. Many take great pleasure in hearing sermons, and going to prayer-meetings, and singing hymns, and frequenting church meetings, who are not truly born of the Spirit.
So also do many people leave off sinful actions, and give up many wicked practices, and seem to be quite altered for a time, and yet, by their subsequent history, show that they are not converted.
There may be considerable zeal for the outward concerns of religion, as we see in Jehu, without any right state of mind towards God. Many have had great confidence of the reality of their conversion; they have had dreams and spiritual impressions, as they suppose—and yet too plainly proved, by their after-conduct, that they were under an awful delusion. But it would be almost endless to point out the various ways in which men deceive themselves, as to their state. Millions who have been somewhat, yes, much concerned about religion, have never been born again of the Spirit.
Perhaps as many are lost by self-deception, as by any other means. Hell resounds with the groans and lamentations of souls which perished through the power of deceived hearts!
Then hell itself is full of penitents
Repentance is more, much more than 'mere sorrow for sin'.
True sorrow for sin is a part, and only a part, of repentance.
If mere sorrow comprised the whole of repentance, then Cain, Ahab, and Judas all repented! Then hell itself is full of penitents, for there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth forever. Many, very many, grieve for their sins, who never repent of them. Men may grieve for the consequences of their sins, without mourning for the sins themselves.
Repentance signifies an entire change of a man's views, disposition, and conduct, with respect to sin.
The author of repentance is the Holy Spirit—it is the effect of Divine grace working in the heart of man.
No man knows what sin is, and how sinful he is, who does not clearly see that he has deserved to be cast into “the lake which burns with fire and brimstone.”
All sins in one!
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Alarming representation! Have you thus loved God, and your neighbor? Confounding and overwhelming question! What a state of sin have you been living in!
Your whole life has been sin, for you have not loved God! And not to love God, is all sins in one! Who can think of greater sin than not loving God? To love the world, to love trifles, to love even sin—
and not to love God!
But what is that misery?
When man was created, he was created holy—and consequently happy. He was not only placed in a paradise which was without sin—but he was blessed with a paradise within him. His perfect holiness was as much the Eden of his soul, as the garden which he tilled was the Eden of his bodily senses—it was in the inward paradise of a holy mind that he walked in communion with God. The 'fall' cast him out of this 'heaven upon earth'...
his understanding became darkened, his heart became corrupted, his will became perverted, his nature became earthly, sensual, and devilish.
Not only was his conscience laden with guilt, but, as a necessary consequence, his imagination was full of terror and dread of that holy God, whose voice and presence formerly imparted nothing but transport to his soul. He became afraid of God, and unfit for him. His whole soul became the seat of fleshly appetites and sinful passions.
In his former innocence he had loved God supremely.
He had been united to God by a feeling of dependence and devotedness. But now he was cut off from both these feelings, and came under the domination of an absorbing and engrossing selfishness. Such is the sinful nature he has transmitted to all his posterity.
They are...
not only guilty—but depraved; not only under the wrath of God—but robbed of His image; not only condemned by God—but alienated from Him.
True it is, that hell will be some place set apart for the wicked, where the justice of God will consign them to the misery which their sins have deserved. But what is that misery? An eternal abandonment of them to themselves, with all their vices in full maturity! Hell is not only the wrath of God suffered, but that wrath coupled with an eternal endurance of all the tyranny of sin!
Hence, then, the design of the death of Christ is not only to deliver us from the penalty of sin, but also from the polluting consequences of sin.
One verse in Scripture
“As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that you may grow thereby.” (1Pe_2:2)
And as those infants thrive best who are fed from the bosom of their mothers—so those Christians grow most in grace, who are most devoted to a spiritual perusal of the Scriptures.
Meditate on what you read. If we would gain knowledge from books, we must not only see the matters treated of, but steadily ponder them. Nothing but meditation can enable us to properly understand or feel. In reading the Scriptures and pious books, we are, or should be, reading for eternity.
Our profiting depends not on the quantity we read, but the quantity we understand. One verse in Scripture, if understood and meditated upon, will do us more good than a chapter, or, even a book, read through in haste, and without reflection.
Salvation!
“Let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation.” Isa_25:9
What a blessing is salvation! A blessing that includes...
all the riches of grace; all the greater riches of glory; deliverance from sin, death, and hell; the possession of pardon, peace, holiness, and heaven!
Salvation is a blessing immense, infinite, everlasting; which occupied the mind of Deity from eternity, was procured by the Son of God upon the cross, and will fill eternity with its happiness.
