The Love of God

Chapter 1 THE LOVE OF GOD: ITS OBJECTS, GIFT, AND DESIGN For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,but have everlasting life.' - John 3:16 And is it so? Can this extraordinary announcement be received as actual truth? Dare we credit it, or lift up our guilty hearts to comprehend its terms? O it is so strange and thrilling, that it seems to stun us, and only on recovering from our amazement are we able at length to reflect on the blessed declaration. There is so much of God in it, that we recognise His awful presence, and fear as we are entering ' into the cloud.'

' God loved the world.' If I use the expression, God created the world, or God preserves the world, or God governs the world, the language which I employ is, to my mind, the symbol of infinite wisdom, power, and benignity; but when I repeat this statement, ' God loved the world,' the simple clause reveals at once a depth and an amount of meaning at which the mind is almost startled into incredulity; and it feels as if it were temerity to lay hold on this divine charter of human salvation. And yet these precious words afford the solution of many a living mystery, Why, for example, may the saint exclaim, have I been brought into the conscious possession of peace and joy, and the dark shadows that lay on my mind have all fled away; or why does the throne of the universe now stand out as a throne of grace, to which there is for me daily access, continual welcome, and rich response; or why are there in heaven the spirits of my human kindred, whose bodies are lying yet in the darksome pollution and thralldom of the grave ― are not such changes, privileges, and blessings to be traced upward and backward to the grand and ultimate fact, that God has loved the world?

Now, the introductory ' for' shows that this verse presents itself as the reason of a previous statement. The reference in it is to a remarkable incident in the history of ancient Israel. They had, in one of their periodical fits of national insanity, so provoked their divine Guardian and Provider, that He sent among them 'fiery flying serpents,' and many of them were bitten, and died. But to modify and counteract the chastisement, and make its terror a means of salutary impression, Moses was commanded to frame a brazen representation of one of the poisonous reptiles, and place it on the summit of a flag-staff, so that any wounded Hebrew might be able to see it from the extremity of the camp. And every one, no matter how sorely he felt the poison in his fevered veins, if he could only turn his languid vision to the sacred emblem, was instantly healed. It is then asserted that salvation is a process of equal simplicity, facility, and certainty ― ' so also must the Son of man be lifted up,' that every 'one believing in Him may not perish, but have everlasting life.' But why are belief and salvation so connected, and how comes it that any one, every one, confiding in the Son of man, is rescued and blessed ― saved from the death which he has merited, and elevated to a life which he had forfeited? This pledge of safety and glory to the believer has its origin in nothing else but the truth under our consideration. Belief and life are in this wondrous and inseparable union: 'For God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' The scheme of salvation is here presented to us in its origin, its means, and its design. Or we may contemplate the love of God, first, in its object ― the world; secondly, in the provision He has made for its deliverance ― the gift of his Son; and, thirdly, in the instrumentality by which this provided salvation is brought into individual possession ― the exercise of faith.

