06.08. Appendix 2 - The Great Gospel Convocation

APPENDIX.

SCRIPTURAL EXPOSITIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

II. The Great Gospel Convocation.

“Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel.”— Hebrews 12:22-24. THE warning (Hebrews 12:25), “See that ye refuse not him that speaketh,” refers to the judgment of God on the generation of Israel which he brought out of Egypt. That indeed is the warning which all through this epistle is held up before the eyes of the believing Hebrews. Let them beware of the sin of their forefathers. In their case, it must be a sin peculiarly aggravated, in proportion as their privilege is peculiarly high. Their forefathers stood before God at Sinai, and heard him speak, as it were, “on earth” (Hebrews 12:25), “his voice then shook the earth” (Hebrews 12:26). But they themselves have heard him, as it were, “from heaven” (Hebrews 12:25), his voice “shaking not the earth only but also heaven” (Hebrews 12:26), effecting a far more complete renovation, introducing not a temporary but a permanent economy. It is in this connection that a scene is here described having the same relation to the new economy that the Sinai scene had to the old. “Ye are come” to this, as your fathers came to that; and you are to realise your position and its responsibility accordingly.*[1] Of the three verses descriptive of the scene (Hebrews 12:22-24), the first gives the place of meeting and the audience; the second, the actual convocation, or the parties convened; and the third, the business on hand, and the manner of its transaction. The first verse, giving the place of meeting and the audience,—“But ye are come unto mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels,”—needs little remark. The place of meeting is “mount Sion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem.” It is evidently a place that is meant, not a society or church, as when it is said, “Praise the Lord 0 Jerusalem; praise thy God 0 Sion.” And it is evidently no earthly place. The earthly Jerusalem was doomed; Sion was to be a desolation. It is a heavenly locality, ideal to us now, but yet real, and soon to be realised. The audience or spectators are the angels. They were witnesses from above of the scene at Sinai (Deuteronomy 33:2; Acts 7:35; Galatians 3:19; Hebrews 2:2). They are also witnesses of this scene. They are not mere witnesses; they are deeply interested par-ties. But it is as witnesses or onlookers that they are here brought before us. In this place and in this presence a meeting of a solemn, and, as it would seem, judicial character, is convened,—” To the general assembly and church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect.” There is in the centre the President, and on either side a company awaiting his award. The president is “God, the judge of all.” Some would read, “the Judge, the God of all” They prefer such a rendering, because it seems to divest the scene of its terror. The Judge is presiding; but he is to all who are before him “their God.” I think this view proceeds upon a very inadequate, if not erroneous theory of the Spirit’s design,— which is not really to abate fear, but to quicken it. God is here enthroned; “the Judge of all;” of all now before him; their lawgiver, ruler, lord, and king. It is in that character that he presides over the assembly. It is for legislative and governmental purposes that he sits upon the throne.*[2] Two separate and distinct bodies are marshalled on opposite sides of the throne.

I. On one side, there are “the first-born, which are written in heaven.” They are the first-born; distinguished from among men, as the first-born among the Israelites were from among their fellows; or rather as Israel was from all the world (Exodus 4:22). They are in possession of the birthright. They are partakers with Christ in all the privileges of that right of primogeniture which pro-perly and essentially belongs to him alone. He is “God’s Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things” (Hebrews 1:2). But in his inheritance he is not to be alone, as he is not to be alone in what is the ground of it—namely, his filial relation to the Father. It is the Father’s purpose that the Son shall have partners in that relation, and in its fruit. Believers are said to be “predestinated to be conformed to the image of his Son,” for this express end, “that he may be the firstborn among many brethren” (Romans 8:29).

These then are “the first-born.” And, as the first-born, they are “written in heaven.” The peculiar privileges belonging to the firstborn in Israel, as well as the peculiar right of property which the Lord claimed in them, made it necessary that an accurate register of them should be kept (Numbers 3:40). And so also there is a complete register kept of the first-born in Christ. They are written or enrolled in heaven. They are not lost sight of while they are exposed to earth’s trials. “The Lord knoweth them that are his.” He “calleth his own sheep by name;” and he has their names recorded in heaven. This is their joy; “In this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20). This is their security also against the devouring enemy on earth; “All that dwell upon the earth shall worship” the beast, “whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). And it is their warrant and passport of admission at last into the New Jerusalem; “There shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie; but they which are written in the Lamb’s book of life” (Revelation 21:27).

Such is the company here convened, at the foot of the heavenly Sion, and in the presence of the holy angels, on one side of the President, who is God the Judge of all.