Oh, how little, insignificant, and contemptible is the highest object of human ambition, to say nothing of the baser matters of men's desires, compared with salvation! Riches, rank, fame, and honors, are but as the small dust of the balance, when compared with the “salvation which is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory.”
“My mouth will tell about Your righteousness and Your salvation all day long, though I cannot sum them up.”
Psa_71:15
“He alone is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I will not be shaken.” Psa_62:6
Eternity, vast eternity, incomprehensible eternity
Reader! You are an immortal creature, a being born for eternity, a creature that will never go out of existence.
Millions of ages, as numerous as...
the sands upon the shore, the drops of the ocean, the leaves of all the forests on the globe, will not shorten the duration of your existence.
Eternity, vast eternity, incomprehensible eternity, is before you! Every day brings you nearer to everlasting torments—or felicity. You may die any moment—and you are as near to heaven or hell as you are to death.
Reader, whoever you are, you will remember the contents of this small treatise, either with pleasure and gratitude in heaven—or with remorse and despair in hell!
We need to re-study our Bibles
We need to re-study our Bibles, and learn what real Christianity is—how holy, how heavenly, how spiritual, how loving, how morally and socially excellent a matter it is.
What separation from the world, what devoutness, what intense earnestness, what conscientiousness, what enlarged benevolence, what unselfishness, what zealous activity, what unearthliness, what seeds of celestial virtue—
our profession of godliness implies.
Having examined this, and obtained an impressive idea of it, let us survey our own state, and ask if we do not need, and ought not to seek, more of the prevalence of such a piety as this, which, in fact, is primitive Christianity.
Is our spiritual condition what it ought to be, what it might be, what it must be—to fulfill our high commission as the salt of the earth and the light of the world? A Christian, acting up in some tolerable measure to his profession, walking in the holiness of the Gospel—is the strongest and most emphatic testimony for God to our dark revolted world, next to that of Christ himself.
I would ask
I would ask, what there is among you...
of 'living by faith'; of the spiritual and heavenly mind; of the victory over the world; of devotional habits; of Bible meditation; of the practice of self-denial; of Christian charity; of the meekness and gentleness of Christ; of the stamp of immortality; of the anticipation of eternity; of the patient waiting for the coming of our Savior, all of which are enjoined in the word of God, and implied in our profession of Christianity
Do we not see, almost everywhere, instead of these things, a superficial, secular, and temporizing kind of piety; a piety without any depth of feeling, any power of principle, or any distinctness of character; a cold, spiritless orthodoxy, united with a heartless morality; a mere exemption from gross vice and fashionable amusements; an observance of forms and decencies—but a lamentable destitution of love, of Christian temper, and tenderness of conscience?
Enter the social spheres of professing Christians, listen to their conversation, witness their entertainments, observe their spirit.
How frivolous, how worldly, how different from what might be expected from redeemed sinners, from the heirs of immortality, from the expectants of everlasting glory!
Follow them home to their domestic circle, and behold their pervading temper—how irascible, how worldly, how destitute of spirituality! Witness the cold and lifeless formality—the late, hurried, irregular, and undevout seasons of their family devotions, together with the shameful neglect of the pious instruction of their children! Witness the shortness and inconstancy of their times for private prayer, and think how little communion with God, how little study of the Scriptures, how little self-improvement, can be carried on during such fragments of time, snatched from the greedy and all-devouring passion of earthly-mindedness!
The spirit of prayer is expiring amidst the ashes of its own dead forms, and the Bible reduced, in many houses of professing Christians, to the degradation of a mere article of furniture, placed there for show—but not for use.
Who will deny that this is but too correct a representation of modern piety; or admitting it, deny the need in which our churches stand of a revival?
Ah! are we prepared to say this?
“As the One who called you is holy, you also are to be holy in every aspect of your life; for it is written—
Be holy, because I am holy.” (1Pe_1:15 - 1Pe_1:16)
If we would increase in holiness, we should pray, “O God, let my soul prosper and be in health, at all events! Improve my personal piety, my Christian temperament and spirit, though it be at the sacrifice of my temporal comfort. Supply my deficiencies, mortify my corruptions, increase my spirituality, and enkindle in my heart the flame of holy love, though it be necessary, in order to accomplish this purpose, to diminish my worldly ease and enjoyments.”
Ah! are we prepared to say this?
A languid and feeble plant
I come now to the state of piety in your own hearts. Is it so lively, so vigorous, so elevated, as it should be? Consider what our profession amounts to, what our principles are, what our creed includes.