1. The Object of God's Love.

1. Again we recur to the starting thought, If God loved, and so loved this guilty world, what an unplumbed depth of grace must be in His heart. For the object of His love is not the world in its first condition, such as it was when His own eyes, resting on it with beaming complacency, pronounced it 'very good,' but that same world ruined by sin, and condemned for its apostasy. There would have been no wonder had the divine Lawgiver assumed the stern functions of Judge, and doomed our guilty earth to the death which it deserved. Might it not have been enveloped in flames which, gleaming far into other orbits, would have taught other races that ' our God is a consuming fire?' But though He had armed His law with a terrible penalty, and allowed the incipient elements of the menace to fall upon the sinner ― though the holiness of His nature and the interests of His government seemed to demand that punishment shall instantly and immediately follow transgression ― yet, without any change in our claims or character, He has loved us. And that love is not a mere relenting which might lead to a respite, or a simple regret which might end in a sigh, but, thrice blessed be His name, it is a positive affection. It is as true as His existence, as real as our sin. Now, there is no merit in loving what is lovely. By a necessity of our emotional nature, our affection throws itself out upon any object that presents an aspect of loveliness; and such an instinct within us is only the reflection of a similar law in the character and actings of God. he cannot but love what bears His image; and therefore the bright and happy essences who surround His throne are for ever sunning themselves in His ineffable smile. But, ah! Man has washed out and lost his moral loveliness. Originally like God, he is now as unlike him as he can be, and there is nothing about him but his misery to attract the divine attachment. Paradise loathed and expelled him, and the globe into which he was exiled out of Eden has been cursed for his sake. ' The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together.' The bleak rock on which no seed can vegetate; the eternal snows where no animal can breathe; the blasted oak of the forest, stretching its leafless arms to the wintry sky; the beach spread over with the wreck and corpses of the hurricane; the desolations of the volcanic fires, and the rocking and chasms of the earthquake; the bed on which tosses the invalid to whom ' wearisome days and nights are appointed;' the hand which the laboring man uplifts to wipe the perspiration from his brow; and those monuments of victory that tell of thousands lying beneath them un-coffined and un-knelled ― these are the tongues by which Nature proclaims, in melancholy emphasis, that she has wandered from her God. And this sin of man is not his misfortune, but his fault. Sometimes those around us are overborne in providence; wave after wave breaks upon them, and as they stagger and fall, they are more to be pitied than to be blamed. Alas! On the contrary, man is not only a ruined, but a self-ruined creature. He has lowered himself to what he is ― the victim of his own pride and disobedience. I presume not to solve the mystery of the origin of evil. I cannot tell why, with God's possession of infinite power, and purity, and love, sin was ever permitted to find its way into our world; but this I know, that amidst all subtle speculations on this dark theme ― amidst all daring and devious attempts to climb these heights of eternal providence, this one truth is very apparent ― ' God made man upright, but he has sought out many inventions.' There is therefore no palliation of our crime. Our Master is not an 'austere' one, ' reaping where he had not sown, and gathering where he had not strawed.' The law under which man was placed was 'holy, and just, and good,' and he was furnished with powers of perfect obedience. The test by which he was tried was an easy one, and he was, but ' for one restraint, lord of the world besides.' It was simply a respect for the Divine will which could lead him to obedience. There was no commingling motive, such as that which springs out of natural relationship and originates moral obligation. But man broke this simple covenant, and wantonly disobeyed the clear injunction not to eat of the tree. And yet that world, which has in this way made itself so guilty and helpless through its perversity and disloyalty, is not thrown off by God ― is not flung into oblivion by Him, and covered with His frown ― is not merely tolerated, or, like a condemned criminal, indulged with a few providential and minor kindnesses, but is really loved by Him. The marvel is this ― there is nothing He hates so much as sin ― and yet no one He has loved so much as a sinner. In spite of our alienation and our hostility, in spite of our low and loathsome repugnance, in the midst of so much that He hates, and condemns, and nauseates, God has loved, yes, has so loved the world. What infinite grace in this amazing love of God!

2. If God loved, and so loved this little world, surely His love was wholly disinterested in its nature. Should some large and important province of an empire rise in rebellion, the sovereign will use every means to induce it to return to its allegiance ere he proceed to arms against it; but should an insignificant region be involved in insurrection, summary vengeance will be taken at once on its folly. Now, our rebellious world was only a small portion of God's universe. What a melancholy thought, did we look up to the sky and see in every orb a wreck and in every star a prison of ruined spirits! The great unfallen universe is a vast territory on which its Creator can yet look with complacency. If, therefore, worlds unnumbered roll around His throne, brighter in their glories of light and mass, of structure and motion than ours; if the absence of our earth from creation would be as little felt as the removal of a single particle of sand from the mound which girds the ocean; and if another divine fiat could at once fill its room with a new orb and with another population, whose obedience should be coeval with their existence and coextensive with their faculties ― will it still be affirmed that it was from any selfish motive, or with any selfish purpose, that God has prolonged our existence, when life and all its enjoyments had been forfeited, or that we are of so much importance to Himself, His happiness, or the harmony of His empire, that, rather than allow us to perish. He gave up His only-begotten Son to the death? Far from us be such vain imaginations! "When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" Higher beings are even the servants of believing humanity.

' O the exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves His creatures so,
And all His Works with mercy doth embrace ―
That blessed angels He sends to and fro.
To serve to wicked man ― to serve His wicked foe!' The same truth has been pictured out to us by the great Teacher: The shepherd had a hundred sheep, and only one of them had gone astray. But his fond anxieties go out after it; and leaving the ninety and nine in comparative neglect, he flees into the wilderness and seeks everywhere, till he come upon the object of his solicitude ― the one poor wanderer; and when he finds it, there is more joy in his bosom over the recovery of the solitary straggler than over the entire flock that had not deserted the fold. O there is more of the heart of God exhibited in our salvation than in all His benignity to the universe beyond us. This orb is truly a 'little one;' and yet it has called out emotions which other and mightier spheres had failed to elicit. Now, such is its moral magnitude, that in its connection with Christ it stands out in unrivaled glory from other worlds, and over its redeemed inhabitants is the chant raised, ' This my son was dead and is alive again, was lost and is found.' Surely this love to a world so insignificant, when compared with the gigantic and numerous planets that revolve in the heavens, must be purely disinterested. ' Our goodness reacheth not to Him.' 'Not unto us, Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, even for thy mercy and for thy truth's sake.'