They are convened as a company at once comprehensive and select;—comprehensive, for it is a “general assembly” (panhgu,rei); select, for it is a church (evkklhsia|). Both of these expressions are here used in their primary meaning. They denote, not a permanent association, but a particular gathering; a meeting called for a purpose, and on an occasion. In this view, the one expression—“general assembly”—brings out the wide and universal character of the meeting; it is the assembling together of the entire body referred to. The other expression—“church”—implies selection. The meeting is exclusive as well as comprehensive. It is not a promiscuous or miscellaneous crowd. It is a meeting of the whole body, but of none else. It embraces all “the first-born who are written in heaven,” but it shuts out others. All friends are here; but only friends. The whole family is admitted; but strangers must withdraw.

II. On the other side of the presiding Judge stands another company, designated as “the spirits of just men made perfect.” Who are they? Not, as I apprehend, the pious dead generally, but a particular class of the departed people of God. I take them to be the collective body of the Old Testament saints, as I take “the firstborn which are written in heaven” to be the entire household of New Testament believers. And I ground this opinion on two expressions which occur in the previous part of the passage, beginning at the end of the tenth chapter, of which the last verses of this twelfth chapter are the close. The first is the intimation at the outset, “The just shall live by faith” (Hebrews 10:38). Starting from that great principle, the writer goes on to define the faith by which the just live, and to give historical instances in illustration. So he ushers in his noble catalogue, in the eleventh chapter, of the grand old worthies of the olden time. For that eleventh chapter, which should not be separated from the last two verses of the tenth, is simply an appeal to the example of the just who lived by faith before gospel times; and virtually, under chosen specimens, it includes them all.

Now let the summing up of the glorious list be noted, “These all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise: God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect” (Hebrews 11:39-40). Plainly the writer points to some drawback or disadvantage connected with their Old Testament state; and just as plainly he points to its complete removal through their becoming in some way partakers of some New Testament privilege. “They without us,” or apart from us, were “not made perfect.” This may mean merely in general that,—as “our eyes see and our ears hear what many prophets and righteous men of old desired to see and to hear but were not permitted,”—so they also now see and hear it, and rejoice therefore with us in the actual accomplishment of the great redemption, which was only imperfectly revealed to them in prophecy, type, and figure. I am persuaded, however, that the meaning is more pointed and precise. Especially taking into account the remarkable phraseology of the verse now under consideration,—distinguishing between “the firstborn written in heaven” and “the spirits of just men made perfect,”—I conceive the imperfection attaching to the condition of Old Testament saints to have been just this, that till Christ came, they were not and could not be put in possession of the full blessedness which the sonship and heirship of “the first-born written in heaven” imply.

It is to me a strong confirmation of this view, that it harmonises so thoroughly with the representation given in the Epistle to the Galatians (Galatians 4:1-7) of the state of pupillage in which Old Testament believers were, as contrasted with the higher and freer filial standing of Christians. The difference is made to turn mainly on the mission and manifestation of the Son, as the Son, and on the coming of the Holy Ghost as the Spirit of the Son. In virtue of the Son being “made of a woman, made under the law,” “the redemption from the curse of the law,” which the just who lived by faith of old saw and embraced afar off, is now complete. And in virtue of its having been “his Son” whom “God sent forth when the fulness of the time was come,” and of its being “the Spirit of his Son” whom he has been “sending forth into our hearts” since, we “receive the adoption of Sons,” and the Spirit in us “cries Abba, Father.” Is not this that “better thing which God hath prepared for us, that they without us should not be made perfect?” And is not the description—“the spirits of just men made perfect”—simply an intimation that they have come to share with us in that better thing now?

Thus, then, it appears that the perfection of the state of believers under the gospel, as contrasted with the imperfection of the state of believers under the law, consists in their adoption as the sons of God, their participation with Christ in his filial relation to the Father, being more fully developed and realised; more distinctly indicated on the part of God, and more thoroughly apprehended, felt, and acted out by themselves. The difference, in fact, turns upon the sense and recognition of the sonship and the birthright. New Testament believers are “the first-born written in heaven,” in all the extent and fulness of significancy that can belong to these expressions. It is as possessing fully this privilege that they are convened in this great assize. And of this very privilege their predecessors, the Old

Testament saints, are now partakers. Whatever imperfection, in respect of the development and realization of their sonship, might mark their spiritual state on earth, before the actual manifestation of the Son of God in the flesh, is all now at an end. The wall of partition is broken down. And when the souls of these righteous ones who lived by faith are summoned to attend the wondrous meeting at which all the first-born are assembled before their God and Judge, it is not now any inferior or imperfect position that they occupy. They come forth as “the spirits of just men made perfect.” They are “complete in Christ.” In so august an audience, in such near contact with God the judge of all, the assembled company need and welcome a Mediator and his mediation;—“And to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel.”