We believe that we are immortal creatures, going on to eternity, and that we shall exist through everlasting ages in inconceivable torment or felicity; that we are sinners by nature and practice against God—and as such, under the sentence of the divine law, which sentence is eternal death, an everlasting sense and endurance of the wrath of God; that we have been delivered from our state of condemnation through the sovereign, rich, and efficacious grace of God, granted to us through the mediation of Jesus Christ; that we are pardoned, and in a state of favor with Jehovah; that we are going on to glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life, and shall dwell forever with Christ and his saints and angels, in glory everlasting; that we are redeemed by Jesus Christ and purified from iniquity to be a peculiar people, zealous for good works, and designed to show forth the praise of God by the beauties of holiness.
Are not these our principles and profession? Think, then, what kind of people ought we to be, in all holy conversation and godliness; how dead to the world, caring but little about its profits and losses, its pains and pleasures; how heavenly in our anticipations and aspirations; how spiritual in our thoughts and feelings; how devotional in our habits; how self-denying in all our gratifications; how fond of the Holy Scriptures, and devoted to the perusal of them; how given to meditation and contemplation, to private prayer and self-communion; how devoted to communion with God, and how impressed with a sense of the unutterable, inconceivable love of Christ; how replete with love to our brethren, and benevolence to the whole family of man!
Should it not be seen by others, as well as felt by ourselves, that we look not at the things which are seen and temporal—but at the things which are unseen and eternal? that our eye, our hope, our heart, are upon eternity?
But is this, indeed, our state, or the state of Christians in general? Do they indeed live the life of that faith, and painful mortification, and habitual restraint, and aspiring spirituality, and heavenly-mindedness—which are so often inculcated in the Word of God, as the very essence of vital and experimental Christianity?
What do we know in this age, when profession is easy and piety generally safe from persecution. We abstain from immoralities, and public amusements, and from many private engagements which are the symbols of love to the world—and to these things we add an attendance upon an evangelical ministry, and the forms of domestic and private piety—and all this so far is well. But as to the real culture of the heart; the mortification of the corrupt and earthly affections of the soul; the deep sense of the love of Christ; the withdrawal of our affections from the world, to set them on things above; the high communing of our spirits with God; the blissful anticipation of an eternity to be spent with the Lord Jesus; the conflicts and the triumphs of the fight of faith—of these things, alas! we know little but the names, and are ready, in some cases, to wonder what they mean. Yet are they all continually alluded to in the Scriptures.
I am well convinced that the piety of the present day is a languid and feeble plant, it has run up to a great height, perhaps, under the influence of a long season of unclouded sunshine; but it lacks depth and tenacity of root, strength of stem, and abundance of fruit—and that, were the wintry season and frosty nights of persecution again to return, it would droop its head, and shed its leaves, and give full proof of its sickly and delicate constitution.
It is greatly to be feared, that in these times of peace and prosperity in the church, many have entered her gates, and joined her fellowship—who know nothing at all of spiritual religion, and whose example and spirit exert a deadening influence upon others.
A self-indulgent, ease-loving spirit
I now mention, as a second fault—a self-indulgent, ease-loving spirit; an cowardly, weak disposition which shrinks from those duties, occupations, and engagements which require a sacrifice of bodily repose and comfort. The words of our Lord are still the standing-rule of discipleship, “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.” If there be meaning in words, these must imply that the true Christian spirit is self-denial. This was not intended to apply exclusively to that time, or to any age of persecution, or to any peculiar external condition of the Church. It is the perpetual law of Christ's kingdom for all ages, all countries, all people. We can no more be Christians without a spirit of self-denial, than we can be without repentance and faith, or truthfulness, justice, or chastity. It is a state of mind and a course of conduct essential to personal godliness. We must all, in one sense or other, be cross-bearers.
But in what does self-denial consist? Not in the self-imposed austerities of Catholicism or hermitism; nor in the self-inflicted penances of superstition—nor in the privation of the sober and moderate enjoyment of the lawful gratifications of our compound nature. Grace is not at war, any more than Reason, with the instincts of humanity; the Creator has not implanted these in our nature to be violently torn up by the Redeemer and Sanctifier. All that piety does with them, is to keep them in due subjection to itself; not to eradicate them—but so far to crop their excessive growth as to prevent their overshading and chilling our virtues. To the wearer of sackcloth, the wallower in filth, the half-starved abstinent, the recluse of the cell, God says, “Who has required this at your hand?” This is not self-denial—but self-degradation, a disgusting caricature of the virtue recommended by our Lord. It is self-gratification under a hideous form; self-pleasing in a way of self-torture; the worship of self in a Moloch shape.