3. If God loved this world ― this world of fallen men, and not the world of fallen angels ― His love must be sovereign in its essence. For man was not the only sinner in His dominions. Beings of higher original nature, and having their position in heaven itself, were mysteriously involved in the guilt and doom of apostasy, and expelled from their bright domain. And yet, though they dwelt in heaven, they are not summoned back to it. No pardon is offered to them ― no means of purity are provided for them ― no mediator has taken on him the 'nature of angels,' in order to make atonement for them. They are left to the endurance of death, death for ever ― ever sinning, ever suffering ― while pardon and restoration have "been proclaimed to the human family ― that weak and erring race, so nearly allied to the ground they tread, so proud in their debility, and so impious in their thralldom. Would it not have been a more natural operation, so to speak, to have saved these lofty exiles, and called them again to the heaven in which they once lived, and for which they were created, than to select this distant and miserable world, and, by an abnormal and mighty process, to purify and refine its wretched and earthy outcasts for a realm of existence to which they are strangers, and to which they would never have been able to penetrate? The reasons inducing the Infinite Wisdom to make this choice, we may neither search nor maintain. This preference of fallen man to fallen spirits as the recipient of divine love, can only be resolved into a mysterious exercise of uncontrolled sovereignty. He has loved earth and not hell. Both might have been punished with eternal penalty, and neither the one nor the other could have complained of the equity of its doom; and both might have been forgiven and redeemed, and the one and the other would have equally felt its salvation due to Jehovah's tender pity. Nay, though hell had been taken and earth had been left ― though the earliest transgressors only had been saved, and brought again to the awful presence before which they once bowed, the bright myriads with which they once mixed, and the hallelujahs which they once choired, while this world was left to pine and groan hopeless and helpless ― and this alternative one shudders to contemplate ― who would have dared to impeach the God of grace, who has the right to give as He pleases where none have any claim on His bounty? But, let His name be extolled, earth has not been passed over ― it has been selected in His sovereign regard. Aye, God so loved the world. It was a vain conceit which supposed that redeemed spirits were taken up into heaven to supply the vacancy caused by the lapse and loss of the angels. ' Glory and life fulfil their own depletion;' and though God banished the apostates the one moment, their places might have been all filled the next, and the change might have been not merely compensative, but at the same time the source of augmented splendor. ' Be not high-minded, but fear.' ' God spared not the angels that sinned; but cast them down to hell; and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment;' and if thou art spared in His patience, and kept on earth, drawn with ' cords of love,' plied with the offers of His grace, and set apart and sanctified unto glory, thou hast no reason to boast. no; but every cause to 'rejoice with trembling.'

4. But the fervour and mightiness of this love arrest our attention ― God so loved the world loved it with such ardor and indescribable generosity ― loved it so, that He gave His only begotten Son. O the immensity of the gift! A divine gift from a divine Giver. The grandeur of His love may be seen in its results. If you can measure the gift, you may gauge the depth of the love which bestowed it. But the gift is ' unspeakable.' That gift is God's own provision for the world's salvation; and while we contemplate the means, we shall also be able still to illustrate the greatness of the love.

2. The Gift of God's Love.

Now, we estimate the value of a gift by various criteria. First, the resources of the giver must be taken into the account. If a man be loaded with the blessings of fortune himself, and occasionally part with some of his superfluity, such a fraction, if estimated by its proportion to what remains behind it, is really far less in value than another gift that does not possess its semblance of magnitude. Our Lord reckoned by this scale when he declared that the poor widow, who cast her last mite into the treasury, gave truly more than the wealthy worshipers, with the ringing shekels and talents of their 'abundance;' for ' she gave her all.' Nor can the motives of the giver be left out of the calculation. One may heap favors on the head of a fallen foe to wound his pride and produce within him a rankling sense of his inferiority; but such a donation suffers a sad discount when compared with other, and, in themselves, smaller benefactions bestowed in cordial warmth and generosity of spirit. The manner, too, in which a gift is conferred must enter into the estimate. If it be withheld till it be wrung out of the donor by repeated and humiliating importunity; or if it be offered in a surly spirit, and its amount enlarged upon with undue exaggeration; or if it be meted out slowly and with a prolonged comment upon the trouble and self-denial it has cost the benefactor, it sinks at once in importance, especially if placed in contrast with a lesser boon given in frank and spontaneous sympathy ― the donor all the while looking and speaking as if he were the person obliged. Nor must the condition of the recipient be overlooked. Presents heaped on those who are themselves wallowing in opulence are not rated even at their intrinsic worth ― a grain or two, more or less, passing unnoticed in the heap. But when the needy are benefited, they can appreciate the contribution, and if relief come to them in their deep necessity, in the very crisis of their necessity, and in the last moment of that crisis, and completely free them from danger and difficulty, then such discreet liberality, transcends alike description and gratitude. Especially does the blessing rise in utility' and magnitude when it is adapted to him who receives it. To a man who had lost his way, and had wandered till faintness and hunger had seized him, a crust and a cup of water would be a largess far, far beyond a bag of gold, for his trembling arm could not lift it; or the charter of a lordly inheritance, for his eye, dimmed in death, could not decipher its contents.