First, there is a Mediator. There was a Mediator at Sinai: Moses; who said,—“so terrible was the sight,”—“I exceedingly fear and quake.” There is a mediator here: one who, “in the days of his flesh,” cried, “Now is my soul troubled,”—“Now is my soul sorrowful even unto death.” The terror of Sinai fell chiefly on Moses, as the mediator then between Israel and Israel’s God and Judge. A terror still more overwhelming falls upon Jesus, the mediator now, not on Sinai but on Zion, between those to whom he is “the first-born among many brethren,” and that “God, the judge of all, before whom they stand.” And through this greater terror, he is the mediator of a new and better covenant. From Sinai, through the mediation of Moses, the law was given; uncompromising in its claims and unrelenting in its penalties. From Zion, through the mediation of Jesus, the law is given ; satisfied in its highest claims, and exhausted in its sternest penalties, by his own work of love. From Sinai, at the hands of Moses, the law is given by a thundering voice, as a rule of life authoritatively enforced from without. From Zion, at the hands of Jesus, the law is given also by the power of the living Spirit, as a principle of life energetically working within.

Secondly, there is mediation. It is the sprinkling of blood, or “the blood of sprinkling.” And of that blood it is said that “it speaketh;” that it speaketh good things; that it “speaketh better things than that of Abel,” or than Abel. Is there here any reference to what the Lord says in emphatic reply to Cain’s impious defiance, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”—“The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground” (Genesis 4:10)? That cry is assumed to be a cry for vengeance, like the cry of the souls under the altar, “How long, 0 Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?” Is it with this cry for vengeance, supposed to be uttered by Abel’s blood, that Christ’s peace-speaking “blood of sprinkling” is contrasted ?

I think not. For one thing, I would ask, is it quite clear that God on that occasion speaks of Abel’s blood as crying for vengeance? That is not expressly said, nor is it at all necessarily implied. All that is meant may be, and probably is, not that it is a cry for vengeance against Cain’s life, but that it is a cry of witness against his lie. God makes inquisition for blood. He asks Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And the audacious falsehood of Cain’s reply, “I know not,”—is refuted by the “poor dumb voice” of his brother’s “wounds” speaking for him. Besides, even if we take the cry of Abel’s blood to be a cry for vengeance, the introduction of it on the occasion of this great convention is unseasonable. To say of the atoning blood of Christ, that it speaketh better things than blood that cries for vengeance, is to pay it a poor compliment at the best.

It is far more to the purpose, as it seems to me, to understand the writer as referring,—either to the blood which Abel shed, when “by faith he offered unto God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain” (Hebrews 11:4),—or to the testimony which Abel bears concerning the efficacy of that sacrifice which by faith he offered. This last is probably the real meaning. It is in accordance with the exact words of the passage: “the blood of sprinkling which speaketh better things than Abel” And it fits in, by a natural allusion, to what has previously been said concerning Abel (Hebrews 11:4), that, with special reference to the sacrifice which by faith he offered, “he being dead, yet speaketh.”

Abel is the first of the Old Testament worthies celebrated in the muster-roll of the eleventh chapter, and introduced into the scene now before us as “the spirits of just men made perfect.” He leads the van of that noble army of martyrs—“the cloud of witnesses compassing us about.” And he does so, because he is the first on record to seal his faith in the necessity and efficacy of an atoning sacrifice for sin. He acted on that faith when he offered as his sacrifice, not “the first fruits of the ground” as a mere expression of gratitude, but “the firstlings” of his flock as a propitiation for guilt. He suffered for that faith when he fell under his brother’s envious hand. He died a martyr to the great truth, that “without shedding of blood there is no remission” (Hebrews 9:22); and of this precise truth, “he being dead yet speaketh.”