Self-denial means the subjection of all the promptings of self-love to the will of God. It is the surrender of ourselves to God, to do his will and please him in the way of his commandments, rather than ourselves. In other words, it is to prefer known and prescribed duty, to selfish gratification. This state of mind will develop itself in various ways. If anyone has injured us, Christian duty says, “Freely forgive him.” Sinful self says, “Retaliate.” The maxim of the devil says, “Revenge is sweet;” and sinful self affirms the same. Revenge is self-indulgence—forgiveness, with our corrupt hearts, is self-denial. So also, in a different case, if we have injured another, reason, piety, conscience, all say, “Confess your fault.” The evil heart says, “No, I cannot thus humble myself.” Self-denial requires confession—self-indulgence resists it.
So again, the whole business of internal sanctification, in our present imperfect state, is a course of self-denial. We are to “mortify our members,” to “crucify the flesh,” to “keep under our body.” All this implies and requires self-denial—for it is a resistance rather than a gratification of our sinful nature. Indeed, the whole course of the Christian life is one continued habit of self-denial, or the subjection of our sinful self to our renewed and holy self.
Self-denial requires often the sacrifice of personal and relative gratification for the benefit of others and the good of Christ's cause.
Mere catacombs filled with these lifeless forms
“Having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. (2Ti_3:5)
Are not the doctrines of the gospel calculated by their nature, and intended by their design, to produce a spiritual frame of mind? Ah! but how much of dull, dormant, dead orthodoxy—is there in the bulk of modern professors! What a discordance between their beliefs and their practice!
Ah, what are some churches—but mere catacombs filled with these lifeless forms of Christian professors! I am speaking of the bulk of professors, and of them I do not hesitate for a moment to declare that there is an obvious and lamentable deficiency of spirituality of mind. Their affections are in a languid and lukewarm condition.
Sound doctrine, if it is destitute of spirituality and heavenly mindedness—is but the lifeless statue of godliness.
Oh, professing Christians, without holy and heavenly affections, what is your religion but a mere name? Attend then to the exhortations of the apostle, and “set your affections on things which are above, where Christ sits on the right hand of God.”
Cultivate a spiritual frame; acquire habits of pious thinking and feeling. Like the secret source of a spring of water, deep in the earth, yet continually welling up to the surface, and gushing out in sparkling ebullitions—let religion be in your soul, an inward source and spring of living piety, which, by its own force, is perpetually sending forth spiritual thoughts and heavenly aspirations; so that a stream of devout thought and feeling, deep and full, is more or less continually flowing through your life.
Better than a ton of gold!
A grain of saving faith is better than a ton of gold, for it secures an inheritance in all the unsearchable riches of Christ, of grace, and of glory! It justifies, sanctifies, and eternally saves!
Learn to think less and less of the wealth of this world, and more and more of the unsearchable riches of Christ!
Lower the estimate which pride and vanity form of the importance of worldly distinctions.
How dim, how worthless, does everything earthly appear when seen in the sunlight of the cross!
It is by losing sight of Jesus, by living so far from Him, by forgetting Him—that we let the world get so much the upper hand of us.
We must meditate more upon the cross.
We must dwell more upon Calvary.
We must be more familiar with the crucified One.
“But as for me, I will never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” (Gal_6:14)
Prayer
If there is one thing which is more suited to our condition, and more prompted by our necessities than any other—it is prayer.
If there is one duty which is more frequently enjoined by the precepts, or more beautifully enforced by the examples of Scripture, than any other—it is prayer.
If there be one practice as to which the experience of all good men of every age, every country, and every church, has agreed—it is prayer.
If there be one thing which above all others decisively marks the spirit of sincere and individual piety—it is prayer.
So that it may be safely affirmed, where the spirit of prayer is low in the soul of an individual, in a country, an age, or a church—whatever it may have, of morality, of ceremony, of liberality—the spirit of piety is low also.
Every sincere act of adoration—increases our veneration for God's glorious character.
Every confession of sin—deepens our penitence.
Every petition for a favor—cherishes a sense of dependence.
Every intercession for others—expands our philanthropy.
Every acknowledgment of a mercy—inflames our gratitude.
Instead of the church permeating the world with its own spirit—it is receiving the spirit of the world into itself. Instead of directing, controlling, and sanctifying the spirit and ways of the age—it is itself directed, controlled, and contaminated by them.
A dark sign
It will be a dark sign of the approach of an evil day, when our churches in choosing their pastors shall be guided rather by a regard to talent than to piety; by a love of eloquence, rather than of the gospel.
The great object of life to many professing Christians, seems to be to become rich. Their chief end does not appear to be so much to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever—as to obtain and enjoy the present world. Wealth is the center of their wishes—the invariable tendency of their desires. Jehovah is the God of their creed, but Mammon is the God of their hearts! They are devout adorers of the God of wealth.