Now, let the love of God be tried by any of these criteria, and you will at once conclude it to be beyond mensuration. Look, then, with enlightened veneration at the resources of the Giver. Are they not infinite and endless? The riches of the universe are at His disposal. But O, when He gave His Son, did He not give His all? What other gift remained superior to Him, equal to Him, or next to Him? There was no second Christ to confer. The divine treasury contained many gifts, which could easily have been conferred; but was it not exhausted when Christ was given? Beings of noble nature, yea, the 'sons of God,' might have formed the boon, and the vacancy would have been immediately supplied by the unwearied arm of Omnipotence. But in the donation of Christ, (we shrink from saying it, and yet we must,) you see at once the limits of possibility. For He is no creature, but the only-begotten Son. The epithet certainly implies His possession of a divine nature ― one identical in essence and attributes with the Father, having in it the same majesty of uncreated existence, the same wisdom of universal range and grasp, the same power of unlimited operation, the same moral lineaments of character, and the same immutability that casts its bright mantle of perfection over them all. And as a Son did He enjoy the infinite attachment of the Father, and reciprocate it in eternal, boundless, and unchanging union. If Christ be God, what gift superior to Him can be presented? or if He be the Son of God, what richer love could be exhibited? Donations might have chased each other from His hand, each greater and more godlike than the one which preceded it, and though the number and amount of such gifts might defy our arithmetic and outreach our imagination, such benefactions might continue through eternity; but when God loved the world, and gave His only-begotten Son, He gave a solitary gift, but one so immense and exhaustive that it could not be repeated. "What unfathomed meaning in the monosyllable ― so! God so loved us, that He gave His only-begotten Son ― so like Him as to be His very image, and so loved by Him as to lie in His very bosom ― Him he gave up to suffering and death to redeem a lost and rebellious world. Only in the infinite mind could such a love be cherished. And the gift is enhanced by the motives of the Giver. There was in Him no selfish tinge. It was His profound pity for us in our low and lost estate that prompted Him to the unequaled gift. Undeservedly and unexpectedly were we saluted with the boon. There was no entreaty on the part of man. The sky was not rent with earnest and universal cries for help; the heart of God was not moved and melted because His ear was filled with the echoes of shrieking and clamorous humanity. No; His love was not so slow or reluctant; for salvation was provided for us, in purpose, ere yet we fell into the need of it. His love, in its eagerness, anticipated our fall, and made preparation for it.

Again, this gift of His own and only Son is the only donation that could have profited us. There is in Him every blessing we need, and every blessing is brought near us in the only form in which we can avail ourselves of it. For His complete salvation is also a free salvation, sealed and applied by the Holy Spirit. Guilt is pardoned and pollution is removed ― our relations and our nature are equally changed ― no element of perfection or felicity is withheld, and the germs engrafted now are destined for ever to mature and expand. No previous qualification is requisite, and no subsequent merit is anticipated. Works are wholly excluded as meritorious causes, and even the faith that brings a gratuitous justification is itself the gift of God. Christ includes a full and free forgiveness, an incipient and progressive sanctification ― peace, hope, freedom, and joy ― the deliverance of the soul, the final resurrection of the body, and the preparation of our entire nature to see, enjoy, and glorify God. What adaptation in this gift to a frail and guilty world, that could not win its way back to purity and paradise! Surely it comes in this its fitness from Him who 'knoweth our frame.' Is it not Infinite Love robed in Infinite Wisdom? O then, if the gift be of such a nature, in intrinsic value, in nobility of motive, in largeness of efficacy, and delicacy, of adaptation ― if it be the Son of God, out of the heart of God, gifted to a thoughtless and hostile race, to bless it with Himself, and all the fulness that is in Him ― will we not, under the impulse of such a reflection, be induced to exclaim, ' Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins!' God so loved the world that He gave, unsolicited and freely, the noblest gift in His means to confer ― His second Self ― His only-begotten Son. If you reason from the gift to the love which bestowed it, by what name shall you call it ― where shall you find epithets to heap upon it? On this subject hyperbole is tameness, and seeming extravagance is actually sterility of language. Thus have we considered the amazing fact, that God has loved this guilty and insignificant world, and selected it to be the object of His tender attachment; and that He has so loved it, as to make provision for its deliverance, in the gift of His Son ― that bright and matchless display of His boundless affection.