But, after all, how inadequately can he speak of it! How vague and indistinct is any voice his offering or his martyrdom can utter, in comparison with that “blood of sprinkling” which “speaks” now! Abel’s testimony then, embodied in the act he performed and confirmed by the death he died, speaks of guilt expiated and the guilty soul cleansed, only in a figure, through the slaying of a lamb, a mere senseless animal, that could never be a worthy substitute for the criminal at God’s bar; “For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins.” But the blood of sprinkling now, the precious “blood of Jesus Christ the Son of God which cleanseth from all sin,” speaks better things. It speaks not of redemption typically represented, but of redemption actually accomplished—not of a figurative, but of a real atonement —not of “sanctifying” or cleansing “to the purifying of the flesh,” but of the “purging of the conscience from dead works to serve the living God” (Hebrews 9:13-14).

Thus understood, the introduction of this “blood of sprinkling, speaking better things than Abel,” is entirely to the purpose of the matter here on hand, the ratifying of a great covenant of righteousness and peace. It is suitable and seasonable as regards the comparison or contrast between Sinai and Zion. In the scene at Sinai there was indeed blood of sprinkling; for only by the use of blood could the people be sanctified according to the Lord’s command. (Exodus 19:10, Exodus 19:14). The blood of sprinkling, however, then employed could speak only as Abel speaks. It was of the same nature with Abel’s sacrifice, and could speak no better things. But the blood of sprinkling that is available here, at the foot and within the precincts of Mount Zion—the blood that is to fit and qualify for an approach, not to a tangible burning mountain, but to a glorious spiritual city—that blood speaks assuredly better things by far. It speaks of a sufficient ransom for condemned and depraved men found and provided by the living God himself. It speaks of the ratification of a better covenant, founded upon better promises. It speaks of the removal of the whole burden of guilt from the conscience, and the whole pollution of sin from the heart. And it so speaks these better things as to unite in one the two companies on the right and on the left of God, their common judge,—the first-born registered in heaven and the spirits of just men made perfect. All now are one, invested with the same sonship, sprinkled with the same blood.

Now, having examined the several particulars of the scene, let us combine them in one whole. Let us take a general view of the picture. The veil of sense is withdrawn, and what does the eye of faith see? Not “the mount that might be touched,” but one that can be only spiritually discerned—on which no hand can as yet be laid, and no foot may tread. It is Mount Zion. But it is Mount Zion more “beautiful for situation” than ever Israelite’s fond gaze beheld her—“the joy,” not “of the whole earth” merely, but of the whole heaven—“the city of the great King” (Psalms 48:2). For the mountain is not like Sinai, lifting its dark and lonely head over the dreary wilderness. The heavenly Jerusalem crowns its summit and sweeps along its skirts. And instead of burning fire she has “the glory of God. And her light is like unto a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal” (Revelation 21:11). At the base of this glorious mount,—not yet entering the heavenly city but assembled near it,—what a group meets our view! On one side, there is the whole vast multitude of those who, under the dispensation of the gospel, receive the adoption of sons. They are brought together in holy convocation to meet their God—to meet him as their Lawgiver, King, and Judge. On the other side we see,—associated with them in fullest sympathy and on a footing of entire equality,—the glorious company of those who walked by faith under an imperfect dispensation, but to whose estate imperfection attaches now no more. Myriads of angels are assembled as deeply interested spectators, and something more,—occupying the surrounding heights, and intently watching the procedure. The real transaction, however, is between the people met below the Mount beside the City, and the Being before whom they stand. The transaction is through a mediator; who on the one hand has a covenant to promulgate on the part of God, and on the other hand has blood to sprinkle on the people. He comes from God to the people with tables in his grasp on which are inscribed the exact terms of the law. But it is the law satisfied, magnified, and honoured, by his own infinitely meritorious righteousness; the law, moreover, now to be transferred, in that new form of it, into the sinner’s heart, and made part and parcel of his very nature as renewed by the Holy Ghost. Thus the Mediator comes from God to the people, proposing to them, not a legal covenant which must condemn, but a gracious covenant which saves. And then, to bring the people near to God, he has blood to sprinkle on them—atoning blood. For this end “he has received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost.” And this sprinkling of such blood by such an agency,—this application of the propitiatory sacrifice of Christ by the power of the holy Spirit,—speaks of what no other service or sacrifice could promise. It speaks of peace with God, peace of conscience, “peace in believing and joy in the Holy Ghost.”

This, then, is the scene. Clearly enough it is for the present ideal and spiritual, it is to be apprehended by faith. But it concerns us deeply to apprehend the scene as real, It must be matter of personal experience with us; spiritual, but not the less on that account real. For it is said, “Ye are come to it.”

There are three applications of which, as it seems to me, these words admit.