The way to win the ungodly to piety, is not by showing them that their pleasures are ours—but that our pleasures are infinitely superior to any which they know!
All their secularities and fashionable follies!
Two consequences result from the reception of unsuitable people to church fellowship. They not only are confirmed in their false views of their own case; but by their low state of pious feeling, or total destitution of it, by their worldly-mindedness and laxity, they corrupt others, and exert a deadening influence upon the whole church! Their example is a source of corruption to very many, who are allured by it into all their secularities and fashionable follies. One family of such worldly and lukewarm professors is often...
a grief to the pastor, a lamentation to the spiritual part of the flock, a snare to many of the less pious, and a reproach to the church at large.
Too many of this description find their way, in these days of easy profession, into all our churches. We need a deeper sort of piety in our churches, a more realizing sense of...
the claims of Christ, the value of the soul, the misery of men without the Gospel, and the great ends and obligations of the Christian profession!
EXCESSIVE INDULGENCE
Some very good people have erred here; they have taught, entreated, and prayed—and then wondered that their children did not become truly pious. But their excessive indulgence, their injudicious fondness, their utter neglect of all discipline, the relaxation of their authority, until the children have been taught to consider that they, and not their parents, were the most important people in the household.
But there is another thing to be observed, and that is the mischief of EXCESSIVE INDULGENCE. Read the history of Eli, as recorded by the pen of inspiration. The honors of the priesthood and of the magistracy lighted upon him. He was beloved and respected by the nation whose affairs he administered, and to all appearance seemed likely to finish a life of active duty, in the calm repose of an honored old age. But the evening of his life, at one time so calm and so bright, became suddenly overcast, and a storm arose which burst in fury upon his head, and dashed him to the ground by its dreadful thunder bolts. Whence did it arise? Let the words of the historian declare, “I have told him, said the Lord, that I will judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knows, because his sons made themselves vile—and he restrained them not!” Poor old man, who can fail to sympathize with him under the terror of that dreadful sentence, which crushed his dearest hopes and beclouded all his prospects—but the sting, the venom of the sentence, was in the declaration that a criminal unfaithfulness on his part had brought upon his beloved sons both temporal and eternal ruin! All this destruction upon his sons, all this misery upon himself, was the consequence of weak and criminal parental indulgence!
Doubtless it began while they were yet children; their every wish and every whim were indulged, their foolish inclinations were gratified; he could never be persuaded that any germs of malignant passions lurked under appearances so playful and so lovely; he smiled at transgressions on which he ought to have frowned; and instead of endeavoring kindly but firmly to eradicate the first indications of pride, anger, ambition, deceit, self-will, and stubbornness—he considered they were but the wild flowers of spring, which would die by themselves as the summer advanced. The child grew in this hotbed of indulgence—into the boy; the boy into the youth; the youth into the young man; until habit had confirmed the vices of the child, and acquired a strength which not only now bid defiance to parental restraint—but laughed it to scorn.
Contemplate the poor old man, sitting by the way-side upon his bench, in silent despair, his heart torn with self-reproach, listening with sad presages for tidings from the field of conflict. At length the messenger arrives, the doleful news is told. The ark of God is taken, and his sons Hophni and Phinehas are slain! His aged heart is broken, and he and his whole house are crushed at once under that one sin—the excessive weakness and wickedness of a false and foolish parental indulgence!
Parents, and especially mothers, look at this picture and tremble—contemplate this sad scene, and learn the necessity of judicious, affectionate, firm, and persevering discipline!
Foul blots!
“Bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.”
(Eph_6:4)
Parents! you are always educating your children for good —or for evil. Not only by what you say—but by what you do! Not only by what you intend—but by what you are!
You yourself are one constant lesson which their eyes are observing, and which their hearts are receiving. Influence, power, impulse, are ever going out from you—take care then how you act! See the immense importance of parental example. What example is so powerful as that of a parent?
It is one of the first things which a child observes; it is that which is most constantly before his eyes, and it is that which his very relationship inclines him most attentively to respect, and most assiduously to copy. Vain, worse than useless, is biblical instruction which is not followed up by godly example.
Good advice, when not illustrated by good conduct, inspires disgust. There are multitudes of parents to whom I would deliberately give the counsel never to say one syllable to their children on the subject of religion—unless they enforce what they say by a better example. Silence does infinitely less mischief than the most elaborate instruction—which is all counteracted by inconsistent conduct!