3. The Design of God's Love But the same fervour of the Divine love is seen, too, in the end contemplated, and in the peculiar instrumentality by which that end is achieved. He gave His only-begotten Son, for this purpose, ' that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish, but have everlasting life.' The language plainly implies that the race are in a lost condition. The Son of God is given to keep them from perishing ― from sinking into irretrievable ruin. It was a perdition great and terrible which sin had produced. "What a frightful spectacle, a soul in ruins ― away from God, and hostile to Him ― His image gone, His glory in the dust, a darkened mind, a distracted or sensualised heart, a spirit in thralldom, appetite predominant, the divine law forgotten, conscience bribed, hushed, or quelled; and the end of man's being not only unrealized, but, by a reversed polarity of inclination, fought against, and the end that was at the opposite extreme pursued and gained. And so the soul perishes ― sinks, and sinks lower and lower still, till it fall into unending agony, and suffer the penalty of disloyal transgression. The most terrible imagery is employed in scripture to depict the fate of the wicked ― the intensity of unquenchable fire ― the blackness of unbroken gloom ― ceaseless descent into a bottomless abyss ― the gnawing of a undying worm ― and the lining spasms of the 'second death.' Not that any agony is needed in the form of material appliance; but the spirit of the language is, that the anguish of a soul, which, in another world, realizes its severance from God, and feels itself to be the guilty cause of this alienation, which shuts out all hope or idea of return, and is ever reminded by all around it, in scenery and companionship, that it is lost, and lost for aye- must be an anguish so intolerable as to be above all description and beyond all relief.

Now, there may be many aspects of retribution. If memory recall the hosts of opportunities neglected, and wring the spirit with remorse, may not imagination create a torture by picturing out to itself the cross in fiery gleam, and be so haunted with the spectral symbol, as to be forced, ever and anon, to gaze upon it, while the vision must pierce the heart with unutterable pangs, because it looked not and was saved, when the day of grace was not gone, and a look of faith would have brought salvation? Or may not fierce and turbulent passion, possessed in unchecked ascendancy, and yearning for gratification and finding none, devour itself in increasing bitterness? If the teaching of the parable of the talents be listened to, there do we learn that gifts mis-improved are taken away; that genius abused shall wither under the curse of sterility and impotence ― for ever stung with the consciousness that itself has done it, and impelled to cry in agony to the Avenger, ' Thou art justified when thou speakest, and clear when thou judgest.' But no matter in what form this perdition is felt, the fact is, that a soul which comes short of the end of its being ― the glorification and enjoyment of God ― is a lost soul. If it cannot enjoy God, if it cannot look in His face, with confidence, if it cannot exult in His presence, if it do not feel Him to be its only portion and satisfaction, if it shrink and tremble before Him, and shun Him, conscious that it is hostile to Him and unlike Him ― then it is lost, for what can bless it or restore it? It must prey upon itself, and its essential immortality becomes its curse. It cannot die, or fall into the shades of non-existence. Could it cease to think or feel, there might be refuge; could it cast itself into stupor, there might be remedy. Without faith in God, or love to Him, it cannot but perish ― there is no sphere where it can be happy, no state in which it can gladden or beguile itself.

Thus, the entire species having wrested itself from fellowship with God ― having cast off His authority. and incurred His just displeasure ― might have perished, and most certainly would have perished, if the mercy of God had not prevented. It had severed itself from the throne, and would have fallen, and fallen for ever, if the hand of Him that sits upon that throne had not arrested its descent, and a voice of ineffable love had cried, ' Deliver from going down to the pit: I have found a ransom.' But the object of the gift of Christ is not merely to free sinners from danger, keep them from doom, and bring them into a species of negative safety. He was given that positive blessings might he conferred; that rescue from danger might be followed by renewal of heart; that the fallen might not only be stopped in its downward progress, but raised, and brought back, and re-united to the only source of life and joy. The disease is not simply checked, and the patient kept in weakness, but health and activity are fully restored. The prodigal son has not a portion sent him to keep him from starvation in the ' far country,' and among the unclean herds which he tends; nor is he detained at the spot where his father met him and embraced him, and there washed, and fed, and clothed; but he is at once brought into the household, to its inner chamber, clad in its best robe, feasted at its upper table, and upon its richest viands. The believer in Christ not only does not perish, but has ' everlasting life.'