1. The first is that which is more immediately suggested by the language “Ye have come.” Your coming to Mount Zion bears the same relation to your exodus, on the one hand, and your march through the wilderness to Canaan, on the other hand, that the coming of the Israelites to Sinai did to theirs. The transaction at Sinai, let it be remembered, is the intermediate link between the exodus and Canaan. Instantly on their being brought out of Egypt, God summoned the Israelites to meet him at Sinai. He had a solemn business to transact with them. Their first step out of Egypt was to the foot of the Mount. God brought his ransomed people before him that he might declare to them his covenant. It was a gracious covenant, if they had been able so to understand it. It was ordained in the hands of a mediator—Moses. And it was not without blood of sprinkling for the sins of the people; blood typical, indeed, merely of the real atonement for sin, but yet significant and satisfying so far to all spiritually awakened souls. A transaction of this sort was a fitting sequel to the exodus. And it was also a fitting preliminary to the command, “Go up and possess the land.” The redeemed stood before their redeeming God as their lawgiver, deliverer, king, and judge,—to know the terms on which they were to be with him. It was meet that there should be this understanding before they set out on their brief march, for it should have been brief, to Canaan.

Now, if the New Testament Church were to be saved by some such wholesale deliverance as this, its members might be led out thus to meet their God;—to be dealt with collectively by him and to receive his instructions. That, however, is not the Gospel method. Individually, by a separate process in each mind, a distinct spiritual change in every soul, God effects the rescue of his people. There cannot, therefore, be any general gathering together, in a literal sense, such as there was at Sinai. But practically, in a real though spiritual sense, every converted soul has to pass through an analogous spiritual crisis. It is a momentous crisis, as regards both the exodus and the pilgrimage; the escape he has made and the way he has to go. It is, in fact, the settlement, once for all, of the terms upon which he is henceforth to be with his God, as his Sovereign Lord. It is his being confronted and brought face to face with God, in a new state and character, as redeemed by his grace and ready for his work.

Let the believer place himself in this position on his first closing with Christ. Let him know and feel what it means. Have you been rescued from the city of destruction? Then, your first step is to come to this Mount Zion. You “are come” to it. There is the holy hill of God, the city of the Lord, the heavenly Jerusalem. And there are angels in countless throng, rejoicing over one sinner that repenteth, ready to minister to the heirs of salvation. And the holy men of old, “of whom the world was not worthy.” And all the faithful in Christ Jesus, from the dying thief, and the martyr Stephen, down to the last saint that is to be translated to glory. That is an august enough assemblage, fitted to strike you down to the ground with deepest awe. But that is not all. For, looking up, what do you see? Or rather, whom? The God with whom you have to do. Yes! it is God the judge of all whom you meet, eye to eye, face to face. Do you tremble—you, a man of unclean lips, seeing the King, the Lord of Hosts? Do you fall down as one dead? Let the Mediator minister to you the promises of the covenant of grace. Let him sprinkle you afresh with atoning blood. You stand erect among the first-born. But hark! a voice! Before you leave the presence, God speaks these words: “I am the Lord thy God which brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage; thou shalt have none other gods before me.” Thus, “out of Zion goes forth the law.” And other words he speaks, words of greater love and of more quickening power. “I will put my laws into their mind, and write them in their hearts: and I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a people: And they shall not teach every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord: for all shall know me, from the least to the greatest. For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more” (Hebrews 8:10, Hebrews 8:12).

Speak on, Lord, will you not now say, for thy servant heareth. Let him speak to you his whole mind. And see that you refuse not him that speaketh. Stand in awe, 0 believer, and sin not. Let God the judge of all, to whom in circumstances so solemn you are brought so very near, deal with you and instruct you in all the way you have to go. Let him deal with you thoroughly according to all his good pleasure. Let there be here, and now, in this dread audience, an entire adjustment of his claims and your obligations. And leave not the holy mountain until, a thorough understanding being established between you and the living God, the righteous judge, you are ready for going up to take possession of the inheritance in face of all enemies, with the light of his countenance shining upon you, and his love shed abroad in your hearts through the Holy Ghost being given unto you.