Would you see the result of parental misconduct—look into the family of David. Eminent as he was for the spirit of devotion, sweet as were the strains which flowed from his inspired heart, and attached as he was to the worship of the sanctuary—yet what foul blots rested upon his character, and what dreadful trials did he endure in his family! What profligate creatures were his sons! And who can tell how much the apostasy of Solomon was to be traced up to the recollection of parental example?
Parents, beware, I beseech you, how you, act! O let your children see piety in all its sincerity, power, beauty, and loveliness!
Rouse, Christian professors, from your slumbers and your dreams! Multitudes of you are perishing in your sins—you are going down to the pit with a lie in your right hand! Your profession alone will not save you, and that is all that some of you have to depend upon. There are millions of professors of religion in the bottomless pit, who while they lived brought no scandal upon religion by immorality. But the life of God was not in their souls, they had a name to live —but were dead! They looked around upon the low standards of the day in which they lived, instead of studying the Bible for their standard of piety; and went to the judgment of God, saying, “Lord, Lord, have we not been called by Your name?” and then they met with the dreadful rebuff and rejection, “I never knew you, depart from Me!”
Closet prayer
We live in a busy age, when Christians find little time for private prayer, reading the Scriptures, and meditation.
Perhaps there was never so little private prayer among professors as there is now. A few hasty expressions or a few broken thoughts, poured out without solemnity or without coherence, or else a short form learned by rote, and repeated at night or morning, or perhaps both, constitutes, it is to be feared, all the private prayer which some offer to God.
Closet prayer means a person's selecting some suitable time and place to be alone with God, to pour out into His ear with freedom and enlargement, all the cares, the sorrows, the desires, and the sins of a burdened heart and a troubled conscience. It signifies the act of a child going to commune with his Divine Parent, to give utterance to the expressions of his adoring gratitude, praise, and love. It is but too obvious that there is comparatively little of such closet exercises in this day of engrossing worldliness. What spirituality, what heavenly-mindedness, can you expect in the habitual neglect of the closet?
Fearfully secularized
If asked to point out the specific and prevailing sin of the church in the present day, I cannot hesitate to reply—a prevailing worldliness of mind, heart, and conduct. The church is fearfully secularized in the spirit and temper of her members. The love of the world is become the master-passion, before which other and holier affections have grown dim and weak.
The determination, as well as the concern, to be rich, has crept into the church! Those who profess to have overcome the world by faith, appear almost as eager as others, in all schemes for getting wealth, and by almost any means.
This worldly spirit is also seen in the general habits and tastes of professing Christians.
Their style of living, their entertainments, their associations, their amusements, their conversation—evince...
a conformity to the world, a minding of earthly things, a disposition to adapt themselves to the world around, a desire to seek their happiness from objects of sense, rather than from those of faith—which proves the extent to which a secular worldly spirit is dominating the spirit of piety in the church.
I am the servant of Christ
Are you taken up with getting and enjoying wealth, grandeur, and worldly ease?
How deeply are the great bulk of professing Christians sunk in the love and pursuit of the world—and how almost entirely occupied by its cares or its enjoyments! They are absorbed in seeking selfishness, avarice, worldliness, indolence and luxuriousness.
I am not to consider myself as sent into the world merely to get wealth, and enjoy myself.
I am the servant of Christ, and must do my Master's work. I am bought with a price, and am not my own, and must yield myself up to my Divine owner.
Worth nothing in themselves
True religion is not merely an outward observance of ceremonies, nor an attendance upon ordinances; these things are worth nothing in themselves—and are not acceptable to God. They are profitable only as they spring from the inward principle of a renewed, holy, and humble mind.
True religion begins in deep conviction of sin, a sense of our fallen and ruined state as exposed to the wrath of God; and then goes on in a simple faith in the Gospel, leading to an entire, thankful, and peace-giving dependence on the blood and righteousness of Christ for acceptance with God.
From this faith there arises love to God, to His people, to His ways, and to holiness. In proportion as faith is felt, it makes its possessor humble, meek, and benevolent; full of pity for man and zeal for the glory of God.
Oh, where is the compassion for souls?
“For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” Mar_8:36 - Mar_8:37
Nothing can be more momentous than eternity!
Ponder the worth of a soul! Weigh the solemn significance of that word, damnation! Measure, if you can, the height of salvation!
What would you not do—to save your children from falling into the water or the fire? Oh, think of the bottomless pit—and the fire which is never quenched! Take a proper aim in all you do. Look as high as heaven, as deep as to the mouth of hell, and as far as eternity!
The world is perishing around us! Sinners are going down to the pit before our eyes! Immortal souls by countless millions are crowding to the regions of eternal despair!