What a mine of indescribable happiness in that term ― life! It is the sum of all blessing ― the elixir of all enjoyment. Life, how eagerly cherished by all! The young hope for it, the aged are loath to quit it, the sick man tugs for it, the bad man dreads its termination, and the good man prays for its continuance. The whole struggle of the world is for life ― for means to enliven and prolong it. It is full of contrivances to shut out the idea of death. Now, if there be such anxiety for the life that now is, a life that is brief and checkered by clouds and trials; a life that is rarely stretched to threescore and ten years, and is ended amidst spasms and tears; what intense aspirations, and prayers, and wrestlings should there not be after a life that is not measured by centuries or by millenniums; a life far above change and sorrow ― a life serene as the bosom of its Giver, and endless as God's own eternity! For this life is not mere immortality, but a happy immortality. It is the perfection of our spiritual being, enjoyed in the presence of God; the intellect acting in an atmosphere of unclouded truth, and the heart throbbing in a region of universal love; life having found its highest aim and its noblest development in the praise and service of God. This is life ― to be in Him, near Him, like Him ― Himself the giver, and Himself the gift ― Himself the portion, and Himself the song.

'And not to one created thing
Shall our embrace be given;
But all our joy shall be in God ―
For only God is heaven.'

' Sin has reigned unto death: but grace reigns through righteousness unto eternal life by Christ,Jesus our Lord.' How glorious, therefore, the purpose of the divine gift of the Son of God ― to confer life; to give man the best of blessings ― eternal life! For this life never dies; it is everlasting life.' Ah I how chilly should our enjoyment of heavenly glory be, if we had any suspicions of its termination! The faintest doubt of its coming to an end would wither the laurel and unstring the harp. That all this glory should have the pall of gloom over it, and this life should come to its last moment, how' saddening and vexatious must be the thought of such a possibility! No; the life is everlasting as it springs from the ' fountain of life.' The grace that conferred it never wearies in giving, and never revokes its boon; the throne before which it throbs and sings is never eclipsed; the merit of its Redeemer's work can never be exhausted; the human spirit is possessed itself of an undying essence, and therefore this life of life lasts for ever. The lamp kindled at the divine radiance, and burning so near the source which feeds it, can never be extinguished. So long as God lives and dwells in love, so long shall the saved spirit live in Him, and dwell in His love. This is the high end of believing humanity ― an end so godlike, that you cannot doubt that God has designed it, and prepared you for it. If there was love beyond measure in God's gift of His Son, is there not also affection beyond parallel in this high and happy purpose realized through faith in such a boon? For salvation is not of works. Man is not summoned to some stupendous effort in order to win his way to glory. Nor are the terms of the divine law lowered in order that he may he able to comply. But salvation is provided, and you are summoned to accept it. The blessing is of faith, that it might he by grace; and nothing stands between you and salvation, but your own unwillingness to take it; nothing between you and heaven, but your reluctance to enter it. How, then, is this blessing of everlasting life to be got? It is not flung lavishly and at random over the world, nor is it forced upon the acceptance of sinners. They are not compelled to live, nor do they unconsciously inhale the elements of this new life. No; only he that believeth ' shall not perish, but have everlasting life.' Faith is the instrument of life. Cordial belief in Christ Jesus, God's own gift, brings into the heart the first pulsations of the new existence. And tell me why should there not be faith? Why should not God get credit for His love? There might have been some tremulous sensation, if that love had been described as merely resident in the Divine bosom; but surely there can be no hesitation when you see it embodied in the gift of Christ, His Son ― so loved by Him, and so like Him; and when you can trace it in its descent to earth, and see the babe in Bethlehem, scan the footprints of the man of sorrows and sympathy, and shudder at the expiring agony of the sufferer on Calvary. Faith in Christ is requisite for salvation by Him. Whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish. Belief in Him, as the manifestation of the divine love, brings you within the sphere of saving influence. It shows your acquiescence in God's plan of salvation, and your anxiety to avail yourselves of it. Of Christ's ability to save, there can be no doubt It is said of Him in this gospel, that ' by Him all things were made;' and is not He that created the universe mighty enough to redeem a lost soul? The arm that upholds all worlds is surely able to lift a human spirit out of misery into glory. Can you doubt the resources of that Omnipotence which, amidst all its astounding operations, ' fainteth not, neither is weary?' And as is His power, so is His will; the persuasion of the one must be as strong as your conviction of the other. For He became His Father's gift, and took upon Him man's nature, and in it made satisfaction. If He was born as never man was born, spake as never man spake, acted as never man acted, loved as never man loved, suffered as never man suffered, and died as never man died ― who would refuse to confide in Him, or commit to Him the keeping of his immortal soul! Why then so reluctant to have faith in Him; what possible motive can there be for doubt? Surely He has said enough and done enough to quell every suspicion. And this faith, the result of divine influence, leads to the acceptance of Him as Saviour, to justification by His blood, and sanctification by His Spirit. He who believeth in Him shall not perish, but, pardoned and purified by His grace, shall ascend to the enjoyment of eternal life. But who may possess this faith? Is any one debarred? No: ' Whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish.' Any one may believe, every one is summoned to believe, no matter what his character, country, rank, or age. The gospel is offered to the world without discrimination. It has no national restriction, no geographical peculiarity. It is presented, in all its fulness, to ' mankind sinners, as such.' And thus, through the love of God and His infinite, whosoever, in any age, believeth on Christ shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life. The blessings of salvation were not all given away in the early centuries. The myriads saved in those epochs did neither diminish nor exhaust the treasury of redemption. The love of God and the gift of His Son have a fulness which is neither emptied by time nor absorbed by numbers; still any one responding to the invitation is welcomed. The blood shed on Calvary has not spent its virtue on the hosts which already have been pardoned and purified in it. Its power is still as fresh as when the thousands at Pentecost were washed in it, and myriads in Antioch and Rome were blessed with its atoning merit; as when the thief saw it shed on the cross, and the beloved disciple declared its efficacy to cleanse ' from all sin.' In every subsequent period the same truth will keep its blessed place, and down to the last moment of time shall each sinner that rests on Christ be ransomed and glorified.