2. Another application of this phrase, “ye are come” may be allowed. You are come to this scene, and here you remain. This is your rest. You are ever coming to it. You draw near; you live near. To what? and to whom? You are near the holy Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem; your conversation is in heaven. You are near to holy angels and perfected saints. I do not speak of conscious fellowship between them and you. No actual intercourse may be enjoyed with them as yet. But you are near; and faith ever realises the nearness. You “are come to them.” There they stand; angels receiving charge over you to keep you; and the saints of old, Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob,—all the martyrs and all the prophets testifying to you how, even in a state far less perfect than yours, they found it no vain thing to serve the Lord, and never once regretted that they had walked as strangers and pilgrims on the earth. And you are near to God; to “God the judge of all;” a reconciled God; but your ruler still, your king and Lord;—all the more entitled to rule over you and judge you, because he has made you his “firstborn,” and as such, partakers of the very love he bears to his own Son, and the very inheritance of all things to which he has appointed him. And you are near to Christ Jesus, ever discharging as Mediator his double office, ministering to you the new covenant, and sprinkling you with atoning blood. Is this indeed our spiritual standing? Is this really our spiritual life? Then, what reason is there for fear and trembling; for surely the place where we stand is holy, and we are called to be holy as He before whom we stand is holy. Is the Holy Ghost bringing us and keeping us ever near to a scene like this? Do we see it, though it be invisible? Do we feel it, though it be intangible? Then let us not refuse “him that speaketh.” Let us not be of them that draw back unto perdition. It is in solenm may be allowed. You are come to this scene, and here you remain. This is your rest. You are ever coming to it. You draw near; you live near. To what? and to whom? You are near the holy Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem; your conversation is in heaven. You are near to holy angels and perfected saints. I do not speak of conscious fellowship between them and you. No actual intercourse may be enjoyed with them as yet. But you are near; and faith ever realises the nearness. You “are come to them.” There they stand; angels receiving charge over you to keep you; and the saints of old, Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob,—all the martyrs and all the prophets testifying to you how, even in a state far less perfect than yours, they found it no vain thing to serve the Lord, and never once regretted that they had walked as strangers and pilgrims on the earth. And you are near to God; to “God the judge of all;” a reconciled God; but your ruler still, your king and Lord;—all the more entitled to rule over you and judge you, because he has made you his “firstborn,” and as such, partakers of the very love he bears to his own Son, and the very inheritance of all things to which he has appointed him. And you are near to Christ Jesus, ever discharging as Mediator his double office, ministering to you the new covenant, and sprinkling you with atoning blood. Is this indeed our spiritual standing? Is this really our spiritual life? Then, what reason is there for fear and trembling; for surely the place where we stand is holy, and we are called to be holy as He before whom we stand is holy. Is the Holy Ghost bringing us and keeping us ever near to a scene like this? Do we see it, though it be invisible? Do we feel it, though it be intangible? Then let us not refuse “him that speaketh.” Let us not be of them that draw back unto perdition. It is in solenm circumstances that God is ever speaking to us when he brings us in such a way so near to himself. “If they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven” (Hebrews 12:25).

3. There is still one other application of the scene which is surely not inadmissible. It is all matter of faith with us now. But is it not one day to become matter of sense? It is spiritually apprehended now. Is it not to be literally and actually realised at last? “I John saw the holy city new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God” (Revelation 21:2-3). Is not this the actual accomplishment of what is represented here in figure? The shaking of the earth at Sinai indicated the introduction of a new economy. The shaking, not of the earth only, but also of the heaven, which the apostle connects with the scene on Zion, indicated a revolution more complete. All temporal and typical ordinances were superseded. Things capable of being shaken passed away. Room was made for the bringing in of “things that remain,”—“the kingdom that cannot be moved” (Hebrews 12:27-28). This kingdom “we now receive.” But we receive it only spiritually and by faith. Our capital, our fellow-subjects, our king, are all unseen. All, however, are to be visible at last. The God of glory appears. Angels, the church of the first-born, the worthies of the olden time—all severally indebted to Christ, as their Saviour, cease not to celebrate his praise day and night. Let us hopefully anticipate this blessed gathering. Let us believingly taste, even now, its blessedness, as well as its solemnity. Receiving now by “faith,” as we are to receive actually at last, the, “kingdom which cannot be moved,” “let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear. For even our God is a consuming fire” (Hebrews 12:28-29).

__________

[1]*Thus the contrast runs:— “Ye are not come unto the mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto blackness, and darkness, and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words; which voice they that heard entreated that the word should not be spoken to them any more: (For they could not endure that which was commanded, And if so much as a beast touch the mountain, it shall be stoned, or thrust through with a dart: And so terrible was the sight that Moses said, I exceedingly fear and quake:) But ye are come unto Mount Sion,” &c.

[2]*I believe the best scholars hold the ordinary rendering to be the natural and legitimate construction of the clause. The other is forced and ungrammatical. See Alford in loco.