How little are we affected by the terrific scene! How little are we pierced by a sense of the ignorance, sin and misery which appeal to our very senses! Oh, where is the compassion for souls?
It is a distressing spectacle in such a world as ours, where evil of every kind so much abounds—to observe the disgusting and odious selfishness of many of the rich, who are wholly taken up with their own luxurious gratification, as if born only to pamper their appetites and indulge their tastes—without bestowing a thought or a care upon the misery which prevails around them.
True religion makes you holy, kind, gentle, good-tempered and happy.
The whole system of the gospel is a system of love, God is love. Redemption is a manifestation of His love.
Christ is love incarnate. His religion is love. All who make a profession of such a religion should therefore be distinguished by its characteristic feature—and shine forth in the mild beauty of holy love.
Keep your heart!
“Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it is the wellspring of life.” Pro_4:2
“I the Lord am the searcher of the heart, the tester of the thoughts, so that I may give to every man the reward of his ways, in keeping with the fruit of his doings.” Jer_17:10
It is the heart which is the constant object of divine notice and omniscient scrutiny. Man looks at the conduct—and conjectures the motive from the action. God looks at the heart—and determines the action by the motive. What our heart is—that are we in the judgment of the All-wise. The heart influences the conduct—”for out of it is the wellspring of life.” As in the physical body, the heart is the fountain of that vital fluid which according as it is healthy or impure, carries vigor or feebleness, pain or ease, activity or torpor to the whole body—so is it also in the spiritual frame. Let us keep the heart—and the heart will keep the life.
Why are Christians not more attentive to this duty? In some cases, there is too little real concern about spiritual things, too much lukewarmness of soul, too much absorption of mind in secular concerns. Then, also, there is real difficulty in heart work—it requires painstaking, retirement, resistance of the encroachments of the world. Many are afraid to have dealings with the heart. A careful examination would discover much that is evil, and much that they would rather not know, and which they would not like to put away.
And where are they now?
My dear children, I would think it probable that during my fifty year pastorate here, nearly 20,000 children have been in our Sunday schools. And where are they now? Many are in eternity! Some, we hope, in heaven—others, we fear, in hell!
During my pastorate I have witnessed multitudes of children that have grown up to be their parents' comfort and joy; and others breaking their parents' heart by their misconduct, and bringing down their grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. To which of these classes do you belong?
Imagine what would be the results
Imagine what would be the results, if the Bible were circulated through the whole earth, its dictates everywhere obeyed, and its spirit generally imbibed.
There would neither be tyranny in the prince, nor rebellion in the subject; there would be neither fraud nor violence, neither injustice nor oppression, neither war nor bloodshed.
In short, if the Bible were universally circulated, believed and obeyed—every evil that renders man a foe to others and himself would be removed—and the whole family upon earth harmonized into order and happiness.
Sickness and disease
Christians, like others, are exposed to the attacks of sickness and disease. “Wearisome nights, and months of vanity, are appointed to them.” But their religion follows them into the sick chamber, and is their nurse, their companion, and their comforter—giving patience in the day, and songs even in the night. How soothing are its consolations, how pleasant are its reflections, how bright are its anticipations! It speaks to the sufferers of the sources of their sorrows, and tells them that they all proceed from their Father in heaven! It reminds them of...
His unerring wisdom, His infinite love, His unfailing fidelity, His gracious presence in the scene of woe, His merciful design in every chastisement of His hand, the blissful outcome in which He will cause all to terminate.
They can bear confinement, for God is with them. Their hours are not made heavy and irksome by the recollection of the mirthful scenes from which they are cut off, and the amusements to which they have no longer access. Their entertainment has come with them; they have brought the cup of their pleasure with them, and they can drink it amidst the languor of disease, as a refreshing cordial, or an exhilarating draught.
The essence of heaven
This is heaven...
perfect knowledge of God, perfect enjoyment of His favor, perfect love of His infinite excellences, perfect obedience to His commands, perfect conformity to His image, all this by a soul refined in its tastes, enlarged in its capacity, and immortal in its duration!
What other sources of enjoyment will be open to the blessed in heaven, it is not for us now to know, or even to conjecture; doubtless there are some which it is impossible for us to understand. But the fountain of delight will be God, and the essence of heaven is the enjoyment of His love. He is the first truth, and the chief good; beyond which nothing higher remains to be known, nothing richer to be enjoyed!
The Gospel is the grand universal remedy —the comforter of sinful and sorrowful man.
Can a man really believe...
that God loves him, that the Eternal is favorably disposed towards him, that all his sins are pardoned, that heaven secured to him, and not be glad, grateful, and happy?
This is a fearful picture!