'Nay more, any one of any nation believing in Him shall not perish, but be saved. It was a son of Abraham, with Jewish blood in his veins, who died; but His atonement has an efficacy unlimited by race or country. It has no distinction of colour, clime, or language. Wherever fallen humanity is found, it receives the same glorious offer, be its hue what it may, and no matter under what sky it may live and breathe. The Shemite equally with the Hamite ― the savage of Africa, no less than the educated European ― he with the chain, and he with the crown, are all upon a level. Every man, even though he be a demon in ferocity or a brute in sensuality; every living man ― a man on earth and not in hell, is warranted to seek and commanded to accept salvation. No one is excluded by position or distance. Yes, thou poor Aztec, stunted, and but the semblance of a man, thou too art welcome; and thou bleeding and fettered negro, thou art doubly welcome, for He came to ' proclaim liberty to the captive, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound.'

God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that any one, of any character, believing on Him might not perish. Jesus ' came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.' Classical philosophy and religion chased away the vulgar and poor, and concerned themselves only with the refined and virtuous. But Christ does not spurn the sinner. His blessings are not only for those of fairer character and of better reputation; they are for sinners, even for the most abandoned. Yes! He pardons sins without number. and sinners without distinction. If any are specially invited, it is the very unworthy ― the utterly depraved. 'He lifteth the poor out of the dunghill, and setteth him with princes, even the princes of the earth.' how many such triumphs has the gospel witnessed! Let the veriest sinner that breathes turn to Christ, and he shall feel, aye and feel at once, that the 'blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.' Who then can despair? Why not believe? Thou art not placed beyond the pale of His love. Sunk and low, proud and filthy as thou art ― in rags and vice, the devil in thy heart, and blasphemy on thy tongue, thou art the object of the love of God most high. Christ was thy brother; and that loving brother's blood was shed that thou mightest believe and live. Thou art not cast off; the heart that bled for thee still yearns over thee. Feel this ― how can you but feel it ― and be saved. We proclaim a gospel of infinite merit and universal adaptation. The annals of the church are filled with examples of the conversion of the biggest sinners. ' Such were some of you,' says the apostle to the church at Corinth ― sinners indeed above many ― ' but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.' Should there be a contest in heaven as to who is most indebted to the love of Jehovah, the claim will be awarded not to the ' babe thither caught from womb and breast,' Whose early' death prevented its pollution by the world; but to him who could say, ' I was a persecutor, a blasphemer, and injurious;' to "him who had been a paragon of depravity; to him who had lived like Newton, and blasphemed like Bunyan: to him who had revelled in the darkness and impiety of the night, ere the blessed morning burst upon him. Yours was a noted example on earth, and yours is a thrilling song in glory; your crown is brightest among the bright, and your harp has a melody all its own. Among many wonderful trophies, surpassing wonder attaches to you; ye know more than most the tenderness of the divine heart, and the might of the divine arm. Christ has shown in you 'a pattern of all long-suffering;' and the Lord, of His infinite mercy, grant that we may rightly appreciate it and savingly profit by it.