Fearful is the death of the worldling! Oh, from what he departs—and to what he goes! What a parting! To leave all he loved and admired—and go to his eternal destiny! To have acquired nothing, and saved nothing—but what he can no longer keep! After crossing the dark waters of death, he will be set ashore in a vast and black eternity, naked and destitute, with nothing to relieve, support, or comfort him! And who shall describe the scene that follows? It is done by one whose solemn pencil was guided by an unerring hand.
“There was a rich man who would dress in purple and fine linen, feasting lavishly every day. But a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, was left at his gate. He longed to be filled with what fell from the rich man's table, but instead the dogs would come and lick his sores. One day the poor man died and was carried away by the angels to Abraham's side. The rich man also died and was buried. And being in torment in Hell, he looked up and saw Abraham a long way off, with Lazarus at his side. 'Father Abraham!' he called out, 'Have mercy on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this flame!' “ (Luk_16:19 - Luk_16:24)
This is a fearful picture! Of what?
An infidel? No!
An immoral and profligate man? No!
A bloody tyrant? No!
A remorseless oppressor of the poor? No!
This is a picture of a worldling! Of a man whose sin was that he sought his happiness entirely from earthly sources. It was not our Lord's intention to describe a man of ill-gotten wealth, but one whose whole happiness was derived from his wealth—one who cared for nothing but what he saw, and tasted, and handled, and felt—who had what he sought, and then, having passed his time in a life of earthly gratification, went away to spend his eternity in a state of banishment from that God whose favor was never, in his estimation, essential to his happiness.
Such a termination of his sensual course is just what the worldling might expect and ought to expect; for if he slighted God's favor, and did not even seek for it; if he made himself, or strove to make himself, happy without it; if he valued everything more than God, and set his wealth, or rank, or fame, or pleasure, above God's love; if he cared not for salvation, and thought heaven of such little consequence, as not to be worth his pursuit; has he any reason to complain of being denied that which he never asked for, and which he is not fit for? In banishing such a man from heaven, God does but give him his choice. God does but leave him to himself. There ends the earthly course, and begins the eternal one—of him who seeks for happiness in earthly vanities.
Beautiful bubbles!
Many are saying, “Who can show us any good?”
Psa_4:6
There is certainly some pleasure in the gratification of the appetites—in the enjoyment of health, friends, property, and fame. Even sinful objects have their pleasures.
There could be no power in temptation, if sin yielded no enjoyment. But viewing man as a rational, moral, and immortal creature; as a sinner subject to the stings of a reproachful conscience, and under the displeasure of the God he has offended; as liable to all the vicissitudes of a tearful existence, and ever exposed to the fear and stroke of death—he needs something more for his happiness than can be found in the objects of this world. He has...
needs which they cannot supply; cravings which they cannot satisfy; woes which they cannot alleviate; anxieties which they cannot dispel.
For each one that is even tolerably successful in gaining felicity from visible objects, there are many who utterly fail.
Their schemes are frustrated; their hopes perish; their air castles vanish as they journey on in life; and each ends a course of worldly-mindedness, by adding another to the millions of examples which had proved this present world to be vanity.
In some cases, abundance and unobstructed enjoyment produce boredom. Tired of old pleasures, they look about for new ones, and plead the oft-repeated inquiry, “Who will show us anything good?” Novelty perhaps comes to the relief of their discontented, restless, and dissatisfied minds; but novelty itself soon grows old, and still something new is wanted. There remains an aching void within, a craving, hungry appetite for bliss—unsatisfied, unfed. They hunt for enjoyment...
in endless parties of pleasure, in every place of amusement, in every scene of diversion; in the dance, and in the game; in the theater, and in the concert; amidst the scenes of nature, and in the changes of foreign travel; but happiness, like a shadow ever flitting before them, and ever eluding their grasp, tantalizes them with its form, without yielding them its substance, and excites their hopes—only to disappoint them!
What are all the pleasures of time and sense, all the objects of this visible world—but as the dropping of pebbles into a deep chasm, which, instead of filling it up, only tell him how deep it is—by awakening the dismal echoes of emptiness and desolation.
Look at the worldling. Does he succeed in his quest for happiness? Is he satisfied? Let him possess all he seeks, all he wishes, all that earth can furnish; let rank be added to wealth, and fame to both; let a constant round of fashionable amusements, festive scenes, and elegant parties, follow in endless succession, until his cup is full to overflowing. What does it all amount to? “All that my eyes desired, I did not deny them. I did not refuse myself any pleasure. When I considered all that I had accomplished and what I had labored to achieve, I found everything to be futile and a pursuit of the wind! There was nothing to be gained under the sun.” (