Yea, in fine, God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that any one, at any period of life, believing on Him might not perish. The young are welcomed: 'He took children in his arms and blessed them;' but the old are not placed under a ban. At any instant of any day, or month, or year, may the soul believe. The divine love never sleeps, and it is no intermittent emotion. At Bethesda, only one, and he the first one who stepped into the pool, was healed; but the whole band of invalids may all bathe in this fountain, and each in his turn will be saved. Its waters need no periodical stirring, for they possess a perennial efficacy. Seventy years may have passed over the impenitent sinner, and all that God has done for him may have been wantonly despised, and yet, should his spirit look to Jesus, a full forgiveness will be at once conferred. Yes, even at the last and solemn hour, and ere the heart cease its pulsations, it may find the preciousness of Christ. Its last look may be to the cross, and its last syllables, lost yet saved, may be, I believe... in Christ. But yet this last hour is not to be trusted to; for you cannot tell when it may come. The ninth hour approaches, the tenth hour is numbered, the eleventh hour strikes, and, ere you are aware, the twelfth hour tolls, and you are hurried into a lost and undone eternity.

How now shall we tell the immensity of this love, and the indescribable value of this gift, when their glorious end is contemplated ― the salvation of sinners, of every age and country, of every character and period of life! What bosom but that of God's could contain such an emotion; what gift but that of Christ could have realized such blessed consequences! Whatever be the special relation of the love of Christ to His church, this is the general aspect of the love of God to the world ― His ' man-love,' as it has been termed by the apostle. (Titus 3:4.) It has made provision for an indiscriminate and universal offer of the gospel, and it secures the salvation of all who will accept it. What more shall we say, or can we say, to induce you to 'believe on the Lord Jesus Christ?' Trifle not with time and invitation. Perplex not your spirits with theories about the nature and origin of faith. The question is not, how you believe, but what you believe; the value of your belief depends upon its object and foundation. 'I believe; help thou mine unbelief.' You may believe much of no immediate practical value ― the devil believes the theoretic truth; but you are summoned to credit the statement of our text ― this divine record, which forms the very pith and marrow of the gospel. With what rapturous feelings the idea of this love should fill us, and with what fervent gratitude should we respond to it! With what prolonged hosannas should we hail the advent of Christ, and what unwavering confidence should we repose in Him! And if it be that we have ruined ourselves beyond self-recovery, how shall we admire the divine plan of restoration; for He that made the world, saves it; He against whom it had sinned, gave His Son to redeem it. But yet if you do not avail yourselves of these blessed provisions; if this love do not move you, and this gift do not satisfy you, and this faith do not fill you ― then the hazard is terrible; for your original ruin will have a new aggravation, in your rejection of God's helping hand. If you do not accept God's salvation, having such an origin and instrumentality, and if the universe cannot present you with any other, then you must perish in your wantonness and crime. And that will be not because there is no pity for you, and no one cares for you; for God loves you, and the tenderness of a mother's love is not equal to His. Nor will it be because there is no deliverance provided; for the bosom of God is emptied of His only Son, and He loved you, wept over you, and died for you. Neither will it be because you are placed in circumstances which bar out the power of the gospel; for no one is frowned upon, and every one may turn, believe, and live. Will you madly wrestle against your happiness, and resolve to perish in spite of all this love felt for you, and all this provision made for you? "What other help could you covet? Could you imagine a more ardent love, or a more glorious deliverance? Could heaven be brought nearer to earth than it has been, or could the heart of God be more truly laid bare before you? Shall you then doubt ― doubt of His love ― as He points to the cross and to His bleeding Son? it is provoking to a fellow-creature to have his word doubted and his veracity suspected; how much more so to the most true God! There is nothing that brings such vexation and disappointment to a benefactor as to see his good intentions misunderstood, and the very benignity of his purpose called in question; and what must God feel when His love makes no impression on you, and you refuse to give Him any credit for His declaration of it? Can you commit a sin more wounding to Him after what He has said and done, one that so pointedly insults Him, and that so awfully ruins yourselves? Such unbelief hardening itself against such love must meet with very signal punishment, for it at once woos and warrants its frightful and aggravated doom. Do homage, we therefore conjure you, to this love; extol it, and accept its mighty gift, and, according to the pledge of the text, you shall be saved. And the end shall at length be reached, and your perfected natures will pour out their grateful melodies in honour of this unceasing love, and in perpetual view of Him whose mission was its unexampled fruit. Then, indeed, of the truth and blessedness of this verse your own experience in heaven will be a living, glorious, and eternal illustration.